LQRRIE: OR HOLLOW GOLD.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIII, Issue 308, 29 December 1902, Page 6

LQRRIE: OR HOLLOW GOLD.

By CHARLES GARVICE.

of "The Marquis," etc,

CHAPTER XXV.—(Continued.)

Tbey go into the heavy, solid room, and Lady Collop says a lengthy grace, and the meal commences.

It is not, to put it bluntly, an exciting performance. Lady Collop and Diana talk about Lady Farnham, that is, Lady Collop "talks and Diana listens with a languid, half-sleepy air; but Guy eats his soup and fish and entree, all of the most solid and substantial description, almost in silence, and Lorrie follows suit. Every now and then be answers a remark which Lady Collop addresses to him, but it is in the tone of a man whose thoughts are far away. And yet they are not so very far away, for they do not stray beyond the breadth of the table that divides bim from the pale face. Not a detail of her dress escapes bim, not a turn of her hand or a movement of ncr head is lost upon him. The small head, with its soft, silky hair falling in little feathery waves upon her low, white forehead; tbe dark eyes, halfveiled by their long lashes; the red lips, so mobile and sensitive—the lips he h'»s kissed!—are all exerting" their fascinating influence over him, ancl behind them all, stronger than all, tbe soul of the girl he loves.

"Oh, heaven!" he thinks, as he takes another potato from the butler, who little guesses what is passing in the guest's mind, "if we two were alone together in the world! If we were on some island, alone, alone, away from this cursed, mercenary, moneyworshipping crowd!" But they are not! There sits Diana, apparently half asleep, but in reality quite wide awake and on the alert. If he glances across at the ipale face opposite him he feels that the large, staglike eyes of his betrothed are upon him, and that she is indeed —w„tching him! At last the dinner is over, and it is with almost a sigh of relief that he rises and opens the door for the ladies to pass out. The butler brings a bottle of port, and Guy drinks a couple of glasses ancl falls to thinking of her. "How pale and thin she looks," he thinks. "She -who \ised to have a laugh lurking in her eyes and in those sweet lips of hers! Pale and thin. Oh, Lorrie, Lorrie!" With a sigh he goes into the draw-ing-room. Diana is seated in the most comfortable chair, her superb form reclining almost at full length, her eyes half closed, listening to Lady Collop's account- of the mission to the Chickeraboos. At a little distance, by herself, sits Lorrie, still at work at her stocking-. She does not look up as he enters, does not move until Lady Collop says: "Lorrie, give Lord Kendale some tea."

• It is not spoken quite as she would give an order to a servant, but it sounds to Guy's sensitive ears as if it were, and when Lorrie puts down her stockings and goes to get the teakettle from the tripet, he strides forward and anticipates her. "You sit down, please," lie says. "I'll get it," and he carries the kettle across to her. Diana's eyes turn sleepily. "Beftter ntixb interfere, Guy," she rays. Teull seal- yourself." He turns as if about to answer sharply, but instead puts the kettle back in its place and seats himself with his teacup on a low chair beside Lorrie. "What do you do.in the evenings?" he asks after a few seconds. "What you sec'," she answers. "Sometimes, though, I read aloud to Lady Collop." "Is she blind?" hr. demands, still in an undertone; "or can't she read?" "She is old," says Lorrie, "and she' likes being read to; it sends her to sleep." "Good lord!" he exclaims in bitter impatience. "And—and she goes on like this from week to week?" "From week to week, from month to month," she assents, with a faint smile.

He gets up, paces t- and fro, then comes back.

''And— and you don't go mad?" "Not yet," she answers, without looking up. "It is not so easy to «_ mad, Lord Kendale." "Stop that!" he says, curtly. "I— I can stand a great deal, but I can't stand your Lord Kendaleing me " He has raised his voice, unconsciously and Diana hears him. She shifts her position slightly, and Lady Collop, W ith a obsequious anxiety inquires if she is comfortable. "Won't you have a footstool, dear Miss Melford? Lorrie, fetch Miss Melford a footstool, please." Lorrie gets up, but Guy lays his hand upon her arm and forces her back into her seat. Then, he rises and picks up a big hassock, and by tho expression of "his face looks as if he were going to hurl it at Lady Collop's head. "I'm afraid you have forgotten that a gentleman was present, Lady Collop," he says, with a smile that is about' as mirthful as a crocodile's.

Lady Collop stares with blissful ignorance, but Diana understands quite well, and crimsons angrily. "Lord Kendale is quite a beau chevalier, I assure you. Lady Collop. He is really quite too attentive, and will let no one else wait upon me while he is near. I tell him he is spoiling me. Thanks, denr Guy!" and she smiles upon him with languid sweetness.

Guy none too chevalierly plops the hassock at her feet.

"Lady Collop is giving me a most interesting account of the Chickeraboo Islanders. Tell Lord Kendale about them. Lady Collop." Buy Guy's patience and endurance are nearly at an end—for to-night, at least.

"I'm afraid it would be, a waste of time. Lady Collop," he says, almost scowling down in the fat, foolish face. "I don't take any interest in the heathen; too much of a heathen myself, I'm afraid."

Then he goes back to the--chair beside Lorrie.

