CONSCIENCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3487, 11 January 1921, Page 46

CONSCIENCE.

BY ELIZABETH YORK MILLER.

Author of ’’The Brass Box,” “Carry On/’ “The Sins of the Fathers,” etc., etc. CHAPTERS I—lV.—Okl Lord Droono ha« soldi Droone Castlo to Alexander Flagg, millionaire. The latter lias everything in the castlo and its grounds repaired, refurnished, and renovated in every way. He arrives with his secretary in his sumptous car, followed by servants, dogs, etc., in six cars. At Bentlebury Vicarage the Rev. James Reavis’ two daughters, Loraine and Janet, see them arrive. Loraine is a blonde beauty, reared in poverty and clad in shabbiness, neither of which suits her type. Janet, in the same environment, has become acclimatised and content. Dennis Carr, a poor young student, eon of a Don at Oxford, is in love with Loraine, but the vicar forbids the engagement for six months, knowing well the curse of poverty, and separates the lovers. Alexander h lagg calls at the vicarage, sees Loraine, falls in love at first sight, and invites the family to dine at the Castle. To make themselves presentable the sisters fall heavily into debt at Madame Trott’s establishment at Pent Cross. CHAPTER V. Men have embarked with open oves upon the sea of debt, and got wrecked on the bankruptcy rocks. But no man ever sailed forth believing or even expecting such to be his ill-fortune. There\vas always the big hope. He might be dishonest. Some men are. He might have no scruples against cheating the widow, the orphan, or the inefficient—but not consciously would he cheat himself In Janet’s mind there was the idea that Loraine and she had cheated themselves bad!y in succumbing to this temptation. Indeed, it was the first of any consequence to come their way, and they had fallen hard. It involved so much. It had to be face I every time one knelt down to pray which wa-s often in the Reavis household." It had to be lied about to their earthly father. He, of course, would not be surprised that ten -pounds could be stretched so far. To him, it was a lot of money. M evertheless, it might be necessary to lie to him. They reached home shortly after four and old Mary, the servant who had been with them for years, had cleaned and pressed the Vicar’s ceremonial clothes, heated the copper for baths, and laid tea. Their father had a vestry meeting, and need not be faced until they were actuall/ in gala attire. * J A few hours in which to rest and refresh oneself. And to think. . . . Oh, heavens, why think at all, since reason had deserted one at a moment when its presence would have been most valuable' Tap, tap, on the door Janet rolled over on the bed where she v?as supposed to be having a nap and groaned, “Come in.” 'Jan, isn’t it too sweet for words? Ron t I look absolutely ‘scrum’?” There was Loraine, dressed a full hour before she needed to be—and such a Loraine! She had done her hair in a new way. Her lips matched the string of coral that had been their mother’s, and which gave just the touch of colour the yellow and black frock demanded. Loraine was always beautiful, though often dowdy by force of circumstance, but to-night she might have pitted herself against Cleopatra or the Queen of Sheba and come off triumphant. Their father did not ask any questions. It never remotely entered his head that either singly or collectively they would run into debt any more than he would himself. Of course he admired their fine clothes. By this time Loraine had completely banished remorse and was in great bign spirits. They set forth in the cool of the twilight with the yellow moon climbing the sky to keep them company. It was but a short walk to Droone, up hill all the way, and presently the Castle came into viow like a scene in fairyland. The stone terraces were hung with strings of paper lanterns and there were lights even in the towers. James Reavis sighed regretfully that the fine old place had passed out of a Droone’s keeping. Perhaps three or four centuries hence there would still be Flaggs at Droone and they would be an old family, just as the Droones were now. There were basket chairs on the main terrace and several people seated in them or moving about, including three smart and pretty women. Loraine had a curious feeling as she walked with her father and sister up the driveway. It was as though Alexander Flagg had been waiting expressly for her. There he stood in the middle of the shallow flight of steps, his feet slightly apart, the cigar glowing red in the dusK. As they approached he flung away the cigar and hurried forward to meet them ; and his eyes caught and held Loraine's with a force so magnetic that she trembled from head to foot. She was almost afraid to give him her hand. “Rear me, I hope we’re not late,” said James, mistaking this expectant attitude on the part of their host. “You could never be to early for me,” the new owner of Droone replied, somewhat cryptically. It was probably in answer to the Vicar’s query, but he looked straight at Loraine as lie spoke and still hold the hand that she had offered him with doubt and misgiving. CHAPTER VT. The 10th of October was Janet’s eighteenth birthday, and for that reason

