CHAPTER XII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 427, 11 December 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER XII.

THE MORNING. They tnighb hope ? The night had passed, the morning had come, and she still lived. You would hardly have thought so to look at her as she lay, deathly white, deathly still. But as the day broke she had awakened from a long sleep, the most natural and refreshing she had known for weeks, and looked up into the pale anxious face of Trix with the faint shadow of a. smile. Then fehe eyelids swayed and closed in sleep once more, bub she had recognised Trix for the iirst time in days — the crisis was over ■ and hope had come. They would not let her see him. Only while she slept would they allow him now to enter her room. But it was easily borne — Edith was nob to die, and Heaven and his own grateful happy heart only knew how infinitely blessed he was in that knowledge. After the long bitter night — after the darkness and the pain, light and morning had come. Edith would live — all was said in that. , ' There are some remedies that are either I kill or cure in their action,' bhe old doctor said, giving Charley a facetious poke. c Your marriage was one of them, young man. I thought it was Kill -it burns out it was'Curo.' For many days no memory of the past returned to her, her existence was as the ex stence of a new-born babe, spent alternately in taking food and sleep. Food she took with eager avidity after her long star vabionand then sank back again into profound, refreshing slumber. ♦Let her* sleep,' said the doctor, with a complacent nod ; * the more the better. It's Nature's way of repairing damages.' There came a day at last when thought and recollection began to struggle back — when she had strength to lie awake and think. More than once Trix caught the dark eyes fixed in silent wustfulness upon her— a question in them her lips would not ask. But Miss Stuart guessed it, and one day spoke : • What is it, Dibhy ?' she said ; * you look as if you wanted to say something, you know.' • How — how long have I been sick ?' was Edith's question. • Nearly five weeks, and an awful life you've led us, I can tell you ! Look at me — worn bo skin and bone. What do you

