Dearer than Life

Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16818, 9 June 1926, Page 3

Dearer than Life

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

CHAPTERS I. to lll.—Mrs Trevelyan's elderly husband dies. The doctor Ts struck by the young wife's callousness. Norah Trcvelyan is returning home. She has the railway compartment to herself unlil the door opens and a young man and his big dog bound in. Lucius Staunton apologises and explains. There is a slight mishap and a stoppage on the line. At the slalion Staunton and his dog leave. Norah, who arrives home just too late to see her rather alive. Denis Montford, nephew and heir of Sir Guy Montford, receives a visitor. Arthur Ilerrick comes to Denis with a secret, concerning Denis's birth. Denis realises that, according to it, he is not the real heir to Sir Guy. CHAPTER IV.— Mrs Trevolyan Has a Visitor. Three week's had elapsed since Norah Trevelyan's fateful home-com-ing, and the orderly quiet of her father's house had given place to unseemly gaiety. Unseemly, in that ils masler had died so recently. Strangers had arrived whose loud voices and illbred manners jarred horribly on Norah's sensitive, nature, so" that she held aloof from the people of whose existence Mrs Trcvelyan had never spoken during her husband's lifetime. Some of them were her relatives who regarded ihc house as libcrly hall and treated Norah with a familiarity she resented.

Mrs Trcvelyan had lost no opportunity of showing her new authority, or inflicting liltle slights on her stepdaughter which wcro borne with an indifference far from real. Of her own I position Norah gave, no thought, for her bereavement was too great, too recent, for any consideration of money matters to be entertained. She was miserably lonely and unhappy; the friends who would have done their utmost to comfort her having been practically forbidden the house by the reception they met with on calling, and the days went by unchecred by one word of solace or sympathy from Mrs Trevelyan's guests, and, to avoid any annoyance from I hem she kept apart from the other inmates of the house in the one place of refuge left her, namely, a pleasant room overlooking Ihe garden, where she could work or read without interruption. She was sitting here one morning when Mrs Trcvelyan came into the room, and Norah put down her needlework.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," began Mrs Trcvelyan with assumed amiability, "but the room is going to be cleaned. I have a lady coming tomorrow and she will have the use of it."

"But it is mine!" exclaimed Norah. "The room I have always had. My father fitted it up expressly to my taste and all my—"

"I can'L help that," Mrs Trcvelyan Inlcrruptcd. "The room is wanted. You can take the one at the top of the house.. I daresay it will put you to a liltle inconvenince, hut under the circumstances that can't be avoided." Norah gave a look round the room that held all the cherished momentoes of her girlish life. The pictures she valued, the snug chimney corner a very bower of cosiness, the flowers in the window she had tended so carefully, all would have to be changed or relinquished, and the seclusion she had enjoyed denied her. "Your visitor might have the upstairs room, I think," she said. "It's more than inconvenient for me to give up this one." "I presume I have some right to make my own arrangements," replied Mrs Trcvelyan, l'reezingly. "It's well for you to understand that. You don't wisli me to say more, I hope."

"That is the last thing I should wish," answered Norah. "Still, I think you are acting very unkindly towards rno, Mrs Trcvelyan." "Unkindly, indeed!" and Mrs Trcvelyan laughed shrilly. "Many people would say I show you 100 much consideration. Your father's death has left you dependent on me. Not that I complain of that, but it gives mc some right to order my household." "Dcpenedent on you?" and Norah drew a deep breath, for the revelation came lfkc a blow.

"Dependent on me," repealed Mrs Trcvelyan. "He had made some sort of provision for you, I believe, but the money has been lost. 1 don't know how, but Mr Ilardisty, his lawyer, v.. tell you, I daresay, if you ask him. Still, the fact remains, that you have been left without anything. I'm extremely sorry, naturally, and all that. I thought you knew."

Norah shook her head rather helplessly. She was trying to gresp the truth of what Mrs Trcvelyan had said. Penniless—dependent. The words were ringing through her brain, causing a dull pain. . It was Mrs Trevelyan's hour of triumph. This proud girl should bo humbled, and the aversion she had shown to her step-mother's gucsls receive punishment in a way only a vindictive woman could have had the cruelly In indict.

"1 did not know," answereil Norah. "How could t have known? Mr Hardisly has never even hinted of such a thing."