"For goodness sake, do something," he says, i; or else give me a stocking to knit or I shall go clean out of my mind." She gets up at once. "Shall I play, Lady Collop?" she says. Lady Collop finishes her sentence before she deigns to reply, then asks Lorrie what she said. "Oh, if Miss Melford likes. Would you like a little music, my dear?" "Yes, certainly; very much," says Diana, and she leans back and casts her eyes with scornful condescension upon Lorrie, standing there, and waiting in her black dress. Guy o-oes to tbe piano and throws back the lid with a bang that makes Lady Collop almost jump off her chair. ~ "Play loudly," he says, bending over her as 'Lorrie takes her seat, "I want to speak to you so that tbe others can't hear." . "Do not attempt it," she says, quietly; "it would be useless." " But she plays a march that is loud enough to mask his voice from the others.

"Lorrie." he says, sitting with his back well to Diana, "this* can't go on. It is—ridiculous! I —l will ask Lady Farnham to ask you to the Hall; you will like her—"

Lorrie shakes her bead. "Do not," she says. "I should not go. I am quite happy here." "I see," he says, angrily. "Seymour lias ordered you to wait here and —" She does not. look up at him, but her fa.c seems to grow paler, if that is possible. "He has not ordered me, but if he bad I should think it right to obey him." There is silence for a moment, then he says, bending still lower, and with a sudden flush in his handsome face: "Lorrie, you are tbe quickest girl I ever met. "Thanks," she murmurs, "and after?" "I wouldn't say what I am going to say if you weren't, I wouldn't say it to a stupid girl. Lorrie, answer me frankly, as I ask you the question. Don't for Heaven's sake, let there be any beating about the bush. Are you going to marry Seymour Melford?"

She doesn't hesitate a moment, but inclines her bead.

He takes a long breath, and his face pales. "Thanks, that is definite enough. Now, one more question. Why are yon going to marry him?" Her face crimsons like a poppy for a second, then grows pale again, and she keeps her eyes fixed on the keys. "I think it is my turn now, please. Why are you going to marry Diana?" "You know!" he answers, almost aloud. "Because you jilted me, and it does not matter what becomes of me! Say the word, even now—"

She shrinks back a little, . and glances warningly at the other two,. "Say the word, even now!" he repeats in a lower voice. "It is not too late! Lorrie" —in his eagerness he .bends so close to her that she can feel his breath on her cheek —"'Lorrie, ever since the night we—we parted, I have thought-and thought over this engagement of yours, and - " —his face grows troubled and anxious, and his eyes seek hers earnestly, almost beseechingly—"and I can't keep |the idea out of any head that there is something more in the matter than I knpw of. I may be a fool, and a. conceited one into the bargain, but I did entertain a very strong impression that you cared lor me!" "Did you?" with a faint, woeful little smile. "Yes, it was absurd, no doubt,, but there it was, and I can't believe, though I have tried hard to all these months, that you jilted me for Seymour because tie happened to have mora money. I dare say you are laughing at me." She shakes her head, and indeed, there is not much sign of laughter in her face. "But the idea is there, and—and it haunts me. Lorrie, just tell me honestly, without keeping anything back, was there any other reason for your promising him to be his wife, or your playing me false?" "I didn't play you false," she says, tremulously. "You forget " . "Never mind," he says, quickly, and with suppressed agitation. "For Heaven's sake, don't let us argue. Answer my question. Was there any other reason beyond Seymour Melford's money for your swopping me. for him?" "What does it matter?" she says. "Very well!" he says, angrily, and he rise's. "I beg your pardon. I had no right to ask the question. Pray j forgive me." Lorries head bends a little lower, and a tear drops on the keys. He sees it and it maddens him. ''Look here," he says, "if I thought that you were keeping something from nic that T ought to know " "Guy, dear," breaks in the languid voice of Diana; "will you take me for a ride to-morrow?" He comes across the room impatiently. "What? I beg your pardon! A ride? Oh, yes. Lorrie," looking round at her, "you had better come, too!" There is an ominous silence. "Thank," she- says, lightly, but wistfully. "Two's company anfl three's none." "Thank you very much, Lord Kendale " says Lady Collop;" "but Dolores has her dooties to perform. Tomorrow's the day we attend at the hospital, isn't it?" "The hospital!" exclaims Guy, starto* from one to the other. "Which hospital? What for? Good" lord! Lorrie ain't going to be a doctor, is she 9 " " Lady Collop shudders and looks solemn. _ . . "No, Lord Kendale. I ' strongly condemn such unwomanly notions Dolores a doctor! Certainly not! But we set apart one mornmg in the week to visit one of the hospitals and say a word in season to the afflicted patients." Guy stands petrified tor a moment, then' he breaks into a laugh of blank amazement and ridicule.

"I beg your pardon, Lady Collop! I'm not" laughing at you, I give you my word. But to think of Lorrie waltzing round a hospital ward with a bundle of tracts. Of course it's— it's awfully good of you, and all that, but/—Lorrie!"

"I don't see why Lorrie should not make herself tiseful as well as other girls—in her position," says Diana,

with .cold spitefulness. . A hot and angry retort springs to bis lips, but he keeps it back with a great effort, •"Just so," he says; then he goes to Lorrie. "I think tbat's about as much as I can stand for to-night," he says in a grim undertone. "Goodnight, Lady Collop. Good-night, Diana." "I'll come with you to the door," she says, rising. "Pray, don't!" be says, with unloverlike eagerness; "you'll — you'll catch cold." (To be Continued.)