THE TEMPTATION OF MARY LISTER.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 145903, 9 August 1917, Page 8

THE TEMPTATION OF MARY LISTER.

CHARMING STORY OF LOVE AND ADVENTURE.

By E. EVERETT-GREEN,

Author of “Adventurous Anne.” “A Queen of Hearts,” “Defiant Diana,” “The Lady of the Bungalow,” Etc., Etc. CHAPTER XXV. MARY PLANS HER FUTURE. In a pleasant well-furnished chamber in a roomy old-fashioned London house of unimpeachable respectability, Mary Lister sat alone, gazing with unseeing eyes out through a sunny window towards a distant vista, of trees, wearing their first verdant summer freshness. She was trying to visualise her own future- —a future of loneliness—lived, so far ns she eonld see ahead, in a succession of “rooms” like those she was temporarily occupying, or in various Continental hotels if she decided for n while to travel, as at this moment she was disposed to do. A few months ago the prospect of independent travel upon sufficient private moans would have seemed to her the, very acme- of bliss. Why, then, did the prospect to-day cause her no exhilaration of spirit? Why was her outlook upon life so grey and bleak? Why was it that she felt at heart that heavy dragging pain, which took all the brightness from the sunshine and transformed life itself into a burden which she felt it would ,be hard to carry with courage and vivacity? "Of course. I know what is the matter with me. X love Giles Lorinier. I Ic.ve him, and 1 could have won him—for ho was almost ready to love me—and Lady Lucy wanted me for her daughter and his wife. But now all that is past and over. I thought it was two nights ago—which sco.rji like two years—when I told them all. I was kuro of it on the next morning, when Giles lot me go (though he knew 1 was going, and the hour of my departure) with never a- word of farewell, never a haud-cla-sn or a good wish for niy future. I saw surprise even in the servants’ eyes; for they knew that the master was up and about. But I would not have him called. Had he wished he could have come.’ Mary paused, bit her lip, whilst two great crystal droiis rose in her eyes, quivered on her long lashes, and splashed down upon her dress. “He did not want to see mo. He had 'slent upon it,’ as Lady Lucy called it. And he had eonio to the conclusion that it was bettor to part without another meeting. Well, perhaps he was right. Perhaps anything else would have been the worst pain. If I had read contempt and hostility in his eyes it would have killed me I think.”

Passionately she pressed her hands together. The'pain was tugging at her heart. If her limbs had not felt so weary, she would have been, pacing to and fro as sho had paced half the night. “And this morning—no letter ! I did think perhaps dear Lady Lucy might have sent me just a. line, seeing I had written hc-r a- note myself, and told hoi’ where I should be for a few days. But nothing has come. Even she, when sho had time to think things over, has begun to see what a terrible person I was 1 To filch her son’s inheritance From him—how awful! How could 1 have done it. when once I knew what 1 was doing? Ah, but f bad begun to love that life—to love the place—and just at the moment I had not scon the Lorimers 1 And when 1 saw than—it seemed too late. I was hopelessly committed. And I bad promised Molly! A.h dear mo. dear mo—how much was my promise to her—and how much the temptation to take -all the good things of life that I could get, anti exploit them for my own benefit? How shall I over know? I never shall. And now it docs not matter. Only that 1 am branded. Never, never, never can I go hack to that dear place again—see Lady Lucy or The. Rookery—or Giles. From that life I am an outcast for over. 1 could not bear to meet the looks of the people who would all of them know the truth of me. Mary Lister, the criminal! Alary Lister who had tried to cheat a good, man out. of his own. whilst receiving his hospitality tmd tirofessing affection for his mother! . . . . Oh. what an awful thought I Mow could I have done it—how could 1? It will always he an awful nightmare thought, hanging round my neck, and making a black veil before my future. How can I ever he happy? How can I ever he as other women are? Oh, Molly, if you only understood what you were asking of me. 1 But I would not lay the blame on her, poor darling. I he fault was mine—from end to ■nd 1 J know what 1 was doing—and I wanted -to do it! I wanted the softness of life and all the good things which would come to me. And this is what I have got!” She bowed her head ”pun her hands, and the tears dropped rhiou mid fast. •She was thinking of Giles—ail that lit' meant to her. all that she had lost in losing him. And musing thus, she did not hear the soft opening of ihe door, nor its equally gentle closing. She only lifted her head suddenly when a little soft frou-frou of silken draperies made itself audible, and turn, tielrre she could even rise from her seat, she found herself clasped in Lady Lucy's arms.

■“Oh, my darling I —my or,nr .sweet Alary!—Alary-nll-Alone ! And did she think she was going to ho left ml alone, to cry her pretty eyes out with nobody to kiss the tears away!”

“Oh. Lady Lucy!—dear lady Lucy!” “I don’t know that name, darling. Ft must be Aunt Lucy still for a, litile while. I told the. good folks of the house, that I had come to see my niece. So we- must keep up that ddigiU'.il la.tinn a little while long'.; - .”

