THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12602, 12 November 1926, Page 12

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALE.

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XIII.—'TRAPPED. Alec Lindsay paused in astonishment as lie caught sight of the two people bv the gate ; but no word of surprise escaped his Ups. He looked inquiringly from his w’fe to her companion, and then back again to the white-faced girl who stood watching him in fascinated silence. “Who is this geutleman. mav I ask?” he asked gravely, seeing that his wife made no attempt to introduce her companion. “I don't seem to have had the pleasure of meeting him before.* * “He is an acquaintance of mine—whom I knew as a girl,” replied Adela truthfully, unable to take her eyes from those of the stern-faced man before her "And his name?” “Gordon—Stanley Gordon.” put in that gentleman, in no way daunted hv the reception he was receiving at the hands of his prospective father-in-law. Lindsav bowed slightly, and. tuinin abruptly'* to his wife again, inquired with chilly politeness if she were ready to go home, since it was long past teatime. “I am quite ready,” replied Adela tn a voice rhe strove hard though somewhat unsuccessfully, to keep from trembling; and without another word to Gordon sli3 turned hastily away, unable to endure any longer the smiling mockery of his eyes. He, for his part raised his cap with exaggerated politeness, but Lindsay made no sign. The walk homeward was an exceedingly unpleasant one for Adela. She did not venture to break the silence that lay between them, for her husband’s coldly averted eves told her more plainly than words could have done that she had fallen from favour. He walked fast, as if unconscious of her presence, and*did not seem to notice that his wife found it at times almost impossible to keep up with him. “Please don't walk quite so quickß\ Alec,” she ventured to say timidly at last, much out of breath. “I beg your pardon,” ho said with grave apology. “Oh. Alec, don't be angry with me!” she pleaded, and the words seemed to be wrung from her against her will. “There is nothine to make me angry that I know of,” he answered quiet!' “except that you appear to be on friendly terms with a man of whose existence you have deemed it as well to me in ignorance.** “I will tell you everything, Alec — some other time, but not now,” said Adela with tremulous eagerness. She was hardly prepared for the exclamation that followed. “Good heavens! Then there is something to explain l” he said, harshly. “I thought I had done with secrets now, hut it seems that all women are alike.” It was on the tin of Adela’s tongue to tell him that tnis was not her secret, but she refrained. After all, it was partly her secret?. IXer youthful engagement to Gordon now assumed proportions of immense magnitude. But for that he would have no hold over her, and she could have told her husband everything. And now she must hold her peace; she could neither clear herself nor openly take to herself her meed of blame. She must b« silent for at least another week. What a penance that week would be to her! Seven whole days! But seven days, even if they

seemed an eternity to her, must end at last, and then she would tell her husband all. The thought gave her new courage, and when she spoke it was with a renewed serenity that took hipi a little by surprise. “Have patience with me. Alec,” she pleaded softly. “I think—t hope I an. not concealing anything from you simply for my own personal good. I want to do right and to t-ell you everything; but give me a little time—l have a reason for not telling you today.” “I do not for a moment doubt that you mean well, Adela,” interposed her husband coldly. “But isn’t it possible that your judgment may be at fault?” There was a touch of irony in his voice. “You are young;, you have not seen a great deal of the world. It might perhaps be wiser if you would allow your husband to judge for you.” A rush of tears blinded Adda's eyes. The tone more than the words hurt her. An appeal for sympathy and trust sprang to her lips; but again she restrained herself. She could not explain to her husband that she had promised not to tell , him what she knew. Sho had given the promise without thinking of all that it would involve; and she writhed in its bonds like one taken by gui! ■» in a cruel snare. Lindsay waited for her to speak—waited more anxiously than she knew; but when no word came from her lips he withdrew yet more closelv into his shell of reserve and pride. They walked on in silence until the gates of the Priory were reached. “You will follow vour own judgment. of course,” said Lindsay at last in a tone of great coldness. “I do not attempt to force your confidence.” Almost blinded by her tears, Adela went to her own room, refusing to par take of tea, and she was half inclined to send word that she would not come down again that evening; but on reflection she felt herself scarcely justified in disorganising the household arrangements simply because she was troubled and depressed. She had great difficulty in maintaining an outward semblance of equanimity while her maid helped her to dress, and when she came downstairs the effort she had been making caused her to look so white and weary that Mainwaring ventured to make a slightly malicious remark on her appearance. “Your walk was too much for you. I’m afraid,” ho said with mock coneern. Adela looked at him without repi.v mg. For the first time it had crossed her mind that he was perhaps responsible for her husband’s inopportune appearance upon the scene while she was talking to Gordon. She did not know why this thought occurred to her; it was one of those surmises, those flashes of intuition, bv which women sometimes read the innermost thoughts of their men-folk. Mainwaring saw that she him, an! therefore deemed it wiser to say nothing more What had aetu;. occurred between Adela and Gordon be would hear that evening, since he ha« arranged to meet the latter at ten o’clock that night at their usual rendezvous That Lindsay and his wile had quarrelled he saw only too plain ly, since through the whole of dinner they did not directly address each other, except when absolutely necessary. . ,To be continued.)