OUR STORIES.

Timaru Herald, Volume CVI, Issue 16233, 31 March 1917, Page 4

OUR STORIES.

ETHEL VERNEY

BY FRED ASHLEY. Author of ''jliieiVlyateryoiJllmgsmere," "ine Millington Jewels," "A .woman's Lcvu," "llie Temple of Eire," etc., etc. CHAPTER VI. Ravenscroft,.th© .residence o'f Mr Langley verney, J.P., was a fine old Ji/nglisn mansion, standing in a. small pai-K about a, mile from tHe village of Si airmmistor, and twenty miles from town. ' -....•. The house stood on an elevation commanding picturesque views of the surrounding country. Ttie front faced the wide stretch of valley, through, which wound a small river that, in places, broadened out intp sheets of wa/ter resembling small lakes, surrounded by meadows,-and woods, with hero and - there a water-mill with' its mill-race and miniature waiter-fall. Nearer- at hand, well-kept lawns, broad gravelled paths, and dainty tlower-beds, ridMy coloured and tastefully laid out, gave an air of luxurious , beauty to the scene such as, perhaps, only an English, country house can furnish.

In the library, with the French windows that looked out upon the lawn thrown open, Mr Verney sat talking to his wife. It was a lovely Juno morning—and Whit-Monday, Witsuntido falling late that year. Througn the open windows came in the scent of lilac and of hawthorn blossom; and tho sun was strong enough to make the shade of the sunblind that was extended out beyond tho window very welcome.

Mr Verney was a man of some sixty years, good-looking, and of commanding presence, but austere and proud in beazing; Mrs Verney, on the other band—perhaps ten years his junior—was a kindly, motherly woman, with a countenance expressive chiefly of amiablo content. Mr Verney was speaking Komoivhat testily, and showed displeasure in his face, as well'as by his words.

"I really oannot think," he said, "what pleasure Ethel can find in having that girl down here again. It's surely enough that she chould fool away her monoy up in , town upon people she picks out of the gutter, [without bringing them down here and thrusting them upon our _ attention. It's only pauperising the girl, too." "Nay, Laingley," Mrs verney returned, mildly, "the poor girl is harmless enough. Indeed, I like her very much. When she was down here in the winter I got quite attached to her; she is so gentle, and showed such grateful application of every little a6t ' oE kindness. I do not wonder Ethel got to like her. And as to whalt you call fooling her money away upon her, I know that is not the case. For one tiling, Maggie won't allow it. You've no idea how she sjticks up for her independence. She has kept herself entirely, I know, since she went uway from hero; and, if Ethel has paid her faro down, now that she has a holiday at Whitsuntide, it's about as niuch as the ofther would let her do." "Humph! Well, of course, it's no particular concern of mine ,if Ethel chooses to amuse herself in such company; only, I do wish she showed a little more pride. Another thing that , displeases me about it is that I feel pretty sure Sir Edgar doesn't approve it. You know what his pride is, and I- fear Ethel is not going the way about what we so much desire."

Mrs Verney sighed. "Say rmther what yon desire, LangIcy. For my part, I only wish it if it •will ho for the child's real good; that is if she should come to care 1 for limi. T would never liave any young girl I took an interest in—let alone one I love as I do Ethel—marry a man she did not truly love. Of course, it is itoo early yet to speak with certainty, and therefore " "Pshaw!" exclaimed Mr Verney, interrupting her. "Girls don't know their out. minds in those masters. It's no use listening to their likes and dislikes—humph! They seem to he enjoying themselves out there." A peal of silvery Inugh'ter had come floating in on the breeze, and he got up and looked out to sec what had caused it. On the Itorraee outside, Ethel and Maggie Moore had been walking about when the former had caught sight of Mr Jatnes Dalton coming up the carriage drive and had run away and hidden herself in the conservatory, leaving Maggie a.lone Ito meet him, much to that young woman's confusion. But Dalton had caught a glimpse of a vanishing dress, and, after giving Maggie ft pleasant greeting, had speedily followed and discovered Ithe runaway; and now they were all three laughing together on the lawn. , "You' have, come clown to see us again, Miss, Maggie," Dalton observed. "I heard you wero expected, and paw - ->u at church yesterday. What do you think of the place now? You sa,w it t>n!.v in the winter before." Maggie drew, a long breath full of rapture, as she turned, her gaze over thp landscape that lay spread out before them. "I think it's (too lovely for words," she answered; "I did ndt know there wa&' anything so beautiful in the whole world! T have been in London all my life, and have scarcely ever seen the country—-certainly nothing like this. Tt makes one 'think of heaven—of what iit must be like, if it is better than this!" James Dalton looked with interest nfc the fair young face lighted up with such intense appreciation of nature's beauties, and sympathised with her evident delight. "Ah! yes/' ho said. "You are right to say it shotild make-us think of heaven, and to 'think of heaven is to think of God, the-great Creator of all. Would that men and women showed more love for nature's wonders, then would Ithey be less selfishly wrapped up in worldly thoughts and strivings." # "It seems to me," returned Maggie, simply, "that people living iii°tho counltry ought all to be very good. There is plenty of room for everybody: tney are not crowded together so as ,ir. London, where everyone seems to be trying to push everyone else out of (their way." Then she blushed and looked confused at having been tempted to express herself so freely.. Dalton smiled, "You are quite a young philosopher," ho said. "But, anyway, I'm sorry to see London does not seem Ito agree well with you. You do not look so rosy and well as you did when you went away from us in the winter." "That is just what I say, Mr Dalfton," Ethel declared. "I am sure she ha.« been'worked to death, and it makes mo the more glad to think I made her <omo down for a day or two's change. By the way, did you not say you expected Mr Ilayborne down to-day to see you?" "Ho has arrived, Miss Verney, and will be hero shortly. He wished to run in and shake hands with the vicar, and said he would come on after me." "That's capital. We can all have a ■■■me of tennis, or croquet, or something. We'll teach Maggie. What fun it will be!" Maggie protested qnidbly, but was toM by Ethel she must make up her -nirid to try and learn; and they won't about in go over to the tennis-lawn wlien they caughlt sight of a horseman riding dowlv ujj the drive.. i

