Dearer than Life

Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16816, 7 June 1926, Page 3

Dearer than Life

CHAPTER I.—Waiting. “No hope! It is the truest kindness for me to tell you this, Mrs Trevelyan.' The grave-faced doctor paused, waiting perhaps for some sign ot consternation evoked by his words: for an outburst of tears and grief, such as lie had witnessed many times in his professional life, but none came. It was as if his solemn communication were being weighed thoughtfully. "If Micro is anyone, you would like to be here at the last they should be sent for at once,” he added. "Are you certain —quite sure he will not live?” "I should not have warned you otherwise.” They were almost strangers, but he felt a sincere pity for the young wife. She was undeniably good looking, and he guessed her age to be thirty years less than the dying man's, of whom lie knew very little. "I will call again presently," he said, holding out his hand, which Mrs Trevelyan accepted mechanically. “It may h(. some comfort to you to know lie is not suffering.” ‘‘Yes, I am very glad of that." He glanced at her inquiringly. The coldness of tier tone, the quiet acceptance of the fact that in a short time she would be a widow, disconcerted him. Love, in the ordinary meaning of the word, there might not lie between this woman, full of life and energy, and Ihe aged man panting out his last breath, lull the callousness of her altitude —he recognised it now—affronted him, and his pity for her disappeared. "if there was anything more that medical skill could do I would remain, he went mi. "As il is " "Thank you!" si 1 e interrupted. "I am deeply grateful for all you have done. I sli.iil always remember your kindness,'' and she turned away as though unwilling lo meet his searching look again. The doctor look up ids hat. leaving her gazing from the Trench window across Ihe lawn. In all his experience he had never met a more sloieal woman and her expression of gratitude had not deceived him. Il carried Ihe, lone of insincerity—a suspicion of relief or some feeiing deeper still.

"One might believe the man's death will be welcomed," ho murmured as he drove from the house. "A heartless woman, if ever there was one."

l-'o" some minutes rtl’*<■ rho had loft Mrs Trevelyan i-r-mafi i nr-< 1 lost, in thought. her brow marred by Iwo lit lie linos bolwooii Ibo brown oyi’s II ia I uriv Inrl.ing steadily into Ihe fnluro, visualising il as if the mental picture were rciil, illli'd will; ;i host of longdesirod pleasures, wllicli Ibo 1 it'<* she bail endured for Iwo dreary years had denied her. She was a penniless governess when Mr Trove I yan fell In love with her. a;ul though her feeling towards him proiuplfil a refusal of Ids offer of marriage Ihe advantage of it to herself outweighed every other consideration. lie was a well-to-do man, rich enough to satisfy her extravagances, old enough to Have been tier father, and she accepted him after exacting a marriage settlement which would leave very little money for anyone else at his death. She had made an excellent bargain, hut ttie restraints of married life irked her, its everlasting dullness being almost unbearable, whilst beyond this was-something that aroused her smouldering hatred, as she recalled it to mind. And now her husband was dying. In a short time she was to he freed from the trammels which had held tier from enjoying the life she craved. Slip, would be mistress in reality of that luxuriously furnished house, mistress of her own actions, that was a far greater gain, and as she thought thus a look of satisfaction spread over her well-cut features. Turning from the window at last, she went upstairs, where Mr Trevelyan lay. gasping nut his shortening breath. At the bedside stood a nurse, whose experience told tier that the end was not far off, and sloe gave Mrs Trevelyan a meaning look, as the dying man murmured faintly—

"Who came in?” "It is Mrs Trevelyan,” answered the nurse.

A silence followed, and she moved away, Mrs Trevelyan seating herself by the side of the bed. "Have you written? Docs No rail know?” came the. laboured words, and she laid her hand on his plucking fingers. “You have been ill so often, dear,” she replied. "I didn't want io alarm Norali, and only said you were as usual when I wrote to her."

"You know I'm dying—Craig knows —the nurso knows. Telegraph—telegraph,” and for a moment his voice had regained strength. "To her?”

“Yes, yes. Why have you delayed?” he asked fretfully. “She must come at once.” Mrs Trevelyan moved in her chairas though to rise, but did not. She was watching the shadow of death stealing over the grey face.

"I will do so,” she said. "I acted for the best. It was to save Norah’s feelings. Is there anyone else you would like to see?"

“Hardisty,” he panted faintly. “There is something he must do — something I’ve neglected—it's for Norah. Send for him."

