LOVE'S VICTORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19147, 13 October 1925, Page 5

LOVE'S VICTORY.

BY EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS

(Copyright.) * SYNOPSIS. Lorna Mailings te, her mother and her step-father, Henry Emerson, are staying at a watering place in the South of England. Lorna is thinking of the hard times she and her mother had been through before the latter a marriage to Mr. En<«iaon, who had been staying with them as a paying guest. Now everything is changed and they have plenty of money for all thei? needs. She is writing to tell the good news to her sister, from whom she has not heard for 18 months, when she is interrupted by Gerald Craven, who is deeply in love with her. But, though fond of him. Lorna does not wish to marry arid leave her mother. When Gerald has left her, a stranger, giving his name as Julian Emerson, is announced, and states that he is looking for Lorna's [ step-father. She direots him to the golf links and goes to look for her mother with a strong forboding of evil in her heart. On her way she encounters Lady Blyth. Lorna escapes from Lady Blyth as soon as possible and joins her mother. Mrs. Emerson has ordered lunch to be served in their rooms, so the two return to the hotel. While they are waiting for Mr. Emerson to appear, Lorna receives a message from Julian Emerson, asking her to see him alone. Making an excuse to her mother, she slips downstairs, where Julian Emerson tells her that her stepfather already has a wife living, and also that he is a cruel and wicked man, for whom he—Julian—has been searching for months. He also informs her that Mr. Emerson has left for London by car, and has deputed his relative to interview Lorna and her mother on his behalf. CHA PTER ll.—(Continued.} He put his hand on her shoulder. " Don't be so sure," he said. " I want you to rely oa me. It is true I am a stranger to you, but I hope I shall prove that I tun sincere in my desire to be of service. Can I get you something? You look so white. You are trembling." Lorna answered almost voicelessly. "It is my mother! She is upstairs now getting terribly nervous. What am 1 going to say to her ? What can I do ?" She had stretched out her hands pleadingly, and he held them in both of his strong firm protective hands. "Leave it to me. She cannot be told the truth all at once. We must prepare her. I understand that Mr. Emerson has not been well these last few days. He has gone up to London in a state of collapse, We must make that our first move. Shall I go up with you?" " No, it would give her a terrible shock. Just wait n minute or two. I will go up and tell her that my—l mean Mr. Emerson —has been taken ill r that you had to come and see him on business, and that you thought, it better to send him straight away to London to a nursing home. I don't know if she will believe me. but oh! we must maxe it as etisy for her as we possibly can. You might come up with Lorna added, as she got up, " and wait outside, and if I want you, I will call you. I want you to see my mother," the girl added brokenly, " and then you will understand just how I feel about her. And now I want to get upstairs without meeting anyone." In a vague sort of way, she felt that she had put herself into this man s hanus, and he was working for her. He took her to the lift; he got her 1 upstairs; conveyed her to the door of the room. And then ns she pushed it open, he stood and looked inside, and so he saw her mother; that delicate, fragile-looking woman who was walking nervously to and fro waiting for her girl to come back. CHAPTER 111. Julian Emerson watched Lorna with a curious expression on his face as the girl walked across the room and took her mother in her arms. ! " Darling," Lorna said, " you are going I to be very brave. It is just what you I imagined ! Poor stepfather has been taken j ill. A gentleman came down from London to see him on business, and it was thought j best that he should be sent straight away ! to London to a nursing home, so that he could be attended by a doctor who . . . who knows him very well." From where he stood, Emerson could see the mother stiffen in the girl's embrace. He saw her face grow ashen white. He heard the cry of anguish in her voice. " Gone up to London, Lorna! Gone without seeing me! Who .. . ? By what right has this been done? I am his wife! I ought to be with him! It is shameful! It is cruel! " And then suddenly her voice died away in a moan, and the young man saw her body sag and fall heavily across her daughter's arms. In an instant he had entered the room, and bad taken the unconscious woman away irom Lorna s hold. , " Shut the door," he said to the girl. " Is her bedroom inside there ? " He carried her as if she had been a child, and laid her on the bed in the large room beyond which bore every evidence of luxury. The dressing table was strewn with crystal and costly ornaments; the couch was full of cushions; the air full of perfume. On every hand there was evidence of w r ealth. As he put his burden on the bed the man stood and looked down at her. There was a strange expression in his face, and he was frowning sharply. lit her agony of anxiety, Lorna spoke of calling in a doctor, but he stopped her. "It is not necessary," he said. "I am a medical man; I know what to do for : your