CHAPTER XXI.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 11778, 28 September 1901, Page 2 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXI.

As Grantley drew Lear to his rooms, his attention was attracted by a man who seemed to be loitering about, and whom he vaguely remembered to have seen on almost every occasion of late when he had gone to and fro. There was something wretched in this man's 100k — something that seemed to speak of despair. Sir Charles paused, pne his hand into his pocket, and took oat some money. •It is cold to-night,' he said, as he slipped this into the other man's hand. 'Yes, it is cold,' the man in the street answered.

He looked eagerly into Grantley *s face.

It almost seomed as if he would have said something ruort*, hut witb a shrug of his shoulders he tnrned aaid<* and was slouching away wh«n Sir Charles stopped him. •I think I have seen you about here several tim*p. Wh.re do you live ? What do you do ?' The man answtrjd, with a hoar»e laugh :

•I live anywhere,' he said. 'Tonight, thanks to you, I shall have a bed. I do nothing except siuk lower and lower.'

Charles Grantley looked at the speaker with an interest that was almost eager. , •Why should you sink V he asked. Ihe other shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not? I have nothing to riße for.'

'We can all rise,' Grantley said, gently. •Ah ! that's a good 3cntitnent, and 1 hope you act by it.' There was almost a sneer in the man's voice.

CharlM Grantley started as if he ti»d been stnng. He stood looking at the roan before tim for a long time, and the wind whistled round the corners of the «tr*pt. Tbe "asrant watched the. yourg man's f*»oe. ■•«<* «p« p h( > <]] * pn Vo f " U a Btrar.ee — c " «* T "'* v r ' P0 w f .'" n „' H* turn."*, <""* n^ »«B-n woiill lmve zone on bis way, bat Cha-les Orantlrv woke, «s it were, out of a

dream. - . 'Stay' be said, and bis voic vim not very' distinct. Go<l forbid that you «hould think that I hold myse'f to be superior to yon. ! » is true that for the moment I have more than you have, but tbe time may coroe when 1, too, may sick, I shonld like to help you, Grantley said, endeavoring to combat his emotion ; 'will you sive me your nam«? Perhaps you know mine, as I am snre that you know I live here. Let me help you,; the young man added, easterly. But Ridlev drew hack. He bad Mien v«ry low indeed, yet something in Charles Granfciey'B voice and manner touched an almost for-

gotten cord. . He remembered, with a sense of re pngnance for himself, why he had come •losing about this door. 'You cannot help me,' he said ; M am past all human help.' Charles Grantley stood locking after the roan as be passed hnrri«dly out of giffht, and he shivered as he did so. He bad not needed that kind ot chance rebuke to put before him certain facts, yet tb* words epoken by this cwatore. whom the world would consider an ootcast, carried a new htterI ness. It roused a" whnl* tnmnlt oj struggling thought, and it brought back to him more keenly than ever that longing to iree himself and to stand unshrouded by deceit. 'How easy it would be to throw thw all aside,' he said to himself as he turned to enter his chambers ; 'what is to prevent me from making a confidant of Lorrimer ?' Tbe faintest of faint smiles flickered across his face. 'Poor Lorrimer! what a shock A should give him ! He ha* taken m ) to his heart, and calls me worthy. As he mounted the stairs he was conscious of a faint fragrance floating in tbe air. It recalled his mothers presence, and it made him shiver, and in a sense prepared him for seeing her, although indeed he might well have been suiprised by such a late visit. Mrs Grantley, arrayed in a charming tea-gown, was ensconced in an armchair. She wan glancing at come illustrated papers, and put these down with a smile as she saw her son.

Her face was as delicately pretty as ever, and yet her oyes had a hard look. «I have taken yon by surprise, haven't I?' she cr;«I. 'I have b*ei waiting hew for the last hour, Charles. Your man ChaWrs told me that he thought you would be back soon. Yet 1 have not been in tbe Ws< dull ; I have been chattin* with Kenneth, who is really a very nice boy.' Sir Charles throw off his coat. Tbe sight of hi* mother, tho sound of her voice, caused a'most torture to bun at this moment. 'Do yoa waut me V he said.

Mrs Grantley smiled. •Yes, and no,' she said. 'I had to come np to town to-day, and so I thought I would run in here after dinner and hear your plans. When are you coming down to Castle Chase 7 ♦I don't know,' Sir Charles said. 'Kenneth is so eager to come,' Mrs Grantley chattered on, 4 and I think the change ot air would do him good. :Nelia and I are prepared to take care of him. Just fancy, Charles, be would not believe that I was your motherhe said I looked far too young. Charles Grantley stood and looked down into the fire. His whole being rose in rebellion against this smilincr butterfly woman for whose sake he had sacrificed his whole life. He turned his eyes eway from her blond prettiness, from her jewelled hands, and her dainty figure, garbed in a pretence of mourning that was such a mockery. Slight and charming and pretty as -she wae, she represented to him all that wan inexorable and cruel, and be felt be understood so well why she had come ; he felt that she was doubtful now about him— that she became nertoos and anxious when they were separated for any length of time. •You are not a bit affectionate, 'Charlee,' Mrs Grantley said, with a pout. 'Do yon know, you ungrateful boy, I could have been spending ray evening in a most amusing fashion, ana ,t «t I .preferred to come to you ?'

♦I have no doubt you had good reason for sacrificing your evening, mother,' he answered, coldly. Mrs Grantley looked at him under her darkened eyelashes. There was an expression on his face that really frightened her.

