AN UNCONSCIOUS APPEAL.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1747, 30 August 1905, Page 8

AN UNCONSCIOUS APPEAL.

Mrs Carrington paced the length of the verandah and back again half a dozen times, sat down for a restless moment ; then rose and began taking short turns up and down in front of the short flight of steps that led down to a widening path of gravel. Eivery now and then she paused, with a hand on one of the polished railings, to peer anxiously—perhaps a trifle eagerly—through the thick-laced tree branches, shadowing the lawn. Her hair, a. heap of shredded copper, tumbled picturesquely over the smooth, white forehead, just relieving it of a sternness begotten by the deeply grave eyes beneath. A half hour passed and the sound of a familiar footstep brought the blood in a rush;of scarlet to the woman’s face; in an instant it had receded, leaving her almost as pale as the Le Marque rose at her throat. Etheridge fastened the gate carefully behind him and came rapidly up the walk, flicking the flowers on either side with a nervous cane.

Mrs Carrington extended both hands at once. “Tom 1” she said, her voice subdued that he might not catch its trembling. “I m half afraid,” she continued, clinging to him with cold, shaking fingers. Etheridge stooped and touched her

face lightly with Ais lips. “With me?” he asked.

The element of reproach in his question forced back her self-control. “Of course not. dear. I was foolish, a trifle hysterical—that’s all.” “We haven’t any too much time, Nona,” he reminded, pulling out his watch and glancing apprehensively at the minute hand; “a half hour at the outside.”

She whitened and caught her breath at his words, but collected herself immediately and left him for a moment, returning cloaked and hatted for the journey. “Wed better take this side street,” she suggested as they left the house; “he usually comes the other way.” ' <■ Dusk was falling rapidly, so that they were not likely to be recognised as they walked on with swift, nervous footsteps, past all the familiar landmarks and down the wide olay road Few words were exchanged. Once Etheridge glanced furtively into the woman’s averted profile, a shock running through him at its bitterness and pallor.

Presently they came in sight of the long, white-picketed fence that inclosed the village cemetery. Mrs Carrington held her face resolutely toward other things as long as she could, but her composure suddenly broke, and the hand that had clung desperately to Etheridge’s arm loosed its clasp and dropped limply. She looked up into his face with mute, hunted eyes. “Well?” and the man’s voice bore a note of uneasiness, despite his effort to appear natural. He took her cold fingers in ins own and pressed them gently. “Wait for me just a moment,” 6he said, with quivering lips. “I want to go—there for the last time Tom.” Her eyes, strained with dry misery, looked towards the gleaming shafts pointing skyward in the distance. Etheridge released her mechanically, turning away to hide a gathering ficwn. Mrs Carrington lifted her skirts in one hand and stepped swiftly across the long, sun-rusted grass, through a small, revolving gate, and on down to the tiny, violet-bloomed grave, with its simple cross of- white marble. Within ten feet of the grave she paused, the sound of a man’s voice and that of a woman breaking sharply on her ears. To the left was a wide bench, screened from observation by a dense clump of shrubbery. She sat .down, out of breath, instinctively drawing the dark veil closer about her face. “There’s hardiy any need of discussing it further,” the man was saying in a low, determined tone. Mrs Carrington’s teeth sank into her lip until the blood started as she recognised, distinctly, her husband’s voice. And the woman—who was she? A fierce pang shot through her—the bitterest she had ever known.. After all. then, she had been right; he had not only ceased to care for her—rhut there was another woman ! In a moment they came into view and both sat down on one of the benches. Mrs"Carrington shrank closer behind the sheltering shrubbery, observing, with a sigh of unutterable relief, that the woman was her husband’s sister who had brought him up from knickerbockers. “However,” she insisted, “you must admit, John, that she has given you precious little attention since the boy died.” The man lifted his hand, enjoining Bilence. “Now. I never was much of a believer in divorces myself,” 6he kept on; “but it appears to me that’s about the only thing left you now.” Carrington looked up quickly, a challenge in his eyes. “What do you mean by that, Esther?” “Mean ?” she retorted, scornfully; “is is possible, John Carrington, that you are such a fool as not to know the talk your wife’6 been making around town with that Etheridge person?” The man’s face flushed a slow red under its mask of bronze, and the eyes he turned, to her were terrible in their sternness. “That will do w he said, in a concentrated voice. After a bit he went on more calmly, a little sadly. “Maybe it’s the trrth that she doesn’t care for me any longer; I don’t blame her for that, though. No man, or woman, either, can govern these things, but in God s name, Esther, don’t tell me that a woman like ’Lrin'ona could deliberately put a stain on her dead baby’s memory.” The other gave a little, short, sneering laugh. “Very well,” she responded, curtly. “I’ve warned you —that's all. When she has succeeded in dragging your name through the mire you 11 remember that y ur sister tried to open youi eyes in ti \Ae.” Carrington rose and moved away toward the g~ave. “Leave me now,” he said coldly, “and never attempt to reopen the subject. Your advice is well meant, I don’t doubt that; but you have made a very serious mistake in following me r tere with garbled tales; an v et me t you this much, whatever my wife does or has done, she is the stainless m'ther of my dead boy. I have sworn to be her protector, and I intend to keep my oath. Good-bye, Esther,” he finished quieri'’ . a. minute passed—five, then ten, and the man rtill knelt by the violet-bloom-ed mound.

Mrs Carrington roused herself as from a dream; a strange dizziness blinded

her and. made her limbs powerless to move. After what seemed 3>n eternity, she rose, shaking almost beyond her control as she moved noiselessly through the deep, grass and stood on the opposite side of the grave. The man looked up at the sharp crackling of the twig, and two points of colour sprang to his white cheeks. “Nona!” ~ For an instant she stood erect, then tottered and flung herself o,n his bosom.. “Jack!” she cried, with a little broken sob. “Jack —take me —take me home — with you!”