mother. She will recover from this i fainting attack very quickly, and'then I will give her a sedative. The best thing ! WO can do is to keep her in ignorance of the truth as long as possible." He took from an inner pocket a small case which contained a number of bottles. | " I never travel without this," he remarked. He had the sedative ready as soon as he heard a sigh break from the pale lips of the woman lying stricken on the bed. He tended her with gentleness, even tenderness; put his arm under her head and induced her to swallow the mixture, and then as he put her back on the pillow, he drew the coverlet over her and motioned to the girl to follow him out of the room. As the door closed, he said to Lorna almost abruptly; " Now, if you want to, you can break down and cry! But Lorna gave him a very wan smila " It is not the moment to break down,' she said. Well, if you can't cry, you must eat. There is luncheon here, but you do not seem to have touched it. You have a good deal to go through, and you need food." He pushed a chair forward as ho spoke. Again Lorna shook her head. " I cannot eat ... I couldn't swallow a morsel." " Stuff and nonsense! " he answered m his brusque way. "I. repeat you have heavy work to do. Everything will be on your shoulders, aid who is going to take care of your mother if you are ill ? Sit down and eat —I will eat some luncheon with you." He "spoke with such a tone of command in his voice that Lorna found herself obeying. She ate a few mouthfuls and he made her take a little brandy; and then he, too, snatched a hurried meal. While he was eating he asked her innumerable questions, and got out of her the entire position of affairs. He listened in grim silence to all she said, and then he spoke: " Well, it seems to me," he remarked, " that the first thing to arrange is to get your mother away from here. It must be ' ilone quietly. I will settle with the hotel people." Lorna said nothing immediately; then she looked at him: " But she is ill . . ." She broke off. " How can this all be done quietly? There are such crowds of people here." He looked at her and frowned again. " Leave it to me,'' he said. "We will spread a report that Mr. Emerson has been taken suddenly ill and has had to leave for London to go into a nursing home as in all probability there will have to be an operation. Then what could be more natural than you and your mother should follow him ? Mr. Emerson has gone up to London in my car; you and your mother can travel in his. You may rely on it that I shall do everything quietly and quickly, but I shall expect you to work in with me. That'll take a bit of courage." The girl answered him, making an enormous effort to be calm and practical as he was.

" I don't think I've got much courage, except where my mother is concerned, and there I am ready to fight; I am ready to do anything!" " That's the spirit," said Julian Emerson. " Now, the stuff I nave given your mother will keep her in a deep sleep for some hours, and I propose to move her while she is still unconscious. We shall get up to London in a little under three hours, and we will make our plsns on the way up. Have you money ?" She gave him a nod and pushed aside his hand, as he held out some treasury notes and silver, saying coldly: " I shall be giad to receive yoar fullest explanations, Or. Emerson, with as little delay as possible." "Quite right; 'Quite right!" the n answered. He pocketed the money, slipped the notes into his letter case, and then paced to and fro a little while, and though she was quite unconscious af it, he directed many a glance toward the girl who was sitting with her hands in her lap staring out to the sea in a fixed pained fashion. " Well, the best thing I can do," ha said, breaking the silence, " is to pay the bill, explain matters to the hotel people, and you can square up with mo afterwards. I shall tell them that I am acting for Mr. Emerson, that I a;m his nephew. That will silence any talk. You had better get your mother's things gathered together. Ring for the chambermaid—give her a good tip and that will close her Sips. But," he added, stood at the door, " the fact that Mr. Emerson h«s had to go up to London because of serious illness puts the whole matter on a proper basis. I will be back shortly." Lorna made no sign, nor did she reply to his speech. She simply sat staring out at the sea and the sunshine; and all that had been so radiant was now black. And in her heart tl >;re was a cold dread which sent a shiver through her. If only she could turn to her sister! The first and foremost feeling which was pressing on Lorna like pain, was the desire to get away from this place—to escape curious eyes and ct'riou.s questions. |he mere suggestion of what she might suffer at the hands of I>ady Blyih and her family was enough to drive Lorna to her feet in a state of desperation. And at that moment the door opened and Gerald Craven came in. He almost ran toward her, with outstretched hands. _ " Lorna—Lorna darling," he isaid. I was at the office just now, and I overheard someone —a man 1 donM, remember having seen before — that he was deputed to settle up everything, that your stepfather had been taken seriously ill, and that you both were leaving to follow him immediately. My dear, can t I do something for you ? Please forget. that