CHAPTER XL

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 298, 12 September 1888, Page 5

CHAPTER XL

WAKGKKY. Everht Mavleson availed himself of Mrs Loring's invitation, and called the second morning after Mrs Brevort'p reception, to pay hi.s respects to the young ladies. He was lortunate enough to find them both at home, and both were charmingly entertaining. Addie Loring was a merry little body, and no one could ever be dull when in her society. Gladys was more reserved and dignified in her bearing, but she possessed a peculiar fascination which instantly attracted everybody, and taking the two together, it would have been difficult, go the world over, to have found a more entertaining couple tli m they. Everet Mapleson was beguiled into a call of a full hour — a delightful hour it was too, to them aalandl — and looked his dismay when iinally, glancing at his wadch, he founri how the time had slipped away. Addie Loring laughed merrily when she saw the expression on his face, and caught his well-bred ' 1 had no idea it was so late.' 4 Way, Mr Mapleson, do not look so disturbed,' she cried ; ' theie is no fine for such an offence, and you are absolved even | before confession for this time.' ' But I have o\erstepped all bounds'. I have been here a whole hour, and this my first call, too.' ' How dreadful !' laughed the little lady, roguishly. ' Fray, tell me, what is the Southern rule for first calls ?' ' Twenty minutes, or half an hour at most.' ' I am glad 1 do not live at the South then. Why, one would hardly get through talking about the weather in that time.' ' Miss Loring, I protest ; there has not been one word paid about the weather this morning,' retorted the young man, thinking that she was very nearly as pretty as Gladys, as she stood before him in that graceful attitude, her head perched saucily on one side, a mocking smile on her red lips. ' True ; but this wasn't a formal call, you know, for which we both feel very much obliged to you, lam sure. People usually begin upon the weather when they make ceiemonious visits, and that is about all there is to say. It is really refreshing to ha^e had such a breezy hour as this. Pray come again, Mr Mapleson, and don't bring your watch next time ; at least, don't look at it, if it is going to make you uncomfortable,' replied Miss Loring, with charming coidiality. ' Thank you ; you are so indulgent, and your invitation is so alluring that I am sure I will not be able to reeist it,' he answered as he shook hands with be<\ Then he turned to Gladys, and added ; ' May I assume that you endorse all that your friend has said, Miss Huntress?' 'It has, indeed, been a very pleasant hour, Mr Mapleson — -if an hour has really slipped by since you came in—and I shall be happy to meet you again, although I remain only a very few days longer with Miss Loring,' she replied. Mr Mapleson's face clouded at this. '.Surely your vacation is not nearly over yet V' he said. ' Oh, no ; but I only promised Addie a week ; there are but two, and papa and mamma will want me at home the other.' ' Allow me to ask where ih youi home, Miss Huntress ?' ' In Brooklyn.' 'True; I had loi gotten. 1 remenibei that Huntress told me he resided in Biooklyn,' Eveiet said, aware that the 4 City of Churches ' was quite convenient to ]\ T ew York, and that ho could iun over there us easily as come way up town to ihe Lorings. ' We are not going to give Gladys up until Saturday, Mr Mapleson,' Miss Loring here interposed, ' for Thursday evening we give a reception in her honour ; the cauls were issued several days ago. It is rather late to offer you one, but if you will accept it, we shall be glad to see you with our other guests.' Everet Mapleson was only too glad to get it, even at that late date, and, with thanks, he took the envelope which Miss Loring proffered him, and expressed the pleasure it would afford him to accept her invitation. He then bowed himself out, moie than over in love with beautiful Gladys HunUess, and more than evei determined to win her love in return. He took a car down tow n, leaving it near Stew ait's, on Broadway, to go to a certain club-house, where he was to meet his friend Vandewater. On his way thither, he pabseJ a flowerstand, behind which there sat a woman who appeared to be about fifty years of age. She was an unusually tidy and respectablelooking person to be a street vender of flowers, and she had a raie and choice collection;:' that season of the year, and they weie arranged in a really artistic manner. It was this arrangement which attracted E\eret Mapleson's attention, for he was a great admirer of (lowers, and was rarely seen anywhere without some bud or spray in his button hole. He had worn heliotrope to-day during hi^ call, but it was wilted and discoloured, and he paused now before the stand to replace it with something else. He selected one exquisite rosebud nestlinjr between its dark green leaves, and taking out a piece of silver, he tossed it over the vases into the woman's lap, and then would have passed on without waiting for his change, but that she had put out her hand to detain him. She had given 4 a start of surprise and uttered a low cry the moment he had stopped before her, but he had not noticed it, and she had not taken her eye* from his face during all the time that he was making his selection. As she looked she began to tremble, her lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears, and she breathed with difficulty, as if overcome with some powerful emotion. Her face was wrinkled and sad, showing that she must have missed through some teirible giief. Her hair was very grey, and there was a white seam or scar above her right temple, the mark of an injury received years before. 4 Oh,' she cried, putting out her hand to detain him as he was turning away. ' Oh, Geoffrey, have you forgotten Margery ?' Everet stepped short, looked back, and attentively scanned the woman's face. ' Margery,' lie repeated. ' I never knew anybody of that name, and mine isn't Geoffrey either, my woman,' he said, eomewhat brusquely, for it nettled him whenever he heard that name, which he had grown to dislike so much. 'Surely my eyes can't deceive me,' returned the 'flower-vendor, earnestly 4 1 could never forget the dear boy that I nursed and tended during the first five years of his life. Qa n't yon remember me, dearie ? Have you forgotten the chickens and the rabbits — old Chuck, the dog, and fcho two little white kittens ? Ah ! fry to think, Master Geoffrey, and tell me what became of Jack after ho gave you that

