CHAPTER VI.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 206, 11 June 1887, Page 6

CHAPTER VI.

THE FITZGERALDS OF THE SUMMIT. Tho Goraldines ! Tho Geraldinwi Tis full a thousand yoan Since 'mid tho Tuscan vineyards Bright flashed thoir battle-spears. When Capet seized tho crown of Franco Their iron shields woro Isnown, And their sabro's swoop struck terror On tho banks of tho Garonnt. Bat novor there, nor thonco till novr, Has falsehood or disgnvco Beon seen to soil Fitzgorald'i plume, Or mantle on his faco. Thomas Davis. On the same stormy night that witnessed the flight of young Sullust Rowley across the Wilde," the beautiful Geraldino Fitzgerald sab in her bower, in Summit Manor House, wounded, sorrowful, indignant, awaiting the coming of her laggard bridegroom. No purer, nobler race of men ever bore tho honours of a long descent, or wore them with more grace and courtesy, than did tho far-famed and widely-scattered family of the Gherardini, or Fitzgeralds, a great liouse of remote Italian origin, now colonised all over the civilised world, who still honour as their head the Irish Duke of Leinster. More than two hundred years ago, a brave cadet "of that princely house, one Otho-Maurice-Gerald Fitzgerald, for some great

service rendered the realm, received a royal grant of land and a munificent sum of money from Queen Elizabeth, with which he emigrated to Virginia, settled on his estate, and built an immense manor -houso after the model of the strongest " seats " in the old country. He brought with him as his bride a young lady of the noblo Scottish house of Douglas, and in due coarse of time ho became tho patriarch of a numerouß tribe of sons and grandsons, all of whom received royal grants of lands in the immediate vicinity of the Summit Manor, and daughters, all of whom married large landed proprietors in the neighbourhood, until at length nearly the whole extensive tract known as tho Wildes became the properly of tho Fitzgeralds and their connections. The Summit Manor, however, descended in a straight lino from father to eldest son, until about tho time of the commoncemenb of our story it came into tho possession of Gerald Fitzgerald, one of the noblest, finest and most accomplished gentlemen of his race. But " Woll-a-day !" as tho old retainers gay, all the other manors of tho Fitzgeralds in Wilde county had " fallen to the distaff" -that is to say, that failing male heirs, they had passed into tho possession of a girl, the only daughter of Otho Fitzgerald, of Forest Lodge, tho dark-eyed, queenly Geialdine, who, to keep the estates in tho family name, had been from her earliest childhood betrothed to her cousin, Gerald, second son of Maurice Fitzgerald, of tho Summit Manor. When Geraldine waB but fivo yca.ra of age she lost both her parents by a catastrophe. Whilo cropping the Wildo in an open boat they wore ovortaken by a sudden squall, capsized and drowned. After thoir death a search was mado for a will, bub none was found— nono had boon thought necessary to be oxecuted at that oarly stage of their life's journoy. Tho Orphan's Court acted in tho promises, and appointod tho child's nearest; of kin, her two uncles, Maurice Fitzgerald, of tho Summib Manor, and Royal Greonleaf, of Groenwood, as guardians of tho hoircrfs and trustees of her estates. Royal Groonleaf, a wild bachelor, loft the child entiroly to tho charge of her senior guardian. All the Fitzgerald* had been Roman Catholics, from tho timo when, a thousand years before, their Tuscan progonitors, tho renowned Gherardini, had gone carpet-bag-ging into Ireland ; therefoie, tho heiress of half a dozen manors must be educated as a Roman Catholic. Maurice Fitzgerald was a widowor, with two 3011b— Maurico, tho heir of the Summib Manor, and Gerald, tho cadet, heir to nothing but the Fitzgeralda' ancient name, and the Fitzgeralds' dark Irish-Italian boauty, with no daughters, and with only a faithful old coloured housekeeper at the head of his establishment. Taking all theaK3 circumstances into consideration, Maurice Fitzgerald resolved to convey his infant ward to Paris, and lcavo her there to bo educated in a French Convent. His second son, Gerald, he had long determined, should be sent to West Point to be educated for fche army. j And now, since gobting the littlo hoiress of many manors into his hands, ho destined these cousins lor each other. The fortune of Geraldine would make his portionless younger son much richer than his eldest son and heir. As if to favour his project, tho orphan child of five summers had formed a strong and passionate attachment, as infanta will sometimes, to the handsome lad of fifteen. And when th« farco of a boferobhol vrn» performed between those two, and a tiny diamond ring was placed upon the finger of little Goraldme, ehe readily promised that when she should grow up to bo a woman she would marry her dear Cousin Gerald, and no other. The lad, on his parl, laughingly yielded to hi 3 father's will in what he considered a mere comedy, but had thought enough to limit hit promise with a condition : he would marry his cousin