TEMPTATION.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3191, 10 April 1911, Page 3

TEMPTATION.

By EFFIE ADELAIDE ROWLANDS.

Published-by special arrangement —All rights reserved, by the “Times ” CHAPTER XXVIII ‘ In London Lady: Susan’s one- occupation was to try:'and find Mary. Her anxiety as to the girl's' welfare was slightly eased, but she was yearning ' to put her arms- about- the'girl, yearn-, ing to. try and Jb-egjji to sec right the* wron-o’ that had been done-, so innocently, by Mary herself, by others so premeditatedly.

The whole story as Mary had told it to her husband, had been given to Lady Susan. ' When s'he was in London she saw her nephew Bay Conyers nearly every day. They were never, tired of discussing this strange story together, and in ’ these moments Lady Susan would exclaim at her own stupidity in the immediate past. ' “v “I often wondered -who it- was that that woman Somerton reminded me of,” she said sometimes, “and now I remember her perfectly. What a scene there was about her at Yelverton to be sure, and what eleyer brains she- had! Imagine Bay, waiting all these years, and carrying out a . scheme of such magnitude and surrounded by' such difficulty, single-handed; It would almost seem as though that poor child had been driven by fate into this woman’s path-just to give the necessary/touch of realism to the conspiracy l . , We- none of us doubted that-Mary was tlie. real heir of the property. The l proofs put. forward were all seemingly- true. You know, Bay,” said Lady Susan once, “that if you put side by side -.the;story of Mary’s life as I have had it from Tom Carter’s lips, and- the story that Lobe] Somerton supplied., to. the lawyers, you would see the most'; 'extraordinary' resemblance- between them.” ‘•But. all this is nothing to, me,” said Lady Susan the next moment. “I care nothing for what has gone, I only remember that she has been shamefully used. ‘ Fancy, 13ay, to have drifted so near to death for the mere want of bread. Does it not seem pitiful, horrible? Oh if only she had not gone away from us now.” Whenever ho could get leave. Captain Con.yers would run down to Yelverton to see Sir George. It was extraordinary how quickly strength was coming back to tlie sick man. “Ho is beginning to look almost like his old self,” said Captain Conyers oil one occasion, “and yet, Aunt Sue, he is a changed man. I think we have said good-bye to the- George that we knew so well for ever.” . “Does he never,speak of her?” asked Lady Susan in ajow voice. Captain Conyers shook his head. “Never!” he said. Nearly every day' Lady Susan drove to some one of those parts where Tom Carter thought it possible they might find some trace of Mary'. What puzzled Tom was that his aunt was silent ail this while He troubled about this no longer, however, for he knew-that whatever she might try to do, she could not make matters worse than they wore.-r. Whilst they were- still searching for her, another letter came for Lad.v Susan from Mary, sent on from the White Priory. The girl only wrote to show that she had not forgotten her promise. “Do not trouble about-me,” be said; “somehow, though there "has been silence between us, I seem to feel that your heart is full of "sorrow for me. I want to take away this sorrow if I can. I entreat you to believe, strange as it may sound to you that I am almost happy. Oh ! the joy of being able to hold my head erect; of being able to look other people in the eyes; not to wince or grow hot with shame! If only I could feel that 1 was forgiven, 1 should be almost content to end my days as I am spending them now. I have found work. I want for nothing, except to see you again, and to hear you say that you wilil care for me still.” Lady Susan’s eyes were very led when she had read this letter. •She locked it with the other one, away in the old jewel case where she kept her treasures. Her husband had come up from the country, and joined her. To him she opened her heart, and spoke of all. those things which lay nearest to it. It was Tom Carter, who really searched heic and there and everywhere, who walked himself wearyu going to all those streets in the poor neighborhood from which Mary’s, ietters were .posted ; and so the days wore away, and grew into weeks, and the,-London season was at As, height, and-still they were searching and/searching in vain. When Carina sent no answer of any sort to that letter, .Lady Susan was almost tempted to place the matter in the hands of the Verney solicitors. It was only the vision of David Forrester’s pathetic, and gentle face that restrained her. From Bay Conyers she heard all sorts of gossip about Loppold Verney and bis wife. Sometimes she would see Carina Hashing by the- hotel, or they would-,meet in the park or in the * streets, and though there wa,s a great anger and resentment in the old woman’s heart for this worthless beautv. there was also a touch of pity. She felt that‘the day would come when Carina would, suffer for her heartless treatment of her uncle. At any rate, Lady Susan was thankful each, time that she saw Carina that David Forrester had passed to his rest, ignorant of how really worthless this girl, was. One glorious'afternoon, as Lady Susan was about to 'descend to her carriage that was waiting, one of the- hotel servants approached her with a card. When she saw the name of Sir George Verney engraved on that card/ Lady Susan’s heart almost stormed heating. She waited ,trembling- a little, for George Verney to come. It "took him some little timc\ even though he was hrougiit upstairs in the lift. But as he advanced along the corridor, walking' with two sticks, though he had a wasted look as one who had been very ill, there was something also in His face which made Lady Susan’s heart change from; its nervous beat.

