CHAPTER XXIV.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 93, 14 March 1885, Page 4

CHAPTER XXIV.

A HINTED ACCUSATION". " Ay, there are some good things in life that fall not away "with the rest. And of all best things upon earth I hold that a faithful friend is the best." —Meredith. Two! And from the little brass clock at the foot of the stairs a soft, sweet chime of bells gaily proclaimed the hour, In the dining-room the gas still burned but dimly. Across the floor, towerd the wide, morocco-covered sofa that dark figure went creeping— creeping. In their excitement, neither had noticed what a poor imitation of Vella's writing was that scrawled on the note of farewell. When returned to Claflin, he had more likely thrust it in his pocket. No one must scrutinise it more closely, Voyle told himself. Doubts, suspicions, might arise. After the conversation he had overheard, such would not suit his present plans. No, he must secure the paper, and so put such a possibility out of the question. He was beside the lounge now. He cautiously knelt upright, anddrewdown the rug. The sleeper never stirred. The boy began to examine his pockets with the dexterity of a thief. Ah ! there it was at last ! Just as he was despairing of securing it, he touched it, recovered it. fle turned, crushing it in his hand, and went softly back the way he had come. At the stairs he lifted himself to his full height and ascended with soundless footfalls. On the landing above, Miss Dorothy's door stood ajar, and from the aperture light streamed. Without knocking, he pushed it open and went in. She started up at sight of him. She had boon sitting in a low rocker by her dressingtable. " My blessod boy ! you have come atlaßt ! Wasn't it dreadful ? I did think I would faint when the crash came," closing the I door noisolessly and locking it as she spoke. | " And then, James— and the revolver — and those awful lies — and may I be forgiven I" Voyle tried the door to be sure it was secured, made her sit down, and drew up a j chair for himself. " And then the abominable brandy I" she whispered, excitedly. "And right after, that ring, and that man /" with disgusted emphasis. "But: how is Volla? Where is she?" put in Voyle, anxiously. Sin^e his entrance he had been vainly seeking a chance to ask the question. " She is safe. I only left her about eight last evening." Voylo smiled, and caught his breath in a quick gasp of relief "Thank heaven for that !"— gladly. " How did she leave ? Where did she go? Now tell me all about it." She drew her chair close to him, and did as bidden. " I am glad she has gone to Evelyn," he said when she had finished. "It would not hare done for her to have remained hero. It will be all right when she comes back as Marc's wife. By Jove " — leaping to his feet— in his face a sudden, startled diymay. "Could it have been possible that this morning he mistook me for Vella? I did not dream of such" a probability then. In fact, for the time being, I actually forgot her engagement to him, so crowded was my brain with schemes and plans of escape. I knew myself so well, I felt sure ho must know me. I winked at him as I passed, to make it a certainty, but he bowed so low he probably did not notice it. I must go straight off and find him !" — catching up the hat he had flung off on entering. " I can't rest easy till all is made clear." But with an immense deal of decision for her, Miss Dorothy rose and barred his way. " Now what is all this about ? Sit down and tell me. Have you seen Marc? I thought he was in York. How did ho get back so soon ?" The boy had paled at thought of the evil consequences the episode of the hotel corridor might entail. He placed both his hands on ha aunt's shoulders, and looking down on the chubby face, related the incident of the morning previous. She looked serious when he had told her. " When you deceived your most intimate frionds, Voyle, your uncle, Mr Glafln, that cute widow even, it would be no difficult matter to mystify him. 1 wish it hadn't occurred, my dear, or that you had had an opportunity to speak to him. I'm afraid harm will come of it— l'm sadly afraid." " Oh, I guess 'twill be all right !" concluded Voyle, brightening up with youth's swift revulsion of teeling. "He knows Vella would die before sho would be untrue to him. I'll see him at dawn, though— just to make a sure thing | of it." a How did you manage to escape— get back here?" " Why, you see while Jona? was in the smoking-car I got off at a station, leaving in a book on the seat I had vacated a message of farewell. Soon after a train westward bound steamed up. It had passed that in which was Claflin. It was a special. I fortunately had money, and started back. Here (you know I still wear my bridal travelling costume,) I took a Lack and drove to Charlie Lisle's. You know that he boards at the Leland. I luckily caught him in, confided in him, laid aside my feminine apparel, swore him to secrecy, dined in his rooms and came here to you. I had to wait till I was sure all had retired." " But last night, my dear Voyle— l mean the night before ?" faltered Miss Dorothy. The lad flung back his head and laughed —not loud, but heartily. "It was a good joke. You should have seen the old chap's face, Aunt Dolly, when I suggested the advisability of his procuring another apartment, i told you, didn't 1, we missed Lie train last night, and stayed at the Palmer ? Of course. I must go over to my room for awhile. There are a few things I want to take with me. A few more I want you to try and smuggle to me." "Very well. You want money, of 1 course. Vella wrote me out an order for her money to-day. I told you how she procured yours. " "Yes. I never gave Vella credit for so much pluck," laughing. " I will get it for you as soon as possible. In the meantime " She trotted over to the dressing-case as she spoke and took from the topmost drawer her alligator-skin shopping satchel. "No, no !" declared Voyle. "I have some— enough, Aunt Dorothy." But she insisted, turning into his pockot quite a handful of gold, silver, and notes. As he reached the door, he paused, turned, and came back. "Did it ever occur to you," he asked, regarding her steadily the while, "how very curious was the fact of my father's dying in wealth, and leaving Vella and me penniless ?" She only glanoed up at him perplexedly. His eyes had narrowed, as they always did when he thought deeply, his beautiful mouth was oddly stern. " Uncle James's wealth began with father's death," he added. "How do you understand ?" She started back in horror, almost stumbling over the train of herCammalette marooa wrapper,