suppose you will have to say for yourself when Angus comes ?' Edibh smiled faintly, but her eyes sfcill kepb their wistful look. • T suppose I was delirious part of the time, Trixy ?' • Stark, staring crazy — raving like a lunatic at full moon ! But you needn't look so concerned about it— we've changed all that. You'll do now.' ' Yes,' she said with a sigh ; ' you have all been very kind! I suppose it's only a fancy of the fever after all.' • What ?' 'I — Trixy! don't laugh at me, bub I thought Charley was here.' ' Did you ?' responded Trix ; ' the moat natural thing: in life. He is here.' Her eyes lighted — her lips parted — a question trembled upon them, but she hesitated. ' Go on,' said Miss Stuart, enjoying it all ; ' there's something else on your mind. Speak up, Edie ! don't be ashamed of yourself.' 'lam afraid 1 you will laugh this time, Trixy — I know it is only a dream, but I j thought Charley and I were—' ' Yes,' said Trixy ; ' were — what ?' ' Married, then !' with a faint, little laugh. ' Don't tell him, please, bub it seems —it seems so real, I had to tell you.' She turned her face away, and Trixy, with suspicious dimness in her eyes, stooped down and kissed that; thin, wan face. • You poor little Dithy !' she said ; c you do like Chailey, don't you ? no, it's not a dream — you were married nearly a fortnight ag0. ... The hope of my life is realised — you are my sifter, and Charley's wife !' There was a little panting cry — then she covered her face with hei hands and still. 'He is outside,' went on Trix ; ' you don't know what a good boy he has been — so patient — and all that. He deserves some reward. I think if you had died he would have died too — Lord Lovel and Lady Nancy over again. Not that I much believe in broken hearts where men are concerned, either,' pursued Trix, growing cynical; 'but this seems an exceptional case. He's awfully fond of you, Dithy ; 'pon my word he is. I only hope Angus may go off in a dead faint the first time I'm sick and get better, as he did the other day. We haven't let him in much lately, for fear of agitating you, but I think,' says Trixy, with twinkling eyes, ' you could stand it now — couldn't you, Mrs Stuart ?' She did not wait for a reply — she went out and hunted up Charley. He was smoking downstairs, and trying to read tbo morning paper. ' Your wife wants you,' said Miss Stuart brusquely ; 'go I only mind this — don't stay too long, and don't talk too much/ He started to his feet —away went- ' Trib jne ' and cigar, and up the stairs sprang Charley— half a dozen at a time. And then Miss Stuart sits down, throws her handkerchief over her face, and for the next five minutes indulges in the exclusively feminine luxury of a real good cry. After that Mrs Charles Stuart's ie" covery was perfectly magical in its rapidity. Youth and splendid vitality, no doubt, had something to do with it, but I think the fact thab she was Mrs Charles Stuart had more to do still. There came a day when, propped up with pillows, she could sit erect and talk, and be talked to as much as she chose, when blinds were pulled up, and sunshine poured in ; and no sunshine that ever shone was half so bright as her happy face. There came still another day, when robed in a pretty pink morning dress, Charley lifted her in his arms and carried her to the arm-chair by the window, whence she could look down on the bright, busy city street, whilst he sat at her feeb and balked. Talked ! who is to tell of what? ' Two souls with but a single thought — two hearts that beat as one,' generally find onough to say for themselves, I notice, and require the aid of no outsiders. And there came still another day — a fortnight after, when looking pale and sweet, in a dark-grey travelling suit and hab, Mrs Charles Stuarb, leaning on her husband's arm, said good-bye to her friends, and started on her bridal tour. They were to spend the nexb three weeks South, and then return for Trixy's wedding at Christmas. Chi-istmas came ; merry Christmas spaikling with snow and sunshine, as Christmas ever should sparkle, and bringing thab gallanb ex -officer of Scobch Greys, Cap bain Angus Hammond — captain no longer — plain Mr Hammond, done with drilling and duty, and getting the route forever, going in for quiet, country life in bonnio Scotland, with Miss Beatrix Stuart for aider and abettor. Charley and his wife came to New York for the wedding. They had told Mr Hammond how ill Edith had been, but the young Scotchman, as he pulled his ginger whiskers and stared, in her radiant, blooming face, found it difficult indeed to realise. She had been a pretty girl — a handsome woman — happiness had made her more ■•— she was lovely now. For Charley— outwardly all his easy insouciance had returned — he submitted to be idolised and made much of by his wife, after the fashion of lordly man. But you had onty to see him look once into her beautiful, laughing face, to know how passionately she was beloved. Mr and Mrs Angus Hammond had a splendid wedding ; and to say our Trixy looked charming would be doing her no sort of justice. And again Miss Seton was first bridesmaid, and Mrs Stuart in lavender silk, sniffed behind a fifty dollar pocket handkerchief, as in duty bound. They departed immediately after the ceremony for Scotland, and a Continental tour — that very tour which, as you know, Tiixy was cheated so cruelly out of thi-ee years before. Mr and Mrs Stuart went back South to finish the winter and tho honeymoon among the glades of Florida, and ' do,' as Charley said, 'Love among the Roses.' Mr Darrell returned to Sandypoint. Mrs Stuart, senior, took up her abode wibh Nellie Seton, pending such time as her children should get over the first delirium of matrimonial bliss and settle quietly down to housekeeping. After that it was fixed thab she was to divide her time equally between them, six months wibh each. Charley and his wife would make England their home ; Edith's ample fortune lay there, and both loved the fair old land. In May they sailed for England. They would spend the whole of the summer in Continental travelling — the pleasant ramb ling life suited them well. But they went down to Cheshire first ; and one soft May afternoon stood side by side in the old Gothicchurch where the Catherons for generations had been buried. The mellow light came softly through the painted windows — up in the organ loft, a young girl sat playing to herself soft, sweet, solemn melodies. And both hearts bowed down in tender sadness as they stood before one tomb, the last erected within those walls, that of Sir Victor Catheron. Edith pulled her veil over her face — the only tears that had filled her eyes since her second wedding-day falling quietly now. There were many remembrances of the dead man. A beautiful memorial window, a sombre hatchment, and a monument of j snow-white marble. It was very simple |

—it represented only a broken shaft, and beneath 1 in gold letters this inscription :

Sacred to tiie Memohy of SIR VICTOR CATHERON", of Oatheron Royal s Bart. Died Oct. 3, 1867, in'thc24th'yearof 'his ago, ' His sun set while it was iiet day.' [The End.]