THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 3494, 22 February 1921, Page 46

THE NOVELIST.

[Published bx Special Arrakcemejit.}

CONSCIENCE.

BY

ELIZABETH YORK MILLER.

Author of ’’The Brass Box,” “Carry On,” “The Sins of the Fathers,” etc., etc. [Copyright.] CHAPTER XXlll.—(Continued.) W ell, well, well, Lorie, this is a surprise! I didn’t expect you until Saturday.” Ihe y iear rose, rubbing his hands to get her in childish pleasure. He was very pleased, indeed; solitude had become a tittle irksome. And Loraine was nis favourite daughter. He had embraced her before it was borne in upon him that something, was the matter. , . Where s Alex?” he asked, peering be lund her through the doorvvav into the darkness of the half. Loraine shut the door. Alex is in London,” she said. “I came down alone. I wanted to see you.” «he removed her gloves ‘ with the ® xa o§ el 'ated deliberation of a woman play ing a tragic role on the stage. Daddy, why clidn t von tell me?” James Rea vis fell back upon the port. He needed a friend, and it was the onlv •me at hand. He drained off the glass de poured previous to her dramatic entry, and thus fortified said: Weil, Lorie, I think I know what vou mean.” * T ou ‘ :ed me ?” ■■’ke repeated. “Would it have made any difference? he asked. I heir eyes met. and hers dropped selfconsciously.

. . 5 < 1 o!11 believe I could have married him. she murmured. ''How could we have got out of it?” Something strident in her father’s voice and his use of the word "we” rallied her. ‘'lt was for me to decide—not you, she said coldly. Then she shed her heavy coat, standing lissom and tall in the warrn-hued silk creation of a famous Parisian dressmaker, which she had chosen to put on that morning. Daddy, you knew. Mr Stagbund said lie told you." James nodded, grimacing like a gargoyle. He didn’t think to ask her how she had found out. It was enough that she, too. knew. ** W mul.i if. 1 1 ci t.'. -i. 1 ... .i: r» ... b’)

i " oiua u nave matte any difference? lie repeated thickly. Again their eyes met, and again Loraine’s dropped. "Wasn’t it tv hat you—v/liat tve — tv an ted "What did tvo want?” asked Loraiue. "T wanted comfort and security for you.” ‘'Was that all ?” 'Ah. Boric! .... Alex is a man. Haven’t you discovered his good qualities? He faced this thing, too. He hoped you wouldn’t find out —but all the same, he faced the possibility of vour doing so. Lorie, you’re his wife.” "I know, she said auietly, “I’m his tt i fe. Y on, my father, joined our hands together. What a curious thing!” The Vicar tottered, fell back, and she ran towards him crying out shrilly as he sank into his chair. He was unconscious. ‘’Betsy, Betsy! Come! Off with this collar; it’s choking him. Betsy, where are you?” The old woman came running, tern fied half out of her wits.

“Oh. my love—it’s a stroke! What shall we do? He s dying, Hiss Lone, and no doctor nearer’n live miles.” “Mv ear s outside. Betsy. Tell Watson to drive for his life into Pent Cross. I Hurry!” Betsy hurried with all speed, and in the garden in the dark she ran full tilt into Alexander Flagg. The impact knocked the breath out of both of them. “Good heavens, woman, what’s the matter—can’t you look where you’re going?” Flagg cried angrily. Panting and sobbing, Betsy explained. But she was immensely relieved. The very presence of a man, particularly of Flagg, gave her courage. He, himself, directed the chauffeur, then hurried into the house. Loraine stared at him dully, not even questioning in her own mind how he happened to he there. "Father is dying.” she said. A slow trickle of blood was issuing from between the Vicar's lips. Eis eyes roiled far back into his head, and his breath I rattled in a curious gurgling way. i

Flagg brushed by his wife and picked up the old man as easily as though he had been a child. He carried him to tire worn leather couch, calling out jerky orders as he loosened clothing and bootlaces. “Cold water and towels: send to the Castle for ice, vinegar and ammonia.” He seemed to know exactly what was needed. Lorain e and Jietsy Hew to obey his orders • a neighbour's boy was despatched for the ice. and Flagg made a pillow of it and tied up the Vicar’s forehead with wet cloths. The stertorous breathing became easier, and tlio old man’s eyes rolled back into position, lb l closed them and seemed to be sleeping, although faint moans escaped him. “Is he dying':” Loraine whispered. Unconsciously she laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder as he knelt beside the couch sweating with the exertion of his ministrations. “I don’t think so, but it's a near thing," Flagg replied. "I’ve seen it be fore in hot climates. The old boy’s been doing himself too well; not taking enough exercise, likely! Too much port,” tie added. “lfow did it happen?”