when she should grow up to be a woman if she should continue to love him. Thus the young cousins parted. The youth left home to enter tho Military Academy ab West Point. Tho child was conveyed abroad. During the whole voyage across the Atlantic Ocean Mr Fitzgerald took care to impress upon the little one's mmd and heart tho solemn nature of a betrothal, and her duty always to think of her Cousin Gerald as her future husband, and the only one she ever could possibly marry. And the infant as constantly answered, assuring him that ahe never would be so naughty as to think about marrying anybody else, and revealing her pathebie " innocence is ignorance " by such words as these : "No, unky, I never will marry nobody but dear, darling, precious Cousin Gerald — not even a queen or a fairy lady." "Early impressions are always the deepest and strongest, and I think the child will keep her promise and the woman will redeem ib," said Maurice Fitzgerald to himself. When he left Geraldine At the convent of the Visitation in Paris, he took care bo have a private interview with the Mother Superior, in which he informed that lady that the infant heiress he had juab left in her charge was betrothed to her cousin, a worthy son of the Church, whom it was extremely desirable that she should marry, and that the child must be constantly kept in the thought that aha muet be as faithful to her betrothed as she was to her religion. Tho Mother Superior promised to follow the instructions of Mr Fitzgerald, and so the interview terminated, and the Virginian gentleman, having no further business in Paris, returned to his native country. Yearg passed. The young cadet, Gerald Fitzgerald, graduated nrst in his class, and received nis commission as a lieutenant of cayalrj. To make the'most of & short leave of absence, he ran orer to Paris on a flying visit to his little betrothed. Ha found her now a beautiful child, ten years old, and tall for her age. She had not forgotten him. She had been as faithful to his memory as any veiled votress in that convent to her Lord. And, oh ! with what worshipping, adoring eyes the cbild. looted, up to him now, in the splendour of his manhood.arrayod, too, in the handsome uniform of a cavalry officer, which is sura to attract tha admiring eyes of childhood or girlhood. He thought her the lovoliest rosebud that had ev»r bloomed within convent walls, and he hoped that he would be able to wait patiently and keep faith like a true knight during the eight years that must pass before she could reach a marriageable state. Ha returned home, and was soon appointed to a regiment ordered to Florida, „ where the Indian war had just broken out. There he so distinguished himself for courage, skill and tactics that he soon rose to the rank of a captain. When the war was successfully terminated be came home on a long leave, and went abroad once more to visit his betrothed at her convent. Ho found her now a most beautiful brunette of fourteen, so tali for her age that she looked full sixteen years old j and if she no longer looked up to him with the innocent, worshiping gaze of childhood, she

dropped her beautiful eyes as her colour deepened beneath his ardent gaze ; for now he was really and passionately in love with her. Ho lingered in Paris, visiting her every day. He was permitted to do so by the Mother Superior, for vraa he not her betrothed husband and a true son of the Church ? So he went to see her every day and stayed aa long as he liked, and that was generally very ; for in the fervid exaggeration of his love, he declared that he lived only in her presence, died as soon as ho loft her, and came to life again only when it -was time to ro-visit her. He lingered in Paris up to tho latest day that [ he could stay with safety, and left only when he was forced to hurry away in order to reach his native country in time to reports for duty at the expiration of his leave of absence. When he reached Washington, he learned that war had just been declarod ogainafc Mexico, and the whole country was aiming for tho conflict. His regiment was ordered to join General Scott. In Mexico tho gallant young officer perfonnod miracles of military skill and valour, made his name famous all ovi r the country, and rose to the rank of Bievct-Brigadior-Genoral. After the victoiious termination of the war, he was sent in command of an oxpodition against tho hostilo Indians of tho Plains, Avhoce turbulence kept him on active duty on the frontier for gomo years longer, and, indeed, until an urgont lottor from his father, informing him of tho sudden death of his older brother, from congestion of the brain, summoned him homo. Then he asked and obtained leavo ot absence, and hastened back to his native- State. He found his father vory much shattered by the heavy blow ho received on tho unexpected death of his oldosb son, which Gerald learned had been occasioned by exposure to the l^ys of a burning Augusb sun, while out riding on horseback. To distract his grief, tho old gentleman proposed to go to Franco and bring 1 tack his young ward, Gcraldino Fitzgerald, who