CHAPTER LXXX. UNITED.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 250, 28 March 1888, Page 8

CHAPTER LXXX. UN ITED.

So. trial alter trial past. Shalt thou fall, at the very last, Breafhlcs3— lull or awe— Into our arms for over-more. Browning. Ml:\:>\yhilk, Certtude sab alouc on the little sofa, with her elbow resting on its corner, and her hcud bowed upon her hand, hoping, fearing, trembling?, almost dying of anxiety, Jest even vow something should happen to snatch her husband away from her again, os had so often happened befoic when she had believed herself certainly ■ju&t upon the point of meeting him ; or that frome distressing scone should occur in the church ; or that Gerald Fitzgerald himself, should, feel so humiliated and overwhelmed by such a public interruption of the wedding vires as to be utterly incapable, or most unwilling, to &ee'her yet. This last thoiischt was anguish. u Oh !" bhe aspirated, from the depths ot her heart, earnestly clasping her little hands together— I ' Oh, I hope, I pray Gerald may not feel so toAvard&'tne." The door opened and closed very quietly. With her hands .-till tightly clasped in silent prayers, &he lifted up her eyes and saw — Her hu&band coming towards her with outstretched arms, and face beaming with earnest love and joy. At last, at last, they had met. Trembling,, she tried to utter his name, but her voice faltered a,nd died in silence. She arose to greet him, but mush instantly , have fallen to tho, floor had he not sprung

forward and caught her in his arms, He folded her to his bosom in a long and close embrace. Then he gently placed her on the sofa and sat down, and once more diew her head upon his breast. But for some moments not a word was bieathed between I them. Their hearts wcie too full for utterance. Gerald was: the first to break the spell of .silence. In a voice shaken by emotion, he whis percd : " Gertrude ! JMy Gertrude rained to life 1 Oh, what must you think, on coming back, to lind me here on such an errand as I brought) me ? i cannot name it." ( " Gerald, I understand it all, and I think no wrong of you now, or ever. Ah, how could I doubt you a\ hen 1 know you so well 1 I love you as perfectly as I know you love me. 1 trust you utterly, and lam happy. Oh, so happy !" she breathed, clasping her arms moio closely about him, and pressing; her faco to his bosom. '".So happy! 1 Then, my precious one, has the la&t little cloud o\ or our sunrise of joy vanished forever? 'So happy,' are you. little angel V And I V Oh, my Gertrude, this is the most blessed day of my life. Heaven itsolf can have no joy in th© future for me to surpass the joy of this hour. Let me gaze in your eyes once more, my love. Your sweet eyeb lost to me so long." And ho lifted up her head, and holding ib between the palms of his hands, ho gazed down on her for some minutes, crowing graver and sadder in his look, until at. length he murmured, tenderly : "Oh, how you must have suffered, my child ! Your little pale, thin face, your sweet brown eyes, tell me too surely bow much you must have suffered !" "Only because I was away from you, who are my life and health, Gerald ! Now that I am with you, never more to part, I shall prow well aud bright," she answered. " Heaven grant that you may, my mosli precious child !"' ' " And you, Gerald ! You have suffered, too. You look haggard and old, and see, here are some silver hairs in your raven locks ! Ah ! we must never part again, Gerald ! No, not for a week ! Ah ! how can a husband and wife who love each other ever part for any cause but the call of the most imperative duty ? We will never part again, Gerald, will we?" " Never ! heart of my heart ! I swear ib to you, 1 will never be divided from you again !" " Not even if you vyere to be ordered again to that savage Indian country, so full of hardships and privations and perils, would you leave me behind, Gerald ?" " No, darling — never ! never ! I should cither resign my commission, and stay with you, or. if honour compelled me to go, I should take you with me, knowing well that no hardships of camp life on the frontier could equal to you the hardship of absence from me. My darling, your little worn face bells me that, too ; for oh ! what traces of suffering it bears* !" he murmured, a3 he pressed his lips on her pale forehead. " Your ki&& will erase all traces of suffering from my brow, Gerald, even as your love will efface the suffering itself from my heart. This hour comforts me for all, it is so full of deep joy !" she murmured, with her head now pillowed on his breast. How long they might have remained thus forgetful, in this hour of reuniou, of all others except themselves, is uncertain, had not a discreet rap at the room door recalled them to a recognition of the outer world. Gertrude lifted her head from its resting place, and Gerald gently put her ! aside and went and opened the door. The Rev. Dr. Goodwin stood there. BeI hind him the church seemed vacant. " I am sorry to disturb you, my dear | Colonel, but j r ou forget how time flies. The bishop has been patiently waiting to change j his vestments for the last hour," said the good rector. " I berr ten thousand pardons 1" exclaimed Fitzgerald. " Not one pardon is needed, because there has been no offence." "Is my carriage still waiting ?" inquired Gerald. "Certainly. It would not be likely to drive off without you." "Then I will take Mrs Fitzgerald out. Stay ! Is theie a crowd outside V " No, not a soul but your own servants and mine. Everybody else has lett the premises, luckily without the faintest idea that you were left behind in the church, or that Mrs Fitzgei aid is with you ! A suspicion of that sort, you know, would have kept them waiting until night, or all night, to see you pas.-. Happily they had no such idea ; but irom their conversation they all seemed tobe much disgusted at having missed the wedding they came to witness, and much more perj lexed as to whose funeral so inopportunely interrupted tho proceedings ! But come, my dear Fitzgerald, your carriage waits. '' "One moment," said Gerald, and hfe retreated into the robing-room, took the hand of Gertrude, drew it under his arm and led her out. " It is quite a remarkable coincidence, Dr. Goodwin, that 3 r ou, a\ ho first so suddenly joined our hands in marriage, should now as suddenly re-unite us," said Fitzgerald, as he stood for a moment, with Gertrude on hU arm. "Yes !" exclaimed the old man briskly, "so it is! — though I never once thought) of it!— l wish you both much joy ! God bless you !'' "Amen,'' devoutly responded Gerald. "Thnnks, dear Dr. Goodwin," added Gertrude. "But tell me, by the way, what has become of my two young officers ? I had forgotten the existence of the hoys until this instant/ said Fitzgerald, as the three walked devn the middle aisle. "Oh, I gave them a hint of the situation, turned them o\er to hospitable Royal Grecnlcaf, and sent them to Greenwood in attendance upon the two pretty bridesmaids. Patricia Fitzgerald and Horatia Rowley/' replied Dr. Goodwin, in a low voice. The party then passed out of the church together by the middle door, before which now stood the superb travelling carriage with its splendid span of bay horses, and its liveried servants, all got up expressly to grace the wedding pageant of Geraldine Fitzgerald, but now destined to wait the pleasure of our little lady. As they stepped from the vestibule, Gertrude's eyes encountered those of Jubal, the especial attendant of her husband, who had travelled with them during their long tour of tho Eastern Hemisphere, and whoso shining black visage was now perfectly rarliant with wonder and delight in beholding again tho face of his recovered mistress. Gertrude, with her all-embracing goodness, went, to him at once, holding out her hand, and saying, with a smile : " You see I have come to life again, Jubal." "Yes, mist'ess, thanks be to de Lord and all His good angels, as you is !" cried the boy, grasping her offered hai.d in both of his, and shedding tears of joy over it. Then Gertrude greeted Hannibal, the smiling old coachman, and Boykins, the servant of Dr. Goodwin, who had driven her to tho church, but whom in her haste she had had no time to speak to until now.. " Come, my good httle-giri ; it ia getting