dreadful blow, and then ran away with you when he left me for dead, so many years ago.' ' What under the sun is the old creature talking about?' murmured Everet, with a perplexed look. ' I'd readily forgive him for the hurt he gave me,' the woman went on, unheeding him, 'and ovei-look the past if I could only set eyes on him once more and feel that I wasn't all alone in the world in my old age ; it's hard not to have a single soul to care for you. Sure I can't see how you could forget Margery, when you were so fond of her in those old days.' ' I tell you my name is not Geoffrey,' repeated Mapleson. ' You are thinking of someone else. Ido not know anything about Jack, or his striking anybody, and then running away, and I never saw you until this, moment.' The poor woman was weeping now, and moaning in a low, heart- Iqroken way that made the young man pity her, in spite of his iiritability. ' You must have forgotten,' she responded, wiping her fast-falling tear?. ' Perhaps the cruel blow Jack gave you hurt your memory — and whatever c uld he have done with you after he took you away from the old home that night ? It breaks my heart that you don't know me, dearie, for I served your poor mother so faithfully when you were ,1 wee baby. She was the sweetest little body that the sun ever shone on — so gentle, and kind, too, with a face like a lily and eyes as blue as heaven. Poor boy ! You never realised your loss when she died, for Margery promised to care for you as if you were her very own, and she did — you were the pride of my heart during all those blessed five years.' ' You have made a mistake, my good woman," Everet said, more gently, for her grief and pathetic rambling touched him. He believed that he had run across an old nurse of Geoffrey Huntress, for he remembered now that he had said he lost his parents when very young, and he did not wonder that she had mistaken him for her former nursling. But it angered him so to talk of his enemy that he would not take the trouble to tell her anything about him, and he never dreamed how near he was to discovering what had been a sealed mystery for many long years. 'J/?/ name is Everet,' he went on, 'and my mother is not dead, neither has she a face like a lily — she is dark, with a rich colour and brilliant black eyes.' The woman appeared still more perplexed and troubled by this statement. She wagged her head slowly from side to side, as it she could -not reconcile his assertions with her belief. ' Your mother's name was Annie — ' she began. ' No, my mother's name is Estelle.' ' Estelle,' shei'epeated, seai-ching his face keenly ; ' that viight have been her other name. Didn't she have bright, beautiful brown hair, and a sweet, gentle way with her?' 'No; her hair is as black as a lavens wing, and no one would ever think of describing her as ' sweet and gentle," the young Southerner replied, with a smile, as a vision of the magnificent) woman who reigned in his home aro.-^e beioie him, 'bub proud an<i imperious. She is like some beautiful queen.' ' And is &he >our own mother?' questioned the iiower-vender, eagerly. ' Yes, my own mother, and I am her only child ' ' Well, well, it i« rei y strange,' sighed the poor woman, tears of disappointment agaiu rilling her eyes. ' i was *-o sure that I had found my boy at last. I'\e been hunting for him these eighteen years. It isn't much wonder that I mistook you, though, for you couldn't be more like him if you were his twin ; and yet he mayn't look like j'ou at all, now that he's sjrown up. Ah, Jack, peace to your soul if you've gone the way of all the earth, but where under heaven did you leave the child ?' She dropped her head upon her breast and kept on v\ith her muttering, apparently convinced at last that she had made a mistake. E\eret Mapleson stood irresolute a moment, half tempted to tell her where she could find Geofhey, and yet obstinately averse to doing anything for one whom he so disliked. He was in a hurry, too, for it was already past the time that lie had appointed to meet young Vandewater, and he was unwilling to be detained any longer to answer the question of a trairulous old woman, so he went unheeded on his way. All the way to the club-hou&c she was in his thoughts. Without doubt, he reasoned, she had been a servant in the Huntre&s family, and probably after Geoffrey's adoption bj his uncle she had lost track of her charge, perhaps by a change of re&idence on her part or his He could not'-eem to understand her i-e-ferei.ee to the dreadful blow that Jack had given the boy, nor to his running away with him afterward and leaving his wife, as he evidently bel'eved dead. The moie he thought it over the more strange it appeared, and the more interested he became regarding the matter. Possibly there might be something connected with Geoffrey Huntress's history which he might be able to use against him in his future scheming. He did not return that clay, however but the next he made it in his way to pas, the spot where Margery had had her flowe-H stand the previous morning. But she was no longer there. Flowers, stand, and vender had all disappeared, and although Everet sought her several times after that he did not see her again during his fctay in the city. He was greatly disappointed, for the moie he considered the affair the more he became com inced that there \\ as something which he might have learned of Geoffrey Huntress's life and parentage that would have been to his own advantage, and he blamed himself severely for having neglected his opportunity. {To be Continued.)