CHAPTER XXIV.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 142, 20 February 1886, Page 6

CHAPTER XXIV.

A PAIKFUIi REVELATION. Axnie Noble was very happy in her new position, for the Campbells wore exceedingly kind, and treated her more as a daughter and sister than a hireling. Rich was of course a frequent visitor at the Campbell)s although at first no one save Mrs Campbell suspected that Annie was the chief attraction there. Grace had fondly imagined during the first two or three calls that he wa9 merely resuming his old friendly relations with her and she had insisted upon having Annie go down to share the visits with her. But she Boon began to notice how Rich's glance followed Annie's movements ; how his voice changed when he spoke to her ; how his face lightened and softened into tenderness whenever their eyes met. Sometimes, too, Annie was not present when he camej.and the.n she could not fail to see how he watched the door constantly, and if she did-not shortly make her appearance, he would inquire anxiously for her. " She 4s winning his heart," she said to herself,- when, as they met oue evening, she noted s the, lingering clasp of his hand, and the quick flush that sprang into Annie's cheeks as she caught his fond look, and a sharp pang shot through her. But there was very little love-making carried on between the lover 3 at Mrs Campbells, ior some member of the family was always present ; but a<* Annie was invariably claimed by Miss Waldemar for Sunday, the exchange of tender sentiments was reserved for those occasions. Grace always felt a sense of loss and restlessness ,when Sunday, came, though she told herself it was because she missed her congenial companion ; but in her heart she knew it was be'iuse she feared. that, little by litfle, she was losing her holi upon Richmond Waldemar, and that thi3 fair young orphan was supplanting her in his affections. One night, after Rich had gone, she wound her arm about Annie's slender waist, as they were going up stairs to their room. '"Come in here, and let us chat awhile," she said, aa they reached her door. "I am not sleepy yet, and you have been so willfully busy all day that I have seen nothing of you." Annie assented, and they sat down upon a sofa together and gossiped of various matters, until all at once Grace asked, "Don't you think Mr Waldemar is look- ! ing ill, Annie?" j " No. Do you ?" the young girl said quickly, and starting as if she had received a sudden shock. " What makes you think so ?" she added anxiously. The look, the tone, the start, and load of colour told their own story. Annie Noble surely loved Richmond Waldemar, whatever his feelings toward her might be. "He looks thinner than he did before we went away. I believe he is working too hard," Grace returned, still watching her friend narrowly. "Then I shall tell Miss Waldemar, and she must find some way to stop him. I do not know but he is looking pale," Annie ■aid, in a voice of alarm. Grace Campbell felt the room grow suddenly dark. Could she bear to have all her fond hopes dashed to the earth ? Could she bear the thought that any one should come between her and the man whom she knew, now, she had grown to love with a first, Btrong, deep affection. But she made no sign of the struggle going on within her, and after a few moments of silence she continued : " Tell me about your first acquaintance with the Waldemars, Annie. Mamma has already told me something, but I would like to hear it more in detail." "I met them one summer among the mountains in Vermont," AnDie innocently began, never suspecting how Grace was hanging upon her words. "Papa and I boarded at the same house with them, and we had such delightful times that I shall never forget them. Rich was always co kind to me, allowing me to go with him almost everywhere, when most boys of his age would have scorned to have made a companion of a little giri. He seemed to me the nicest boy I had ever seen ; he had such a manly quiet way with him, and he could make me mind when no one else, save papa, seemed to have the least control of me." " How old were you then ?" " I was ten, and Rich waa fourteen- — " "You were both very young then," Grace interrupted with a sharper pang, as ehe began to realise that the foundation of the affection between these two might have been laid when they had been together amone the green hills of Vermont. "Yes, but. l- believe that Rich acauired an influence over me that changed my whole character," Annie grevely returned. •• How waa that ? Tell me about it." "I was a wild, unmanageable little thing doing all sorts of unheard things— for a girl, I mean," Annie continued, her colour deepening over the recollection of some of her pranks, and then she related what had occurred that day when she had climbed the birch tree and had been so effectually reproved by Rich, that she had never attempted Buch a thing again. '•I never got over it?" she said, in conclusion; "afterward when I was tempted to do anything rude, his face, so full of gcorn, would riso up before me, and I could almost hear him cay again that what I had done ' might be well enough in a great strong boy, but it was vert/ rude in a little girl ' and besides, he called me 'hoidenisb.' I went home and looked up the word in the dictionary, for I did not know the meaning of it, while I was too proud and hurt to ask him' I can almost feel the hot blood surging over me now, as it did then, when 1 read Webster's definition ; it was a bitter lesson, but it was a very beneficial one. Then you know, I suppose, that he saved my life." "No," responded Grace, with a deeper sinking of her heart, which grew more and more hopeless, as Annie proceeded to relate how the accident had occurred, and how courageously Rich had rescued her. "It is not to be wondered at that you iiave a deep regard for Mr Waldemar," B aid Grace, "and 1 suppose you were very glad to have the acquaintance renewed in New York." "Oh, yes," Annie answered, with hot cheeks and drooping lids. " She could talk freely enough of her acquaintance and friendship with Rich, way back in those days among the mountains ; but she was shy about speaking of the present; it was too recent and sacred to her to bear much talking about, and she