Phfl began to whimper. 'You are very cruel to me.' fhe said ; 'you used to be so fond of me, Charles ; now I really believe you would rather not pee me.' ♦Whose fault is that, mother? the young man asked, almost fiercely. Look back and recall what has changed me. •Ob, dear 1' the said, peevishly, 'how tiresome you are 1 How you do enj >y traversing the same old ground ! You talk as if we were free agents, when you know perfectly that we are acting under the most serious obligations Whatever you may think about it, I hold myself mortally bound down to stand by the tow I gave to your dead father.' 'Had my father realised what lay in tbe future,' said Sir Charles, «I am convinced that he would never have placed us where we stand. You are right, mother, to honor yoar promise to tbe dead ; but I gave no promise, and I cannot help remembering that my honor lies with the living. Let me renounce what I hold ; you don't know what a difference it would make. No d.mbt at times you think me content — that I rejoice in all I possess. You don'c know me, mother. Everything is a mockery, everything is a repioach. That you really have love in your heart for me will lift a burden from me.' Mrs Grantley stamped her foot. •I shall not listen to another word,' she said, passionately. 'Say what you will, do wl.at you lik*, I wash my hands of you ; for you know perfectly well that you cannot set for yourself entirely without dragging me into the dirt. But, of course, <you don't care about me,' she added, hysterically ; 'the first stranger that comes - into your Jite, like this boy, receives all the cate and the thought and the sympathy in the world ; and for your mother you have no sympathy to spare. Let this be our last conversation of this sort, Charles. Understand me, I stand firmly by what 1 feel is my duty, Be assured of one thing, however — that if you go from me, I shall tot allow my self to live to face what will follow.' She ewspt out of the room »ud passed down the stairs, and Sit Cha-les made no effort to follow her. He stood with his eyes fixed on the gronod, conbcjoub of nothing but acute humiliation, pain, and hopeless misery. He roused himself with a start when his man came in to ask him if he had need of anyvbinsr, and he went and sat at his writing- table. ♦Go to bed, Chalmers,' he said ; but tbe valet lingered.

•I beg your pardon, sir,' he said, 'but I wanted "to know if it is settled that we go to Castle Chase* in a day or two. Mrs Grantley told me that this was arranged, but somehow I don't think that Mr Lambert is fit to travel. yet.'

'We will speak of this to-morrow,' said Sir Charles ; and the valet bowed and turned to leave the room, not without a feeling of something like pity stirring his heart for his master.

By this time he had grown accustomed to the impression that Sir Charles was not an ordinary yoong man, that he was older than bis years, and showed a consideration and gravity far beyond his age. By this time, too, Chalmers had realised that there was some cause of anxiety in his master's life, something that Mrs Grantley was intimately connected with, if Sir diaries always seemed very suba.-l and troubled after a visit from his m.xher.

Chalmers bad not too good an opinion of Mrs Grantley. •She is one of the hard sort,' be said to himself now ; 'she asks me as many questions as though I were at school and she were impressing upon me my catechism lessons. What is it to her, I should like to know, what Sir Charles does ? She has got her share, and she seems to be afraid of letting him but of her sight. I suppose it is the money she's after. She professed a might lot of interest iv Mr Lambert, but I was watching her, and she had not too pleasant au expression. I don't quite understand why she should be so eager to have ns all down at Castle Cbase. Sick-nnrsing is not much in her line, nor in Miss Somers' either ; but we will have to go, that's pretty sure, for when Mrs Grantley wants a thing, she generally gets it.' The same thought was passing in Charles Grantley's mind.

Up to a few hours before he had eagerly desired to have Kenneth at Castle Chase, tut now he hesitated. He did not quite understand Mb mother's geniality.

Utterly weary, be folded his arms on the table and laid his head on them.

Sleep was far away, but he could not fight aside this mental prostration that had overtaken him, and be eat in this bowed state while the clock ticked through half an hour. Then be lifted his bead, and h:s pain fac« was flushed with color.

•There is always owe way,' he said to himself; 'one way iv which I can spare her and help myself.' A slight noise at the inner door that led to his bedroom made him start.

He turned, and his eyes rested upon Kenneth. The toy sn i'ed at him. He looked very shadowy and deljcate.

'I have been waiting for you to come and say giod-night, Carl,' he said. •When yon di \ not come, I thought 1 would see if yon had gone to bed. I felt that I could rest better after saying good-night to yoa.' Charles Grantley rose and went toward him rapidly. 'You must not stand out here, boy,' he said. His voice was agitated, hoarse and heavy. 'You will catch cold again. Kenneth shook his head.

'No, I am all right ; but I am anxious about you, Carl. Do you know that I heard you groan as I came in the door, and you were looking about you so strangely ? Ob, don't tell me that you ara ill. You are all I have iv the world now. What should I do if you were ill V Charles Gantley put his arm about the boy's shoulder and lei him back to his room.

•I am not ill, Ken,' he said, 'only troubled

'Ob, cannot I thare your trouble V the boy asked eagerly, 'i want to do something to let you know how grateful 1 am to you and how moch 1 love you. Do let me help you, Carl.' The other man p mcd, and his face worked with emotion. Then he bent and kissed the boy's forehead.

'1 promise you, Kan.' he said, in a low voice, 'that when I can share this trouble *ith anyone, I will share it with you. Now get into bed again, and I will sit in thin chair and not leave you till you have falleu asleep.' The boy obeyed Lirn, and for a loag time they eat looking at each other, till gradually sl<ep stole over Kenneth's frame and his close!. When he savr that KeDDeth was sleeping soundly, olmrle3 Graotley rode and «*tood looking down at him. •Perhaps tlii boy's hands may be able to point the way,' he said to himself. 'I must be patient for a little while longer, for he ha 9 nred of me ; to leave him now would be cruel .'

(to be continued. )