SERIAL STORY.

Timaru Herald, Volume CVI, Issue 16253, 27 April 1917, Page 9

SERIAL STORY.

BY FRED ASHLEY. Author of vTh e Mystery of "The Miilington. Jewels,'' "A Woman's licve," "The'l'emple of Fire," etc., etc.

ETHEL VERNEI

CHAF-TEll XIV.

■■.; ;T3ie next morning Charles was inviU by vOebrge Rayborne to go for a. stroll with liini into the village—a proposal Ha .willingly accepted. On their way there they met many servants, labo.urei'sj and others about the estate; and several farmers and country people, ■ to whom Charles was known ; and all expressed unfeigned pleasure at seeing him hack "in his rightful place," as not a few chose to phrase it. Everywhere, too, George Hatyborne wat- received, with demonstrations, not of respect merely, but of something I that approached affection. Yet he spoke bu'j little to those they met, never deviating from his habitual reserve. Hut, presently, he began to talk confidentialI lv to.Charles.

"I want to show you," he said, "what I've been doing here. It is not very much, I nm sorry to say; the scope it limited. Or perhaps I am. fot working on the proper lines. I dare say you will be able to give me a few hints. You are in tho midst of poverty i;i town, and on a much larger scale. And I ain handicapped; I have to kf>ep whit I am doing as much as possible from the gov'nor. He fires up so when he hears anything about it; falls me a nincompoop and an imitation parson; talks about his regret at having a son with no manly spirit, and no ideas above a school teacher's; and all that, you, know. So I have to manage in rather a curious way; I get other people to work 'for n>e, and pretend to raise necessary funds amongst the residents around. Between ourselves, I am sorry to 6ay they give precious little, all told ; but I make up whatever is wanted."

Presently it turned out, on explanation, that George was doing, or attempting to do, almost single-handed, what the mission Charles was connected with was doing amongst the poor of London.

He had established evening school?, clubs, and even almshouses, and was contemplating a still more ambitious step in the shape of something resembling a polytechnic institution on a smull scale.

"Only," said he, a little ruefully, "the population is so small, there does not seem much show for it all. However, we shall have a new line of railway here soon. There will be a junction and two or three large are to he orerted that will employ, it is said, two or three thousand hands. Then all these places will not only be well filled, but will be too small. We shall have to extend them; and it is upon that point, as well as others that I want your advice." Great was Charles's astonishment when he came, to see the works that his cousin had so modestly referred to. He found them the most complete he bad even seen or even heard of; and he saw .in the planning and the carrying out of the conceptions of the originator evidence of skill, a thoughtfulness, a foresight for which he was utterly unprepared. They met the vicar, Mr Selwood —the one who had succeeded Mr Dalton —and he accompanied them over some of the buildings. He was a kindly, honest-hearted old gentleman, Charles found, and showed great interest in the work. It was curious, however, in the la:e of the part he now knew his cousin had played in it, in speaking to 1110 vicar, as "your" school, "your" club, I and so on. Never did he say "mine," or even "ours," and the vicar on his side, followed suit.

George left them together for a while, and then, when Mr Selwood (liscovered who Charles was, and the nature of his work in London, he said, with a little sigh: "It's all his doings, sir, your cousin'??. He plans everything, and finds ninotenths of the money; but all' on the quiet. We are pledged to pretend it's 1 all dona by the subscriptions of the J gentry round. But it would be a very , different affair if those subscriptions were all we had to work with. And Sir Henry is so against it all, and would make Mr George's life so -unpleasant if he knew. Thers are only two or three of us in the secret; but I may tell you the , facts in confidence —I can see I am doing no harm in that." "He told mo as much, himself," Charles said. "And to think that he has been quietly doing so much all this time! Even I had no idea of it." "And wouldn't have now, I fancy, only that he wishes for your advice, without asking it be'fore Sir Heni-y. Ab I you cannot guess at the good that young man has done in this neighbourhood; and scarcely anyone knows it is his work. But somehow the poor people themselves guess at it. They don't say ■ anything, because they see he does not wish it. But they know, sir, they know. Their instincts tell them. They know enough of the' gentry round here to be sure that the money can't possibly come from them. Yet," he continued, raising his hands with a deprecatory air, "wlien the other 'subscribers' bring vsitors here to show the results, they quietly accept all the praise. The assurance with which they assume the creditor iL all when, at times, we have any kind of public function) Whether they really believe that the poor little! mites they give effect it all, heaven only knows, Mr Kayborne!" Very thoughtful and silent was