she was on the lookout for the postman that morning. In effect she had solicited a gift of money from old Lord Droone; had made a confession to him by letter which she felt unable to make to her father. Her personal share in the debt they owed the Frenchwoman had begun to get on her nerves. She, herself, was respon sible for nine guineas of that dreadful aocount, but, of course, she felt the burden of Loraine’s indebtedness, also. Two weeks had passed—two really delightful weeks—during which they had accepted a great deal of hospitality from Mr h lagg, and been forced to offer him considerably more than they could afford. Scarcely a day passed, when Mr Flagg did not happen to have visitors, that he failed to show up at the Vicarage for tea, and one could not offer him bread, margarine, and treacle. James Re-avis encouraged these informal calls and himseif suggested a dinner party. Instead of economising on the household accounts to f° r their ill-gotten finery, Janet was at her wits’ end to make her limited allowance include all these extra expenses. It is true that they had presents of game and hot-house grapes and other delicacies irom the Castle, but this saving was offset by the claret and port their father demanded for the ceremonial dinner party. In her extremity Janet had written to their aged relative and begged him not to forget her birthday. Left to himself he would never have remembered it at all, but he was a generous man whenever ne had any funds, and Janet hoped for the best. It was remarkable that Loraine took their crushing debt so lightly. Indeed, she seemed to have put it quite out of her mind, and was rather cross whenever Janet mentioned it. lo the younger girl, however, the idea of owing so much money was veritable torture. She had fallen, but in doing so had suffered cruelly. Never again, for her. She was up betimes that morning. The postman usually came "about eight” which was the breakfast hour at the Vicarage, and as a rule James Reavis received the post ana distributed it. Generally there was little, his own portion frequently consisting merely of circulars, with occasional begging letters. Hello Janey—many happy returns.’’ It was Loraine coming along the path in her old riding habit who greeted Janet. Loraine looked, as usual, very pretty, and there was a delicate flush on her cheeks which might be accounted for by the exeicise. Janet stared at her in surprise, ohe hadn t known that Loraine was riding this morning. Nothing had been said about it last night. “I’ve been across Burr Fields, all along the cliffs—with Air Flagg,” said Loraine, as she kissed her sister. “I told him it v.as jour birthday, and he sent his love to you. ’ i'D at \ w , as ver y nice of you,” said Janet a littie drily. “Where’s father?” Loraine asked, flicking her skirt disdainfuliv. It was not difficlilt to read her mind. She was wishing she could have a new habit. Not down yet. I’m looking out for the postman. You remember I told you I wrote to Cousin George ” o 1 _ J e s! I qo hope he sends you something, Janey. It certainly would come in useful.” “There he is!” Janet flew to the gate. There were the papers and two letters; one for her, m Lord Droone’s fine, tired handwriting and the other for their father. It was the latter that drew from Janet an exclamation of horror. For the moment she forgot to open her own. “Oh, Lorie, look! Oh, Lorie ! ” Her hand shook as she held out the thin white envelope addressed in foreign V: iiti ng to the Rev. James Reavis, Esq. , The Vicarage, Bentlebury. In the’ upper left-hand corner, the crude impression of a rubber stamp informed them that the missive came from “Mme. Trott, Modes and Millinery, Pent Cross.” “The Frenchwoman has sent our bill to father,” groaned Janet Loraine took it from her and glanced hastily to right and left. “Come into the summer house. See if Cousin George has sent you anything.” They trailed hastily across the wet grass, while Janet tore open her own letter.’ Lord Droone had behaved very handsomely. He had sent her a cheque for ten pounds together with* a kindly message of congratulation. and a gentle word of advice on the sin and misery of getting into debt. Certainly it was a subject upon which he was qualified to give advice. Dh, thank heaven—thank heaven—this clears me!” Janet exclaimed, kissing both the letter and the cheque. Her eyes and Loraine’s met. There was a sudden question in both pairs. Wo shall have to tell father, of course ” Janet said, with a gulp. I don t see why,” Loraine replied. “But—it’s addressed to him.” “It s our bill. I don’t suppose father has been buying things at Madame Trott’s.” “But, Lorie, we can't open it. We can’t suppress it.” “I don’t see why.” “Oh, Lorie!” For Loraine had done the unthinkable ; she had not hesitated to rip open the envelope addressed to someone else. She was much too intent upon the contents to pay heed to the note of incredulous amazement in her sister’s voice. “You see, Janey, it’s only her account. She isn't pressing us at ail. ‘To goods supplied as per invoice £63 10s; by cash £lO, balance £53 10s.’ With your ten pounds, that reduces us spendiclly. I’ll fake in the cheque and explain to Madame Trott she isn’t to send the accounts to father.” Janet breathed again but not ver\ f reelv. “We still owe her over forty, and I can’t write to Cousin George again.” “I thought you were going to save on

the house keeping,” Loraine said querulously. “Well, suppose you lake it and see how much you can save,” Janet retorted, “with Mr Flagg here nearly every day for tea—.—” She broke oft. “There’s "father calling. Quick, give me the letters. IT! put them in my pocket.” They went in to breakfast and poor Janet felt that she understood Judas far better than she had ever thought possible when she kissed her father in response ro his gentle wish that she found herself well and happy on this auspicious morn. CHAPTER VII. Alexander Flagg was a man of quick decisions. Perhaps it was accounted for in the fact that he felt he had much time to make up and none whatever ,to lose. He had seen Loraine but once when he decided that she was the woman he meant to marry. He knew nothing at that time of Dennis Carr, and had he known, worn! have cared still less. But he did know the power within himself, and that it was tremendous. His vei’y roughness was a charm. Yet, as James Reavis had discovered, Flagg spoke and wrote three other languages far better than he did his own. He had a knowledge of history, ancient and modern, that was staggering, even to a scholar. That most baffling of all modern problems., European politics appeared to Flagg as mere child’s play. This young-old man of thirty-four, had completely intrigued the Vicar, and James Reavis was wholly on his side as regarded Loraine. Flagg might be rough, but cer tainly he was readj'. The sense of power that radiated was distinctly comforting to this clerical by-product of” a noble but sadly ineffectual family. The A icar was becoming sidy aware of things that in other days would have passed him by unnoticed. He was aware, for instance, that Loraine was taking her separation from Dennis far more easily than anyone would have imagined possible; and he traced a subtle connection between her growing friendship for Mr Flagg, and the intention she expressed of not accepting the Droone relative’s invitation to spend part of the winter in London. He knew that Loraine rode with Air Flagg before breakfast on one of that rich man s best horses, and that Janet was not included in these excursions. Sometimes, in the midst of his sermon writing, James Reavis would allow himself to dream of the time when his favourite daughter might be mistress of the splendid old castle of her ancestors, while he—a favoured visitor—warmed himself with a glass of port at the hospitable hearthside. It was in Alexander Flagg’s power to increase the living of the Vicar of Bentlebury, and no doubt Loraine would see that he did so. On the morning of Janet’s birthday, Mr Reavis fiddling with his jien to no purpose laid it aside and suddenly decided to go up to London and get himself measured for a clerical dress suit. Angus and Austin, the tailors in Convent Garden, who specialised in garments for the clergy, would give him credit he felt sure, although never before had he asked it of them. As Loraine was going into Pent Cross that morning she drove him to the