late in the afternoon, and we have but. a short time reach ho to me by daylight," .said Colonel Fitzgerald, as ho took her hand and placed her in the carriage. Then, turning to the lector, he courteously said. " Dr (Joodwin, will you nob enter, and give us your company this evening?" "Oh, no, thank you, Fitzgerald. There bid me good-bye, and 1 will fog home bohind my own old horse,"' replied tho rector laii>_rhniLr, .is ho shook hands wit.h Gertrude and Ceiald. and then lifting his luf. a* a final adieu, he went and got- in his own \ chicle and dro\c o IV. "To Haddon's Ferry,'" said Colonel Fit/.jremld, as he entered the carriage ami took his place beside his wife. ■ lubal eWd (ho carriage door, ga\o the order to kio coachman, and sprang up to lri-> pl.icc behind. " Wo are to take H.uldon'^ Ftvry on our May home?"' said Gertrude, a^ the carnage left the ehmehy.ird and took the foiesl road icadntg down to the ri\i r bank--. "Yes we mu t like the fei r\ on our way, " ansueied Tit oorald. 11 lam -o ul.xl ' 1 would like io .see old -le*- airain. and bid hei good-bye befoie wo go faiTher,*' she added. '• Wt; .shall go no Mvthcr tonight. You aie much too tiied co do so, my poor, little u can do\c. Wo miht. slcc[) in your own -wecf old home to night. "' "Oh (nnald, 1 -luill like that <so much !" "My pool-, little, storm-beaten bud!" muinvwied Fit, gciald, teudoily -aJaaiinu her to Ins ho-jor.i. " i3ut I ha\e found my nest now, (Jeiald, and I am happy !— oh, happy ' " {To he Cou' in ia.d.)