LORRIE: OR HOLLOW GOLD.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIV, Issue 2, 2 January 1903, Page 6

LORRIE: OR HOLLOW GOLD.

By CHAELES GABVICE. jfAutbor of "The Marquis," etc.

CHAPTER XXVI. (Continued)

I^oreseeing , that an afternoon spent in the society of Diana will, under the circumstances, be rather more unpleasant even than usual, Lorrie obtains permission to visit the hospital, and half an hour alter Guy has gone to his club she sets out.

"He's much better in himself today, miss," says* the nurse, as Lorrie enters the ward, "and he's been inquiring after you from his lordship,"

"So I heard," said Lorrie, and she went and sat down beside the bed.

The sick man's face flushed siightly as he saw her, and he regarded her with his bright, hollow eyes in silence for a minute or two, then he said, feebly:

"So you have come again, miss?" "Yes," said Lorrie, "I hope you don't mind?"

He shook his head

"No, miss, I am grateful—l—l wanted to see you, and I asked Lord"—

lie paused and murmured, as if reluctant to speak the name—"Lord Kendale to tell you,."

"He did so," said Lorrie, and in a quiet, unobtrusive fashion she put some primroses she had brought into a glass and stood them where he could see them; but Mr Leverick hadn't much affection for Nature, and, after glancing at them indifferently, his eyes returned to Lorries. lace.

"Would you tell me your name, miss?" lie said, presently.

"My name is Latimer," she replied; "Dolores Latimer. Do you know me at all? I mean—have you seen me before yesterdaj'?"

Mr. Leverick shifted ais glance, and plucked at the counterpane.

"How should I have seen you?" he said, not insolently, but awkwardly, and with a little cunning expression in-his eyes. "What makes you ask me that?"

"Well," said Lorrie, smiling, "I fancied that I had seen you somewhere, that is why."

"It isn't likely that you have," he said, more quickly than he had spoken before. tThere was silence for a minute or two, then Lorrie said:

"Would you like me to read to you?"

He shook his head,

"No; id rather you'd talk, miss; if it's all the same to you, leastways." Lorrie laughed softly. "I should much prefer to talk," she said. »

"Ah," he remarked; "they haven't all got li-ite you, miss. A sick man /uin't in the humour for tracts most of his time; you want to be xery cheerful for that kind of reading. Now, if you was to bring me a sporting paper"—he went on, wistfully, then he stopped, and added, with a <return of the cunning look, "or for the matter of that, any paper " "I will bring- you one to-morrow," said Lorrie, "and you" shall have one every day; a sporting one, if you like. Are you in much pain now?"

He shook his head. "No. You're in blaok, miss, ain't you?" he asked. "Yes," said Larrie, softly; "for my father."

"I'm sorry," he said, and awkwardly as the words were spoken, there was an evidence of feeling in them that surprised Lorrie.

"I—l thought when you came in yesterday that you was Lord Kendale's sweetheart, miss, 1 ' he said, after a pause. The blood flew to Lorries face, and Levejrick, seeing her embarrassment, added, hurriedly:

"No offence, miss."

"Oh, no," returned Lorrie, forcing , a laugh. "Why did you think that?" she asked in a low voice.

He thought over the question for a moment.

"I see him look up when you came in, miss—l was watching him, though he thought I wasn't—and I see his face light up like: so I says to myuelf, that's his young lady." "You were wrong, yoT see," said Lorrie, trying to speak carelessly "When pec pie are ill they hay.>. strange fancies." "I'm ill enough," he retorted, concisely; "but it wasn't any fancy." "I won't stay any longer," said Lorrie; "or I shall tire you " "No, no," he broke in wistfully; "you don't tire me, miss. Begging your pardon, the sight of you seems to do me good." "Then I'll stay a little longer," she responded. "I hope you will soon be strong enough to get out and about." He shook his head moodily. "And I don't. What will be the use? No, miss, the best that could happen to me would be to go out of here in a wooden box." "That's foolish, to say nothing of wicked,' , said Lorrie. "While there is life there is always something worth living for." ■ . "Not for me, miss," .he said, with the quietude oi conviction. "I'm a down pin, I am. It's a pity Lord Kendale took the trouble to pick me up the other night. H he'd, known as much as I do I expect he'd have left me alone." «.-»,„ "You don't know Lord said Lorrie, quietly, "or you wouldn't say so. He'd risk his life any day or time to save a dog, much more a fellow creature." The man loohed at her shrewdly, and then seemed puzzled. "He's a relation of yours, most like, miss?" ' "No, oh., no, only a friend," she said, blushing at having spoken so >varmly. He knit his brows and pondered. "Did —did you ever hear ray name before, miss?" he asked, suddenly. "No," replied Lorrie. "Why <lo you ask ?" "Nothing," he said, quietly, "nothing. I thought most like you might, perhaps. Lord Kendale's a very rich mnn. I suppose, miss. Most of these swells are." "J don't know many 'swells.' as you call them," said Lorrie, smiling.

"But Lord Kendal- is not rich." He started slightly;

"Perhape—perhaps - he's lost a 'lot of money lately?" he asked, carelessly. "YeS," said Lorrie, "I think he has —a racehorse of his died last year."

"Ah, I remember!" he said, slowly. "I suppose he was very much cut up, wasn't he?"

