CHAPTER LIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 102, 16 May 1885, Page 4

CHAPTER LIII.

AFTER MANY YEARS. " Ts it really you ? (T wouldn't have known you unless I was told You might be expected !) Why, how do yoxi do ? (And what under heaven has made you so old?)" —Alice Caby. A few days after the visit of Voyle, Miss Dorothy had visitors. On the blackbordored square of card-board presented her, she read: —

'•Miss Costjcllo." "MlS3 BfcSSIh CoSThLLO," They had come to call on her ! How kind of them, considering they wero in mournin e and not going at all into society ! Pleased and flattered, she smoothed hor fair, silvering hair, and pinned a littlo mauvo satin bow at hor throat. As she entered the drawing-room two young girls in deep mourning rose and advanced to meet her. " Miss Yernell, I presume," said the elder, pleasantly. ' ' Y our nephow has spoken of you &o often — papa, too —that Bcusie and I (this is my sister Bessie, Miss Vernell) decided we would informally introduce ourselves." " You were very good indeed, my dears," gratefully, an! extending to each in succes sion a plump little hand. " Sit down. Lot me look at you," producing and arranging her spectacles. "Terence's daughters! — gracious me !" She nodded repeatedly as she scrutinised them. They coloured a trifle under the twinkling old eyes. This she noticed. She laughed and took off her glasses. " You must excuse me," apoiogotically. "But I know your grandmother. I was looking for a resemblance. You know," with her chirping laugh, "old folks aro great for tracing family resemblances. '' "Papa's mother, you mean, Miss Yernell?" "Yes." " But you knew papa, too !" "Oh, yos." " They say," went on Kitty, "that we are not Costellos at all, Bessio and I, but the very pictures of our mother." Bessie gave her head an obstinate shake. "I don't see that. Mamma v.ab vory small and slender. You and I aro anything but that, Kitty. Did you know my mothor too, Miss Yernell ?'' " No. She did not live in our part of the country. I remember hearing of her marriage, though, at the time. You had a sad loss in her death." Their bright eyes grew moist. i " How great we only know !" Kitty said, sadly. And then for a little while silence fell upon them. Miss Yernell studied the young faces before her. At a glance their sisterhood was apparent. Bessie, though younger, was an inch or so the taller. Kitty's hair was deep nut-brown— hers, in the sunlight, held a reddish tint. Kitty's eyes were of the hue of Miles O'Reilly's " Joanette " : "Grey agate with that chastened tinge of the &ky When the trout leaps quickest to snap at tho fly.' while Befcsie s were almost as purple- blue as the velvet petal of a pansy. "How strange that we should meet now for the first time '"' declared Miss Dorothy. 1 And the conversation flowed on in a I smooth and sparkling stream. When the clock in the hall without struck \ they rose in amazement. "Have we really been here an hour?" cried Kitty. "Miss Yernell, why didn't you turn us out?" " Because I am too selfish to deny ray-t-clf an instant of rare and genuine pleasure !" promptly, with her pretty old- > fashioned air of politeness. I "Thank you! Now you have made ms ' bold enough to ask a favour," avowed Bessie. Miss Dorothy lifted her eyes in mild surprise. '* A favour, dear ?" " Yes. Get on your bonnet and cloak and come home to supper with us — you munt be lonely all by youiaelf here." The very suggestion put the little lady in a flutter. " Oh, I couldn't think of it ! You're ever so good to ask mo, and I thank you very, vory much. But oh, no ' [ ■shouldn't think ot it, indeed '" "Bug why?" chimed in Kitty. "It Lawfully unceiemoniousof us — in fact, a barbarous breach of etiquette — to .suggest »uch a thing at the very starting point of our acquaintance, but we would dearly like to have you, Miss Yernell. This is our only excuse !" Aunt Dolly softened and brightened wonderfully. " I'm an old woman, and no company for you, my dearies. That fact, of course, makes your invitation all the kinder. ' (jay youth loves gay youth |! you know, as Longfellow says, or," in sudden doubt, " 'vas it Longfellow ?" " I think it in in Lucile, isn't it ?" dclieately suggested Kitty. " Of course it i« !" declared Miss Dorothy, laughing. " But they all do write so much alike, those poets, don't they? It is easy to confuse them." But though they laughed too, in the&e flagrantly sweeping assertions, they did not acquiesce. "You will come, though, won't you?" pleaded Bessie. She caught in her slim, black-kidded hands Miss Dorothy's fat, fair, and fidgety digits. Miss Vernell looked up. Her eyes, bright and intent as a bird's, regarded an instant searchingly, admiringly, the sweet face above her. Then she spoke out, decidedly : " I'll come !" She went upstairs to change her dre.->s. It was quite a task, her hands trembled so with the wild excitement of the occasion. That she should be going out to tea, and with people she had seen for the first time an hour ago. Dear gracious ! it was so long since afcc had done such a thing. Of course she went to the theatre now and then, and to state dinner-parties with James, and with hkn also to some public banquets. But to go out in this informal way to supper, why, she hadn't done it eince she was a girl, and used to run over to old Mrs Costcllo's in the afternoon to help Terry's sister with her tulip and dahlia quilt. This preparing to go out now actually made her feel young again. She did not put on a black moirc-antiquo then, though, with real English point at the throat and wrists, and a gleaming topaz brooch to fasten the former too, not to speak of a handsome gold watch and chain, all of which she now donned. Her best dress in those days had been a crimson cashmere in winter and a white muslin in summer, but then she had not to wear spectacles, and there were no crows' feet about the corners of her eyes, and — dear, dear, ahe, mustn't keep them waiting all day.