" Oh, no, no ! Dear me, no ! Whatever put such a dreadful idea into your head ?" Her ancient and cherubic countenance was quite pallid with horror. Voyle only riveted those clear and penetrating eyes of his upon her, and said never a word. No wonder it shocked her— the dear, good, honest, simple old heart. " James was never quite like Will," she went on in gentle, nervous defence. "Not quite so— so particular in pointß of honour — nor so— so high-spirited, but he would wrong no one— no one, lam sure of that." She paused quite breathless from her eager assertion. •' Well, I must be going. As soon as I -can safely see you I will do so. I may send you word to meet me somewhere. I hardly know what I will do with myself beyond proving "he broke off sharply, continuing, confusedly, in a moment : "I may go to Philadelphia and see Vella. Then it will be time for me to adopt some profession, settle down to some steady work." He talked a little longer, telling her the articles he wished her to send him, cautioning absolute prudence and silence. Three ! " So late ! I must be going to my room. Yes, I can get out that way," in answer to her murmured question. "You know the steps from the balcony lead to the flat roof of the summer study, aud from there descent is easy. And now good-bye, Aunt Dolly !" Putting his arms tenderly round her. "I don't know what we would do ' without you anyway ! I must see Marc first thing in the morning — it's morning now for the matter of that ! This has been a fearful ordeal!" Into his eyes sprang big shining drops, and through them she knew how prostrating and painful had been the excitement of the last few day b, despite all his former joking and airy manner. " Well, it's all over now," comforted Miss Dorothy, with a cheerfulness which would I have been creditable to Mark Tapley. j " You and Volla will laugh over it together I some day — so don't lose courage ! You know : " 'There is never a night without a day, Nor an evening without a morning, And the darkest hour, as the poets say, Is the hour before the dawning !' " "Bravo I" laughing down on her quizzically, though his eves still were moist. "Who wrote it?" " Was it Thackeray ?" musingly. Voyle laughed, shook her and kissed her —all in a breath. "No, I don't think it was. And now, my precious old guardian angel, good-night — good-byo I May Heaven bless you and may I shake a foot yet at your wedding. j Five minutes — ten. She went over to the window and stood there looking out. "I wish I could have asked him about that arrest and the money. I was curious to know — not that I doubt him— dear, dear, no ! That was just why I couldn't bring myself to speak of it — fearing he might think I &oi." Without the rain had ceased. But the leaves were dripping yet. From under the r&gged clouds stole out a tearful moon. Below she could hear Lake Michigan booming on tho shore. She was quite chilled and wearied with standing at the window before her anxious patience was rewarded. A dark figure appeared, making its way over the roof of the summer study. It clambered down a few feet by the easement of a Florentine window, then dropped. She watched it while it crossed the lawn — passed through the gate— disappeared. (To be Continued.)