“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE.”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16514, 26 August 1921, Page 2

“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE.”

OUR SERIAL,

By

FRED. M. WHITE

CHAPTER XVI.— Continued. “ No,” Lady Shorland said quietly. ‘‘ I have already said too much. You goaded me to it, but 1 ought to have been wise enough to have held my t-ongue. But there is one thing whic l ' I may promise you—when I have fulfilled roy engagement at St Lucia 1 will never take another. I a.m going there not to please myself, but to do my best to remove disgrace and humiliation which threatens you all. And now, don’t worry* yourself any more about it. Look after the servants and your poor, and your flowers, and don’t interfere with things which you cannot understand, for after all, you arc no more than a child, and you don’t know any better ’’ Lady Edna stood there, utterly at loss, for a reply. She stood there, immersed in her own painful thoughts, and hardly conscious of the fact that she was not alone- It. was not an easy process to fit together the pieces of this disjointed, puzzle, but 6lowlv and by degrees they began to resolve themselves into their places. A wild feeling of passionate rebellion which for a time had raged in tbo j*hrl ! s heart begau to dissolve and fuse into a certain nameless fear. There was anger in it, too, a certain reasonable revolt against tbo way in which she had been treated. She went off presently up to her father’s bedroom. It was just possible that he was awoke and that he might feel disposed to give her the confidence which, up to now, he had withheld. She found him sitting among the pillows reading a copy of ‘‘ The Times.” He looked brighter and stronger than he had for some days past, nnd ho welcomed Edna pleasantly enough. “Come in,” he said. “ My nurse has left me for a moment. Yes, I am feeling a great deal better to-day. I)e la Croisa brought me some news this morning which lias cheered me up. Oh. you need not mind worrying me if anything is troubling you.” u Well, I am greatly worried,” Lady Edna admitted. “ I have been talking to my—to my sister-in-law. I quit© thought that when she married Shorland she would give up the stage. And now she actually tolls me that she has accepted an engagement iu Tortina within a few weeks. Sherringborne lifted bis brows. lt And have you been interfering?” ho asked. “ You have been making yourself unpleasant to her?” “ I certainly spoke ray mind,” Lady Edna admitted. “ In fact, we both lost our tempers. That woman had tho audacity to hint that there was a great disgrace hanging over our house and that she was going to St Lucia to prevent it. T say nothing as to that absurd statement, as to rnv being treated as a mere child, but of course I kuow I onght not to be worrying you now, but at any cost this thing must be stopped. Promise me that you will interfere.” Lady Edna glanced ha If-imploringly at her father, but she was surprised at tho look of deep displeasure in his eyes. “You’re a fool.” he said harshly. “ You arc a silly child and don’t know what you are talking about. Who asked you to interfere? Do you suppose the whole world was designed for your own special benefit? And you talk about disgrace. Well, there is disgrace. And we shall both be fortunate if we escape. Now unless you wish—but I’m not going to discuss tho matter. You must be civil to Shorland’s wife, you must be civil to young Saltbnrn. to everybody. Do you understand ?” No reply came from. Lady Ed.na’3 lips. It seemed to her as if the whole world were slipping under her feet. Disgrace! And the house of Oran walks l Oh, the tiling was impossible. CHAPTER XVII. FV TIIE SHADOW. Disgrace! Tt seemed almost impossible to identify such a word with Borne Abbey. Lady Edna looked around her and saw nothing on every side except the outward and visible greatness of the Cran wallises. And yet sho had heard the word from her father’s, own lips, and there was nothing, cither, in his manner, to suggest that he was suffering from a delusion. And he rad never spoken to his daughter like this before. His manner had boon harsh and rude and there was something furtive in the way he spoke, as if be were a party to a mean and underhand thing of which he was ashamed. Tt seemed to Lady Edna that she had road something like this before. She had a vague idea, that she could remember a daughter who had had such a father and how disappointed sho had been iu him. And tbyn again, there was tbo suggestion that Ninon Garrados was in some wav necessary to the fortunes of the family. The idea was grotesque, ridiculous. "Why, there was nobody in the house who had beard her name a fortnight ago. And now Edna liad it on the authority of her father that this woman was going oft hot-foot to St Lucia, of all places in the world, with the view to saving the family name. It struck Edna for a moment that her father was wandering iu his mind. She was quite prepared to believe that ho was suffering from some great tronble which ho had kept entirely to himself aud which was the cause of his breakdown. But the rest were mere chimera, a mere figment of disordered imagination. But Lady Edna did not flare ask any further questions. She could see how excited the Earl was, and in any case the return of the nurse put an end to further conversation. It was a restless night that. Lady Edna passed, hut her gloomy thoughts wore somewhat lightened by the morning. For she could sec no signs of trouble about tho house. Everything seemed to bo progressing as usual and the great establishment "'as running easily on oiled wheels. Here was the big staff of servants with a. small army of gardeners and in the suite of apartments given over to Sherringborne’s political affairs were tho half-dozen or so of smart, well-bred, well-groomed secretaries. And here, too. were the clerks and the busy rattle of the typewriters. A constant stream of messages were running to a.nd fro quite trie same as usual ; and here, too. were the morning ' papers with their sympathetic allusions to Sherringhr>rne’s illness and the hope | that he would soon be himself again. 1 And here were Lady Edna’s oAvn priIvate letters with appeals to her charity and all the rest of it. And here was tho wide stretch of gardens and the park beyond and the ancestral deer under the shadows of

the beeches. Oh. it seemed impossible to identify all this with trouble and disgrace of any kind. And yet, at the same time, Lady Edna could not rid herself of the cloud which hung over her, despite the fact that it was a glorious day and that the sun was shining in a sea of liquid blue*. For the 4Lrst time in her life Edna regretted the fact that she bad no intiLmaie personal friends. Sibo liad.; always been self-contained, always a little prone to take herself seriously, and always over-conscious of her exalted position. Now sho regretted that she had nobody to confide in. There was only one person she could talk freely to, and that was d© la Cro iea. It occurred to her in a. fleeting sort of way to make one more appeal to I>a#dy iSliorland, but the latter had. gone off soon after breakfast in her ra«pid, headlong way, and had left au intimation at Born© Abbey that she would not be hack for some weeks utlea st. So she had really gone! Moll, after all, it did not much matter. All the world knew now what Shorland liad done, the papers had been full of it. and his marriage had been the subject of a thousand racy paragraphs. And St Lucia was a long way off. On the whole, the best thing to do was to go down to the cottage, and there talk matters over with the kindly old Baron. Do la Croisa had looked forward to a qtuet morning to himself. He sat in the arm-chair outside the cottage 'door deeply engrossed in the “ Times.” He looked very young and very jaunty in his white flannel suit. From time to time he screwed his glass into his eye and gave certain instructions to. Francois, who was busy amongst the roses. There had been a time when do la Oroisn had sworn by alt his gods he had finished with polities for ever. In future be was only going to regard them from tho comfortable depths of an arm-chair in a. strictly historic and critical light. And here he was back again in tbo arena, fighting with all his old shrewdness and audacity for the reputation of bis friend. He tried to tell himself that be. was doing this entirely on Sherringborno’s behalf, but at the same time he was enjoying the combat- for its own sake. It seemed hard to believe that ibis shrewd and dapper little man seated at his cottage door was holding in his hands the shaping destinies of Europe. For that is what* it came to, and d© la Croisa, was keenlv proud of tho fact. He knew that he was struggling for something more than the desire to save Shemngborne from -his folly, nnd thwart the designs of an unscrupulous financier. Ho began to see hie way now' to the possibilities of breaking down Saltburn altogether. e