"We—we were talking,” Low-^ie faltered. .”Dh, yes, of course. You were blaming him for letting you marry me. That s what you came down tor, wasn’t it? H ell, you've dashed near killed him. Poor old bii’d 1 lie kind of likeu me. i d oe sorry if he pegged out.” Loraine cxept away sobbing. When the doctor came she waited in the cold drawing room listening fearfully to every movement in the household She heard them carrying her father upstairs, and the car go off again, returning in half an hour with a hospital nurse. People gathered iix the roadway, a silent group. Somewhere in the distance a dog howled. Pattering footsteps went up and down the stairs, old Betsy’s heavier tread easily distinguishable from the others.

It seemed that ages had passed before Betsy came to the door of the drawing room. "Are you there, dearie?’’ "Yes,” Loraine replied, starting up. "Your old room’s ready for you. Mi I lagg is going to sit up so’s he can help the nurse.” Loraine clutched the servant’s rough hand. "What does Mr Warrender say, Betsy?” "He says it’s all right for the present, dearie. Y r ou must hope for the best—look on the bright side. Mr Flagg, he’s

sending another car up to London for Miss Janey. Your father has spoke, dearie. He says he wants Miss Janey. What we should have done without your husband, dearie, I hate to think. The doctor says lie’s saved poor dear master’s life, being so prompt like. Now you’ll go up to your room like a lamb, and I’ll fetch you up a bit of supper presently.” “I couldn’t touch a thing, Betsy.” 'Jut, tut! Yes you will, too—just a cup of soup or a dish of bread and milk. Hear me, I’ve got my hands full, but the -U inch in woman’s come in to help, and that’s a blessing. Now don’t stand argu - fyin’ with me, dearie, but get along with you. ” Loraine obeyed forlornly. Nobody seeemd to want her to do anvthing. For an instant outside her fattier s door she paused, hearing her husband’s voice and that of the nurse. Her father did not need her, nor did he want her. He wanted Janey. Yet Taney was not his favourite daughter. CHAPTER XXIV.

James ileavis s liuies-s was prolonged, bucii a tiling as an apoplectic stroke coutu not happen to iimi v.im impunity. ine port was banished aim iie was put upon a rigidly abstemious diet. iie was not to excite himself nor to "worry.” Alust oi the days, which began to be warm and sunny, he spent in a wheel-chair in tiie garden. 1 tie nurse remained to look after him, but Janet was his constant companion. line had many amusing things to tell him about her London visit, particularly about Percy Biatun, who had got no chance, after ail, to propose. She also comforted him a great deal by what she said about Dennis. Dennis was almost h’U'By, ail d certainly quite cheerful. He thoroughly liked iiis work with Air Wilfrid Tenison. Air Tenison was a most interesting man. Janet, herself, had met him. She procured several of his books and read aloud from thorn during those sunny hours in the garden. Meanwhile Alexander Flagg had found a curate to carry on for the church. There was some talk that ho might become a permanent fixture. James Reavis was not altogether sorry. His best days were over. He felt weary, sad, broken, but kept a cheery face to Janet. Between him and Loraine. however, a curtain seemed to have dropped She came every day—generally two or three times—bearing in her own hands, gifts of fruit, flowers, jellies, custards, a catch of trout, everything possible that the invalid could enjoy. But there was always a sense of interruption when she. came, and on her part a-desire to be off again. She avoided her father’s eyes as lie did liars. They were not at ease with each other. With Flagg, however, it was very different. The Vicar counted the hours between bis son-in-law’s visits. Flatm brough no gifts—merely himself. He was a jovial companion. Sometimes he took them for a gentle motor spin and since lie was studying the history of the Anglican Church, there was much in common between him and James Re.avis. He was j particularly interested in the attitude of the Church towards marriage and divorce. It was seldom that be attended service, but for the moment the subject interested him. As he told James Reavis, he had got into the habit of study. Janet discovered a bond between them when lie mentioned casually that he had met her and Dennis's hero, Wilfred Tenison. He had thought, he said, of looking Tenison up again some time. Then he had laughed a little strangelv and remarked that it was queer the Eastern traveller happened to be in London just now, but to Janet’s disappointment he seemed in no hurry to look him up. James Reavis may have wondered how matters stood between Loraine and her husband, but he could not guess and he did not ask. As soon as Easter had passed and the Vicar was out of immediate danger, guests began to arrive at the Castle. I hen Loraine had loss time for the vicarage ; her visits were more hurried and fewer. The great cars strolled to and fro be tween Pent Cross and Droone. Flagg had a golf course laid out on his property ; Loraine gave dances and introduced a jazz band. Percy Blnum, invited to one of the house-parties, proposed to Janet in the

