CHAPTER XV. A DECLARATION.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 302, 26 September 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XV. A DECLARATION.

Arriving at Mr Loring's, Geoffrey sent his name up to the young ladies, and a few minutes later Gladys came down alone. How his heart bounded as she came tripping into the room, looking as fresh and lovely aa the morning itself. She was dressed in a morning robo of white flannel, relieved by quilted facings of pale blue silk, and fastened at the waist with a cascade of ribbons of the same hue. Her hair was carelessly knotted at the back of her head, where it was pinned with a small shepherd's crook of silver, while a few light rings clustered lovingly about her forehead. In spite of the dissipation of the previous evening her eyes were bright as stars, her cheeks flushed, and her manner animated. 'Dear old Geoff,' she cried, springing forward with a glad smile to meet him. ' I imagined you were on your way back to New Haven, to bury yourself in Greek verbs and Latin nouns ! What crood fairy has sent you here instead?' ' Love ' "was on Geoffrey's lips as he gathered both her hands in his, but he restrained the word, and replied : ' Oh, I wanted to have a little talk with Uncle August, and so concluded to remain over another day. I have come to act as your escort home.' ' How good of you ! I was dreading to go alone. ' ' How is your friend this morning ?' 1 Addie ? poor child ' she is laid up with a wretched headache ; the dancing and excitement were too much for her. Mrs Loring was obliged to go out early to her dressmaker, and as Addie is compelled to keep very quiet in a darkened room, I was 1 having quite a solitary time of it when you were announced,' Gladys explained. Geoffrey was secretly delighted at this, although sorry for Miss Loring's indisposition. The coast was clear, so to speak, for him, and yet now that everything seemed so propitiont) for his suib, he almost feared to put his fate to the test. 'I regret your friend's illness-,' he said, ' but you are as bright and fresh as if you had not lost an hour of sleep. ' 1 Yes, I do not feel in the least wearied,' ' Gladys returned, 'and I had a most delightful time. But the best of all was to have you here, Geoff. I began to fear my evening was to be spoiled, you were so late.' ' Was my presence so necessary to your enjoyment?' the young man earnestly questioned, a quick flush rising to his brow, as he searched her lovely face. ' Indeed it was ; I had set my heart upon having you here — it was almost my first apj pearance in society, you know. Ho.v did I behave Geoffrey ? — like a novice ?' Gladys asked, archly. ' No, indeed ; you were quite the woman of the world, and entertained your admirers as composedly as if you had been accustomed to such homage for many a season. Do you imagine that you would enjoy a fashionable life, Gladys ?' ' I think I would enjoy social life, to a certain extent, but I would not care to i devote all my time to keeping up style, or to live in a fashionable whirl continually,' she replied, thoughtfully. ' And yet you are eminently fitted for just that kind of life ' Geoffrey said, thinking how few there were who could compare with I her. 'How so?' she asked, flushing slightly. ' You are beautiful and graceful ; you have winning manners and a cultivated mind ; you would shine anywhere,' he answered, an earnest thrill in his voice. ' Matterer ! not one of my ' admirers,' last night' paid me such a tribnte as that,' retorted the fair girl, with a merry laugh, * and it is quite unusual, I believe', for one's brother to be so complimenbary.' ' You forget, Uladys, that I am not your brother,' Geoffrey returned, gravely, and wondering that she should have spoken. thu3, for'she had very rarely assumed that there was any kindred tie between them. She could not have told herself what made her use the word, and she remembered how she had repudiated Mr Mapleson's assumption of such a relationship ; but somehow, though her own heart fchiilled to Geoffrey's assertion that he was not her brother, a sort of perverseness took possession of her, and she continued, in the satne strain, with a half-injured air and a bewitching pout : ' One would think, that you were, rejoiced' over the fact, to remind me of it in such ar way.' ' I am rejoiced over the fact. ' • Why, Geoff ! After all these yearns !' and Gladys looked up in genuine surprise, for the restraint that he had been imposing upon himself had * nScfde'^his tone almost stern. ■ ' Yes, 'after all these years,' Gladys,' he wept on, eagerly, feeling that the supreme moment of his life had come; .' can ybu con" ceive of no reason s whyjl should be glad ? As a boy, before J realised what you would become to me in the future, I was proud. and 1 Happy 'to be allowed 'the privilege "of regarding you as my sister ; but as a -man,' I exult in the faqt that no kindred ties bind , us to each other, for in that case I should have no right to love you aa I do,' and my life would be bereft of its sweetest hopes.' ' Gladys darted one quick, searching glance into his face a£ he uttered these impassioned words ; .then a burning blush suffused her face, and her eyes drooped ih confusion before the ardent light.in his.' ! 'Have I startled ' you; my darling* by" this confessidn ?' Geoffrey went on. ' ' Have-, you never suspected how I haVe ,been grow- . ing to love you day by day ? At first,' as I • told you, I regarded you in a brotherly, way... I was delighted with your beauty, I was proud of "your intellect. I lovod and ' re- . verenced you for your goodness and gentleness to me and yourpatience with me.as^an ignorant, simple-minded .boy.; ;.b,i}t, .as f Jf gr&w older,, #■ d6ep"ejr,;jnpre;6Jfcflr.ed lpy.Q >|pojfcl