Still Mrs Trevelyan retained her seat. Her husband's wish to sec liis lawyer had aroused a vague fear. There might be a reason which was detrimental lo her own interests that urged his command. The very mention of his daughter's name angered her, for if ever a woman hated another she hated Norali Trevelyan.

She (signed to the nurse, who came softly to the bed.

“How long will lie remain conscious'.''’ she whispered. "Doctor Craig has prepared me. You need not fear to toll me.” "I doubt if he knows anything now," answered the nurse as she put her linger on the dying man’s wrist, Mrs Trevelyan watching her steadily. The silence reigning within and without the house had been suddenly disturbed by tbe sound of a carriage coming ui> the drive, and as it slopped at the hall door the nurse drew the window curtain aside, looking down. “Are you expecting anyone, Mrs Trevelyan?” she asked in an undertone. "No one. Say that I am engaged and cannot he seen. Ask the name. The nurse went to the door and out on the landing, meeting a housemaid at the lop of the stairs. “Who lias called?” she asked. ".Miss Trevelyan has just arrived, nurse," was the hushed answer. CHAPTER IL—-Too Late. The four o’clock train from Condon had drawn up at a countryside station, and Norali Trevelyan put down the magazine with which she had been beguiling her tedious journey. She was alone in the carriage, watching some clattering milk ehurns being pul inlo the van by an old porter. Otherwise the platform was deserted, she re-

Copyright. (Published by Arrangement with the General Press, Ltd.)

By EDGAR PICKERING. Author oC “Love, the Conqueror, i'he Sorrel l'oi “Murder Will Out," Ac., Ac.

sunierl the magazine, but tier mind was distrait. AH that day a prfsciitiment had haunted liar, and she. was returning home after abruptly ending he*' visit to an old sctiool friend in town.^ “.Something seems railing me hack, 1 she had told tier. "It says ‘go home’ ns plainly as you might speak.” "You've not had bad news, I hope?”

"I've not had news of any sort. Mrs Trevelyan has not written lo me since I came here. I'm anxious about my father. lie was not well when I left home." As she sat in her seat she was recalling the events of the past week and the gaities that had made tier visit so pleasant. Now she was returning to the dull house that hud he.cn once tier happy home, hut everything had changed since tier father's marriage. Tliere was noL a trace of jealousy iu her nature, yet an unconquerable aversion to Mrs Trevelyan existed, for their dispositions were as fur asunder as the Poles. The trilling difference in their ages made them equal in one respect, but Norah's beauty fur outshone the elder woman's, and gained admiration, which Mrs Trevelyan recognised and resented. That N'orah should be preferred was gall and wormwood to her envious, exacting nature. 'l’iie only love N'orah tiad known was for her fattier, who, truth lo tell, offered little in return, being blinded by devotion lo his young wife; and in tin: generosity of tier thoughts N'orah realised this and forgave him, although it widened the breach between Mrs Trevelyan and herself. Tile train had started lazily at length, and as it drew out of the station a shout was heard, and the carriage door suddenly Hung open, through which a man came almost headlong, followed li\ a tug dog: and N'orah gave a startled tittle cry. "A thousand pardons!" exclaimed (he young man. whose half-comical, half-serious look was wonderfully reassuring. "J in afraid I've astonished you." lie was only a year or two her senior, she guessed, and his features, if not handsome, wore an air of refinement, lie was roughly dressed and somewhat rough iii manner, yet his laugh had a genuine ring'. Norah did not reply, bul a little smile had gathered about her pretty lips. "It's not tin' ordinary way of getting into a train, I'm quite aware," he went on, perhaps emboldened l>\ her look, "itul for tlinl you must blame old .lephsou. The slalionriiiisler. I mean; lie's an old friend of mine—known me for end dries, lie tried lo prevent me from opening the dnor when there's not another train for hours. I had to catch this or wail heaven knows how long." , "You need not apologise,", replied N'orah demurely, taking up tier book and attempting l> read, consrious the while of an impulse lo glance at her fellow-traveller, and that lie had done so at tier, neither speaking.again. Pale willed that they should, however, for alter going a few miles the train came to a sudden halt, accompanied by a crash of broken glass, whereupon the young man lowered the window on seeing the. guard running' towards the front of the train, and N'orah drew hack as ho bent out, unfastening Hie door. "Do you mind beeping an eye on Hector?" he asked, "lie's an absolute lamb, but I don't want him following me. Something's happened, and I'll see what it is." (To be continued to-morrow.)