“Oh. Aunt Lney. dear—dear Aunt Lney. how can yon hear even to see me or know me. when yon unde-.'land what a- had. wicked g'rl 1 1; a■ v been' ‘

“But. Bailing. I think von were se tremendously clever—you did it wen. I never had the least idea. And Guos says he would never have thought of it if ho bad not seen poor Alolly once, when sho never knew lie ,vns there. We understand so well what happened, and wo sympathise so much with poor little Alolly for wanting to put her task upon you. Do you know, il strikes us as so like what poor, dear Norah would have dono in like ease. She never could asort herself—never could stand up against her father’s, tyranny. And her daughter was. I think, very like her. She knew that the George Harts wore so firmly established there, sho did not feel strong enough to dislodge them alone. Oh. I understand so well, and so does Giles. And sho made you promise first to help her, andi afterwards to be her. And you

were her heiress, and yon were Mars' Lister. Really, darling, I don’t quite see what else you could have done.” Mary’s arms were fast round Lady Lucy’s neck by this time. For a moment sobs choked her utterance. But then, with a great effort, flic regained control of herself, and drawing Lady Lucy to a sofa, she settled her against the cushions and knelt before her, holding both her hands. “Dearest Aunt Lucy, yon are so sweet and good and dear'to mo that I do not know how to thank yon. Von take the pain ami hardness out of my heart, and X love you for it more than I can say. But I must not let you think too well of me, or make excuse for what was really a great wrong. Whatever might have seemed my duty or my right at the first—seeing that Molly had drawn a will in my favour—nothing could excuse my conduct afterwards. when I knew from Air. March that by Molly’s death, all the Hart property passed to your son Giles.” “But darling how difficult for you with a cut-and-dried old family lawyer to deal with, who would never have understood.’’

“Yes, Aunt Lucy, that was how 1 felt—how impossible to explain.. And 1 was -afraid to explain. I. did not know if I might not have done something illegal—something I could be had up for, and scut to prison.” “Oh, my darling child, how awful!” “Yes. wasn't it? And by that time 1, had seen Hartsliil! and loved it. But it was very wicked of me, Aunt Lucy; I don’t make any excuse. When I know that Giles Lorinier succeeded if Molly died without children, I ought not to have gono on. Ho would, of course, turn out the. Harts. There was no need for me to carry out Aloily's wishes. They would he carried out just as well by somelxidy else, and, of course, after knowing what I did, 1 was playing a very wicked part. T cannot think now how 1 did it. And your goodness to mo fills mo with shame.'’

“Ah. but, darling, wo all of ns make mistakes some time in our life. And a lonely little girl is at such a disadvantage, confronted with such a big problem all at once. Giles and I understand “That is sweet and dear of yon. And you have come here to tell mo and to forgive. 1 don’t know how to thank you for that. And now I can go away more happily, feeling that “Darling, what do you mean about going away? 1 have come to ”

“Dear Aunt Lucy, it is the only thing for me to clo. Aly m-mi i,- quinclear about that. I am going abroad at oucc. i have plenty of money in Paris. 1 arranged all that when 1 was there before on my way to England. There are bonds, which can belong to anybody. And they arc really mine. They will yield me a. nice little income. And I shall travel iihcutiand sec the world. It is what I always thought would bo so delightful. I have not to earn my own living now. Always X shall he grateful to dear Alolly for that. In a way 1 am quite a well-to-do woman. 1 am going to be verv happy- ” A little spash caught Alary’s throat, and she came to a .sudden panso. Lady Lucy was leaning hack against the cushions watching her face attentively. Her lips wore grave, and Alary did not catch i-ln-. little sparkle in her'eyes. “Dearest Alary, are you quite resolved about that? Ls your mind quite made up? For 1 had a nice little plan for taking you hack home with me. But 1 saw that Giles did not feel confident of my success. Are you really so bent upon travelling about before 'you .settle again ?” . Alary swallowed d own the lump and spoke bravely—all the more bravely because she gathered that Giles had not hacked nn-pperhaps hail not even quite approved his mother’s plan of bringing Mary hack with, her. That conviction stifiened Alary s resolve as perhaps' nothing elso eonld have dono. Sho held Lady Lucy’s bauds tenderly, but there was no yielding in her face or in her words.

“Yes, dear Lady Lney. T am finite, quite resolved. I know that I have chosen the wise and rigat course, pm can understand. I think, how quite impossible it would be for me to appear again in a place where ray dreadful story must be known, and where everyone would stare at me and point the finger of scorn. Your ball, dear Lndy Lucy, and the, welcome all those kind people gave me. AYhy, that alone would be enough to stop my coming hack. ha.t would they think of a- woman who could take all that goodness from you, whilst sho was perpetrating a. fraud to keep yonr son,out of his heritage?” ' ‘Alary, darling, you use such strong expressions 1”

“Dearest Aunt Lucy—-the world will use stronger ones than that. And think of tho George Harts! Of their venomous tongues, their ”

"Oh, Giles will soon turn out tho George Harts. Ho will stand no impertinence from them! Make yourself quite at ease on that count.” “Y r es. Giles will know- what to do about them,” said Alary, “that is the best of it. Molly's wishes will be carried out. But somebody e.lso will do the work. I shall not bo there to soc.

I has been very sweet of yon to como horc. Aunt Lucy—if I may call you that just for to-day." “Vos. darling, just for a, little wliilo longer—only a very little wliilo longer now. since ” "Since I am going away, and you you must try and forget me. You seo I am quite riglit about that. I could not do anything else after what lias happened.” “Mary, darling, I think T will just slip away into the next room and take a little rest there. I see you are m a quite resolute frame of mind. So I will just leave you to talk it all over—with Giles !” (Continued daily.)