Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1896-01-23

Some of them thought at the time
that he meant to kill his wife and
1 they perhaps remain of that opinion.
His friends, of course, know better"
Lance was silent. The moon had
risen and thrown its silvery light on
his countenance. Rene could see that
the boys features were set like mask
and that his eyes looked strangely
stern. It might be only the effect of
that dim light, but he seemed to have
grown years older since the afternoon.
rs that the whole of the story? -
he asked, presently.
THE whole, so far as l know it,
IT am much obliged to you" He
still spoke in the reserved and formal
manner which he sometimes assumed
to the count de Marsac. Can you
also favor me with my mothers ad-
dress?''
Rene raised his eyebrows. NO.
your father has it. Shall I ask him o.
I will ask for it myself" said
Lancelot, quietly "Good-night N. de
Marsac, l will not trouble you
further
And, now,' said De Marsac. laziIy
lighting another cigarette, when Lance
had gone into the house, now there
will be storms"
CHAPTER TX.
+ The Mother of Lancelot Vanbrugh.
Roger Vanbrugh was sitting in his
study. 1t was a small room, opening
ont of hn ibr,oYa oh, 4
by books, and it had a long French
window opening on the garden, but
not in front of the house. 1t would
have been more than he could bear TO
sit near window from which he
could have seen the figures of his son
and of his friend on the bench upon
the lawn, knowing all the time that
his sons judgment of his conduct was
in the balance.
Had he done we'll to leave Rene to
tell the story? 1t would have been
perhaps better, he reflected, to have
told it himself. But he had shrunk
from the pain. In his heart he blamed
his wife more than he choose to ack-
nowledge and he did not want Lance
could not speak temporarily. For he
had kept a black suspicion of his
Wife's truth to him at the bottom of
his soul; and he had always believed
that the man who blew out his brains
at Venetia's feet had once been Ven
etia's lover. 1t was this which made
it impossible for him to be Teconciled
to her
1t was nearly dark when he went
into his study. The shadows were
gathering fast. When he could SEE
nothing but fantastic shapes of dark
ness in the room and the moonlight
began to creep weirdly across the
lawn outside, he lighted a single candle
and placed a book open on the desk
before him. He did not wish Lance
to find him unemployed. It would
look as if he feared the judgment of
his son, And he did fear it-as those
who are growing old often fear the
keen judgments of their juniors-bu
keen judgments of their juniors-but
he did not want to look afraid.
Midnight sounded before the foot
steps came, which he had thought
would come. What had become of
Lancelot in the interval between his
leaving De Marsac and entering his
fathers study no one would ever know.
But he had got rid of some of his
illusions during the time; and he had
felt some Of the deepest anguish that
could ever assail him in his life. He
walked straight up to his fathers desk
and stood for a moment without speak
ing. Roger Vanbrugh closed his book,
but he also did not say word.
Il should like my mothers address,
if you please" said Lance, at length.
The words were simple, but the accent
and tone were those of a man in his
strengthened of a boy.
Col. Vanbrugh took a slip of paper
from his desk and handed it toward
him. II thought you would want ii"
he said, quietly. He had written it
out already. Lance read the words:
Nine. Zavertal, Is Arundel terrace,
Kensington." He had heard that ad-
dress before Thank YOU he said,
in a tone of dry repression. Il should
like to go tomorrow, if you have no
objection
"And if I had" said his father,
quickly and sternly.
"I should go all the same"
q have no objection said Col. Van
brugh, letting his hand fall fat once
or twice on the table, as if his emotion
found some vent in movement. 81 ex-
pected you would wish to see her. Go
whenever you like"
TT would have been better if l had
gone before" said the son.
That" said the colonel, was a
matter for your mother and me to
decide" Lance's face suddenly flushed
perhaps with wrath, perhaps with
wounded feeling. Il can hardly be-
lieve," he said, that my mother did
not wish to see me all these years.
Is that so? Did she never want me?
Did she not care?'
Roger Vanbrugh turned his face
aside. You ask too much, Lancelot,"
he said, in a troubled voice. TT is
enough that l acted-as | thought
for the best | had my reasons"
will you give me your reasons?"
said Lance.
Boy as he was it seemed as if the
for the moment he was stronger of the
two There was a might, a determina-
OBJ Il whit oh 10 fo hnT