"Oh, it's Sir Edgar." exclaimed Ethel, iu rather a disappointed, lcone. "'And there is someone-walking by his side/' "It is Rajyborne," observed Daalton. ' "I suppose they/ met at 'the gates on the road." . • - '-'What a lovely horse" Maggie could not help saying, when ithey drew, near. "Yes, a new one Sir Edgar has latety •bought;"--Ethel told hen. "Ho gave three hundred guineas for it. Isn't ft a lolt of money to give for a horse" She sighed and looked half-pained; and, seeing the look, Maggie, who was quick to observe the changes in the face of her young protectress, asked softly: "Why do you look troubled, Miss Ethel?" ■' . • . * . "I was (thinking," Ethel replied, "what a lot of good could he done with three hundred giuneas." "You are always thinking of others, Miss Verney," Dalton said. "Do you never think about yourself ait all?" She laughed-—a gay, light-hearted laugh. "I should think so. Ask my dressmaker; she'll tell you how much trouble I give her, choosing my dresses and hate and Ithings." Dalton shook, his head in mild disbelief, and by this they had come lip to the two new arrivals. Ethel shook hands warmly with Rayborne, and he in 'turn shook hands with Maggie; but when Ethel introduced her to Sir Edgar the baronet only smiled sourly,' and gave the stiff est W. He did ,nde seem best pleased to find Ethel in such company. Sir Edgar Archdale. of Englefield Hall, passed for one of the weathiest men in the county. He was about thirty-eightc years of age, florid' of complexion, and somewhat swaggering in : gait, but, not bad looking. He , was known v.o be a dashing rider, and one of the most devoted fox-hunters in the district. He was a great favourite with Mr Verney, arid' it was an open secre.t that he was paying his attentions to Ethel, w'.'th Mr Verney's tacit approval. "Now come and play croquet, all of you; we are too many for tennis," Ethel cried; "And then you must all tay to lunch." And soon 'the croquet ground was occupied Ixy the little party, and, their laughter came now and again to the ears of Mr Verney, who sat writing/iii his study. - ■'■' l "I wish Dalton would, keep his friends to himself," he said, to his wife, a little later. "He's brought thalt Rayborne hero to-day, and I see Archdale is quite upset about it." Mrs Verney sighed quietly, and replied : "I don't see why. Mr Rayborne" may bo poor, but he comes of as good 'ai family as Sir Edgar's. He is nephew to Sir Henry Rayborne, of Rayborne Court, .in Yorkshire. Mr Dalton told ; me so a lifctle while ago." CHAPTER. VII. Presently the young people came in,' 'to luncheon; but when they had "taken their places at the table it quicklly became apparent that the harmless gaiefty of the earlier hours had in some wayvanished. Mr Verney fqund his friend Sir Edgar gloomy and disinclined to talk, while his kindly disposed wife in vain endeavoured to infuse cheerfulness into (the conversation between the others. An evident feeling of constraint depressed them all, and Mrs Verney sat through the meal wi'th a feeling of discomfort, mildly wondering what could be the reason.' ~ .;■..'■ The truth was thalt Sir Edgar' had. | been showing not only had temper, but bad taste, and had brought upon'himself a. severe reproof from Ethel. He had ridden over that morning specially in the hope of having- Ethel's society