"Very, very much," replied Lorrie. "Did you know anything , about it?" "Me?" he replied, quickly. "How should I know anything about it? Of course," he added, '"I read about it in the papers," and he moved his to and fro restlessly. Lorrie rose.

"I think I ought not to stay and talk to you any longer," she said. "I will come again in a day or two."

"Come to-morrow, miss," he said, pleadingly; then his restless eyes wandered from her face to the flowers. "And thank you for the primroses, miss; they'll remind me of you when you're gone."

"You'll like them for themselves, I hope," she said; "and soon, I trust, you'll be able to pick some for yourself."

He shook his head

"I don't go much on picking flowers, miss," he said. "There's only one thing I'd like to get out of here for."

"What is that?" she asked. "Is there any one you would like to see?"

"No," he said. "I haven't got a soul belonging to me in the world. No; but I'd like to be strong enough to get even with a man before I die."

The hope was expressed with such grim doggedness that Lorrie started. "I'm not much of a preacher, Mr Leverick," she said, quietly; '"but if I were, I should try and show you how wrong that kind of wish is." "I dessay," lie assented. "But I've got it all the same.' I'd give "he paused. "I'd give all the chance of life I'm like to have just to get even with this one man."

"Has he injured you so deeply then?" she asked.

"He has," he retorted, witli tine same grim conciseness; "and I hate him! If it hadn't been for him I shouldn't be lying here like this. Itwas him drove me to it. Miss, I've been a bad lot," he went on, still in a low voice, but with a heightened colour on his wasted face; "I don't say I haven't, but I was never right down a lost one till I came across him. It was him tempted me to "he stop^ped, then went on again. "Miss, as true as I'm lying .here, there was a time when if he'd have given me a chance I'd a tried the honest dodge in another country. I'd 'a' left England and—and turned over a new leaf! It's true! I haven't got anything to get by humbugging you, miss. No! But he wouldn't! He'd used me, and just chucked me away as. if I were a wornout tool! That's him —curse him, and his smilin' face and soft words. I— I —beg your pardon, miss," he broke off, looking up humbly at Lome's grave face. She stood looking down at him in, silence. Lady Collop would joyfully have seized the opportunity to deliver a homily and administer a tract, but, as Lorrie said, she was a poor hand at preaching, and before the storm of passion raging , in the sick and feeble invalid's heart, she found herself speechless.

"There, I've done it, now!" he said, with self-reproach as she put on her gloves. "I've druv you away, miss, and you won't come again, and I can't say as it don't serve me right. It ain't fit for a young lady like you +0 come near the like of us."

"That's nonsense, Mr Leverick," said Lorrie, in her direct fashion. "I didn't speak, because I couldn't- find anything to say! I'm sorry you have been badly treated, and 'are so unhappy, but you mustn't" — and she smiled —"fancy that you are the only unhappy person in the world." "No," he said, regarding her curiously and yet respectfully enough; "no, miss. Something seems to tell me that you " - :. ._... He stopped. Lorrie smiled. . . "That I should sympathise with you ?" she said. "Well, yes, I am not too happy. None of us are, I'm afraid." "No, miss." He thought a moment. "Begging your forgiveness, miss, but I heard the nurses speaking of you after you had gone yesterday. Poor things, it's dull for- 'em, and they like a gossip." "So do I," said Lorrie. "Yes, miss. They said Brat you'll be offended?" "Not in the least, I hope," said Lorrie. "Well, miss, they said that you were engaged to a very rich man. , ' Lorrie did not blush as he expected, but looked down at him calmly, amd the sick man, with his faculties sharpened by his bodily weakness, saw the look of trouble shadowed in her eyes. "Yes?" she said. "I hope it's true, miss. There ain't a man rich enough for you, there ain't one that is half good enough— ,, "Keally, Mr Leverick, you are not very complimentary to your sex." He shook his head. "I know what men are," he said, moodily, "and <I say there isn't one in the world fit -to clean your boots, miss. But I hope be- happy— that's from my heart, miss," , and his eyes rested on her face with eager gratitude. „ "Thank you," said Lome, softly. " \nd now I really must go.** "Yes, miss," he said, humbly. "Perhaps"—he paused—"you'd tell me his name, miss—the name of the man as I count the luckiest man m the world?" „ _ . "Why should I not?" said Lome, trying to smile, but with a look of trouble, and unhappiness coming into her eyes, and plainly seen there by the man. "His name is Melfora— Seymour Melford." , Mr Leverick did not start or utter an oath. Indeed, he did not mwje air j speak for a moment, but Ms face went ; as white as the sheet—as white as it j had done when he recognized Lord Kendale. Lorrie waited , a moment or two, then, touching his hand, said, "Gaodbye!" softly, and left the bedside-.. The nurse came up to her as she was leaving the ward , . "It's very good of you. miss; , she said. "He was asking , after you all this morning. A very bad case, miss, indeed; poor fellow!" Lorrie drew her purse out of her pocket. "I promised t© come again*" she said, "but I have just remembered

ne.

that I am going to pay a visit to the country. If he should be well enough to leave the hospital before I return will you give him this and tell him to let me know where he goes?"

And she handed the nurse a five pound note, though five pound notes were never too plentiful with Lor-

(To be continued in Saturday's Supplement.)