"Pretty Penelope,"

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 25 August 1913, Page 2

"Pretty Penelope,"

(OUR >--HsAL

By fcfiie Adelaide Rowlands, Author of "A Girl's Kingdom," "A riplendid Man," "The Interloper," "A Kinsman's Sin," "Brave Barbara," eto. s

('.HAPTKR XXV.—Continued

"I don't know where to begin," exclaimed Daphne. "I feel I have so much to say to you, Penelope. How long is it since we met? A century, it ■seems to me. You know Harold is quite jealous of you; he says I think far more about you than I do about him. How is Doctor Westall? What is this neww about Lucy's baby? Are yon .really going to have charge of it? But, oh," Penelope, you don't mean you are going to leave town immediately? You can't <my dear; you shan't. Having once got you up 'here, I smi going to keep you. Where are your clothes? Let us pack them al once.."

Penelope laughed almost with a touch of her old brightness. "Dear Daphne, you are as whirlwindy'..as ever; but, you see, I can't slay with you for the moment. Baby .*ii ust go to the sea. She is such an angel; you will love her.'-' "I shall not love her if she takes yon away," observed Mrs de Burgh truculently. All the same, she lost her heart immediately to the fairylike little creature who was brought in for inspection, clinging to her dusky, picturesque ayah, and looking like a. spirit from another world. "Liioie has nearly broken her heart parting 1 with her; but I think she is right;! the little one is so delicate. Is die not an angel, Daphne?"* Daph.no enthusiastically'agreed, and when she saw what pleasure the tiny creature gave to her friend she xer jjoiced in its arrival, "Who.goes with you to the sea, and where are you going?" she asked, as the child atid nurse disappeared. "To Waveston." Penelope was busying herself tidying the papers on the* table. She was angry with herself for that sudden tremor of her hands, and that quick rush of blood to her face. Would she never grow ■strong enough-to speak even a simple word like that without betraying how much it cost her to do so? "Lucie has chosen the place, subservient, of course, to Doctor WestalPs consent. A*. Uncle George declares it is the finest air in the: world, I suppose we are right to go there.'" "Let me see,': Daphne isaid, apparently examining some pictures, in reality looking keenly at Penelope, and marvelling as she did so at the increased charm of the girl. "Let me see, you were there three or four years ago, weren't you, Pen?" Penelope said "Yes," very quietly; "it is a pretty place," she added. "My dear dead' mother was so happy W% remember she told me," Daphne said absently.

"Waveston is a wonderful place," Doctor Westell said. He was lying full-length on the beach, with tihe little child from India seated on his chest, laughing gleefully into his deep set kindly eyes "One can positively see the health grow on this baby." "She certainly does look better," said Penelope. * "I must hayo her picture taken and sent to Lucie —poor Lucie, she does miss her!" "Is that a letter fro:.n her?" the doctor inquired. "No; ono from Mrs Warriner; ishe tells mo Philip/Gregory is engaged, and will be married immediately."

" Nice young fellow—his . brain's thtriight place!" Doctor Westall stared at the sky above him, and then at the ayah, seated a little way apart, sewing the while and crooning a lullaby to herself. "Where did that letter come from?" he asked, ,itehe fixed his eyes on the girl. 5 "This letter? . Oh, .that is from \A.unt Julia —her rheumatism —" "I know all about Mrs Rochdale's rheumatism* thank you," was<Doctor Westall's somewhat rude remark. '"I did not" mean that letter j I meant that " pointing to a third envelope. "Ais I live, I believe it is from that chap Denis!" "Well?" inquired Penelope, with all her old, defiant imperiousness; "what.if it is?" "Another letter! Ye gods! And you : had two letters yesterday, and a telegram, and he is coming down here this morning as fast as the train can bring him!" i "You are a nasty old,man!" Penelope declared, throwing a pebble at him; "isn't he, baby? . I believe you are jealous because nobody writes to you!" . ■ * ■ ■ "I am jealous, furiously. Pen, will you forget your old Uncle ■George when you are mistress of Latiinar Court?" "Now, for that," Penelope said, and she roused herself to deal some terrible .punishment; but at that moment a whistle sounded out clearly behind them, and her face grew suddenly rosy. "I think'that is Denis," she said, gathering up her letters. "Think—is a good guess," Doctor Westall remarked. "Now, run along and kiss him." "Uncle George, you are —" "What is lie, Pen?" inquired Denis' voice—Denis' voice of three years before, full, hearty, joyous, happy. "He is a .miserable man!!" Penelope said, with an attempt at a withering glance from her beautiful blue eyes; but with her liana in tluit istrong one, with the joy of her dear one's presence, with the illimitable happiness come to her at last, Penelope, could not even pretend to be anything but' what her smiling lips and eyes proclaimed her to be. They walked by and by, she and Denis, down to the edge of the waves. Doctor Westall lay and watched them under his bushy eyebrows, "Thank God!" he muttered to himself, as,his eyes rested on Penelope's love-illumined face. "Thank God, I can see her happy at last." They stood by the small, white-

frothed, rippling waves, and their \ hands clung together and their eyes spoke all that there was to say. They were silent as yet in their great happiness; but with such deep, such tried, such love as theirs, silence was more eloquent than speech. JJhey loved, they had loved in a time of darkest misery—now the sunshine of the greatest earthly bliss was shining before them. They would live on through all the changes a mortal life can bring, through shadow, perchance, as shine, strong in their mutual faith, grateful to their last hour for the good that had been vouchsafed them ; forgetting the old story of sorrow and mistake in the happiness which ' had co-no to them. The End.