The Temptation of Miry Lister.

Waikato Times, Volume 104, Issue 17582, 11 December 1928, Page 4

The Temptation of Miry Lister.

(Published by Special Arrangement.)

BY E. EVERETT-GREEN. Author of "Adventurous Anne," "A Queen of HeartV "Defiant Diana," "The Lady of the Bungalow," etc., etc.

CHAPTER Xlll.—Mistress of Her House. "Lady Lucy Lorimcr and her son and the rector are dining here tomorrow night in a quiet way, Aunt Ada,-" said Mary, "Uncle George will take the foot of the table, and take in Aunt Lucy. The rector, I think, should take you, and sit beside me on one side. Jos and Margot .will have to pair together, and Giles Lorimcr will take me. That is what I think would be the best arrangement. It is always a little difficult to arrange a table with so many persons of one family. But we must do the best we can so long as this lasts." Mrs Hart bit her lip. She was seeking to control herself in her dealings with Mary, who was never inconsiderate. But the young chatelaine let it be seen quite plainly that there was to be no divided rule in her house. She might take counsel or ask a question from time to time; but she brooked no interference, and all that Mrs Hart ventured to remark was,

"Would it not be better, dear, for Jos to take you, and Margot to go in with Giles?" "I do not think so," said Mary, "It is a choice for me between Giles and the rector. But on the whole I think Mr Rendal had better take you; You are old friends, and as I say I will have him on my other side. It would be quite absurd for the hostess to go in with one of the family party. In no case will the table arrange itself very easily. But we will do our best, Aunt Lucy will not be critical. She is very sweet and charming. lam so glad siie is well enough to be out and about again." "I suppose we shall be seeing hera great deal more at Hartshill now than we have been used to do of late vears." The acid note in Mrs Hart's voice was very audible. Mary looked at her from beneath level and slightly drawn brows. "Tilings will he different, of course, at Hartshill now," she said, "and very probablv not by any means so much to your liking. But then this will not be of much consequence to you, since it will not last long. Ido not want to hurry you in any way; but I shall be glad to know what plans you are making for the future. I have to think ahead for myself. And naturally my own plans for the future must hinge upon the date when I can have my house to myself. lhat, oi course, you will readily understand. Mrs'Hart shot a look at the girl from the corners of her eyes. Mary s I'ace was very tranquil; but Ihere was a suggestion of inilexibility m her expression sufficiently significant. "I suppose, Mary, that you are aware of your grandfather's expressed wishes? Mr March probablj told vou that he expressly desired for his brother to have a home at Hartshill in the future, as he had had in the Pa "-Mr March told me that you made some assertions as to this; but there is no sort of legal obligation upon me in you vn.- i free quarters at mytpense for a quite indefinite Pe "l° am not talking about legal obligation, Mary, I am talking about oui duties to the dead. Have the expressed and earnest wishes of one who s gone, and to whom you owe o much, no weight at all wih you? Alary felt a curious clutch at her heart. The wishes of the dead Did no obligation attach to them. n not why was she here at all?" "If if was my grandfather's desire for vou to remain at Hartshill, why did he not bequeath the property to Uncle George <for his life, with reversion to me afterwards? Thai, surely, would have been the simpler method of action." . "It would. It was what v\e had always reckoned upon. Here we have been during almost all my husband's life, during almost the whole of my married life, devoting ourselves to a "capricious and difficult old man the slaves of his whims, the butts of his sarcasms and sharp tongue, scarcely calling our souls our own, but living on and putting up with all because we believed that in the future wc were to reap our reward. And now when the time for that has come—what is the recompense we receive— nothing —absolutely nothing!" "I suppose grandfather settled in his own mind that you had had your share' of good things from him during your stay here through his life time." "Good things, indeed!" "Well, what some persons would have called good things" Mary answered composedly, "free quarters in this fine house, a life of luxury without paying ! for it, practical control through many years of the place both inside and out. During this period of years your own income must have been rolling up and increasing; for you had no expenses here to meet. The books show quite clearly that you never contributed a shilling to housekeeping costs."

