CHAPTER Vlll.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 425, 4 December 1889, Page 6

CHAPTER Vlll.

rOKGIVKX Oil— l-OKUOTTKN ? Charley Stuakt ! The original of the pictured faco that lies orer her heart by night and day. Charley — unchanged, calm, hnndsomo, eminently self poeeeseod as ever, looking at hor with grave grey eyes. She turns giddy with tho utter chock of the great sunrise — sho leans for a second heavily ngi^ftst the counter, and looks at him with eyes that cannot boliove what they fee. • Charley !' • Edith ■; Ye*, it is his voice, hie smile, and ho stretches his hand across the counter and tikes her.*. Then she sinks into a scat, and for a moment the store, and the faces, swim about her in a hot mist. But her heart has gi\on ono great glad leap, and she knows she has found what all unconsciously she has been longing for, seeking for — Chai ley ! Ho i? tho first to recover himself-— if indeed ho has lost himself lor an instant — and speak c : 4 This i» a staggerer, 1 he Fays ; ' and yet I don't know that it ahould bo either, since everybody, high and low, who visits New York drops in hero for the necessaries of lifo, sooner or later. I began to think, however, that you must have gono away.' She looks at him. ilo is in no way changed that the can see — tho very same Chailey ot three years before. * You knew I was hero !' she a»ks. ' Certainly, Lady Catheron. I read tho morning papers, and "alicay'i lobk out for distinguished aniyajp. Like the scent ot tho ro*«es, my aristocratic tastes cling to me still. I thougKt^you would hardly en duro a month of Sandypolnt,-— delightful, no doubt, as that thriving township*" is 1 . I don't need to a<sk you how you have been — I can sec for myself you nerer looked bettor.' Ho meets her steady, reproachful gaze with perfect sany-froid. 'You knew I was here, and you would not come to eoe me,' those dark luminous eyes say. His perfeqtly pareles^JgdifVergnt. manner stings her to tho cftiick".*"" 1 Trixy knew f*was here too, of course!' she says in a very low voice. 'No.' Charley answers; 'I don't think she did. / didn't tell her, and lam pretty sure if sho had found it out for herself, her family circle would have heard of it. I greatly doubt even whether she would not have taken the liberty of calling upeforfbu.' She litts her eyes again, with a reproach hor lips will nob speak. ' I have desorved it,' that dart, sad glance says, ' bub you might spare me. 1 1 We were all very sorry to hear of Sir Victor Cabhoron's death,' Charley resumes gravely. * Hammond told us ; ho writes occasionally. Heait disease, wasn't it? — poor fcllon ! I hope Lady Helena I'owysa is quite well ?' ' She is quite well.' Then there is a pause — her heart is full, and he stands there co utterly unmoved, talking common-places, and looking as though even the memory of the past wero dead and buried. As no doubt indeed it if. She hnnalea the gloves sho still holds nervously, fot once in her lifo at a loss. 'Your mother and Tri.x aio well? e«ho says after that pause. 1 Quite well.' She looks up desperately : 'Charley," *he exclaims; 'mayn't I see thorn ? I ha\e wanted to see them so much —to — ' No, her voice breaks, she cannot linish the sentence. ' Certainly you can see them,' Mr Stuart answers promptly ; • they will bo delighted, lam Jruro. They might nob feel at liberty to call upon you, Lady Cathoron, of course, but all tho same they will only be too happy if Lady Catheron will so far honour than. 1 He 4jty,/s,'!b in tho old lazy, plcarant voice, biiit' it is, >quit£> evident ho does nob mean to spare 'her^Kis half-sarcas>tic accent makes her wirice- s»8s »8 though in actual bodily pain. ''XlU'gih'o you -the' address if you like,' he goes 'a|b»,'i*V"* l - o * r ' tno »no*t aristocratic n^ighbourhood r in the world, 1 but it'e perfebtty quiet and safe.' Ho scribbles something in pcijcjl. ' Iforo it is—due east you see, Trfx won't "be home until nevon ; she's at work in a fancy shop in the Sixth Avenue^ you know— no, you don't know of course, I but she is, and I generally call round for her at cloeing-up time. Bufc you'ro s ife to find her at homo any evening you may name, Lady Catheron, after seven p.m.' Sho takos the sMp of paper very humbly — \ery unlike the Edith ho used to know — her lip* quiverirg, as bo can see. 'May 1 go at once?' fho asks in that humble little voice ; • I can't wait. 1 want to eco your mother, and I will ttay until Trixy comes/ ' My mother will be there, and charmed to see you. Of course you can go at once- - why should you hesitate ?•— it's very kind of you and all that. I « ould escort you thero if I could, but unhappily I'm on duty. You'll have no trouble at all in rinding it.' Ho in perfectly cordial — perfectly indifferent. Ho looks at her as ho might look at Mrs Featherbrain herself." Yos, Edith, ib is all over for you ! ' 1 thought you were in California,' sho says as she rises to go ; ' and that Trixy was married. ' 'No, I never left New York, and Trix is pining in single- blessedness still. We are going to alter all that shortly though— for further particulars apply to Trix. Are you going? good-byo, for the prc*et»t, Lady Catheron,' She is out in the bright sunshine, feeling as though she woro in a dream. She summons a hack, and is driven away eastward to the addreas lie has givon her. She finds it — a tall tonement house in a close street, Htuulling of breweries, and she ua-

