HIS LAWFUL WIFE.

Thames Star, Volume LVII, Issue 14727, 4 August 1921, Page 7

HIS LAWFUL WIFE.

(All Rights Reserved.)

By JEAN. MIDDLEMAN, Author of "The Yellow Badge," ".In S.tcrtn and Strife," " Hush Money," "The Case of David Lisle," "A life's surrender," &c -

Published By Special Ai;hangeuext

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued ) His sisters had written and told him that they were certain she lov•.vi him, and was pining for his return : that she looked very ill—almost at the point of death; so forcibly had they put the case that lie had come at onco, and was now longing to depart because Kitty had {.-.rrived.

here I am with a basket, like a market gardener."

No. He would stay on and brave the situation. This was the .decision anived at after lengthy rumination.

"You are a good boy, Lionel; you always remember an old man's oibles. I often wish you were my son, or that I had a daughter to give v-r>u. It is hard to be alone —no children to prop up hvy old age," and there were tears in the vicar's eves.

"You may not always be alone, -. You have -"

He would remain where he was, and leave the ( arrangement of n meeting with Ninette to the girls. They had brought'him there, they were very tactful, and he had no doubt they hud already planned the next move. Whether it would be a judicious one, seeing they knew none of the facts of the case, was doubtful: but since he himself could suggest nothing, the only plan was to drift to them. _, Only at one active conclusion had he arrived after at least an hour spent in. hard thinking/ He would go ,to the Vicarage in the morning, and, with much care and diplomacy, put a few questions to Parson Jackson. Mab and Di were" sorry when, from the window, they saw him strolling down the lawn : but they were too much accustomed to their brother's nocturnal wanderings, with a cigar for his sole companion, to be much surprised; only they thought he might have given them the first evening of his arrival, since they had not', seen him for some time. Truth Being told, they .were, however, almost as much annoyed as Lionel was "at the imexpccictf turn in'.evonf.fh They had fullv in-t'-nded to take him. over to Orchard Cottage on the morrow, and make themselves invisible while he had a little tete-a-tete with Ninette; but now, with "that woman" 'there—as they invariably called' Kitty—it was quite out of the question. A hesitation, too. had arisen in their minds as to whether they "were wise in promoting a marriage with Ninette now that Kitty was her .brother's wife. It was scarcely a 'connection of which they felt they need be proud, tho.ugtyhey we re-far from suspecting how really objectionable it was. During the greater part of the night they discussed the subject, from every point of view with which they were acquainted, arriving at last at the same conclusion as had Lionel: that Ninette must not; be deserted because they stronglyj objected to. Kitty. "In the morning they would have 1 a talk with Lionel, and' discuss with | him what had better be done; fori surely they might venture to speak on the subject, since he had come home at once in response to their letter- If whs plain proof that he did rcallv care for Ninette."

"No one, Lionel, no "one. - Harry might have reformed, you think. It is too late—they tell me he is dead. Have you not heard it?"

"I have been abroad, only , returned to England two days ago. I have not heard his' name mentioned, since.l was informed in the autumn that he had succeeded in getting off to South America."

"Then you can give me no further particulars?"'

Lionel shook his head. "From whom did you obtain the information, sir?" he asked. ' • "From a lawyer called Hastings, who acted for Messrs. Petersen and Kepler in that unhappy affair." "How long ago is this?"

"About two months. It was a .very short note, and gave no derails. I believe the unfortunate boy was in bad health when he lelt England, and no wonder, alter the hardships ho had brought on himself.", Lionel Travcrs was thinking, but not of Harry Jackson's hardships; He asked, suddenly: "And the wife?"

"I have never seen her and took no interest in her, believing her to be a girl c : . low origin; but naturally, in common humanity, I asked about her, fancying that she might bo left destitute." •'

"Well, and what did you hear?"

'.'That she was with her mother. That her father, who was a tradesman, had died lately and left her comfortably off." - '

"You inquired no further?" "There was no necessity. She docs rot want help from me, and I naturally have no anxiety to be mixed /dp with her. Have you ever seen her, Lionel?" "Yes."*.