Charles_ Ralborne while lie walked back with his cousin, turning over in his 'mind this unexpected revelation. He ! had liked him—nay, loved him—before; j but now his feeling was strengthened I by frank admiration. Arid he could not j but see that by thwarting-his son's dej sire to take Holy Orders Sir Henry had ! deprived the Church of the services of ! a man who would have been one of her most zealous, honest, sympathetic worki ers. Instead, he was, in effect an i.jle j man, disinclined for the ordinary pursuits and amusements of country life, and, therefore, without any occupation to call forth the talents and ability with which he was undoubtedly endowed. When they got back to the court they found Lady Maud waiting for them, and the "ponies" standing at the door. It was clear at a glance that the lady was out of temper. "I have come expressly at papa's .request," she said, "to invite you both to luncheon, since, he is sorry to say, ho cannot come to dinner this evening. And I've been waiting about all the morning for you. No one knew where ! you had gone to." I "I am very sorry " Charles bei gan.

I "Will you come? —that is the qu-as-j tion," she interrupted, with impati- | ence. "Because, if not, I must return | at once alone. There is "only just time to I do it; and then the 'ponies' must do I their best." "Certainly I will come," said Kayborne, good-temperedl,y; " and— George?" "You go, Charley," he urged. "I have some letters to write. I'll explain to the gov'nor." i So. Charles handed Lady Maud vp, ' and on her indicating by a gesture that Khf- wished him to drive, he took the reins. I "Where have you two been?" the

young lady inquired, snappishly, when they were out in the open road. "Only for .a stroll round the village." "Oh, yes; I know. You've been poking about in the village club, and amongst the old women in the almshouses," she answered, fretfully. "George has no eyes nor ears; no thought in life hut for his 'model club,' and 'modol school', and the rest of it: Meantime I'm kept waiting about by the hour together!" "Cousin Maud, that is not fair of you. We had no idea, that you were coming." "So far as George is concerned, it would have been. all the 6ame if 3ou had," was the ungracious answer. "And you were not much better tip in town. You refused to take irie out with you when I asked you; yet a few days later yon were quite ready to escort Miss Voj-ney—Mrs Dalton told me so in a loiter I had from her this morning. Really, it's time yovi two —you and Cousin Georgt,—showed a little less attention to a lot of worthless people—who, if they are poor are probably so only because they are idle or dissolute or thriftless—and a little more courtesy and consideration to those whose only fault is that they are sufficiently well off not to require your help—or are your own relations." To this speech Charles made no reply. But he bit his lip, and looked away up the road in front of them. Bus thoughts went back to Ethel Verney and her sweet smypathetic speech and manner, and he could not help comparing them with this outburst of bad temper. As they swept round a curve in the drive in Dallington Park, they almost ran over a pedestrian who was walking in the roadway. 'When they dashed past he looked up, and Kayborne recognised, with a start, Sir Edgar Archdale. But if he himself was surprised, Sir Edgar's look of astonishment 1 as almost ludicrous to see. He seemed for the moment as if he could only stare: li« forgot even to raise his hat until the carriage had nearly turned the corner and was out of sight. "Oh, there's Sir Edgar," Lady Maud had said, in a low tone to Charles. "Don't stop. "What a bore! "Who would have thought of his coming here today' Now, of course, he'll stay to lunch. If we'd been here sooner, we should have nearly finished by now." Evidently he was in an ill humour, and Charles heartily wished he had stayed to spend the day with George, especially since he was now to have Arehdale' company. He had always felt an instinctive aversion to the baronet, apart even from the fact that the latter had treated him somewhat superciliously—the fact being that Sir Edgar's loud-voiced talk and rough speech, blunt often t.q the point of rudeness, jarred against Rayborne's more delicate notions of behaviour. Ha was welcomed kindly by Lord Dallington; but the luncheon was a very dull affair. Lady Maud's ill hu-, mour was increased, and Sir Edgar's openly expressed surprise at meeting Rayborne was embarrassing and almost rude. Nor,, however, that the baronet meant this, to do him justice. Instead, he had concluded that it would be as well in future to treat Rayborne with more politeness, and this he was conscientiously endeavouring to do —according to his lights. After the meal Lady Maud went to her room, complaining that she had a headache, and Rayborne returned to the Court on foot, declining his host's offer to send him in a dogcart. In this manner, more or less, nearly three weeks were passed. Sometimes Cimiles accompanied George in a ?ong ride and calls on some of their neighbours, and occasionally Lady Maud went with them. Charles declined to go I out shooting; and he and George spent [much time together discussing the hitter's plans for a "model village." Once "or twice Sir Edgar came'and stayed to lunch or dinner; but, they saw little of him. He informed Rayborne that Mrs Verney was seriously ill, and daily growing weaker; whereupon Rayborne wrote to Miss Verney to express his sympathy and regret. Much of the time he spent rambling about alone amongst; scenes and places familiar to him in r.is boyhood, lost in a daydream of the old time.