( to himselfj and when he found her en- ' ' ,vd with other visitors/ he Itook no pains to concent liis disappointment and vexation.. Towards Maggie Moore he was haughtily contemptuous, and to .Raj-borne supercilious almost to the point of insult. Ethel had not seen, either, of these, friends for some time, and during pauses in the game she had: stood for IGhe most part talking with :one or other .of them.! This had seemed to rouse Archdalc's ire, and at last ho said, roughly: "If I had known you would be so taken up with these—er—people, Miss Verney, I would nolo have come over, to-day." She had turned and looked at him quietly, but there had been a flash in her eye when sho replied: "If I had known that, Sir Edgar, I would have sent word thatT had friends coming to-day, whom I had not seen lately, and to whom my first attentions would be due." Then Sir Edgar had coloured up and bitten his 'lips to keep back tlio angry retort that had risen to ■them. But he had known Ethel long enough to be aware tha* ho would only be likely to get into further trouble if he spoke what was on his mind. So he had taken refuge in wha.t ho thought the dignity' of silence, but was in, reality an obvious fib of sulks. At lunckeon he had consoled himself by drinking more wine than usual. He generally did tako &■ good deal, and after lunch or after dinner was freouently apt to show signs of having, done so, though later, probable, the effects would pass away. Mr Verney, too, was in the habit of so far indulging in. old port that he usually rose -from table with a noticeably heightened colour. At the end of the luncheon' Ethelsaid : "I am going over this afternoon to see your mother, Mr Dalton, .and Maggie will go with me; so, if you have no objection, we may as well all go together." "Certainly; ancj I know my mother will oriiy be too"'pleased to see you," said Dalton cheerfully. ' | "Do you care to accompany us, or do you prefer to stay_ aind keep father company over his cigar?" Ethel asked of Sir Edgar. "Y-es; I shall stay with Mr Verney," was the reply, given an anything" but • gracious tone. "Then, that being* arranged. I will ' ask you kindly to exciise us," Ethel. continued, coldly. " We'must go and put our hats on." ' Mrs Verney also rose, and went away with the two girls; and shortly afterwards Rayborne and 'Dalton took leave of the other two, and went out to wait for the ladies on the terrace. Sir Edgar followed them angrily with his eyes. , "Did you invite those follows here, Verney ? r> lie asked, almost savagly.;, "or that gutter-girl?" ' ' "Not I," returned Mr Verney, "and I wish Et-hel wouldn't; it's her doing. However, /it's only eonce in a way, and I don't like to seem harsh with* her.' "Humph!—harsh! Why, ii» seems to me ihe place is not your own. It's verv different hero from what it used to "be. 1 get the cold shoulder altogether—and for whom? For a guttergirl, and a mealy-moutohed, preaching, penniless prig like that Rayborne. What buiness has he here at all, ifyou don't invite him?" • r'Well, well, he's only come in for an hour or two, and is going now, so there's an end' to ;,it," observed Mr Verney,; desirous over. '' '''As ;to "inviting' him, ybii may ' besureSf'did'iiofc'l'do that. I hardly, know himV,and"MoMiot know who he is, though 1 m/ wife told me this morning" •that Mr TJalton had informed her he is a nephew of Sir" Henry 'Rayborne, of Rayborne'Court, in Yorkshire. Do you know whether that is 'true?". "Yes," asserted Archdale, in a grudging sort of way. "that is true; for I know old Rayborne, his uncle, well. Visit thero often, when I am in Yorkshire. B"t Sir HenrvMias cast him off—won't acknowledge,him." , "Why? Anything ■' wrong' about him?" "Oh, no. Not that.'.' Sir Edotar ad-' mittcd, though 'rot, without evident re-' luctance. "S'r Henry had a quarrel wifh his brother—this one's father—and wouldn't sneak to him. And when, he died, ho died wi'th out n -farthing; so his son got nothing, and hasn't p. nonny to bless himself Never will, have, for his iwel°, Sir Hon'-v. ; s a r-lose fisWl old stick, and is st'U hiH<->r, , nlimit +he quarrel he had with his I fa^-." ! ''H'm. I'm glad to hear there's nothing against 'him; anyway," oberved Mr Verney, thoughtfully. "It's just as well to know something about him. And, since he's a gentleman by birth, why, I can't very well refuse to be 1 -vil to him, you know." "No; but whai, I don't like is that he and your daughter n.re so thick' together," returned Archdale, discontentedly. "When he is here he and Ethel hold such long cbrilddntial confabs that one feels altogether out of iti , —a bit snubbed, don't you know." i Mr Verney smiled. "You nre jealous, Archdale," be replied. '"l,'hey only t.nlk about Ethel's' protegee, and her brother, who has gone to sea. I got him his berth, by the way, at Ethel's request." • , Sir Edgar shook his head discontentedly, and mu'ttered something about "puting a stop to all that foolery one dav." And so the two talked on. Meantime, Ethel and her companions were on their way across the fields Ito the village in which Dalton lived in modest apartments with his widowed |:mother. His slender stioend was almost all they had to depend 'upon.'' and she had recently come to take up her abode wi'th him because they couM live more cheaply together than apart. He exj plained something of this confidentially 1 to Maggie as he walked beside her, anil v-si's rather amused at the unsophisticated way in which shesolainly showed she thought such a, confidence a great honour. She felt herself, indeed, in a sort of enchanted world, where all was nnw to her and everything was delightful. All around her was strange to her after iche life she had led in London. To see the richlv-laid-out table; to sit at luncheon with "great people." as they seemed to her; Ico be treated with such kindness by those who seemed so. much above her: to walk with them in friendly talk in what was. to her, a veritable earthly paradise—all these things filled her simple nature with .wonder and gratitude and delight, and she felt she could never do enough to show her thankfulness. And when her memory wen't back to that awful time in the wretched, garret, after her mother's death, she towards Elthel, walking in front of'her, with tears that would '-ot lie repressed. James Dalton noticed them. "What .is 'the matter?" he asked. "Are you unwell—troubled?" - She shook her head. and. turning, looked at him with mrh a smile, such an almost on raptured expression showing through her tea"s, that the memory of lit lingered with him for many a dav after she had left them an <] returned to T/ondon. "Hush!" shesaid, softly. "Don't let Miss Ethel hear, or she might be displeased or pained. I.cry only because 1 cannot help it; because I feel so very, very graceful, and—because I love her so. Oh, what I would not do for such a—a-r-such an angel." This last word came out in a little burst, poor Maggie failing to find any other that would do justice, in her opinion, 'to her young patroness. Dalton, respecting her feelings, walked on in silence, but now and th»n glancing up for another look at "the sweet face, so touching, and withal so