possession of me, until I came to realise that my future would be a miserable blank unless I could win your own heart's besb love. Ido not forget that lam nameless, dear — that I am only a stray waif whom your father rescued from a hapless fate. I have nothing to offer you save my great love and an energy and resolution which will enable me to overcome every obstacle for your dear sake. Does your heart respond to my plea, my darling ? Can you give me a deeper and holier love than that of a sister for a brother, and somo day, when we are both through with our studies — when I can obtain a position worthy of your acceptance, become my cherished wite ?' | He reached out, took the hands that lay clasped upon her lap, and drew her gently towards him. | She lifted her sweet face to him for one brief instant, and their glances met, soul answering to soul. ' Geoffrey ! you have fairly taken my breath away,' Gladys whispered, ' and yet — and — ' His clasp tightened about her hands. ' ' And yet' — Gladys — what?' he breathed eagerly. Her bright head drooped lower to hide \ the crimson in her cheeks, but there was no shrinking from him, as there must have been had npt her heart responded to his appeal. ' And yet I know you are far doarer to me than a brother could ever be,' she confessed. | He dropped her hands, and the next moment his arms were around her. He drew her closo to his wildly-bounding heart and laid her head upon hia breast. ' jVly own darling ! that means that you love mo even as I love you ! Oh, Gladys, how I have longed to hear this confession from your lips, and yet I have never dared to betray the affection that has become a part of my very life.' 'Haven't you, Geoff?' Gladys asked, a mischievous smile wreathing her red lips, which, however, he could not see. 'No, for 1 felt that it would not be right to do so. I feared that Uncle August would feel that I had betrayed his confidence, and taken an unfair advantage of his kindness. Besides, it galled me to feel that I had nothing to offer you save my nameless self, without any definite expectations for the future.' 4 You imagine that you have been exceedingly circumspect, don't you, dear?' and now a pair of merry eyes were raised to meet hit?. ' Have I not ? Have you suspected any thing of this befoie, Gladys ?' he asked, quickly, a vivid crim&on suffusing his face. ' I shall have to confess that I haye — in a measure,' she replied. ' When ? What made you ?' ' Just before you went to college, when you told me that you wore glad you had been cast adrift upon the world.' ( I remember — when I said but for that I should never have known you. It was very hard for me then not' to tell you how well I loved you, but I believed I did conceal it. Did it trouble you, Gladys ?' * N — o : still 1 was taken by surprise — 1 had never thought of loving you in thai way, or of your regarding me other than as a sister,' Gladys replied, gravely. 4 Then it set you thinking, and you have I been learning to love me since that time ?' Geoffiev asked, fondly. 'Not exactly 'learning to love,' Geoff, but I began to realise the fact that I did love you,' the young girl confessed, with brilliant cheeks. GeoHrey bent and kissed her red lips. ' Darling, I am glad I did not dare to tell you then — 1 should have been very premature,' he said, tenderly. 4 How does it happen that you have dared, even now ?' she asked, roguishly. 'Because I confessed everything to Uncle August this morning, and he bade me come and win my bride if I could,' was the smiling retort. ' Geoff ! did papa say that ?' cried the young girl, growing crimson again. ' Yes, those very words. Uncle August is a kingly man, and his permission to let me speak to you has raised me from the depths ot despair to the very heights of joy.' ' Oh, Geoffrey, what an ardent figure of speech !' laughed the happy girl. ' Indeed it is not a figure at all, you sweet, brown eyed fay. I did not sleep a wink last night for wretchedness of mind,' ' And all for nothing, Geoff.' 'It was the fear of losing you, my darling. When I saw you so admired in these very rooms last night, 1 said to myself, ' someone etee will win her before / shall have any right to speak ';' so, after lying awake all night, I desperately resolved to make a clean breast of everything to Uncle August. If he had told me he was unwilling to give you to me I should never have come to Brooklyn again.' ' Geoffrey,' cried Gladys, clinging to him, I ' you would not have left us like that.' ' I should, dear,' he answered, tirmly ; ' I could not have remained in the same house with you and know that I musb never, by either word or look, reveal the love I bear you. But that is all past. Uncle August seems even happy in the prospect of our union ; you love mf — you are biire you love me well enough, Gladys, to become my wife, with no regret for — anything?' he pleaded, bending to look search ingly into her eyes. ' Yes, lam sure, Geoffrey. I have nevertried to analyze the affection which I have always cherished ior you, 'but I know, now, that it has not been of that calih nature which a sister would feel for her brother. I have been happier" at your coming, I have bqen lonely and have drooped .whenever yOu went from home, and I can understand now why it has been so,' Gladys answered, dropping her head again upon her -lover's breast, 'My own darling J How wonderful it-is^ that this priceless boon should be granted, » me to crown all the other gifts that I have received,' he said, "in a thrilling -voice ; .then added : ' But, Gladys, I must remind you, as I have already reminded your father, that you -will have to bqeprpe the v^ife of #.