I worried vou with niv own feelings. Put all that on on? side—just regard me as a friend—one who would do anything ia the world for you. Lorna took his hands and clung to them. " Oh, Jerry, Jerry," she said. now good you are", and how good it is to have your 'friendship! I don't really know where I am; I am so bewudered and i am so unhappy." .. , " Brpce up, dear thing," the young man said. "Of course, you are worried because of your mother. That's where you are so splendid, Lorna I Your devotion and vour love for your mother. I heard of all this from Bertha Tsorthwood long before I met you, and now that L have se «n it—" He broke off and paused just an instant, then he said: ' let's be practical. What can I do - He can T help vou ? Let me do something. The courage which Lorna tried to maintain seemed to les.ve her, a.l at cnce, she found herself in Gerald's arms weeping out her grief arid uneasiness in his tender embrace. Ihe young man her as M she had been a child. " Lorna-Loma, darling, he agd. " Does this mean that you will riall trust me ?—that you do carc just a little bl 'i3he did not answer him at once, ancl thm she lifted up her tear-stained fac and looked at him and gava him a faint SI "' ! It is not a little bit, Jerry,"' she said "I love you!-! love you more than I can possiblv tell you. Afte* had gone away this morning, ' thought of what I had said you 3 E ashamed of mvse.l I f ':' ~ -mother such a brute to you. And then n the snoke about yon so sweetly. And on, Ferry dear, if only I can have you near me nothing will oe so dreadf-l_ His arms closed tighter about her and his hps rested on hers, and just - a brief spell they drffed away from everything, Then realisation came back to k°"We are going back to London at once. This Dr. Emerson—he is a nephew, I believe—is going to take us. its has promised we shall-know exactly what is going to happen. He has been very pood to my mother. She is lytn» m there. He has given her a draught, and we want to get her up to London before she wakes." . ~ _ "I will corns with you/' said Craven promptly. _ , , A flash of joy went across Lorna s tear"Will you—will you, Jerry?" she said. "That will be good of you. But you are going to plav tennis? You are dressed for tennis, and they must be expecting you on the counts." _ , "I can send .hem a message. I don t - reallv want to play, but the Blyth girls got hold of me." *'Jerrv, listen," said Lorna quickly. "I want to* keep the Blyths—everybody here ■—in ignorance of our departure. I would love you to come. Yes —yes! I would love to have you, but I want to iShe caught her breath. "I mast study my mother. I want to stop people talking, and if you fail them at tennis, perhaps they would follow yoa here ana just arrive at the very moment going. Can't yon come up to-Right ?" "I understand," said Gerald Craven swiftly. "I see what you want to avoid. Yes, of course, I will come up to-night. Where will yon be? The old house?" Lorna shook her head. "I can't go there; it is let- furnished. I don't know quite where we shall go. Where will you be ?" "I shall go back to my diggings," said Craven. "You've got my address. Look here! I'll go up quietly by the five o'clock train, and I will wait at my rooms until I hear from you." He took out a pencil and scribbled a few words on an envelope. ''This is my telephone number, and that's the address in case ! you can't remember it- I shan't live until l I see yon again. Oh, Lorna, do you I really love ma?" For answer, she lifted up her face and j she kissed him. And then the door was ; opened and Julian Emerson came in. His face went as black as night as be saw the girl and the young man together: in fact, it wore almost a savage expression. He came forward and spokfc abruptly. "I have fixed up everything," be said, "and arranged a kind of bed in the car on which your mother can vest. Have you got the thing? packed? No! Well, as a matter of fact, we shall not ba able to take any luggage with us—jusit pot a few things together in a handbag, aid the rest can be sent on afterwards. I will! fix that with the manageress," "Thank you," said Lorna. She spoke very quietly. "Yon are taking a great deal of trouble, but we shall not worry you more than necessary; Mr. Craven is going to look after my mother and myself." The two men exchanged a nod, acknowledging the introduction, and Gerald Craven, who still held Lorna's hand, gripped it very tightly. "I shall see you very soon," he said in a low voice. And then he left her. He went away with a carious and most unpleasant feeling weighing down his heart. He hated the thought of leaving Lorna alone with this Julian Emerson! For some reason or other he did not like the look of the man. Of course, no doubt he was prejudiced, and, as a lover, he resented the presence of any other man to be near Lorna. But he had taken a sudden dislike to this relative of _ Henry Emerson, and that uneasiness which had beset Lorna with such determination a little while before, came into, his thoughts; indeed, he paused when he was at the bottom of the stairs and almost retraced his steps, resolving to throw evervthing else aside and reman with the girl he' loved. Then he changed his mind. After all, it would only be a case of a few hours, and then he ana Lorna would be together again. (To be continued- daily.)