cdnds 4 long flight oi carpofclois stairs, and ! knocks at a door on the upper landing. It isj opsned, and the well remembered face of Aunb Chafcfcy looks out. ! « Mrs Stuart 1' A darkly-beautiful face is before her, two black gloved hands are outstretched, fc\Vo brown brilliant eyes shine upon her through tears. And Mrs Stuart recoils with a gasp. 1 Oh, dear mo !' Bhe sayß, • it is Edith !' Yen, it is Edith, with tears largo and thick in her ©yea, who kisses the familiar f4co, and who is sitting bosido hor, how Mrs Stuart never knows in her anwe and bewilderment, in the humble little front room. How changed it all is from the splendour of that house in Fifth Avenue. How different this dingy black alpaca dress and rusty widow's cap from the heavy silks and French mill nery of other days. But Aunt Chatty's good, oasy, kindly face te the same. A hundred questions aro asked and an*woicd. Edith tells her how long ehe lnis been in New York, of how only an hour ago she chanced upon Charley, and found out their whereabouts. And now, if Aunt Chatty pleases, she is going to take oft her I bonnet and wait until Beatrix comes home. 'Of course you will wait ! take off your things right awaj\ Dear me ! and it is really our Edith ; won't Trix be surprised and glad. It isn't much of a place this,' says poor Mrs Stuart, glancing about her mofully ; 'nob what you're used to, my dear, but such as it is — ' An impetuous kiss from Edith closes her lips. • Ah hush !' she says ; ' you are in ib— and glad to sec me. 1 ask no more.' ' And you are a widow too, dear child,' Mrs Stuart sighs, touching her black dress compassionately ; cit is very hard —so young, and only ono short year his wife. Captain Hammond told us — he writen to Trixy, you know. Poor Sir Victor, so nice as he was, and that good pleasant Lady Holona. We wore all so sorry. And you, my dear, how have you been Y • Perfectly well,' Edith answers, but she will not talk of hei'sclf. Aunt Chatty must tell hor all about their trouble.* Aunt Chatty tells plaintively, only too glad to pour her borrows into sympathising ears. 'It was very hard at first — dreadfully hard. Poor Mr Stuart died — it was too much for him. Everything was sold — everything — we were left beggars. Work was diflicult to got — then 1 fell ill. Charley was in despair almost— he grew thin and hollow-eyed, the very ghost of himself. All our old friends seemed to drop off, and only Providence sont Nellie Soton along, we might ah have died or gone to the almshouse.' 1 ' Nollie vSeton ?' Edith inquired ; ' who is she ? what did she do ?' ' She was a school friend of Trixy's, in reduced circumstances like ourselves, who came to our succour liko an angel in human form. She got Trix a bituation in a fancy store, she nureed me, and kept me alive on wine and jollies when 1 could touch nothing else. She cheered up Charley and kept him from dying of despair. To iVellie Seton, under Heaven, wo owe it that we aro alive at all. 5 'She is a young lady — this good Miss Seton '(' Edith asks, with a sharp contraction of tho heart. 4 Yes ; about Trixy's age, and wonderfully clever. She writes poetry and gets paid for it, and the prettiest stories for the magazines, and ig quite rich. She is one of the family now almost, — v«ry" likely she will be home presently with Charley and Trix — they're always together. And now, if you will oxcube me, Edith, I'll go and get tea.' She bustles away, and Edith sits in the little parlour alone. And she feels, with a heart like a stone, that what she has lost for ever, this brave, good Nollie Seton has won. Well ! she deserves it ; .«he will try to like her, Edith thinks; but somehow even at the thought, her heart revolts. The old feeling for Mr» Featherbrain, for Lady Gwendoline, tries to come back, in spite of her, for this unseen Miss Seton. She is an altered woman — a better woman, a more unselfish woman, but the old leaven of iniquity is not dead yet. The moments drag on— it is drawing near seven. How will Trixy receive her, she ttonderg. Will she bo genorcus, and forget the past, or will she make her feel it, as her brot/her has done ? Seven. Mrs Stuart has iSet tho table. How odd ib seems to see Aunt Chatty working. The tea ia sending its fragrance through tho little rooms, the buttered toast is made, the cake is cut, tho pink ham is sliced, everything looks nice and inviting. Suddenly ' thcie is tho sound of footsteps on the stairs, of gills' gay tones and sweeb laughter — then the kitchen door flies open, and Ttixy'a well remembered voice is animatedly exclaiming : IMa ! is tea ready ? lam famished and so is Nell. What! the table set in tho parlour in i-tate. Goodness !' Edith risos, white as the dainty Mario Stuart widow's cap she wears — still and beautiful sho stands. She eees Trixy's tall figure, a smaller, slighter young lady be« side her, and Charley standing behind both. Half a minute later Trix sweeps in, sees the motionless figure, and recoils with a bhriek. • Trix !' Edith advances with the word th»t is almost a sob, and Tiixy's -face grows radiant. '.It is !it is ! it is !' She screams, and rushes forward, and catches Edith in a perfect bear'i hug, laughing, crying, and kissing, all in a breath.