station in the hired pony cart. James Reavis felt slightly guilty as he kissed her goodbye, for he had told neither of his daughters what he meant to do, although both f them would have recognised the necessity. If he was to go on accepting hospitality at the Castle he could not continue to do so in his shabby old frock coat suit. After all, something was expected of him as a member of the Droone family. As soon as the train drew out, Loraine turned the pony’s head towards the establishment of Madame Trott. She was rather angry with the Frenchwoman and inclined to be haughty at first, but Madame was so voluble with her apologies, and had almost to be forced to take Janet’s cheque at all, so that Loraine soon realised it had been a perfectly natural mistake. “Ah, Mademoiselle, nevaire, nevaire would I ’ave done such a thing ’ad * known it might cause trouble to you and your sister,” Madame protested. In the end she took the cheque whicn should have reduced their indebtedness to a little over forty pounds, and did—for a few moments. But a casual inquirj- from Loraine about riding habits led to a fresh bargain. On top of that Madame had again received a consignment of irresistible things from her cousin in Paris which she begged to be allowed to show to Loraine. One of them was a set of furs priced most moderately at thirty guineas. How it happened Loraine could never say, but when, for the second time she left Madame Trott’s, her account had mounted to well over a hundred pounds, and next week she was coming back to oe fitted for the riding habit. She was now faced with the difficulty of confessing to Janet. A slight feeling of anger against Janet crept into her heart. What business was it, anyway, of her sister’s? Janet, who didn't care particularly about clothes, would never understand this terrible form of temptation, yet she would have to be told. Indeed, she would know without any telling. If the worst came to the worst, Loraine decided that she, also, would appeal to Lord Droone. Her own birthday was six months away, but Christmas was famy close. Yet this second indiscretion did not depress her as heavily as the first. She was getting used to debt, and it seemed such a simple matter to give the Frenchwoman ten pounds and get in exchange so many delightful things. Tt happened, however, that Janet did not take the matter quite as her sister had anticipated. Loraine had expected her to be angry and to preach. Instead, Janet turned very white and merely said: “You mustn't go to the Frenchwoman's again, Lorie. The next time we have some money to pay in, I’ll take it.” Slightly disarmed, Loraine protested feebly that she had to be fitted for the riding habit. “Well, I’ll go with you,” Janet replied.

t \ 6 wee k by and so it happened, Jan6l aceompani ed Loraine for the fitting, and that day not a penny was added to the aocount. Janet felt very pleased with herself for the sharp way in which she had negatived Madame Trott’s wily advances, but she might have worried a little had she seen the malevolent gleam in the Frenchwoman s eyes when they passed out of the shop. CHAPTER VIII. There was no ban upon Dennis Carr’s writing to Janet. They exchanged letters once a week, and it was becoming increasdifficult for Janet to send news >f Loraine that did not include Alexander l<lagg. Janet s_ belief in her sister’s loyalty to Dennis did not waver in spite of the fact that Mr Flagg was quite obviously courting her, but apparently Dennis himself did not snare this optimism. He wanted to know all about Mr Flagg, and his letters contained acid comments upon the power of wealth and the fickleness of woman. According to the bond he could send no messages to Loraine nor she to him, but he did send messages—wild ones—which Janet reported she was unable to deliver because of the pact they had made. Rut she often spoke of Dennis to Loraine saying hopefully that the six months would soon be over. Already one had passed. ”Yes, time flies, doesn't it?” Loraine replied absently on one occasion, and punctuated her observation with a sffih. For her it cvas flying delightfully until the day that Dennis chose to break his bond. He appeared at the Vicarage one morning when Loraine happened to be gone the day on a motoring trip with Mr I' iagg and a rather frivolous married couple who were visiting at the Castle. From Janet s point of view it was unfortunate that Loraine should be so engaged, but, indeed, there scarcely ever was a day when she wasn't accepting Mr Flaggs hospitality. . James