Chapter 11.

Otago Witness, Issue 2258, 10 June 1897, Page 41

Chapter 11.

Dorothy Vance. Roger Marobam attended a meeting of Guardians in Norton, lunched at tho Norton Arm*, aud rode on to bo preKont at a county meetu'g in Midgate. It was a protracted affair, and the afternoon wac wall spent before it terminated. It would take him all his time to be home for the 6 o'olook dinner. He had given the oounty affairs onlj a divided attention, his mind being occupied with thoughts of the stranger coming to his home. He 'was conscious of a curious feeling of exoitament as he rede through hie own gates that fine evening. As he watched tho shafts of sunlight piercing the leafy boughe of the beeches whioh were the pride o£ Underwood, he wondered whether Dorothy Vance would admire them. " Do you know if the carriage went to the station, Mrs Curtis?" he asked the lodgekeeper. " Yes, sir ; to meet the half-past 4 train. It has just gons back about ten minutes' ago." " With Mr Fred and a young lady ? " " Yes, sir," the woman answered, and hi saw that her curiosity was aroused. •' Wo are to .have a new experience at Underwood, Mrs Curtis. The young iady is my. ward, jast returned from India. She will maka her home here, at least fox a time," said the squire. "We must all try and make her an happy as we can. She has had a great deal of sorrow, and has just lost the best f&rhet any girl ever had." "Indeed, sir. Poor dear. She's *b sweetlookin' a eratux an ever I saw, air, an' a real lady &c ever I saw, gir, by the way she holds her head. It'll m&ke a bit o' a ohange in the Hall, air." " Ay, it will," returned the squire ; and with a nod and a amile rode on. It was 20 minutes to 6 when he handed the reins to the groom at the door, and harried into the bou»e. On the stairs he met Fred, in immaculate sveniog dress, whereat his ancle stared in amazement. " Hulloa, what's this for 7 " " For Miss "Vance, of course. It's all very well to sit down to one's feed in blue serge vrhan there's only fallows, but when there's a lady in the house it is different. She's a stunner, Uncle Eoger." Robert Marcbam smiled. " You must have had very little tims to spare in London ." " Only an hour and a-half. I was just in time for the Indus, so I took Miss Vance to the Continental for a bit of lunch, and then we came on." " You did welL Where is she now 1 " " Oh, upstairs ; old Maple waiting on her hand and foot. Shouldn't wonder, Uaola Eoger, if the fair Indiarf usurps your place here. She looks aa if she'd been accustomed to homage all bar days. By Jove ! she doeB T She wae rather stand-offish with yours truly at firs);, but she gesmed to find ont after a bit that I waan't a half bad fellow. We are tip-top friends now." " That's right, Fred," laughed Roger Marchani as he ran upstairs, hugely amused by the young fellow's conceit. In an incredibly short Ume Roger Marctaam had dressed, and was descending to the drawing room, when the opening of a door near him caused him to look round. When he saw a girlish figure coming along the corridor he retraced his steps, and they met just at the painted window on the landing- " Dorothy Vance, my friend's child. You are welcome to Underwood," he said, and took the slim, pale hands in hia firm, warm grasp, and, bending forward, touched the low, broad forehead with his lips. " My guardian, Uncle Roger, papa said I was to call you," she said, with a strange wistf ulnasa. Her large grey eyes dwelt for a moment searchiagly on his face, and Roger Marcham stood in silence, feeling that shfc was only seeking to know in that first long look how it was to be between them. Her oolour rose a little, he felt her hands tremble, and a sweet smile touched hei* proud, womanly mouth. " I think I have come home," was all she Baid ; but the words were the sweeteßt ia the world to Roger Marcham's heart. "Sit down here just for c moment, my dear," he said, drawing her to the low window seat. " Before we go down just let me tell you how glad I am to think I can fulfil my promise to your father. Geoffrey Vance'U daughter and Geoffrey Vancs'a chum can never be like strangers to each other." " Ob, no, I am so glad you are like what you are," she said, with a swift, ingenuoua smile. " I got such a fright on the quaj to day, feariDg your nephew was yourjelf.'!