waa then in hor nineteenth year. Colonel Fitzgerald (for he was still called Colonel Fitzgerald at home, although he was a Brigadier-General by brerc-t) •would have gladly gono with hia father on this minion of love had his short leave oi absence allowed him ; but it did not, nor would tho gallant soldior ask for an extension of leavo, while ho knew that hid piesence was so much needed at his dangerous frontier post of duty. So in Soptcmber tho father and son parted— the father to go on his sta-voyago, tho son to return to tLa Western plains. If any circumstance could have consoled Maurice Fitzgorald for tho loss of his eldest son, it must havo been the finding uf his queenly niece and prospective daughter-in-law. Goraldine Fitzgerald, at nineteen years of a.go, rras one of tho most imperial beauties that oa er lived in this or any other age or country ; and, ah, sho was not only imperial in prosenco, but imperious in temper ! Her form was unusually ball for a woman, but «'i porfectiy proportioned that her every attitude and motion was full of majestic giac*. Her features wwo cayb in fcne purest Gieciun mould ; her complexion was like the tearose, pale and clear, save whore it flushed faintly on tho cheeks and glowed brightly on the lips ; her eyes wore largo, deep blue and fringed with thick, black lashes, that made thorn seem also Mack »va night ; her hair wat> long, bla^sk, and luaferous, and worn in heavy braids, partly coiled in a large 101 l afc the back of hor head, partly wound around and.sob in a natural crown above her forehood. Sho sfcill wor» the convent-school ! uniform of black cashmore, with white collar aud cuffs ; bub wore it with fench grace and dignity they might have teemed regal lobes. Mr Fitzgerald was very proud of his daughter-in-law elect. Looking on her, he also thought that sho would not only make his beloved son doubly rich with her wealth, but very h»ppy vribh her love ; for it wa» apparent to Mr J'itzgorald that this beautiful woman still kopb the child's promise, still loved he* handsome cousin. But he did nob thoroughly know her. Sho Tf»6, after all, bub a brilliant young panther, capable of loving, adoring, yea, worshipping, hor betrothed husband, so long aa she believed herself to be the first object of hii thoughts ; capable, also, of wounding him unto death if her suspicion of his fidelity should be aroused. As yet nothing had occurred to distui*b her confidence. Her faith in her betrothed was as strong as her lovo for him, and both were as strong as life and death. He was the one passion of her life. She parted with tho tender abbess the only mother she had ever known— and with the kindly nuns, her companions for many years, and with her schoolmates, who loved her well ; and sho left them gladly, without an instant's regrot, because she was thinking only of her betrothed husband, caring only for him, and going to him. But, ah I disappointment awaited her at home. She waa brought* by her guardian to the Summit Manor House, where now his own old maiden cousin, Miss Maxima Rowley, had been induced to come and act as the chaperon of tho young heiress until such time aa her marriage with Gerald Fitzgerald should enable her to dispense with such feminine protection. But the bridegroom expectant was not there to m«et them, aa they had confidently hoped that ho would be. A letter met them instead, in which the writor informed his waiting betrothed bride that the Comanche and Apache tribes of Indianß were again giving great trouble to the frontier settlers, and that he could not thon aßk for a furlough, & soldier's place in the hour of danger was at his post. Mr Fitzgerald was very much disappointed. "Gendd ought fro have asked for a furlough. Ho could hare got one at once on the asking, but his chivalric sense of honour Erovented L him from doing so, I suppose," 6 Bftid. But Geraldine was more than disappointed ; she was ombittered. Her lips quivered for a moment, and then closed nrmly ; tho tears aprang to her eyes, but were proudly repressed. Mr Fitzgerald saw the indignation, without perceiving the mounded love beneath it. " It is Gerald's chivalric Bense of honour, you know, my dear," ha repeated, deprecatingly. "Colonel Fitzgerald should resign. There can be no oarthly reason why the heir-apparent of Summit Manor should continue to wear—the livery of any government under the sun ; for the uniform is a livery, a mere badge of servitude, after all. Gerald Fitzgerald, the heir of Summit Manor and my own betrothed husband, should resign his commission at once," she answered, haughtily. "An officer and a gentleman as my son never resigns in time of danger. He resigns if he pleases, when the danger is over," exclaimed Mr Fitzgerald, with stately courtesy. Geraldine's lips curled as she turned silently and proudly away. But the next day another letter came from Colonel Fitzgerald— a letter so elequent of tho soldier's noble lovo for his beloved bride that her anger was almost appeased, although he still talked of a long campaign in the Indian country, and still set his duty above his love.

