“For His Dear Sake.”

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 48, Issue 14624, 25 March 1922, Page 7

“ For His Dear Sake.”

By Ruth Templeton. Author of “The Price of Her Silence,” ‘The Tie that Binds,” “Love Forbidden,” etc., etc.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. ATTRACTIVE STORY OF STRONG INTEREST—

(COPYRIGHT.)

(JIIAL’TFR VI. —Continued. John Sylvester sat still at his desk, j a number of papers set out before him, 'and Lynetto saw at a. glance, that his face was drawn and grey. The fire had ; long since died out, and in the early morning light the room had a desolate air. “Father! You arc ill. What is wrong, dear?” At sou fid of Lynetto’s voice her father raised his head, and tried to get to his feet, but sank helplessly down again. “Don’t you worry, litle girl',’-’ lie said between gasping breaths. “I'll be all right presently. . . I've had several of these attacks lately. . . only this seems a, bit worse than usual.” Lynetto slipped her arm round the drooping .form and supported her father’s head against her breast. “Quick, Mary. Run and fetch some brandy- —we’ll try that.” During the maid’s absence John Sylvester attempted to speak once more,

but could only get out a few words, long jiaus.es in between. “If anything should happen to me, Lynetto. \ . Mark Travers must be repaid. . • I’ve left a will. . • iu the. . .” He -pointed a shaking linger at one of the pigeon holes in the dc-sk, and Lvnct.tc nodded soothingly. “All right" daddy dear, don’t bother about that now, and don’t talk. Presently you’ll feel better, then. . . Ah. here comes Mary with the brandy.’ She took the glass from the girl’s shaking fingers and tried (to administer it, but not a drop could be forced between her father's clenched teeth, and she gave a choked cry as his head fell heavily back, the grey -palor of death on the beloved face. “Dad —dearest, you mustn’t leave me like this —it’s Lynetto—can’t you hear me —I cannot let you go.” She did not know what she said — only she was aware that cruel arms were trying to snatch the dear form from her, that Death was robbing her of tiie one person oil earth she held most dear.

“Fetch <a doctor, Mary —no, not Dr. Seaton—'Dr. Bilbrooke, lie ’s nearer, and but she could not have borne to have Max Seaton about her just then. ThO’ minutes seemed an eternity to the anxious, girl as she stood waiting — iraiting for the doctor’s coming, and I afterwards she remembered that the' just-awakened birds came singing and chirping about the window, as though to give" her sympathy, and tiiat the sun cf which she was so fond struggled to find its way through the drawn blinds as though to bring her some mead of semfort in her hour of bitter trial. She did not remember Dr. Bilbrook’« coining-—everything seemed to pass dream-fashion, but when the doctor and Mary tried to lead her aWay, out of the room, Lvnette rebelled. "He will *want me,” she cried, “I have always been with him —you shall not take me away.” Dr. Bilbrooke’s kindly old face was full of sympathy, and he broke. the dread news as gently as possible.. Lynetto was stunned at first, incapable of believing that the; father she well-nigh worshipped would never speak again—never look up into her face with his sweet, encouraging smile when things seemed at their worst. No tears came to her eyes, only her face turned deathly white and something in her heart seemed to snap. “Where is Mrs Sylvester, Lvnette? Can you fetch her? This will be a terrible shock.”

Dr. Bibrooke aid his hand on Lvnette’s shouder in a fatherly way, and guided her to the door. He had seen that stony look before, and knew that inaction was the worst hing possible.