Roger March»m laughed, and that laugh < was a pleasant sound to bear. Then a little silence foil upon them, for Roger Marcham's 1 thoughts bore a curioua minglicg of regret s over the past and much upspricging of hopes for the future. . He could scarcely believe ] that thiß tall, . slight, self-possessed young 1 lady, with the grave, sweat, womanly face, orowned by its glossy brown hair, could verily ba the child of his. old friend. It seemed but yesterday since they were boys together, building castles in th« air, and planning for themselves a glorious future of ' achievement and endeavour. And what were the thoughts of Dorothy Vance ? She had come over the aea in obedience to her father's last request, leaving behind the only friends she had ever known, to trust heraslf with the unknown comrade her father had loved ao well. She had formed many ideas of what Roger Maroham would be like, but when her eyes fell upon that noble face, with ita grave oharm of expression and kindly, honest eye, every apprehension fled, and a strange feeling of rest and trust stole into her heart. She felt, indeed, as she expressed it, that she had come borne. " Shall we go down now 1 " said Roger Marcham, offering his arm. " Dinner will be servod now, and Fred impatient. I hope hs did hi«r duty. It was a great disappointment to me that I could not meet you myself ; but the letter only came to-day, and I could not put off my engagements." "Certainly not. Mr Wellesley was most kind and attentive. lam afraid I shall ba a great trouble to you, Mr Marcham." "In what way 1 " . " Oh, girls are always troublesome. Papa told me I was to do all I could to make you happy, and I will." * . " Thank you. If you feel happy and at home at Underwood, Dorothy, I shall be happy ," said Roger Marcham sincerely. " You will find a great deal needing your attention, I am afraid. We are rather Bohemian in our habits." " Does Mr Wellesley live here always ? " "He ought not. He is supposed to havo •work to do in the office," returned Roger Marcham, and said no more, as they had reached the dinicg-room door. Fred Welletley was in his. element that night. Roger Marcham was amused by his evident desire to carry the heart of the stranger by storm. Roger himself said very little, and left the young rjeople to carry on the conversation, which they did without a break. He was pleased to see that Fred seemed anxious to be &b gentlemanly as possible, and that he refrained from the use of alang, which was a great concession. Miss Vance seemed to be an accomplished talker, and she was quick at repartee. When once a sweet, clear thrill of laughter Bounded through the sombre old room, Roger Marcham almost started at the unusual sound. "Won't you come out for a stroll, Miss Vance 1 " said Fred eagerly the moment dinner was over. ".Uncle Roger always has letters to write, and we'll just be in the way." Roger Marcham bit his lip, but turned to his ward with a smile. "YeE, if you are not too tired, go with Fred through the park. Can I get a wrap lor you 1 " " Won't you come, too ? " she asked, with a Blight hesitation, which he misunderstood. " Ob, no, an old fogey like me might be in the way," he said, with a laugh. " When Fred goes back to town you will have plenty of time to weary of me." So Fred had his way, and they left the house together, Roger Marcham watching them from the window with a slight cloud iipon his brow. Well, perhaps it was but jnatural and right that he should be set aside. He was old and grey and grave, and could have nothing in common with those jaßt standing on life's threshold. He w&s only "Uncle Boger," and of what uae in the world is an uncle but to provide the means for the youcg people to spend, and stand aside while they enjoy it. And yet he felt impatient of his nephew's appropriation of Dorothy Vance. On this first night, at least, he might have kept in the background; he might have thought that guardian and ward would have something to say to each other, if only to speak about those who were gone. No such j consideration, however, had presented itself to the mind of Mr Fred Wellesley. He was seized with a sudden and boundless admiration for Miss Vance, and in accordance with his usual selfishness, claimed her society without giving hia uncle a thought. It had been understood that a fortnight was to be the limit of the young man's autumn holidays, but the fortnight came and went, and another began to draw to a cloae without any sign that Fred was wearying to get back to work. At length Roger Marcham deemed it hiß duty to speak. He found him idly smoking a cigar on the terrace one afternoon, and walking up to him, ■aid candidly, " You must turn up at the

office on Monday morning, Fred. I have waited this time to see how far you would transgress the bounds of what is reasonable and right." He spoke quietly, but he was gravely displeased. Fred, however, only replied with a flippant laugh i " All right, guv. I'll go up on Monday, but I was going to say I think I'll run down always on Friday nights and stay till Monday all winter." " There are two to agree on th&t question, Fred," returned his uncle, quistly. "If you | do so, you must pay for your short time, if only as an example to the rest." " Oh, come, that would be too mean on a fellow, I declare. You're getting worse every day. Uncle Roger, what's the use of being bo hard on a fellow 7 " " Hard, my lad 7 lam not hard enough." " I don't know what yon call hard, then. Haven'c I Been you scowling at me for a week back, but I was bound I wouldn't give in. I'm not to be treated as if I were a common cad. You promised loDg ago, you know, to make me like your own son. You can'i go back on it now." " I promised to put you in a fair way of i earning your own livelihood. If you imagine by that that I intended to hand over the entire fruits of my life's labours to a man who had never learned the value of an honestly-earned shilling, you wero under a mistake, Fred, and the sooner you know it the better." "Oh, hang itl draw it mild. What are you driving at 1 Do you want me to qnit 7 " " I'll tell you what I want, and what I will have, Fred, or you and I must part. You must go back to business, and apply yourself to learn itß principles, of which you are curioußly ignorant even yet. You must make yoursslf of some use in the place or it cannot hold you. Your example is pernicious in its ; effects on the others, and unless it is amended must be removed." Fred Wellesley threw away the end of his cigar in a passion. "It's only since Miss Vance came you've grown bo mighty anxious about me," he said ! bitterly. I " I see you doing your utmost to win the affections of my ward, Fred," said Roger Marcham with quiet dignity, " and as she is I in my care I must see to it that the man , who seeks to win her is worthy of her. You are not so. Until you make a man of yourself, Fred, I fear I must banish you from Underwood. I must speak plainly. It is my duty to myself, to you, and to her." "Then I'd better get out to-night," said Fred bitterly, aqd a scowl darkened his brow. " I must say it's a pretty way to treat a fellow, and I won't forget it." {To be continued.)