But when Christmas and New STear came and passed without bringing him home, her i indignation blazed forth again, especially when saucy little cousin, Patricia Fitzgerald commonly called Fat Fitz, sang out : •' ' Oh, a lapfgard in lovo and. a • Quixote in vrar Is to wed tho fair Hoien of young Lochiuvar.' " Winter melted into spring, and spring bloomed into summer before tho Indian troubles were over and the faithful soldier was recalled home, Ho hastened down into Virginia to see his betrothed, whom he had not seen for five long, tedious years. Their'meeting was a compensation for all tho trying days of absence. Ho found her more imperially beautiful than over. She thought him even more princely and heroic than the dreams of her fancy had ever picturod him. Their marriage day Avas fixed for the sixteenth of July. And this being settled, Colonel Fitzgerald left for the city of Washington to transact some important business there, previous to resigning his commission as a colonel of cavalry. The daik-eyed, queenly Gcraldine now busied herself with preparations for her wedding 1 . The 'Summit Manor House wag well named. It was a huge structure of old red sandstone, built somewhat in the form of the letter IT, upon a lofty plateau overlooking the Wilde, about half way between Haddoii's Ferry find the village of Wildeville. Tho grounds were terraced in front of the house, and planted v/ith the rarest and most beautiful trees and shrubs. And both house and grounds had been lately ronovatcd in honour of the approaching nuptials. On tho morning of the day on which our story began, a pleaf-ant party of young people were assembled in one of the upper front chambers of the manor-house, whose open front windows commanded a magniliccnb view of the Wilde River and the Eagle Roost Ridge beyond it. Tho youthful party consisted of the brideelooto and her biidesmaida, all chosen from among her neuivstr -tatives and best beloved, frionds, and all gathered here, by previous arrangement, on the eve of her wedding day. Tho beautiful, stately, daik-haired Geraldine sat at one of the windows, withhor elbow leaning on the sill, her head resting on her hand, and her gaze absently fixed on tho winding bridle-path that led down the Summit to the Wildeville Turnpike. She way very carelessly clothed. She wore a rich loohO wrapper ofmaii'O - coloured Indian silk, embroidered with gold, and lightly folded around her legal form. Hor long, shining black haix 1 flowed freely, rippling clown her [shoulders. Her feet, thrust into cool India satin slipper. s*,5 *, rested on a footstool. »Sho had been trying on dress after dress from tho easily tmsfaeau that hail arrived that morning. She waft vei y weary of it all, as ii> lay beaming and glowing in heaps upon the bed, upon the table, upon the chairs, and upon every available place in the splendid disoidor of her chamber ; and she was weary — oh, how weary ! — of waiting for her lagging bridegroom. Ho had been due hero lor more than a week, for this house was his homo oven moie than hers. It was bis home in light of his father, and it was hei home in right of her guardian, and yet ho neither came nor wrote, though their wedding-day waa at hand. Why had he not come, according to promise ? Or, if an insurmountable obstacle prevented him from coming, why had ho not written to explain ? Them were two arrivals from Washington by coach to Wildeville every day, yet mornings and evenings had passed for a week without bringing the man himself or any message from hin\ Geraldino had written to him twice in succession, but her letters remaining unanswered, she had stopped in very pride. Mr Fitzgerald had written several times, but his letters shared the same fate with hers. He would have gone to Washington himself to mako inquiries for his missing son, but that) he was hold a prisoner in his chamber by the gout. He might have written and made inquiries of other parties in Washington, but that during the recess of Congress ho had not a. single acquaintance in the city ; nor did he liko to address any stranger on a private family matter, unless driven to do so by the greatest stress of circumstances. And he considered bhab this case did not yet require such desperate remedies. Some little affair, easily explained, had probably taken his son out of town for a day or two. Doubtless, ho had written to apprise them of his short absence, but had left his letter to be posted by the careless hotel waiters, and it had been neglected and lo.st. Something liko thab had most probably happened. But Gerald Fitzgerald was the very soul of honour, and would