CHAPTER XIX.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 92, 7 March 1885, Page 4

CHAPTER XIX.

" MARC 1" " One may live without love— what is passion but pining? But whoro is the man that can livo -without diniug V It. B. Lytton. The carriage rounded the corner toward tho lake. Half way down the block it drew up before the lighted windows of a restaurant. " Yes, we get out here," assented Miss Dorothy, wiping her foolish, loving old eyes. "You must be starved. We are going to have some supper, and then for tho train. First, put on this veil." " 1 ought to be hungry. I havo not had time to think of it. I have eaten nothing since morning." '• Bless my soul !" in dismay. You know what Shakespeare says, my dear : " ' Never, never, oh, never ! earth's luckiest sinner Hath unpunished forgotten tho hour of his dinner!' " "Shakespeare!" Vella murmured, musingly ; ' ' or— Meredith, " "One of them," assented Miss Vornell, placidly. They entered the cafe, passing round by the counter to the ladies' division. It was too late for the afternoon crowd, too early for tho supper-timo rush, so the place was almost deserted. They went down to the table in tho southeast corner. Vella removed her veil and looked around. The few present were strangers. But though she had not eaten since morning, and but little then, when the tempting meal Aunt Dorothy had ordered was set before her, not a mouthful could she swallow. She made a pretence of appetite, and tasted the various delicate dishes to please Aunt Dorothy, but it was very sorry earnest. The foreboding which had been weighing on her spirits like lead all afternoon intensified as the moments passed. She strove valiantly to shako it off". Nothing very awful happened. Heaven willing, nothing awful should. Rather ought she net be thankful that she had been saved from marriage with a man for whom her warmest feeling was scornful indifference? But the feeling would not be banished. She tried to laugh and talk blithely, but a hard lump would rise in hor throat, and very, very quick were the tears to start. When they left the restaurant it wa" quite dark, and great drops of rain were plashing down on the stone pavement. Miss Dorothy drew out her watch and consulted it by one of the carriage lamps. "Seven. We have time onough. The train leaves at a quarter to eight. Thon turning to the coachman — "Union Depdt." "Are you sure you can come with me, Aunt Dolly — Uncle James may miss you ?" "I can go to the station. Thon I must return. You will write to me on the way, will you not ? ' The rain had increased to a very deluge when they went up the steps of the Union DepOb to the general waiting-room ; Mies Dorothy bought Vella's ticket. " And now I must go, my pet," she said, as she thrust it into her hand. "Do take care of yourself, and be sure and write, and give Evelyn my best love ; and what an explanation I shall have to concoct on the way home to account for my absence, and you won't worry, I know you won't— and do write— and— dear, dear, I believo I'm like Othello," with a chirrupy little laugh. "he was ' fat and scant of breath.' Or was it Shylock ?" Vella laughed outright. " I think it was Hamlet." " Weil, maybe it was," graciously. " One's memory does play tricks with one as one grows old. Well, I must be off. You've ten minutes before the train is due. You won't miss it? And you'll promise not to be frightened ? What a good laugh we would have over it all if Voyle were only here ! And now I am going. Good-bye, my — own — blessed — darling —lamb !" A long, warm, energetic hug, a vigorous blinking of traitorous blue eyes, a shower of kisses — then she scurried away like a plump little rabbit. A friendly group seated near by regarded Vella in a friendly fashion. She was going on a journey f and she was going alone. Poor child ! she looked homesick already. She in turn atole a shy look at them. How comfortable and contented they all looked ! If they were going away it was cheerily and with no heart-pangs. There were five Of them, the father, big, jolly, kindly featured, with a head which eavo for a Bilvering fringe was smooth as an egg ; the mother a small-statured, refined-look-ing woman, with tho traces of youthful beauty discernible in her delicate countenance; a young fellow — probably the son — tall, broad-shouldered, erect of carriage, with a handsome blonde head, a long, fair moustache and a pair of grey eyes ; two young gjirls— presumably Bis sisters— like pictures by Kate Greenaway in their quaintly modern travelling wraps of grey serge, the bewitching crimson-lined hoods encircling the pretty oval faces with the warm rose colour in the clear brown cheeks, the curie tumbling over the white forehead,

the shy lnaiden-modest eyes, the lips as full and ripe as cherries. Aa they chatted merrily together, now and then stealing a glauce at her, Vella wished they were going to Philadelphia, too -she did not think she would feel so wholly alone with that pleasant group within sight and hearing. Was it nearly train-tirao? She rose, and, walking over to one of the high windows, looked down on the busy inclosure below. Just without tha iron gates portera were rushing with torches and barrows ; just within, the lighted lampa showed the usual crowd of depot loungers, of hurrying travellers, of eccentrics, of energetic officials. As she turned to glance up at the great clock in the north end of the waiting-room a figure coming from that direction caught her eye. There was something familiar about the tall form, in the light fall overcoat—the walk, the air. The soft crush hat shadod the slightly bowed head. But she know him—she knew him. She sprang forward. From her lips broke a littlo glad, quick, loving, happy cry : " Marc ! oh, Marc !"