CHAPTER LII.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 101, 9 May 1885, Page 4

CHAPTER LII.

u On, YOU SLY, SLY AUNT DOLLY !" "No, the hcirtihat haa truly lovod never forgets. But as tnilv loves on to the o'o s c, Ab the tunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look which ehc turned when he roso." •— Mooue. "To Miss Dorothy Vrrnkli. :— Am with Evelyn Have jiif>f read the news. Lot Voylo know I am safe and well. Vklt.a." Such was tho despatch just handed Miss Dorothy. "With Evelyn !" fihe repeated amazedly. " Of course she is with Evelyn—has been theso weeks past. This sounds as though "he had only just reached Philadelphia. That cannot be. She must have got there long ago. And to tell Voyle ! well I can do t.haf, and openly too, thank goodness !" She ordered the carriage and drove down town. She sent Voyle a despatch— Mr Charles Hatley, rather — did some shopping, and went home. The day was waning when he came up the steps of his old home and rang the bell. The servant who opened the door for him fell back a step at sight of him. " You, Mr Voyle ! I'm right glad to see you back, sir. The house has been awful lonesome-liko without you and Miss Vella " " Thank you, Roberts ! I'm not back to stay, though. I've only come to sco my uunt. She's not engaged, is she ? Tell her I'm here, will you ?" "Yea, sir." Voyle went into the library and sat down. He looked around. The deep-toned, luxurious room -how familiar it was ! Just there that bright June morning a few months ago had his uncle stood, positive, passion flushed, tyrannical, in that spot. Vella, shrinking, timorous but restitute, and white as her pretty muslin gown ; and here ho himself raging against coercion, trampling ruthlessly underfoot Jonas Claflin's glowing flowers. Well, well, it was all over and done with, only he did so wish he could see for just five minutes Marc Tracy, or hear from Vella that all was well between them. A hurrying step —tho rustle of a dress. " My boy !" "Aunfc Dolly!" 11 Weren't you surprised ?" He drew up a chair for her, and puckered his handsome mouth into a whistling shape. "Surprised!" with a little comical catcall. "That's no word at all for it. I declare, when Captain Costello showed me the paper to-day I stood and stared at the lines like an idiofc. That was the first I saw of ifc, you know." Miss Dorothy's plump white hands fluttered with sudden restlessness. "What was that name, dear ? Costello ?'• 11 Y9s. A new friend of mine— a regular old trump ! By the way you used to know him, Aunt Dolly 1" "I ? " excitedly. "Oh, you must be mistaken ! I— l did know a gentleman of that name once, but ifc was — oh, dear me, ever so many years ago. Thi« can'fc bo the aamo!"