"Well, it's perfectly true," replied Mrs Trcvelyan lightly. "I shouldn't have mentioned it unless compelled, and you were bound to know ultimately. You are quite welcome to remain here, but understand that it is at my expense." "At. your charily." "Well, call it so, if you choose. II really amounts to charity, because I'm not bound lo support you. I hate to say all Ibis, but it appears to be necessary." "I am glad you have told mc." Norah had regained her self-com-mand. This woman, whoso expression Of regret was as false as her pity, should not see her distress. '"1 would like lo move my things myself." she said quietly. "They are ali I have to remind mc of the old days. I will do so as quickly as possible. The servants need not be put, lo that Irouble."

"I'm afraid 1 must ask you to do it now." was the reply, and Mrs Trcvelvan went out of the room.

The sudden knowledge of her dependence on Mrs Trevelyan's charily —there was no other name for it — had overwhelmed Norah. Charity which gave her the shelter of a roof was harder to bear I ban poverty, and Norah's spirit, rose in revolt against il. She did not blame her father, conscious that he was not answerable for her position. Hut to think that the food she ate and the place she occueil in the house, had to be. accepted by herself as a beggar galled her pride unlil the pain became unbearable.

Then li*m- native courage and sc.lfrelianec came to her rescue. She would find a moans of escaping the degradation: a way liy which she could free herself from a thraldom she wrilhed under, and as she hcjucuii reher treasured mementoes of *'•/,«,, li.ii.ijjv davs thai had gone fOI

Copyrlgtit. (Published by Arrangement Willi the General Tress, Ltd.)

By EDGAR PICKERING. Author of "Dove, the Conqueror," "The Secret Foe,' "Murder Will Out," Ac, &o.

over, she was planning her future as Mrs Trcvelyan had done hers, after Doctor Craig's announcement of her husband's approaching death. The days passed drearily until a hope which had helped to sustain her spirits, changed to dull resignation to her fate, and to escape for a few hours

from the strident voices of Mrs Trevelyan's visitors, that could be heard mingled with laughter, she had quilted the house one afternoon for a solitary' walk, encountering her step-mother in the hall. An hour later and an old-fashioned carriage drove up to the house and a lady got out who surveyed it critically, being sufficiently interesting herself to attract Mrs Trevelyan's notice, as she looked from the window of the dining room. The stranger's costume had been fashionable doubtless in the time of the llrst exhibition, but, as Mrs Trcvelyan observed to someone in the room, the bonnet and other articles of the. lady's attire were monstrosities fit for a museum.

"Do you know her?" inquired Mrs Trevelyan's companion. "I never saw such an extraordinary dress in my life."

"She's a perfect stranger to mc," was the. reply, "anil what she can want I have no idea. I've never seen anything so ludicrous before. One might think she had stepped out of Noah's ark." Happily unconscious of Ihese criticisms the lady had knocked at the front door and in a few minutes a maid-servant entered ihc dining-room

"A Mrs Damont has called, m'm," she said. "She wishes to sec Miss Norah."

Mrs Trcvelyan turned to her friend again. "Norah appears lo have made a very remarkable acquaintance," she laughed, "and as she happens to be out I will see this lady. I've no doubt it will be very amusing," saying which she went into the drawing-room where Mrs Damont received her with a broad stare from beneath the shadow of her offending bonnet. "I wish to sec Norah Trcvelyan." she said without a word of preface. "You're not she, evidently," and the beady black eyes seemed to demand an explanation. "I am Mrs Trcvelyan," was the rather astonished reply. "My stepdaughter is not at home, but if there is anything you would like to know I may be able to tell you." Mrs Lamont's eyes were questioning Mrs Trcvelyan as plainly as though her lips had spoken. "Norah Trcvelyan answered an advertisement of mine in the 'Morning Post,' and I've come to satisfy myself as to whether or no she would suit me." "May I asq the nature of your advertisement?" inquired Mrs Trcvclyffn. "I can't prevent your asking anything, my good woman, but I can please myself about, answering. I sec no reason for telling you any more. She's your step-daughter, you say. I'm beginning to see now." "I fail lo sec what you mean by that," and Mrs Trcvelyan assumed a haughty tone. "It's not of the slightest importance." retorted Mrs Lamont. "Your step-daughter will be back soon, possibly, so HI wait." "It is quite uncertain when she will return," replied Mrs Trcvelyan with a sudden decision to get rid of such a fierce, unconventional lady, "and if your time is valuable " "I've come here for a purpose," snapped Mrs Lamont, "and if Norah Trcvelyan does not come back till dinner time 1 shall wait for her. Don't let mc detain you, mam.:' (To be continued to-morrow.)