CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 97, 11 April 1885, Page 4

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A CONFIDENCE. " They say things cannot be helped, dear, But thun that is the reason why. For if things could bo helped or altered One would never sit down to cry. You long— don't you dear? for the Genii Who were slaves of lamps and of rings, And I— l am sometimes afraid, dear, I want as impossible Mnga^ pROCTOR# " Is it cold out, dear ?" querried Mrs Starr, from her invalid's chair, as Ueraldine came hurriedly into the room. " Yes, indeed ! I have been down to the office," kissing her mother, and flinging off her cloth walking-jacket. "Where is II He and Stuart went over to the Olivers. They will not be home till late." "Not back to supper?" "I think not." Geraldine put one ?lim foot on tho fender as she stood leaning against the mantel. 14 Did Stuart take Dick, mamma ?" " No. I think he is with Miss Vbrnoll." Silence. Night crept up to the window and peeped n. The corners of the room grew dim. 11 1 think Dick is growing very fond of Vella, mamma, don't you? r> said a low voice from the fireside. 'Yes, he has taken a fancy to her." Geraldine turned the sole of her English walking boot blazeward, and waited. How quickly it was getting dark ! Across the room she could hardly see her mother's face. She was very patient. After awhile that which she paused yet dreaded, hated to hear— came. " Do you know, Geraldine, I have sometimes thought of late— don't laugh at me if the idea is foolish ! You know 1 can form surmises only from the vertal driftwood which happens to float my way —but I have thought that dear as Vella is growing to little Dick she is growing dearer still to Dick's father." There was never a word from the dark fio-ure in the dull fireshine. "Gerald has been telling me trifles he noticed," went on the eentle, weary voice. "And then whenever Stuart has come in to <cc me lately he has seemed so— so changed You know the abstracted air he has always had. Do you ever notice it now ? I don't. He seems to me different from his old self. He is so alert — how often we used to speak of him and he wcul I rouse himself from a reverie, almost as profound as sleep to answer. Has it struck you ?" "Yes." , , "What, dear? I must bo becoming deaf, or else you speak lower every day." " I said yes, mamma." Silence. , "I wondered if I could have imagined it," in a tone of satief action ; " and that day, too, that Miss Vorncll first went downstuiis—just four days ago, wasn't it? My door wa3 ajar, and I could hear Stuart talking to her. I remarked then how happy his voice sounded— what a new glad ring there was in it. And when he laughed out I declare it startled me, it was so exactly the merry laugh of the lad I knew at school." Again silence. And now, save for thai flickering fireshine, the room was in total darkness. . " She seems to bo a very charming girl, went on Mrs Starr, picking up the relaxed thread of the romance she had been so smoothly knitting. " She is reserved, to be sure ,but th vt she is not every inch a lady it would be impossible to doubt. Later, perhaps, she will tell us more about herself. I It would be a very good thing if she and 1 Stuart were married— after his finding her, i too, just think how nice and story-like it