At the door of her room she paused and turned back for a last look in the mirror, i Did her wrinklos show much ? Would Terence think her awfully cha < But here she broke off, and shook hor ' linger at the confronting cherubic countenance in the glass. " You ridiculous old damsel !" And then she disgustedly turned hen back on the person addressed, who at the very same moment turned her back on her, and marchod downstairs. Drawn up at the kirbstono was the Costello's carriage, a very modest conveyance, boasting only one quadruped. And the same quadruped displayed no ambition to beat all the previous records. It was dusk when thoy reached the squat e brick houso standing back from the road. In the big comfortable dining-room tho tea-table was temptingly set, and the (ire burning brightly. "1th cosier hero than in tho parlour," explained Miss (Jostollo, loading tho way. "(Jive mo your things, Miss Vernell, Owen isn't homo yot. 11 o said he would call for your nophew on his way homo." " Voylo !" exclaimed Miss Dorothy. "Yos." Bessie bustled round, pushing up an armchair to the hearth, drawing close the curtains. Then both girls excused thomsolvos and went to take oil' thoir wraps. Left alone, Miss Dorothy walked over to tho hearthrug, and stood looking up at tho portrait hanging over tho mantel, that of a handsome bold-browed, fair-haired young follow — Owon Costcllo. "Just as /it; looked thirty years, ago !" sho murmured. The door opened noiselessly. Some one came in, stood staring at tho plump little tiguro in tho shining black moire standing there in tho ruddy liroshino. Who the deuce was it, anyhow ? Sho turned — saw him. Something vaguely familiar about him struck her/ but for jut-t a moment sho did not really recognise her girlhood's dashing young lover in that big, stout, red-faced, bearded, bald-headed man! Could it be V It tva* ! " Terence !" she gasped And he ? Woll, he stood and looked at hor. So like— if it wasn't, Dolly Vernell ! Old— and unsylph-hke, and kpcctm led, and growing grey ! Ho couldn't credit his own eyes ' and yet — Her ncrvous* laugh recalled him. "Am 1 so changod you don't know me, Terry ?" He hurried forward, both hand3 extended, gra.-ped hers, and shook them heartily. "'Uorious .Jerusalem * Dolly Yerncll ' Changed '! Not a bit of it ' Where did you find the elixir ''. You're as young today a- tho day 1 la-t saw you. Don 7 tell me the contrary ' Can't I sco for myself? And tho idea of those girls not tolling mo you wore here ' Mercutio and mucilage !" Miss Dorothy slipped oil her spectacles and put them in her pocket.. " Well at any rate, )j<nii\ tho s-am© Torcaptain !'' with' a lack of veracity for which the writer blushes. "Except for tho board you haven't altered a partide '" (Oh, Aunt Dolly, Aunt Dolly ') "Ah, now '"with a tlattered .-mile, you enn't make me believe that, Pol— Miss Yerncll ! " But that he did believe it, and delighted in i(, too, you could read all over him, from the way he stroked hit? board to the furtivo motion with which ho jciked up his shirtcollar. "Father Time is a capricious old scamp !" ho went on. " Some of u> he scourges and I tome of us he lds-os. (H the girls could only have heard that bit of sentiment !) And wo aio not all >-uch x*oyal favourites of his— to be pas&ed with a caress— as is Miss Vernell '" 1'hew ! he was growing gallant with a vengeance ' 'Now don't!" petitioned Miss Dorothy, with a sly upward glance. She wa» looking unucually well at tho j moment, so rosy wero the old cheeky so ; bright the old eye 1 *. "I dcclatc," fervently, "by tho Cifcy of .leiicho— "' But she never heard just what he declared by the Scriptural town, for just then tho door wa-i Hung wide, and laughing and jesting the others came in, Kitty, Bessie, Vo>le, and Owon. How tho evening passed! What stoiics the Captain and Mico Vernoll recollected 1 and rehearsed ' vVhat picnic dilemmas, iind practical jokes, and comical people and place;? and things each called to mind and told with the other's merry aid ' And how ridiculous it was to .sec them -hear them, rather— take \igorous hold of the handles ' of each other's names in their moments of j dignity, only to relapse in the next mirthi fuf instant into Terry and Dolly ' And how heartily the young folks did enjoy it all ! 1 To make them laugh out to-day like children, you have but to remind them 'A it. It was almost midnight before tho fact struck them that time and the last car wait for no man. And then what cheery adieus and hand- ; shakings, and pleasant little plannings, there wero to be sure ' ' What was that Yoyle whispered to Bessie, 1 bowing bi-5 bright, uncovered head over her tumbled traces us he said good-night ' in the vestibule? Something about " Huveily's," wasn't it? And did he men- 1 tion the Union Square Company ? He was ' in the gaye&t, most fantastic of spirits ah he went home with his aunt. j As ho ran up the steps of the house on ! Prairie Avenue he wa,s humming blithely ; : " Little an hitc Rose, there were true knights of , old. Ilurocd who counted love dearer than gold." "What's that, Voyle?" suddenly demanded Miss Dorothy. ' "The true? Oh, merely the threadbare assertion that ' " Karly to bed nnd early to vise, : M»kes a man healthy, wealthy, and wibu." } " Well, good-night, dear." " Good-night, Aunt Dolly." Ho swung off down the avenue, hia footfalls distinct on the midnight silence. Ho took up the song ho had dropped at ' Miss Dorothy's query. i "Why ami sighing here —what can I do I L'Aniourfuitbeaucoup maisl'argcnt fait tout.' He atopped to light a cigar, then strode , on again. - "A confoundedly pessimistic chanson « that ot Mrs Sylvio's !" Puff, puff'! We'll i alter it ' ' L'ar/jent fail beancoup, main , V amour fall foul V Ah, thai has a better , ring. [ Oh, most divine creed of truth !