Lady Maud's behaviour constantly perplexed and often pained him. She was good-humoured and cordial at one time; at another ill-tempered and quarrelsome to a degree that tried his usual placid temperament. One day, at breakfast, Sir Henry invited him to come to his study for a short talk, and Charles felt rather than observed that George shot a keen and meaning glance at him when he heard the invitation. That and some instinou warned him that a sort of crisis was at

hand; and he wondered what it would turn out to be. But, though he had in him mind hazy ideas of his uncle's views, he was entirely unprepared for what was actually to come; and was utterly astounded when it did. It amounted to this: It had been a cherished wish, both of his and Lord Dallingfcon's, that George shoud marry'" Lady Maud. The properties joined, ?rid would then form one immense' estate,.. They were both only children, had been brought up almost. - together, and to both parents the scheme presented itself as a consummation much to be desired. Unfortunately, it was thwarted by the persons most concerned. For some reason or other, they had resisted alike entreaties, coaxings, and threat, until at last the two parents had be-sn compelled to admit the unpleasant fact, as year after year went by, that there •was no probability that the two would alter their minds. During this time George bad never ceased to urge 1 is father to 'do something' for Charles, and, as a preliminary, to take him back into favour and to invite him down to his old home. Then the idea arose in Sir Henry's mind—why should not Charles marry Lad,? Maude, since George would not? He talked it over with Lord Dallington, and they both agreed that it would be the next best arrangement lo that originally proposed.

_ "Moreover," said his lordship, "I believe Maud likes him —always has. I think no opposition is to be feared from her."

"Well, then," Sir Henry rejoined, "the thing is as good as settled, for there can't b<=> any objection from Charles. He has not a penny in the world, and must by this time have quite enough of starving in London. I'll give him £'sooo a year."

"And I'll givo Maud the same; and she has £2OOO a year of her own," Lord Dallington put in. "That will be £12,000 a, year for the young couple to start with, and ho penniless young fellow will ever refuse that!" Sir Henry wound up.