would all sound. Stuart is a thoroughly domestio fellow. He will not bo happy till he again has a home of his own. Though I'm sure we should miss him dreadfully. And then there's Dick. After this he will need constant care. 1 Certainly Stuart would have a lovely wife, I don't think I ever saw a sweeter face. Don't you think the whole idea is famous, if it will only work I Geraldine moved her foot suddenly. It touched the poker, which fell against the fender with a brazen rattle. She stooped and picked it up-replaced '•• She is just as sweet as she looks, too, mamma-just as lovable," in a soft, hurried voice. ' * You would think so did you know her as well as I. Shall I light, your lamp 1 She did so, then moved around the room, drawing down the shades and putting things in order, talking all the time in that quick, hushed way. " How rapidly it grows dark these evenings. I believe I make that remark every night, don't I? Eliza has hot rolls for supper. Don't you smell them ? She always leaves the kitchen door open an afternoon she bakes— jus* *° make v8 hun B rv > | believe. And now I must run down and see what else she is getting." 41 Give me my glasses first, d«ar, and I shall road for a while." And then when the girl had brought her her spectacles and got as far as the door, ♦'Jerry!" "Yes, mamma." She paused, looked back. " Don't you think if Sebastian Rice s old house were repaired and a bay-window, say, thrown out on the south side, it would be just the thing for Stuart and Vella." " Rice's 1" meditatively. "The location is marshy. Does not papa say there is malaria there ?" , . -, r > "Of course he does ! What a head Ive got ! It never would do. I must try and think up some other. Or they might build. My dear Jerry, do go down and hurry up Eliza. You ought to have a cup of hot tea at once. You should have worn your heavier cloak going out to-night. I am sure you got chilled. You are positively ghastly." Glad of her release, the girl wont. But on the very first step of the stairs, "Jerry!" How much more was she to endurecould she ? She turned back to her mother's voom. "You called me?" " Yes. I've just been thinking about the Densy's placo. That's for rent. 5 ' " But it is so badly arranged, mamma. One has to pass through the parlour to reach the kitchen. Here is the November Magazine by the way. I laid it down here with my satchel, and quite forgot it. Novembers ! Now why on earth couldn't you have said so, dear? Give it to me." And this time there was little danger of another recall. Geraldine went slowly down the stairs. But she did not approach the kitchen. The "cup of hot tea," held for her but little attraction, and she was possessed by no irresistible desire to " hurry Eliza." As she passed tho door of Vella s room she had paused, and tried to summon up courage to enter. But no. Later she would go in and see her, she told herself - not just yet. What a wonder! ul castle-builder her mother wa?, to be sure. How the did evolve conclusions from possibilities Truly one need only show her eggs, and the air would bo full of feathers. One misled her father and Stuar*-. The house seemed desolate without them. And Dick, why was he so quiet? A3 she opened the door of the parlour and went in, she discovered the reason. Stretched on tho hearth-rug, in a position more remarkable for oase than elegance, he lay, sound asleep. How warm the air of the room was ! Save for the tiro in the grate, which, HLe that in her mother's room above, burned low, the apartment was in shadow. But it was temptingly warm— warmer than in the alcove where stood Dick's little bed. She would bring^down his night-gown, and undress him here in the heat ; then she would take him up. So she slipped upstairs and came down with a red flannel night-shirt on her arm. She drew a low rocker up to the hearthrug, sat down, and lifted the boy on her i lapHe cuddled his frowsy little head against I her bosom. I "Dout undress me, Terry," he murmured. But he was still too sieepy to resist, bo she succeeded in removing the small garments and slipping on his rosy robe cle mitt. But iuet as she was about to stand up with him, preparatory to tucking him away safe and snug for ten or twelve hours, with the consistent contrariety of children, he opened his eyes very wide indeed and looked up at her. " Now," he commanded, as awake as an owl is supposed to be at midnight, " tell me a 'tory !" She appealed. 11 When you're in bed, Dick." "No— now."' And this imperial edict she dare not disoboy. "What shall it he about ?— " ' A story About Johnny MoGlory, And his little red stocking V " No. About the big pig that went to market." " Oh !" She took his bare, rosy foot in her palm. " How told you is, Terry 1" "Ami?" "Ztoon!" " Well, this big pig went to market, and this little pig stnid at home, and this little pig got bread and butter, and this little pig got none. * Wee— wee— wee !' said the little pig." And then the tiny toe was tweaked and shaken to express the misery of the diminutive porcine, and the child laughed out in babyhood's Bweet spontaneous way. I His sleep had rested him, and he was i fresh for a frolic* "Tellmeaden." " Well, you see that this great— big— pig went to market, and — " And here she broke down. "Terry, you're twyin' ! What for are you twyin', Terry ?" . " See here, Dick ! Supposing there was something you wanted more than anything else " " A sold'cr dolly ?" "No, not a soldier dolly— something you wanted badly, however. And supposing you were sure you were going to have it some day, sure and cortain, and all for your own self. Do you understand ?" She had both her arms around him, and v\as rocking softly backward and forward. " Ess," assented Dick. One must regard dubiously, however, his veracity on the point. " Well, supposing some one— ever so nice, and good, and pretty -came and took right away, without caring to, or wanting it, just what you could not live without— don t you think that would be hard ?" "When you try you wet my teeks, Terry. Tell me about de 'itble pids aden."" When, afow minutes later, Geraldine had left the room with her burden, Vella rose from the lounge in the corner, where she had lain half asleep for the last few hours.

Through the dark partour up the stairs to her own room she hurried. There she faced herself in the mirror between the clustered wax-lights. Like Russell's "Huldy" was she— Kinder smiley round the lips And teary round the lashes. "Vella Vernell!" solemnly. "Aren't you aslmmcd of yourself? I amheartily!"