Yrioarage garden, and being gently refused, f‘ lrned , attention to one of Hard Droone s unmarried daughters. • countryside was accustomed to the sight of Alexander Flagg mounted on one ot ins splendid hunters galloping madly at almost any hour of the day, but preferably at dawn. And always he rode alone " a f I? . lon S or b y h; s side as in the days of their strange courtship. He ° C i € l A e *jb® wi nd, his lace set and hard unless he chanced to meet some early risen farmer or yokel and then he would break mto a grim smile, touch his hat with In's " Tki T out , a cherry “good-morning.” to inp V -,t beg f an r t 0 - call him the squire and to speak of Loraine as the sqiure’s lady. a rom ance befitting Bentleburv’s oldest traditions, this mating of the beggar

ma.d and King Cophetna. The Droone so it was said, had chosen for his bride the daughter of a tinker. ft uas poetic justice that a descendant of that couple should mate with the uncouth but virile man from “down under.” malfers Sid? coa P'°- h ™ viXf'j'u “’ U r h , a f , i i Klicat ed m the interro ■ ■ t - hat jlekl together previous to wW t S off t 0 tell her father "hat she though of him. hnr'] e , said I,iat she could not hear her husband to touch her; and Flagg hac not touched lier. She had said llmt she of'u-Vi't ' Vant i t 0 st JP. arate openly for fear of what people would say. There was no apparent separation. 'They lived at Dioonc ostensibly together, and for the ° f f anit vd, s «“-ounding themselves with people. Their attitude towards one a ”?, er ot complete amiability m liiblic. There were no private scenes Loiainc had her own rooms. P'lagcr haj bis. They seldom met unless other oeopie were present. For a solid six weeks tile* had exchanged no word alone. It seemed to Loraine that she was waiting for the outside world to learn what the la mat ical preacher, Flagbund, had told her People must hear; whispers must imuc.i them. 1 hen what would happen ? I Ihe silent agony of living under the same loot \\ith the man was bad enough, even when nobody but her fathei shared the secret. Even Janet had not been told. Plow could she bear it, Loraine thought when the time came that eyerybodv would know? Sometimes she wondered where lie nad got his vast fortune, but that troubled her less. It was almost enough for her that he had it and that although she had nothing, now, to give him, he was as generous as ever with her. It is true that his little personal atten-

tion ceased ; they came now through the i medium of the busy young secretary. ; Luke Powell, who adored his curious emi plover, may have guessed that something , was wrong, but kept his speculations to himself. He also kept to himself the fact that he. did not like Loraine verv much. Iu his opinion she was a selfish parasite, and ungrateful into the bargain. Things had reached this state when one morning in the middle of April, Alevunder Flagg sought a private interview with his wife. The message came when Loraine was being dressed for the day, not leeling at all well, but making a rather special toilette Ante a houseful of guests were arriving for the week-end, amongst them being her cousin, Krne.t Reavis, with whom she had flirted mildly since childhood. The maid brought her a twisted slip of paper, offering it ceremoniously on a trav. Fiagg had written: ‘’Can I see you a minute? I’m in the library, but I’ll come up if it’s more convenient to you. ' She tore the paper into small pieces and told her maid to sav that she would