"You impertinent girl I What right have you to make remarks or draw inferences about our private affairs? Have we not a son, whose expensive education has been a great drain upon us?" "That seems a pity; for the results of any expensive education are not apparent in Jos's conversation or manners. And I have noted that grandfather made him quite a good allowance whilst, he was at Cambridge. Indeed, items of outlay on behalf of .los appear in many places in the household accounts. So that will not do, Aunt Ada. You force me to plain speech by your claims and assertions. Remember I have other sources of information. And I think you will understand that I consider you have done remarkably well all these years out of grandfather and Ilartshill. And my belief is," she drew herself up and looked at Mrs Hart with sombre lire in her eyes, "my belief and conviction is this, that at the last you bullied and terrorised the old man, so that lie could not call his soul his own. And that he looked to me to do the thing he dared nol do himself, and turn you out of Ilartshill when I came inlo possession." "You wicked girl! How dare you speak to me so?" "I may be a wicked girl; but I darv to spe-ak out because I am convinced I speak truth. You plotted and schemed to follow my grandfather here, as you plotted and schemed to make mischief between my mother and her father —and kcpl at his side poisoning his mind, so thai, no reconciliation was ever made. Hut yon could not work all your will. You could not hinder him from doing justice at the last. And I c:\n prove to you that he had no such desire as, you hint at from the very terms of his will. If he had desired you to re-

main here for Uncle George's life, would he have made Giles Lorimer the next in succession? No!" Mary brought out this monosyllable almost with the effect of a pistol shot, "lie showed clearly that he was tired of you,' that he wanted to clear Hartshill of you all, root and branch. For after him, I was to come; and he knew what would be the fclings towards you all of Norah Lister's child. After mo, Giles Lorimer, a man well able to 'protect himself from the assumptions and intrigues of designing persons. An old man may gradually become a victim of clever machinations, but a young man, not; nor a woman gifted with clear vision and sound common sense." "You dare to speak such things—youl" "Yes, certainly I do. That is partly what I am here for. My father and my mother have told me of you and your husband. I have made a vow to avenge their wrongs. Ah, and here is Uncle George. He may just as well hear .what I have to say- " "Thank you, Mary, I have been hearing a good part of it. Your voice carries well, and I was just outside. I have lisLcned with shocked surprise to the outrageous words you have uttered. If you can bring yourself Lo utter such calumnies, I can only say you are very unworthy of the position you occupy."" "That may be, Uncle George; all the same I do occupy that position, and I mean lo be mistress in my own house. And I wish to know what vour plans are with regard to your own movements. Grandfather died three months and more before I came upon the scene myself. You have had over four months in all to make your plans. No one can say lam rushing you Ever since I have been here I have been waiting for you to announce some dale of departure. But as week by week passes and you do no such thing, you force me to ask the question myself. .. When do you propose to leave?" '"My dear Mary, you do not mean to say that you propose to live alone in this great house? That surely would be a most " , "What i propose to do has nothing to "do witli you. iam quite capable of making .my own plans in my own way \ad before 1 make my plans I must know yours. I have refused to marry your son. That you probablv know. He has not made an} secret of his desire to remain on at llarlshill as my husband, nor have I made any secret of my intention to disclaim the honour, of becoming Mrs Joshua Hart. lam not even sure that grandfather would feel gratified by the old name being continued—in such a fashion. Be that as it may! have no use for Jos, though personally he is less distasteful to me than others of his family. But if you arc lingering on in hopes of that consummation, longer lingering is superfluous. •will ask you to tarn matters over in vour mind and let me 'have an answer in a week's time, Mr March suggested a time limit. I think the idea is a good one. Grandfather died about Christmas time. 1 arrived in April. Now it is early May. Suppose you leave at Midsummer— unless you wish to go earlier. But that you can think over between ;• ■•'-ehcs. Midsummer, however, is the hunt. iou have plenty of time to make your plans before that." Mary turned and seemed to swim awav her head h'gh in the air. I was Jos who sometimes used that expression about her way of moving \nd if seemed to suit it.- She had 'done the deed! She felt that the other Mary Lister had stood beside her whilst she faced these relatives of Mollv's. She had the other girl s wrongs 'in her mind as she spoke her calmly biting words. When she reached her room she stood for a great while at the window—gazing out into the sunny world about her. Then suddenly she spoke. "I mav be a wicked girl I But a least I have kept faith with the dead! But how can I ever keep faith and do right by Giles Lorimer? (To be continued to-morrow.)