The lad'a eyea, "brown as a forest brook," regarded her quizzically. " What will you bet, Aunt Dolly ?" All in a tremor Miss Vernell stood up. " It isn't possible I To think of his turning up after all these years. Is it really Terence Costello?" Voyle, Bitting on the centre writing table, swinging his legs idly, laughed out at her faltering query. "It ii really Terence Costello— Captain Teronce Costello J I spent laet evening at his house, and a jolly hospitable old soul he is ! " "Old I" exclaimed Miss Dorothy. And then she paused abruptly, "To be sure 1" with a ghaky little laugh. "If I wasn't about to protest that he was young and handsome-I can't think of him as a midd»e-aged man— not rollicking Terence Costello ! Dear, dear !" She was more moved than she cared to show. The old heart under the mignonette merino gown was beating tumultaously. She in the shook of inrushing old memories, and he fascinated in his task oi resurrecting a long-buried romance, quite forgot for the moment that which brought them together. 11 Well, I can assure you he isn't young, Aunt Dolly. And as to beauty—well, every eye forms its own, they say, and there you must judge for yourself. Sit down. Aunt Dolly I" Misa Vornell smiled and sat down again, with an air so thoroughly composed and easy as to arouse no suspicion in the naind of the least acute observer. "In the first place, he is very Btout!" went on Voyle, those bright, mischievous eyes of his intent on the fresh old face, where the ashes of roses were brightening into quite a youthful glow. "Stout!" in vigorous dissent. "Bless you, he was slender, and tall, and straight " I'm sure he was /" gravely. She laughed. " There now !" smoothing out htr soft greenish gown with two "trembling" ands, " if you haven't caught me again I" " And he is bald-headed— all cave a greyish fringe, and wears a beard and " " Nonsense '" cried Mies Dorothy, in a tone which made him jump. "That never is Terry Costello ! Why, he had a head of the thickest, curliest hair, and his face was as smooth as your own— the idea \" Voyle flung back his head and laughed, a boy's ringing, hearty laugh, infectious and good to hear. " You dear, foolish old auntie, you ! How many years since you have seen him ?" Misa Dorothy pondered an instant. Then, "I think," a trifle reluctantly, "about thirty !" " And can't a man grow a beard and get i bald in thirty yearns time? Oh. Aunt Dolly !" m She joined in his merriment. " You're right, my laddie !" wiping her eyes. "But how quickly one does grow old— doesn't one?" '•Not this one!" cheerily, and bondin» to kiss her hot cheek. " You'll never bo old, Aunt Dolly. Such hoarts as yours do not age or sour. They are a perpetual youth-spring !" Her blue eyes grew moist at the praise. She put up her hands, drew down his golded head; ai>d returned warmly his caress "Thank you, my dearie !" "By the way," he said, suddtaly, "what about Vella ? I came over to hear the particulars concerning her. You only told me she was safe and well." " That in all there is to tell. A telegram came from her this morning. Here, read it yourself." " Doesn't it appear as though she had only just reached Philadelphia ?" when he had perused it. "That; is exactly what it means, too. Now that she is all right I will toll you all I know about her detention on the way." And this he did, relating also all he had hoard from the CosteUos concerning her. Miss Dorothy listened wonder-stricken, trembling, rejoiced at her escape. She turned up her tearful eyes when he had finished. "Dear Lord, I th.ink Thee !" she murmured, fervently. Ho enjoyed immensoly the quiot humour of the whoJe affair. "Such a charming family as the old ellow hap, auntia ; tiro girls and a boy." " Indeed !" She wae busily engaged in tucking into her belt the en la of her embr jidered muslin fichu. " Ye*. I told you hii wife was injured in the collision, and died almost immediately after, didn't I?" '•Yes." How much trouble there was in making that scarf of soft snowines3 lie smooth, anyhow 1 " Did you know her, too, Aunt Dolly ?" "No, 1 heard of her." Silence. "Aunt Dolly!" "Well?" But she did not. look up. "He says you boied bis ears onco. Is that ro ?" " Oh !" exclaimed Miss Dorothy. "No!" in deliberate misconstruction. " That was just what I supposed," with his most innocent air. "I knew you would never be capable of such an act'" She glanced up in feeble protest. "I— l didn't mean exactly no, my dear. I think I said 'oh.'" "Did you? How stupid of me? Well, anyhow, you didn't do it." She was cornered, and she knew it, but never a word could she say. Voyle put on an air of herioc resolution. "It's shameful of Costello," in gloomy and wrathful resentment, which would have done credit to Lester Wallaok, " to slander you so ! I wonder he dared to attempt it to me, who knows you co well, and -" " My dear !" weakly. "Well?" "I— l did!" Dead silence. Oh, why didn't he speak— say something ? "I— l did, Voyle !" in quavering reputition. And now he spoke. " You did !" transfixing her with a stony stare. w Oh, Aunt Dolly !" The shocked pain in his voice was admirable. Out of the dear little lady's cheeks went fading the roses of Life's Indian summer. " I'll tell you how it was, Voyle." He leaned his elbow on his knee and his head on his hand. " Go on," in a stifled voice. " Well, it was on Christmas Day— no, the day before Christmas. I was up on a ladder, hanging up a bunch of mistletoe. Pshaw ! 1 shan't mind telling you about it now. When I came down the ladder, looking up the while to see if it hung evenly, some one caught me just as I reached the bottom— caught me right in his arms and — " She paused. ! " And what ?" came the low, questioning voice. { "And/v-oh, you bww. Ki— ki— hissed me, of course 1" "Of course! I'd have done the same thing in hie place." "And whoever was it," she went on, in excited recollection, "but that impudent Terence Costello ! I deolare Iwas so angry, I up and boxed his ears well for him— third /" Again absolute silence. -

How the moments dragged ! She had not considered it such a crime then. She had never thought of it since without a sense of burning shame, but this confession was the worst; and hardest of all. " Voyle i" she ventured, timidly. He was shaking from head to foot, i * Voyle 1" repeated the poor little criminal, beseechingly. He sprang off the table and stood before her, eyes alight and lips apart, laughing out as royal youth only can in a very paroxysm of mirth. " Oh, Aunt Dolly ! I don't wonder he kissed you. I'm willing to bet my last dollar he was over head and ears in love with you ! I don't see ho,w he could have helped it. Ten to three I'll shake a foot at your [ wedding yet. Will you take me ? There, | there } I retract. Are you going to laugh or cry? To laugh? That's right 1 Now, I'm off!" She followed him to the door. "Won't you take yourthingsnow, Voyle?" * ' Thanks, no. I'm going up to see Owen Costello. I'll call round for them— when did I say I would come?— next Tuesday evening ? Yes ; I'm going up to Costello's. Any message? You know I'm in the old gentleman's service now." " You rascal !" And she shook her plump forefinger at the arch, smiling face turned back to her. "Only your love? Very well. I guess he won't want any more." And then, with another explosive laugh : " Oh, arn't you ashamed of yourself, you sly, shy Aunt {To be Continued.)