"She is-very commonplace and unpresentable, is she nor?"

So deciding, they at length went to s'eep, but not to wake in the morning r> * find that the route they had ; alined was even and brambleless. At breakfast, since Mrs. Travcrs was present, nothing was said, and after breakfast Lionel disappeared. They searched the house and .grounds, but found no trace of him. At last they asked the old gardener if he had seen him. x

"Mr." Lionel be gawn to the Vicarage at Burn side," w the answer. ■ "He took a bundle of 'sparrow-grass' and some strawberries with him for the old vicar."

The two. girls looked at each other in amazement.

"Why should he go to the Vicarage?" asked Di. "Of course, it'is only a blind," answered Mab. "He will leave his little present at the door. You know Lionel often takes little luxuries to the vioar; and then he will go on to the Cottage." "Humph! It is rather early for a call," was Di's reply. "But, anyway, Lionel knows what he is about,-so we had better leave him to it. Suppose we go and see Widow Small; she is very ailing—and let meddling 'with the Cottage affairs alone until after luncheon.''

"Just so; perhaps by then we shall learn something." Thus, satisfied and expectant, they went about their usual avocations, in which the desire to help others was always strongly developed ; and Lionel, enjoying the beauty of a* lovely May morning, trudged through the wood with his basket of primeurs to the Vicarage. "Was the vicar at home?"

"Yes, and delighted to see Lionel," came the answer, for the door was open and the old man was close to it-'

Lionel smiled

"Quite a mistake," he said. "She is decidedly good-looking, and has much charm of mariner.'. Had it beon otherwise I do not think poor Harry w-ould have fancied her." . To talk 'about Kitty to the vicar war,, he felt, very much Ijke playing with fire; nevertheless, he felt that loyalty demanded a truthful account of her.

"Ah, well," said the vicar, with "let us hope she will one day find a man more worthy of her than was my wretched nephew." "You were going out, sir? Do not let me detain you," said Lionel, not sorry to change the subject, but feeling considerably relieved in his mind at finding that Kitty had really been a free woman before she married the doctor.

• "No hurry, no hurry," was the answer. "I; was going to see two or three parishioners and call at the Cottage, but a little later will do quite as well; or\vou can with me if you like." '• . "just so." Meanwhile Lionel was pondering as to whether it would be wise to accompany the vicar to the Cottage. He did not, however, wish to part from the old man, as he might hear something about Ninette, or SC3 her if they sauntered down Or-chard-road.

"What do y(.)u liv*" I*' 1 *' of this marr riage?" was the victrrs next question. "Who is this Mrs. Wheatley the doctor has brought among us as his wife? Pretty woman, but, . '- What do you think of her, Lionel?" and the old man looked so sudden I }' round at his companion that ii: almost seemed as if he knew cr suspected more than he chose to say.

"Y'ou are quite a stranger, my boy," he said, holding out his hand. "Why these long absences, when the Court is dull without you?" The vicar had always been very fond of Lionel, a fact which had become intensified by his kindness to the defaulting Harry. "The country is dull, if you like; not the Court without me," he answered, laughing. "Nevertheless,

Lionel was taken aback, and, being somewhat at a loss for a reply, ...j answered ambiguously: "I daresay she is neither better nor worse than other women. She ; s, as you say, good-looking, and I suppose the doctor fancied her." At which remark the vicar laughed, and just then, fortunately, meeting someone to whom he wished to speak, the subject was not pursued. Lionel could not quite understand why, if Harry Jackson was dead, the vicar should be kept in the dark about Kitty's antecedents, but it I certainly was, not, he considered, his ; duty to enlighten him- 1 When the short conversation with ' the parishioner was over they once | more sauntered on, and Lionel 1117 I quired : . i "Why are you going to the Cot- | tage at this hour? Surely it is too i ear'y to pay a ceremonious call on -a bride." • ■ ' "1 am not thinking of the bride 1 am going'fo inquire for poor little Ninette, who is seriously ill."