But when it was laid before Charles lie did refuse, and that absolutely. It took him some moments to recover from his astonishment when Sir Henry explained it fully to him; but his surprise was nothing to the baronet's bewilderment at his point-blank refusal. When he recovered from the first shock, lie tried arguments and persuasion, hut all alike in vain, and finally he flew into a towering rage. "If," he blustered, "you will not do what I ask to please me, I will do nothing for you. You can go back to the life you have been leading—and the devil go with you! Not a penny of my money shall you ovpr have; either now or when 1 am dead I" "I never came here, uncle," Charles replied, quietly and sa.dly, "with, niy intention of abandoning my present occupation, and T do not, therefore, go back to it. I pimply continue it; I have never left it. I came here with rio ex-

pectations,. and leave without disappointment—l cannot say' without regret, for it has been a great pleasure to me to wander amidst the old scenes once more, and I am sorry I cannot look -forward to another visit in the future. That is all. I thank you for your hospitality; and I return, carrying with me my own self-respect. T certainly should not have it if I sold myself for £12,000 a year, whatever Maud might think about it. And we haven't asked her opinion yet." "I tell you I know, I sin sure of her. yon young fool." "My mind is made up'," Charles answered coldly. "Please let the matter end. For her sake I shall never speak of it." ._ "Then there is no longer any necessity forjour presence here." "I wjll relieve you of it to-morrow, sir." ;

And, with that and a slight how, Charles left the room, fearful, if he stayed on, that something more painful might occur. Naturally he sought out George, and told him a part of what had taken place. But the latter evidently knew or surmised the rest; so in the end he told him all. George listened to it quietly, and then said, sadly: "I am sorry, Charles. Ifc separates us once more, and leaves things iust where they were. You are in the same unhappy position " "Not unhappy at all, dear boy. liecause one is poor, one is not necessarily unhappy. I keep my self-respect. That is better than the feeling that one has sold oneself for a mess of pottage." "True; hut still, it leaves, things where they were, and I have failed. Do you think you have really acted for the best—•actually made up your mind ? Might not further consideration ; ' "No! It's no use talking."

"But," urged George, "consider! If you are fond, of Maud, and she is fond of you—and you always were fond of one another us children —is it 'selling yourself,' as you term it, to marry her, merely because she has a fortune? Would you refuse if there were no money in the case?"

"Why, of course, my dear George. You don'r. -understand. I do not care for Maud in that way. I like her—even love her, if von ■will —as a sister. That's all." ' "I see. Poor Maud!" ■

George said this absentdv, as though to himself, and unaware that he was uttering it aloud. The other looked at him in surprise. "Charles," he continued, impressively, "I will tell you in strict confidence the. ..whole, truth. I have loved Maud passionately all my life, and I shall never love another, and " "And yet you want to marry her to me!" diaries hurst out, in astonishment.

"Wait! Yes; I would marry her to you—or ro anyone that I thought would really make her happy. She does not love me —except in the way, it appears, that you love her. That is why we never married; why I never shall. And I thought—:l did think —that you '.wo would be happy together. Therefore, I fell in, in a measure, with what I knew to bo my lather's latest plan about her. I am half-sorry how that 1 did so; it has' brought us further pain, and done no good—except," he added, with a bright smile, "that I have enjoyed having you here' with me." "And 1 have enjoyed it, too, George; more than I can tell," Charles responded, with emotion. ''l will come up to town sometimes to f>ee you." "Do. That is good news indeed!" '•When do you go?" "To-morrow!" George nodded his head slowly. "Yes," he said, "it is best so." "And now," Charles finished, "I suppose 1 had better go across to falling to say 'Good-bye.' " But when he got there he found that both. Lord Dalington and his daughter were out and not expected hack till late at night. So he left a brief note, saying ho was going away unexpectedly, and expressing a hope that they would meet again ere long in London. The next morning he set out by an early train, and so ended his visit to Rayborne Court.

AVhen Lady Maud received his note, she "shut herself up and sulked for a week. Then she had the "ponies" out and went driving with Sir Edgar, the latter handling the reins. Bulb he found his 'Companion so unsociable and so caustic in some of her replies that he lost his temper and visited his illhumour upon the "ponies," with the result that thp.v bolted and eventually threw them bor,h out and then smashed up the phaeton. Sir Edgar had an :irmi broken and his head cut open,; and Lady Maw! was' confined to her roo'ii—in good faith this time—with a sprained .'inkle. When-she recovered sheacted upon Charles Rayborne's advice and returned the "ponies" to their donor. ■'■'' - (To be Continued).