join Mr Flagg in the library as soon is she was dressed. t\ hy did ho wish to see her alone? W as it to say that the situation had grown intolerable to him? She was feeling very seedy, and the mirror showed her at anything but her best. The summons to the library filled her with chill apprehension. For a moment she contemplated going back to bed, but with all those people coming it was impossible. She was not ill enough for that, and there was no excuse to otfer Flagg for refusing to see him. In tlie end she hurried, the sooner to get it over. He was standing squarely before the hearth, his feet apart, chewing his cigar, when she came into the library. There was no frown on his face; he seemed quite cheerful, and she felt a sense of relief. ‘ Hello, Lorie! I say, my pretty, you're not looking up to much this morning. Washed out, that’s what you are. Too many Fate hours, eh?” He pushed a chair forward and slie sari's into it weakly. “My head aches,” she explained. “What is it you want to see me about, Alex?” Flagg laughed, as at some secret jest. “Well, here’s a deuce of a business. A good joke on me Lorie. You remember that chap 1 was jealous of—your friend, young Carr?” ftoraine started. There were violet shadows under her eyes, and she felt too physically unfit to cope with her husband’s subtelties. “What about him?” she asked dully. “He’s coining here to-day for the weekend,” Flagg replied. “1 don’t think I understand,” Loraine said, pressing a hand to her forehead. Little sparks danced before her eyes, and she became suddenly giddv. “Well, Lorie, it’s like this. I asked Tenison down—didn't bother you about him, and lie’s an unconventional beggar. My invitation was enough for him. He's an old pal of mine. You’ve heard -Taney mention him, no doubt. I knew him before I was in gaol, and he was darn' kind to me when 1 was a kid. We’ve only met once since I got out ” “Alex, please. 1 can't bear to hear you talk about it. So he—this Mr Tenison—knows!” “Oh, yes, he knows,” Flagg said cheerfully. “Well, the point is he wired this morning to say he’s bringing his 'assistant,” as he calls young Carr, with

him. He’s a busy chap, Tenison, and never lets the grass grow under his feet. I’ll bet he thinks he's going to have a quiet week-end with nothing to do but work. Hasn’t an idea how gay we are. Wonder how he'll like your ‘nigger band?’ ” Loraine’s lips tightened, and she made a half-hearted attempt to rise. “Is that all you have to tell me, Alex?” she asked. “That’s all.” ‘As Denis will be your guest, I hope you won’t be rude to him.” “I think you can trust me not to do that,” Flagg said drily. “You had better go up and lie down, Loi'ie. I’ll tell ’em you ain't well. I’ve asked Janey to lunch, and she can do the honours.” Loraine wondered why she did not instantly feel jealous of Janet. She simply sat there staring dully at the glittering sparks that danced before her vision. Her lips were dry and the unpleasant sensation of nausea cluthched at her throat. In the midst of it she was conscious of her husband’s nearness; he was holding a glass of water for her to drink. And then he picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. She had demanded that he was not to touch her, but there was nothing personal about this. He had done as much for her father; he would have done the same for old Betsy or one of the stabie-boys. It was vaguely humiliating that she no longer had the power to make him tremble when he held her in his arms. The maid drew the blinds and made her comfortable, and in the semi-light she lay quiescent listening to the motor cars coming and going. Now and again she caught the faint drift of voices and laughter. It would not matter very much that she was not able to greet her guests. Mrs Crawley, the housekeeper, would see after their comfort; and as Flagg said, Janet would do the honours. Indeed, Flagg as a host, had got on very well before his marriage. Did he really need this costly and wholly useless ornament to his household? Of what pibpose was Loraine now at Drone? A tear of self-pity coursed down her waxen cheek. This man, Tenison, knew. She was ashamed at having to meet him, but Flagg apparently felt no sense of shame. He was rather extraordinary about that. Presently Loraine slept, and in an hour awoke with an almost absurd sense of wellbeing. Her headache was completely gone, and it was difficult to remember that so short a time ago she had believed herself to be coming down with a mortal illness. She jumped up, pulled aside the curtains, and rang for her maid. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re better, Madam,” the girl exclaimed. “The luncheon gong has just gone.” “I’m simply famished!” Loraine said gaily. She hastily smoothed her hair and had her frock re-fastened. A sense of excitement Was upon her, and she quite forgot that she expected to feel ashamed to meet the man who knew all about her husband’s past. She was now curiously eager to meet him. As for Dennis—well, the situation was piquant. She wondered how 7 Dennis would take it Did he feel, like herself, that it might be playing with fire ? (To be Continued.)