Reavis, finding his sermons increasingly difficult, was battling with one in the study and could not he disturbed, so Janet took Dennis into the chilly summer house and tried to reason with him. Passionately she pleaded the complete loyalty of Loraine, but Dennis was not oo bo convinced. Into the midst of their argument came the Vicar. He had heard voices and was only too willing to suffer an interruption. Janet stood aghast when her father appeared, trembling for poor Dennis, who had committed the sin of breaking his word, but Mr Reavis seemed not to be in the least angry. “Well, my boy, so here you are?” exclaimed the Vicar, genially. From his manner he might have been expecting Dennis, and it was Dennis who was angry. “I apologise, sir, but I simply couldn't stand it any longer,” the young man said stiffly. He was a tall boy with a fair complexion inclined to ruddiness ; his nose-glasses and slightly scholarly stoop somehow gave him a pathetic air. Janet’s heart ached for him. ‘‘Well, now, what’s the trouble? But come into the house.” Dennis fell into step beside the Vicar, while Janet hung a little behind. /‘lt\ this Flagg person. Lorie’s about with him all the time. It’s—it’s not fair, sir!” Dennis blurted out. “Really!” the Vicar protested. “Oh, I know he’s immensely rich; but what else do you know about him?” Dennis demanded, gaining courage. Mr Reavis ushered the unwelcome guest into his study, and absent-mindedly shut the door upon Janet. “Sit down, Dennis. Light your pipe, if you like. Do I understand that you have broken your engagement to keep away from Loraine because of some information you have against Mr Flagg?” Dennis was confused. “I have no information, sir. It’s simply that I can’t bear it. Lorie means so much to me ’ ’ “Ah, jealousy! Well, one can understand that.” Dennis flushed hotly. “I’m glad you can understand. I know I’m poor and—well we’ve gone all over that before ” “We have. What, precisely, do you want? Mr Reavis asked patiently. “Permission to announce our engagement,” Dennis replied, much emboldened by the Vicar’s mild attitude. James Reavis considered this for a moment, then said thoughtfully: “Perhaps you’re right, Dennis. Loraine will be back about tea-time, and then you can discuss it with her. Amu’ll stop to lunch, of course. Now run away and let me get on with my sermon.” There was a snake-in-the-grass qualitv in the silkiness of the Vicar’s voice that Dennis mistrusted, but the words were fairer than he had expected. Janet took him for a walk before lunch and considerably bolstered up his confidence. After all, it had only been a little over a month. Lorie couldn't have changed in that short time. When ho saw her it fairly took his breath away to realise how utterly different she was from the simple, dowdilvdressed little country girl from whom he had parted but a few weeks ago. He could not know, poor boy, that clothes

had wrought most of the difference in Loraine; but surely they could have nothing to do with the coolness of her greeting. CHAPTER IX. They were to have the drawing room to themselves by consent of the Vicar, and after Loraine had freshened her appearance she came down reluctantly to find that Janet had lit a fire and laid tea just for her and Dennis. But Dennis did not want any tea. He was too madly miserable; and Loraine, herself, was worried by this situation so unexpectedly thrust upon her. She thought it was the most unkind thing her father had ever done to change his mind just at this moment. “Janet is a stupid idiot to have written such tales about me,” Loraine stormed, her beautiful face white with temper. “It wasn’t what Janet said,” Dennis replied. “It was more what she didn't say. But I ran into your cousin, Ernest Reavis, the other day, and he said quite i lot. Now, Lorie, what’s it to be?’ Loraine burst into angry tears, which she mopped away furiously as they fell. “Just because I’m having a good time for once in my life !” she moaned. “Why do you grudge me a good time, Dennis? ’ “It’s Flagg I object to. Ernest says he’s announced his intention of marrying you.” “Absurd! You know what Ernest *s. He’il say anything that comes into nis head.” “But why should this particular thing come into his head?” “Really, I don’t know.” “Lorie, you’ve changed.” “No, I haven’t.” “Then will you announce our engagement?” “What good will it do, Dennis? We can’t be married for ages.” “It will warn Flagg off, for one thing.” Loraine shrugged her shoulders. “You mean you don’t want me to have any more good times. That’s