•• nameless man, 1 Will that never trouble you?' 'Surely, the name -that my father has bestowed upon you will do .very well, will it not? 1 "' ' ' '" ' ' That was what' he also said, dear ; but' will the .mystery that-en§hrpudj3 jne neyei" make you uncomfortable or unhappy.?' 1 'No"'; T 'ajn' we"ircdntenfc toijih y&u 'jugt as^ you are.' ' " ' ' ' n " M "' " , 1 BiSt — h^ve you never thought that there may be sbme-'sfcory^of wr'ong— of 'ls^/awd, 6ven— connected with my jsarlyjtffe ? If we* should discover it to be so, sometime in the future, wOtfld~y.Qu~.not fegifQt^'aym'g given yourself 'to me 1 ? Gladys,* deiar'as you are to me, I could better face a" separation now, thantg'uch a regret byliha-b'y.' ' Such a story of wKonggould never -harm' youl Ae&r Geoff. All .the shfime" or ~guilt,' -if * t any,-*jYQuld:resi; upon 'others — the'-^perpefcra^' tors of it.r But I, 'have no^fear th f ac>y6u Willever be troublt dby any such discovery. I believe you will yet learn your parentage and feel honoured by it. However, it will never change; or- mar niy loye : for you,' Gladys replied, I ' with* grave 1 earnestness. Geoffrey's face was"lumin6us. "\ , ' This noble' spirit is" fust ' what I might have expected- from.^ ypuj'. Gladys § 'yet!,"',l j c ( 'onfesBr-I am.'Y,eryigens'itlve <pver tlie -myS-' ,teyy o oi m^ib;rth>!,ajxd;'l <- should' mover; kfive,' ,b!ee.|i rfnUyj satisfied- twiflhoub'Sknowingl jUstf' t how you feel about it. Oh, my ibve^sfcKaK

future looks very bright before us, though the next two years will seem very long to me.' _ ' Why, Geoff! I thought study was a positive delight to you,' Gladys returned, in surprise. " 1 And so it is, but it frets me to feel that, even after I get through college, it will perhaps be years before I can attain a position thab will warrant me in asking Uncle August to give you to me finally.' ' What kind of a position would satisfy your conscientious scruples, Geoffrey?' Gladys asked, demurely. ' I would not feel willing to take you from a home of affluence to one of poverty — you must never miss the luxuries to which you have been accustomed, 'he said, thoughtfully. ' Do you expect to find the treasure of a Monte Christo somewhere ?' his companion asked, in the same tone as before. • Oh, no ; I expect to provide a home and competence by my brains and hands ; but it will take time ' ' How much ?' 'Years perhaps.' ' How many V 1 Five or six, maybe, if I am successful ; ' more it I am not ; I shall start off to ' seek my fortune ' just as soon as I can take my degree.' ' Meantime, what is to become of your humble servant ?' ' You V— why, Gladys, you will have your home and friends the same as now.' ' And you will be out in the world, somewhere, working for me ? she said, sitting erect and turning her gaze full upon him. 'Of course ; that is to be expected ; doesn't it please you ?' 'So. lam no hot-house plant that requires a tempered atmosphere in order to thrive and grow ! Do you think that I can afford to let. you spend the years of your life away from me, toiling to give me luxuries, while you deny yourself, even the comforts and companionship of a home? My father and mother began life in a humble way, and builb up their fortune together. lamof no liner clay than they or you ; if I am not calculated to share your burdens, as well as your pleasures, I am not worthy to be your wife at all,' Gladys concluded with an energy and decision that made Geofh'ey regard her with surprise. ' Why, Gladys, what would peoplo think of me if I should ask you to marry me before 1 could provide you with a comfortable home ?' he asked. 'I do not expect you will do that ; but comfort and elegance are not necessarily one and bhe same. With the comfortable home, provided, we will begin life together, and win our luxuries and elegancies hand in hand ; it is not mutual love where one gives all and the other nothing.' ' My darling, I had no idea there were such intensely practical ideas in this small head of yours,' said Geoffrey, laughing, but with a very tender face. ' Had you not ? Well, then, perhaps, I may astonish you again some time,' she returned, laughing, too. ' But,' she added, 'I think we are both rather premature in our plans, considering that we have two years more of school before us. Besides it is time I was getting ready to go home with you, and we must not sit here talking longer,' Later in the day the lovers returned to Brooklyn, wheie they were received with many smiles and significant glances, for both August Huntress and his erood wife were greatly delighted by the prospect of a union between these two, upon whom all their fondest hopes had so long been centred. ( To be Continued. )