CHAPTER XXX. DULCIE'S FIRST LOVE-LETTR.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 359, 13 April 1889, Page 4

CHAPTER XXX. DULCIE'S FIRST LOVE-LETTR.

Bod's courageous feat met with universal applause. Even Mrs Shepperton, who was always fully alive to the policy of floating with the stream, perceiving which way the tide had set, condescended to express her approval of the young man's conduct. Consequently, on the following afternoon, Mrs Shepperton rang the bell and gave orders for Bridle to ride over to Mornington Court, and inquire after the health of Mr Robert. Dulcie having heard these instructions, profited by the first opportunity to slip out of the room, and stole softly into the garden, there to await Bridlo's return. In about an hour's time she heard the regular tramp of horse's hoofs, and rushing from her place of concealment she cried out, breathlessly : • Well, Bridle ? What's the news ?' ' Mr Bob be pretty hearty, Miss JDulcie.' pulling the mare up to a standstill, 'and here's a letter for you.' She gavo a little gasp of pleasure. Then she seized* her newly - acquired treasure, and ran off to a quieb seat under

a big apple- fcree in' the kitchen garden, so as fco read its contents in solitude and peace. Ob, how happy she felt ! How happy and how grateful ! Taking up the envelope, she scrutinised it closely, turned it backwards and forwards several times, held it up to the light, — and then kieeed — yep, actually kissed — the handwriting, before preparing to read Bob's note. 'My Own Darling Dui-cte ' (it began, and there terms o£ endearment sent a thrill of pleasure through her frame). — *' You arc such a dear foolish little woman, Ihat T daresay you have been troubling yourself about me. Therefore, as a relief to your swoct, anxious mind. I scrawl these few lines to inform ycui of my still being in the land of the livintr. In fact, after a fair night's res r , I feel very little the worse for yesterday's adventure. 'He— Uncle Deck with — has been most awfully jolly to me. The old chap ii gists on treating me with so much deference and atteni tion that, not being used to such a state of things, I feel quite nervous. " jRy-the by, I hope you did wot catch colrl sitting otiL in that summer house. Shan't you love a summer-house all the rest of your days. Dulcio ? I shall. It was iust as if summer had crept into our hearts, and if we go to a hundred balls we shall nc\ or go to such another. ' Good-bye, my little darling girl. This will seem a very dull, long week without a peep at your pretty facn to cheer mo up ; but I shall live in hopes of ■• ceting, as arranged, on .Saturday, under the old pines on Witherly Coinn-on. Don't forget, and until then, believe me your ovi n true and loving ' 130u.' Was there ever such a letter ? She read and re-read it at least a dozen times, and each time it seemed nicer than the last. Presently she pub it in amonpr the folds of the front of her dves°. Even if she lived to bo a hundred years old, and had fnow white hair, and such palsied hands and sightless eyes that she could neither hold nor read it, she should keep that dear letter. The contents would always remain graven on her heart. The joy within her bosom felt as if it must have some outlet, and quite involuntarily she began singing sweet snatches of lark-like song that were devoid of continuity, time, or tune, yet fraught with delight so pure that even the birds uplifted their voices ; whilst a merry thrush, darting down from a big barberry tree, stood and throstled and piped, fluted and trilled, in envious rivalry. The sun glintei warmly down through the dark shining foliage of the apple - tree, turning its russet fruit into sweet-smelling golden balls, flickering fitfully on the massive twisted trunk, and casting dancing shadows to the gronnd. Even the cabbages, some with bushy green heads, others with bare whito stumps ; the scarlet-runners, whose gay flowers contrasted pleasant'y with their verdant leaves ; and the spiky gooseberry bushes, shorn of their sweettasting fruit, looked beautiful in the golden light. Dulcie, from where she sat, could see the mellow red walls of Milnacot Lodge, and a thin column of hazy smoke rising straight from the kitchen chimney ; she could see the ivy-clad turret adorning the stable tower, with its large old-fashioned dial, and, beyond, a vista of many - shaded woods, of green meadows, yellow cornstripped fields, intersected by dark hedges — the whole hemmed in by a range of purple hills on whose bright shoulders the sun lingered lovingly as he bade them a brilliant farewell. | And even while she looked the scene changed. A great cloud came creeping mysteriously up, and enveloped the setting orb in its dark embrace. At one dash it swept out all the glorious joy-giving colours and glowing tints that illumined the landscape with gorgeous yet harmonious shades, and left everything greyly cold. The wind began to rustle amongst the leaves with a weird premonitory sighing and the trees waved their tall branches restlessly, as if yielding reluctantly to the waves of air now commencing to sweep over their surface. In a few short minutes a sense of oppression seemed to have stolen upon all Nature, leaving her sad and sober. Dulcie shivered. A sudden chill seized her frame, and she realised that it was growing cold. The fiiendly thrush flew away beyond the kitchen wall, satisfied with the ravages he had committed, and leaving dozens of scarlet barberries strewing the brown earth. The apples lost their warm tints and turned a^ ghastly gieen, the old tree faded into a dingy brown, and the glory departed from everything. Then Dulcie took Bob's letter from its resting-place, kissed it, and ran hastily into the house. Ah ! if by fleetness of feet we could but avoid life's many shadows, how swiftly we should run. But, alas ! of what avail are man's puny endeavours ? The dusky Arab is wiser than his Western brother. He bows his head stoically to the will of Allah, and utters a resigned Kismet. He accepts without a murmur the inevitable, neither questioning nor repining at the great Deity's inscrutable decrees. His dumb faith teaches him that all things in this world work together to produce an ultimate good beyond the finite comprehension of man.