The 'moment he came into the room, ami they wero alone .Together. George yerney stooped a.-.crlapsed her, just as !:e had clone so often in the past, ami she put her arms about him. \ They were silent for a. minute, then fooling that he trembled. Lady Susan led him to a chair . There was a look in his eyes which brought tears to her own! v "“'Are you aviso to do this, George she said tenderly; ‘ ‘are you\ wise to come?/ Dear, remember, you are- still very, very far from being: strong yet.” George Verney answered a little hoarsely. . : , ... - ■ y .

“Where is she? I know that she is with you. That lias been the only coiisolation all these horrible weeks. Oh ! let me see herl” . ' Lady Susan put out both her liands. “Alas, dear!’’, she said, “Mary is not with me. 1 have been searching for her, without ceasing, ever since the last time I saw you. All we know is that slie is weill. and in a degree, content. Don’t, George!’’ said Lady Susan suddenly. for the young man' had put up his'hands and*'covered his face. She bent, forward and kissed him several times on the brow, and after a while he looked up. “All this time,” lie said in a whisper, “I have been praying for strength to be given me so that I might- come and i kneel to her. I,was so cruel to her ! Oh, I cannot tell you how cruel; I think I was mad, that night. I-know that yon would find every excuse for me. but I find none for myself, and since that moment when she passed out of the room and left me. I have not known one moment’s cessation from such heart agony as I cannot describe- to you. This morning,” said Sir George, growing a little calmer, “there came the strongest reason of all that I should approach lie.-. I was sitting in the hall (where she has sat so often), looking out at the sunshine. wondering if I should ever see the beauty of the world' again, when they told me that a woman wished to speak to me—a common kind c,f -woman. I gave orders that- she should be brought to me. I recognised her at once. She was the woman who spoke to Alary that- day that we drove to the cathedral, the day of my accident, and as she approached I saw malice and eager avarice..lll her eyes. She looked very shabby and worn, and almost immediately she informed me that she had been in hospital- very ill, having met with an accident some weeks ago Her errand was soon made known. She wished to sell to me certain information about my wife. «I refused to buy.” Sir George’s voice failed for an" instant-. “She declared to me what Alary herself had declared,” he went on, “that my wife- had no right to the name of Verney when she came here. I str---cd the woman. Aiy, heart sickened as 1 thought of how I ought to have protected my dear 011 c from people of this class instead of driving her from me to fight. God knows what difficulties.” George Verney paused again. He had turned very pale. Lady Susan saw quickly that it was nervous excitement- which" had given him strength to t-ike this journey. She tried to make him rest or to take some stimulant, but he refused. 4 “1 must tell you all,” he said, feverishly “it is an extraordinary story. If one were to read it in a book one would sav it was most unnatural, untrue to life.” He passed his hand over his brew, and closed his eves for a little while. “Alv refusal to have anything to with her evidently disappointed the woman. She turned away with a bitter lock on her face, and was passing on. when she suddenly stopped in front of one of the pictures in the hall. It was that portrait of my Uncle Hugo when he was a lad. You know how frequently I have i r-rrirked to ycu upon the strong resemblance between Alary and that oldfashioned portrait.” Lady Susan nodded her head. “At times it was startling,” she said in a low voice; then she put out her hand. “George,” she said, agitatedly, “something seems to toll me what you have to say ! Only the last time Bay "was with mo we were discussing, as we alwavs do. this sad business, and I pointed out to him how strangely alike was the storv of Alary’s life and the story cf the "life that the lawyers described to you when your cousin came into her inheritance. Besides, said Lady S’jcan in a low voice-, 'I hai e seen Hugo Vernev’s spirit in the child’s eyes, BuT go on.” she aded Quickly, “tell me exactly what hardened.” (To be continued to-morrow.)