SHORT STORY.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVIII, Issue 81917, 29 January 1907, Page 4

SHORT STORY.

AFTER TWENTY YEARS; OR lUll'l'S MISTAKii. It was a new sensation to Dolly—this perf-tt, beautiful happiness. ' It seemed to her that some wonderful new brightness must have settled down over the world.

And it was only this monring that she had dusted tue old brown dress and tried to brighten it with a fresh collar and pink bow. Only this morning—bcaileliy twelve hours .ago—sfc had pinned on the 'brown hat, with its dejected "droopy'' bows, and wondered if she must walk about tinder it all the summer And now it was all gone, back to that pitiful past.

For at noon a telegram had com" for her. She was eating her lum so daintily put up by Aunt Harriet, when the me?enger-boy came into the little back room of the millinery shop audi handed; her a. telegram. AUd the opening of it was all that lay be tween the old world and the new.

"ItTis all right. Coming tomor' row. ROBERT."

That was all; but oh, the meaning of it! It meant an en dto the years of weary waiting. It meant comfort, and happiness, and rest, and the fulfil ling of countless dreams. It uraint <e\j|/[y thing to the woman who lad waited and waited for her weddingda v .

And it meant th.it an heir had been found at last by the puzzled lawyers and that the fortune of the old Scut tish miser would no longer a-beg-ging for someone to use it. For the miser's will had called for the "son of my friend George Brand," and Ro bert was the fortunate man. Dollv's hands were not quite steady that afternoon, when she fitted one after anothsr of the pretty hats over her cousin Kitty's yellow hair, and Kittv was hard to please. "I'suppose you'll he getting married soon," Kitty said, "now that Robert is a rich man? It's time, if you arc enaged, as people say. But long engagements rarely ever end in marriage, mother says." But it was not of her pretty cou«i» that Dolly thought now, as she lay in the hammock under the low-sproad-ing tree down by the gate. She was resting and thinking of the blessedness of this new world that had formed itself about her—the world that held Robert all iier own, and a home that she would make beautiful for him.

It was twenty years since Robert, Btanding by her under this very tre all in blossom then, and told her the sweet story that every maiden delights to hear. Twenty years! She had been a slip of a girl then, awkwardly conscious of her firßt long dress; and Robert, a boy scarcely olderj than herself, had blushed and stammered over the story that is never easy to tell. And than his father had died, ami his mothers and' sisters; audi, later on, a family of little orphaned no phews and nieces had been left to him.

Dolly was the first to say that they must wait. She could see how impossible it would be for Robeit to tak; cave of them all. He worked bravely on, and the waiting had gone on. But there had always been the love that bound them to each other. It seemed to her that the very leaves knew and trembled, as she did. with joy, and the stars twinkled down between t'nem, as if they, too, knew all about it. .

The clock struck ten, and Ratty and Ben came in iurni the village; e'ub. They STwaya lingered a little at the gate, as the manner of lovers is, you know. Dolly smiled as the soft murmur of their voices came to her. She wondered if the poor young tilings would ever be as happy as she was. And then, as they walked slowly up the path, remarked, in his elegant way, and Patty replied, mournfully. "Ah. yes. How sorry lam fori Dolly. Poor, faithful, loving Dolly!" "Sorry! Why, isn't she in it? 1 thought they were " "Why, Ben." Patt broke in, with a tremble in her little babvish voice,

"can't you see that Dolly is only a faded, middle aged woman now, while Robert is in his prime, and so handsome? And haven't you noticed how he admires Kitty? It was all well enough when he couldn't marry, but now "

But the words were indistinct again Dolly heard no more.

She had risen from the hammock, and was standing, white and still. The stars were mocking her now, an I the breezes were whispering of the twenty years that had rolled over her, carrying the freshness away. Then Doliy crept up to her room. "And I would have let him do it! I would never have thought of the change. Oil the shame, the liumiia tion of it! To think that 1, a faded, middle-aged woman, would have held him to the promise made to a young giri twenty long years ago! He was too true and noble to let me know, too tender to hurt me! If only I had seen? It is all so different with women; but I never thought of it before. It would not matter to me how Robert might be. I'd love him all the more, if he needed more. But he is so handsome—and he must have a young, pretty wife. It is best. I see that—best for Robert and for me; for I couldn't bear to have him sorry or—or ashamed. He mustn't be ashamed of his—wife, dear, faithful Robert. He niuso be happy, now that the world is brighter for him. I can bear it—for him.

And then she wrote a letter, and when it was finished she knelt by her bedside; and the stars .twinkled in and the breezes fanned her pule, calm face. Faded! Oh, the. beauty of it as she knelt there giving up all she held dear. What are dimples and aK fresh prettiness to a beauty like that? You only get to the soul'after these are gone.

In the morning, before any of tiie household were awake, she took the letter and carried it out to the post; and then Bhc went to the hammock under the tree, and watched the sun rise at the end of the street.

Presently the gate-latch clicked, and then a pair of strong arms folded thefaselves about lier anil lj-'r head was on Robert's broad shoulder, and he was telling her how ho had longed for her, and what an age the last week had been.

"l'ou would have been sorry for me Doll}}," he was saying; "for in my hurry in getting oil' I left your last photograph in the pocket of' my coat J'd been wearing, and there was only the childish little thing taken twenty years ago! Forgive rue, deajj but it's more, like your silly little cousin Kitty than like you. There don't be vexed—l know you arc not very like her now; but, 'between you and me, I believe you were in those first days, though it is hard to think of my beautiful fullblown rose as anything less lovely and sweet than she is now. But you will soon be my very own, Dolly, and I shan't be missing a photograph, when 1 have you." Dolly drew her breath. She was in tire new world again. "Do you really want me, Robert?'' She asked, a glad light in her darkblue eyes.

"I'll show you pretty soon. Want you? 0 Dolly;" and then he wont on, laughing happily as he told her of his plan. Then the bjeakfast-bell rang, and Dolly went in to tell them that her wedding day was come.