what you really mean. You’re just being selfish. Mr Flagg and I are merely good friends. There’s nothing more in it than that.” “And can’t you go on being good friends if he knows you’re engaged to oe married? Why isn’t he such good friends with Janev? Answer me that.” Dennis was not of the stuff that takes his lady by the shoulders and shakes her into submission. He was too gentle, too inexperienced for such drastic measures. He could only plead with an agony of suffering that found reflection in his honest blue eyes. Although he did not know it, he was far t-oo good for Loraine. The outcome was not satisfactory. Loraine allowed him to kiss her and she snuggled tearfully beside him on the couch with his arms enfolding her as tenderiy as though she were some priceless piece of china which the slightest rudeness might shatter. Yes, they would be engaged in secret. She would write to him and as heT father did not object any more it would fill her with delight to see him whenever he could find the time and money to come to Bentlebury. But she really did not care to have their engagement made public just now. It was terrible for a girl to be announced as engaged for years and years. She never had any “good times.” Dennis had to be content with this edict. It was very strange since, now her father perversely chose to be willing, that Loraine, herself, held back from what before had seemed to be her dearest wish. True her explanations were the acme of eommonsense, but that was the last quality a lover should have and although he was, himself, so inexperienced in the role, Dennis resented it. He would have stopped the night in Bentlebury had Loraine asked him, but apparently it did not occur to her to do so. Indeed, she thoughtfully ordered the pony cart foT him in time for the 7.20 train, and tipped the butcher’s boy do drive him over. Scarcely had the echo of the wheels died away when she turned to her father—-who had come to the gate with her to bid Dennis goodbye—and said that Mr Flagg was expecting them ail to dine at the Castle. “I didn’t like to say so before Dennis,” she explained. “There’s no sense in hurting his feelings.” “Quite right, my dear.” The Vicar drew her hand through his arm and patted it. “Dennis is a good lad, but impetuous. I’m glad you are coming around to my way of thinking. These long engagements ! Ah, Lorie, they’ve been the means of spoiling many a young life.” “I suppose Dennis and I really are engaged, though,” Loraine said thoughtfully. “Yes, ye-—since you care for him so much. It was wrong of me to forbit it. But an announcement is different. You’re young, Lorie. You shouldn’t be tied hard and fast . . . before you know your own mind.” “Oh, I think I know that.” Loraine replied airily. “But come along, dad, we’ll have to hurry. I’m so glad your new suit has arrived.” They were both of them quite unprepared for Janet’s attitude. Janet was rather shocking. First of all she refused point blank to dine at the Castle that evening, but that was not really important. Things would go on very well without her. Her main sin was a passionate outburst which sadly interfered with Loraines making a careful and calculated toilette. *T can scarcely believe that you’re my sister! Poor Dennis! Ife trusted you, Lorie. and you —you’ve failed him. You’ve brflen his heart,. If you loved him half Loraine, with powder puff, whirled upon “You silly little fool! Dennis hasn’t asked you to love him, as far as I know. I can fancy him being flattered bv the idea. Please leave mo in peace, Janey, you bore me.” Janet went out, slamming the door, and fifteen minutes later the Vicar and his

elder daughter—both resplendent—were on their way to the Castle.

They had little to say to each other. Loraine’s thoughts were in turmoil. She loved Dennis. Janet’s unguarded reprimand convinced her that good, faithful Dennis was well worth keeping. Had he one fault? Strictly speaking, he had two: he was dreadfully poor, and he didn’t know how to deal with women. At least, not with a woman who might, ;f she had the chance, be unfaithful. Again the Castle was a blaze of lights; and again Alexander Flagg was on the terrace to welcome Mr Rea-vis and his daughter. Again, as always, the dinner was sumptuous, and Mr Reavis quite lost himself over the port. Half past nine found him embarked on a rubber of bridge, game of which he knew just enough to be a nuisance. The same time found Loraine and Alexander Flagg in the conservatory. Flagg was asking Loraine to be his wife. (To be continued).