keep his tryst with his bride, come what might. "There are yet three more chances for him to be in time," Mr Fitzgerald had explained to his niece that very morning. ' ' Ho may come by this ovening's coach, or by to-morrow morning's, or, though thab will bo late, by to-morrow evening's coach." ' ' Bub, if he should fail to come, and so shame me before the assembled gentry of Wilde country !" muttered Geraldine, with, bitter, white lips. " Gerald Fitzgerald will never fail to keephis plighted word. ' For never then, nor thonco, till now, Has falsehood or disgrace Been seen to soil FitzgeraJd'3 plumo, Or mant'o in his faoe.' He will come up to time, be sure of it. " This conversation had taken place between the guardian and his ward duringthe short visit she had that morning made to him in his chamber. But now, some hours later, when the bride-elect sat at the window of her chamber, attended by her admiring bridesmaids, she did nob feel by any means so sure of her bridegroom's punctuality. She recalled the months she had waited for him, while he was out defending the frontier settlers against the Indians of the plains, when he might have resigned and returned to her, bub would not. She bitterly reflected thab she had never been the first object of hia life as he had always been of hers. She knevr that there were several principles he rated far above his love for her -there was honour, duty, to which his love for her had always to give way — while with her, neither honour, duty, " nor any other creature," ever had, or ever could, stand between her love and him. She said to herself thab some real or fancied "point of honour, or sense of duty," kept him absent and silent now, and mighb keep him from her even on their appointed wedding-day, and so expose her proud spirit to the bitter humiliation of seeming to be a discarded bride ab the very alter. While sh e sab there, silent, wounded, sorrowful and indignant, her young bride maids, and one or two household servants, who were engaged in folding and arranging tho dresses, chattered about her over the magnificence of her trousseau. Nearest the stately Geraldine loitered her cousin, Patricia Fitzgerald, a black-haired, grey-eyed, pug-nosed, yet very pretty, rosy, and bewitching little imp of about fifteen years of age. She was carelessly attired in a blue gingham dress> with little, whit©

ruffles around her neck and wrists, and her black hair curling wildly around her piquant little face. She had come to tho Summit only that morning to meet tho other bridesmaids, and expecting also to moet tho bridegroom and groomsman, and, in fact, all tholmmediatc bridal party. She felt much anxiety to know the reason for the delay ; but her interest in tho splendid display of wedding finery had held that anxiety in abeyance until now. Now she could control her curiosity no longer. She dropped herself down on the carpet beside the queenly Geraldine, and sitting there, looked up into her beautiful grave face and exclaimed : "Cousin Gerry !" The stately head lifted itself slowly from its leaning posture, the large, haughty oyes turned on the bpeaker, " I must request you, Patricia, not to address mo in that manner. To think of calling any lady ' (Jerry ' !" she coldly remarked. '* Gerry is the short for Geraldinc, is it not? Beside.*, don't everyone call me * Pat ' ?"' laughed Patricia. " /do not, most certainly, "said tho young lady. " Well, but, Miss Geraldine Fitzgerald, ' Eternity's too short To utter all your name. " Do not be profane, Patricia." " Well, I won't, then. Whore is the gallant Captain Gerry V '-'•If you refer to Colonel Fitzgerald, he iT still in Washington, detained by his affairs.*' " "When do you expect him ?" " Tin- evening, or to-morrow morning." " ' Oil ! a laqerarcl in love and a Quixote in war Is to w eel the lair Helen of young Lochinvar," sang Patricia, with mischievous delight. "I do not see the point of your quotation, Patricia, but you were right in changing one woid: Geiald Fitzgerald may be a * Quixote,' but he is not a ' craven in war,' by any means." "Who insinivated as he was? Not I! but that's not tho point. Where's my Sally r " Yonv-ivhat?' "He's not a 'what,' he's a 'who'— my Sally- Sally Row."' •'I presume you mean Mr Sallust Row- ( ley ?" " The «ame,'' said Patricia, with theatrical solemnity. " Where is that auburnhaired youth ? It is not possible that he is detained in Washington by his affairs, for I he has no affairs, not even an aflair of love, or an atLar of honour. He ought to be here to-day. He i^ to be first groomsman, and I am" to be tii.