f lovely, under the influence of Iche 1 emotions that had been aroused in the young girl's .bosom. . . And jttayborne, as it happened, walking beside Ethel, spme little distance in front, was equally interested in watching the face of. his companion. He had seen her only,tVice, and then only for. a few brief moments, since her visit to town in that far-off 'time—aS it now seemed—when she had come into his dingy lodgings on her errand of'mercy; and into his thoughts, Ins life, his very being, never, as he felt, to go out of them again for a single hour. he wished he had never seen her; at others he would resolve to pu(t out of his mind all thought of her. But ever and again the remembrance ef her, of her looks, of what she had said, or done, of her bright, open smiles, even of the sterner light of firmness and, resolution that somdtimes flashed out from her clear, fearless I eyes—all these things would come back (upon his memory with a rush, like a stream that refused to be pen't up, and • he would "wake up",'from a reverie to I everyday life, and to the knowledge that he had been once more entranced in a day-dream»of Ethel Vemey. And now, while he walked beside her, he was busily, even greedily, engaged, half-uncosciously, perhaps, 'in drinkj ing in every changing expression of her ;face making of ,lchem mental photo- ' graphs, pictures, to be stored up for day-dream of tho future. But she -was , only consciousof a feeling 6? pleasure I in- meeting again one with whom she j could talk freely and unrestrainedly about ithfi two in whom she felt so deeply interested—Maggie and her brother. "How much I should like/' she said, presently, "to go with you t one daj- on one of your rounds, to see what the East-end of London really is. Could I no"t do so now?" "Perhaps," Rayhorne .answered. "But jit would be very painful to you. Anrl eorild it-do any good?" - "Who can tell?" she answered. "Perhaps 'No;' perhaps 'Yes.' One never, knows. It seems to me that, in-theWad lives of these poor crealtures a .very little goes a long way. Even a iintl word or a kind look-may help. They are not too common.in that land, : are' they?" "Unhappily, no. - At' least, not such 'looks as " ' - /, i .-He stopped and coloured up. aboult to say, "As yours."- 1"As ,what?" she asked.' "As—as—such as I should like to sec," he replied at last. "No,',' she said, thoughtfully. "I thought it must be so. Mrs Dalton is going up Ito London for a'w v eek br-two son, and I am'going to stay'a few-day with hor. Could you not take us out with Von then,' one dav?" ■', "Gladly; JP you really'wish it!" . "Then I shall consider that selfctled," E+hel returned, in the decided way that was hers at- times. "And here we are at Mr Dalton's." , -« (To be Continued). / •