“I’ll —go —and tell her,’I’' 1 ’' Lynettc said, the words seeming to come from a long way off. Mary was sobbing convulsively —she Jia-d served and loved her master well, and now poor Miss Lynetto would be left to face life alone. Like one moving in a dream, feeling absolutely unreal, Lvnette walked down the silent pasage and up .the stairs to Mrs - Svlvester’s room, and without knocking, went in. Even then Lvnette coiikl not help noticing the untidiness everywhere —the expensive clothes flung carelessly about as though of. little worth. And something scorned to tell her that but for the. worry of the las.-t few months, the vain attempt to cope with his wife’s agance, her father would not Hiow be lying life Less and still. “What’s the time? Surely it’s not ten o’clock yet?” Mrs Sylvester raised herself on her elbow and glanced at the clock. “Good gracious, Lvnette! Why on earth do you w.ant_to disturb me at -this hour —it's barely half-past five!” She yawned sleepily and sank back on the pillows. “For goodness’ sake don’t stop there fiddling about with those ..curtains, but leave me in peace. I can sleep if you can’t.” ■ “You must get up, Mrs Sylvester,” Lvnette said mechanically, “something dreadful lias happened. Father was ill —he was alone in the study Mary found him at his, desk and fetched me —but the doctor did not get here in time. and. . .” the mention of what had happened loosed the floodgates of Lvnette’s tears and probably saved her reason, for she sank on to the bed and sobbed bitterly. Mrs Sylvester shook her in sudden fear.

“Your father isn’t dead?” she cried. “It v.-asn't that you were going to say, surely. Speak, Lynctte, I shall go 'mad if you keep me in such suspense.” Lviiette bowed her head, and . at that minute Grace came running into the room, having been awakened by Marv.

“Is it true lie’s dead, mother?” she asked, little feeling in her voice. “You know what servants are —they say anybody’s dead if they’ve only fainted, but I was too scared to go and see.” Then her eyes fell on Lynctte *s slender form, and she drew back as though afraid to approach such grief. “Go and dress, Grace,” Mrs Sylvester said quickly, slipping into her own tilings, “and then come and put these .things' away. There’ll be a Jot to do. You’d better wake Honor, too.”

Not a word of sympathy, did she ■give Lynctte. On the instant she was concerned with what John Sylvester’s sudden death would mean to herself and her daughters, and determined to lose no time in finding out how her husband had stood financially. She was in the study a long time, and Lynctte did not see anyone of the household until dinner time, save the thoughtful Mary, who brought her up a cup “of tea and insisted upon her drinking it. “There’s one thing to be thankful .for, Miss Lynctte, you was with the dear master at the last—’c wouldn’jt have wanted none of that other lot,

• I’m sure.” Lynettc, her first terrible grief a little over, found solace in Mary’s observation, and feeling she must do something to occupy her mind, set about tidying up the bedrooms tiiat had not been touched. In her step-sisters’ room the dresses they had worn at the ball the night before lay about, and Lynetto vaguely wondered whether or not they were paid for. Her task finished, and flic bedrooms put in order, she went downstairs to 'find Mrs Sylvester and the 'two girls .already discussing the question of mourning with a dressmaker from one of the big shops in town. Lvnette marvelled that they could spare a thought at such a time for choosing fashions, and then recollected with a pang that her father was nothing to the msave a friend who had given them a home for two years past. CHAPTER VII. “Come, Lvnette, you had better give your order while Miss Thompson is here —here are some books —you’d better choose the style you’d like.” Mrs Sylvester tossed over two books containing fashion plates and dismal pictures of pretty young ‘widows in perfect mourning. But Lvnette put them on one side. “ )’ve got a black costume,” she said quietly, “and a hat —x shall not bother. ’ ’ The- two girls turned up their noses, though Mrs Sylvester was secretly glad, because she knew Lvnette had no money of her own, and tiiat what she had new in the way of mourning would have to.be paid for. Seeing that she was not wanted in

the room, Lvnette went out, and after wandering about the house for a bit,

went to the study once more. The moment she entered her father’s last words came back to her, and, impelled by'gome instinct, after having stood for a few minutes gazing down -on the peaceful white- face on the couch, she went over to the desk, her eyes searching the pigeon-hole to which ho had pointed. It had been the third from the end, she was sure of that, but do her astonishment it was -empty now. She put her hand in to see if the envelope migh thave fallen fiat, but no, it was not there —the pigeon-hole was ' empty ! . (To be Continued.)