^t bridesmaid; he will have to lead me out. Now, I never acted in the comedy of a marriage ceremony in all my life, aud I really should like to go through one private rehearsal of my part bofore appearing in public. Where, oh ! where is my Sally !" " Mr Sallust Rowley is most probably in attendance upon Colonel Gerald. They will most likely travel down here together.'' '* Thanks, dear Geraldine. And now, while I am inquiring after missing people — this is a house of the most inexplicable disappearances, like the Ogre's Castle in the nursery tales —where is the terrific Miss Max ? I tiust it is not a sin to hope that the Ogre may have eaten her ?" solemnly inquired Patricia. " Miss Maxima Rowley has been summoned to Hill Top Hall to attend her uncle, the aged General Slaughter, who hfis been taken suddenly ill." At this moment the first dinner-bell rang and the bevy of bridesmaids fluttered up and ilev away to their several rooms, to make some change in the carriage dresses, in which they had coioe to the house that morning. After dinner the youthful party assembled in the drawing-room, where the evening was passed in anxious suspense. All w ere secretly looking forward to the hour when the bridegroom and his best man would anive, if, indeed, they should come that night ; but no one spoke of it. All knew that the Washington stagecoach would reach Wildeville nt seven o'clock ; that if Colonel Fitzgerald and Mr Rowley should come by that conveyance, they would procure horses at the Wildeville Hotel, and ride over to the Summit, and so reach home by nine. As the hour approached, the anxiety of the whole party rose to an almost breathless suspense, yet no one spoke of it — no one dared to do so — not even saucy Pat — while the young lady most vitally concerned kept a dignified and orninouo silence on that subject. They talked of fashion, dress, the weather, the neighbours, in short, of anything else but that which occupied their anxious thoughts. A heavy storm was rising, too ! A storm in the mountains was no trifling peril to be encountered by equestrian travellers, and if Colonel Fitzgerald and Mr Rowley had arrived at Wildeville by the seven o'clock coach, they mu&t then be on their way to the Summit, and sure to meet the storm. The only slight hope was that the coach might have made good time, and they might lme started immediately on swift horses, and so might possibly reach the Summit before the utmost fury of the elements should burst upon them. It was after midnight before the fury of that terrible tempest had expended itself. Then at length the wearied young girls,ono after another, arose from their crouching attitudes, and, with fervent thanksgivings that the storm was over and " their lives spared,'' bade their beautiful hostess goodnight, and separated to their .several rooms to get what sleep they could in the short interval befoz*e the morning. When all had left the room, Patricia, who was the last to go, suddenly turned back and looked at her cousin. Geraldine was seated in the same chair that she had occupied during the whole of that awful night. " Gerry, won't you go to bed ?" "No." " Then neither will I," said Patricia, setting her candle on a side table, and drawing a footstool to the side of her cousin and seating herself upon it. " You had better retire to rest, Patricia." "And leave you here alone? I won't! I'm not that sort of fellow !" " Then do as you please," said Geraldine, wearily, " I say, Gerry, don't bother about them ! They're all right ! You may dopend they got to Wildeville last night, but they couldn't brave the storm in the mountains you know, and I don't blame them. They will be here early this morning. You see if they don't. Why, Vm not bothered, be--cause I don't believe any harm has happened to them ! If I thought any harm had happened to my Sally I should cry my eyes out." " Patricia, if you must stay here, try to keep silence ! DonH talk ! I cannot bear i !" " Well, then, I won't. There ! Listen ! What did I tell you ? There they are now, «,nd it is not yet daylight !" exclaimed the •girl, as the sound of horses' hoofs was heard galloping into the yard. "It is Gerald ! It can be no one else at this hour !" suddenly exclaimed Geraldine, thrown off her guard by joy. " And not a servant in the establishment waking up at this unholy hour to open th door ! I must run and let him in myself !e

cried Patricia, starting up and rushing out into the hall. Bars fell down, bolts shot back, locks turned under the eager fingers of the girl, the door flew open, and Mr ISallust Bowley almost fell into the arms of Patricia Fitzgerald. (To be Continued. )