sat silent, leaning against her friend, while she absently twirled a pretty little diamond ring, which gleamed upon the forefinger of her left hand— the seal of her pledge to Rich. Be put it there one evening shortly after she had pone to see Miss Waldemar. " That is a protty little diamond," Grace observed, on the evening of thoir conerveation about Rich, and noting the act. It was a gift, I suppose." " Yes," Annie answered, in a low tone. " A recent one, I should say, for it looks quite knew," her fr>eid continued, lifting the small hand to examine it more closely. " Yes," in a lower tone than before. " Do you mind tolling me who the giver was, dear ? or 'a it a secret ?" Miss Campbells voice was nofcquite steady now, for hope was fast slipping away from her. " No, it is no secret ; Rich gave it to me," but the lovely girl blushed scarlet over the confession. "Rich!— how long have you called him that?" Grace put the question abruptly, almost sharply, for the pain at her hoart was becoming intolerable. "I used to call him Rich that summer, and so - when I went to visit Miss Waldemar, it came quite natural to use the name again." 11 Annie, Rich is very dear to you, is he not ? I'm afraid lam prying into secrets, but I do want to know"— only Hoaven and her own soul knew how much was staked upon the knowing — " and we have grown to be so friendly that I begin to feel as if I am in a measure entitled to your confidence." Annie buried her blushing face upon Miss Campbells shoulder and whispsred : "I wanted you to know it, but did not like to speak of it first." " Then you love Richmond Waldomar — " The lips which framed thoso words seemed frozen, whi'e the girl's face was colourless. "Yes." "And— thi* little ring has a peculiar significance, I suppose?' " Yes ; for more than two months I have been his promised wife." Grace Campbells first impulse was to cast the lovely girl rudely frrm her and cry out that it should never be ; to charge her with being a usurper in occupying the throne on which she had aspired to reign, and pour out upon her a seething stream from the volcano that wa3 raging within her. But ' thoso soft, clinging arms which Annie had' slipped around her waiat when she had -made that last confession ; that golden head resting sO'trustfully upon her shoulder ; those shy, drooping eyes and flushed cheeks, all appealed to her better nature after a moment, while not for the world would she have had her look up into her face, where she must read the terrible secret of her unrequited iove. She must have time to recover herself first ; so she held her there in silence for several minutes until she could force some of her natural colour back, and gather calmness to speak steadily of this new revelation, which had dashed her every hope to atoms and rendered her future, as she believed, a desolate -waste, As she believed ! Ah, the great Creator sometimes sends the "blight of early disappointment npon the hearts of his loveliest creatures, only to enrich their natures, and make them better fitted for the work that Ho has laid out for their future. The force of the storm was over at last, and she schooled hereelf to say : "Richmond Waldemar is one of the noblest men in the world, and Annie, dear, I know you will be very happy with him to take care of you always." Sho could not say that she congratul.' ted her upon her great new happiness, when her own heart was almost breaking with its yearning after that very joy. Yet she would not have marred that joy by the lightest breath which could have betrayed to her how much she coveted it. Then Annie, the ice broken, confided to her how it had all come about ; telling of their first meeting upon the street ; how he had come to her assistance and protected her from the insults and persecutions of the rude carpenter, and finally unfolded to her something of their future plans. Grace bore it as long as sho could, but heart and strength were both failing her, and at last she eaid, with assumed lightness : " You ought to be the happiest girl in New York ; but, my dear, do you know how late it is getting to be? lam going to send you directly to bed, or we shall have hollow eyes and pale cheeks to-morrow." She forced herself to kiss the sweet face, and then, with gently spoken " good-night," sent the unsuspicious girl away. But that night Grace Campbell fought a battle with herself which left scars upon her soal for all time. The struggle was so severe that the next morning she wa3 not able to leave her bed, and indeed she was unable to leave her room for a fortnight. | Mrs Campbell was alarmed, and sent for a physician, for it was unusual for her daughter to' be ill. His verdict was that her system was suffering from debility, and she needed "toning up." Grace smiled bitterly to herself. How little they realised the truth, or suspected anything of the fire which was consuming her heart.