Tiy-nottK li!:"' and the intensity ':;[ Lionel Trnveis'3 exclamation would have: revealed his secret to anyone but the pui '-l-.n-:, unsuspicious old vica:. who von: on, calmly murmuring all in- kn~w. She 'was taken very ill westerday afternoon, and I have just heard that. Wrottesley has telegraphed to one of his colleagues in London, asking him to come down at once."

CHAPTER XXI

ALMOST INCREDIBLE

Poor little Ninette was seriously ill, more ill than she had been in all her life, ailing though she generally was. Philip Wrottesley was exceedingly anxious, espeeially as he saw at once that the attack was of a decidedly cerebral nature. Her temperament was 107 cleg., and fever and delirium had been raging all through the night, during which he and Kitty had not left her. If Philip Wrottesley had not so passionately loved Kitty, as to make her his wife, in spite of many objections, he would have learnt to love her now on account of her unremitting attention to the suffering girl about whose present condition the doctor felt some little remorse. "She has bjsen of late left too much alone," he feared; "while I, either on hospital business or in attendance on Kitty, have been so much in London."

Ninette's repeated cries for Philip to come home told its own taje; his astonishment being not a little awakened when she begged him to come very quickly and not to send Lionel away.

The doctor looked ' keenly across the bed at his wife when Ninette mentioned this name, but there was nothing in the return glance that showed she herself was annoyed or .even surprised by it. It was rather one oi: - triumph, as much as to say: "I knew of this, but you stupid men. never see anything." Ninette's wail forJLionel did not, however, mend the present state of affairs, even though Kitty bent over her and whispered that Lionel should come soon. The poor child was far too ill to know anything about what they were saying or doing. She was absolutely ignorant that Lionel, accompanied ,by the vicar, was even then standing at the gate, his heart throbbing and his face twitching with anxiety. The doctor, watchful for the arrival of his colleague from London, saw them, however, from the window, and leaving the pafieht with Kitty went down to speak to them.

It was tho First time he and Lionel had met since the unpleasant interview in the consulting-room, and though they were both alert with the remembrance of it',"neither could, in that supreme hour, resent the past, and almost unconsciously they sympathetica!'y grasped hands. It was the vicar who spoke. Lionel's heart was too full for words. "What has occasioned this sudden illness?" he asked.

The doctor only shrugged his shoulders in reply. If he were beV ginning to suspect, he did not know for cei'ta : .n, and would not indiscreetly commit himself; but it was evident from his behaviour that it was himself and not Lionel whom he blamed. Y'et, if he were correct in his suspicions about the scene in "he wood with Kitty, would Philip Wrottesley ever give his consent, in the event of 'Ninette's recovery,' to a marriage between her and Lionel. He was by nature a hard, unforgiving, jealous man, notwithstand■tg the outward veneer of courtesy irrder which his real feelings and opinions were frequently concealed.

Of the future there could, however, be no present thought. That Ninette was very seriously ill was the only object that was paramount, and that Dr. Wrottesley, notwithstanding his exceeding skill, had* sent to London for help and advice. While they were still standing there the Melcombe fly drove up at an unusually quick pace and a middleaged doctor who had always been Phillip's patron and master got out of it. He patted Philip on the shoulder, bade him .be hopeful, they would see what they could do, and the two at once passed into house, leaving Lionel Travers so trembling and overcome that the light of the truth, began to . dawn even on the vicar's dulled senses. "Is it so, my boy, is it so?" he murmured. "Poor little Ninette. She is sweet and charming." Then there was a silence, for Lionel could not answer, and he was straining every nerve to try and hear if there were any sound from the interior of the Cottage.

It was a painful wait, and after awhile it palled on the vicar, who suggested that they should return to the Vicarage and come back later on to inquire.

At this suggestion Lionel roused himself mindful that the old man was probably growing weary. He begged him "to go back alone; he himself preferred to wait. There was a seat by the porch ; he would sit there till someone came out."

(Tj be Continued.) L.W.—l9.