The herald., 1896-10-25

| traying her surprisc alike n face and v,iee,
''you surely cannot mean tha;?'
eyes. Mary; Il may as we'll be o: some
use at last. Eettie e good girl. arc you
not, my dear?" patting my head. ''and
don't want Ter to he disappointed"
! I must tell you something Of my dear
aunt's life. that you may understand why
my mother and were touched to surprise.
Twenty years before my aunt, then eighteen
and the belle of Dawlish (some said OF
Devonshire) was engaged to be married to
handsome Gilbert Tresillian. II was a
splendid match In every way, for he was
young rich amiable; he was an orphan,
| untroubled with any undesirable relatives,
and. moreover. he had an ample income
arising from money in the Funds. Gilbert
Tresillan came to stay in Dawlish. where
my grandfather then lived. at the Mill
House, charming old place some four miles
from the town. surrounded by magnificent
gardens, sloping terrace to the sea--gardens
| the admiration of the West Country. The
day before the wedding he spent there, re-
turning In the evening to the Red Lion ct
Dawlieh. My aunt walked with him about
mile through the gardens. where they
parted until the morrow: and from that
| moment Gilbert Tresillian was not seen or
heard Of again: H. disappeared as COM
pletely from mortal ken as though the earth
had opened and swallowed him. The cour-
try was secured. the shore beneath the cliff
was searcbed-but not the slightest trace
| could be found. My poor aunt came near
to die with hraia fever; and when she re-
| covered her beautiful hair was as white aa
snow. My grandfather removed from
place whose ever7 object brought back solns
fearful memory to his daughter, and when,
soon after he diei, Aunt Lettie came ts
| live with us In Cromer. Though only ff4%
tie thing. I recall perfectly the day she
| came, for l thought had never seen any
one 30 sweet and yet go rad. None had
| L. >AAt H. A.1
seen Fer smile; yet she was cheerful al
ways and ready to help every one All this
! happened twenty years ago, and though
| many had sought her hand she was still
truc to the memory Of Gilbert Tresillian.
| During the next few days I could think
and talk Of nothing save the coming mas
querade and Jacks return.
| But be the day never 30 weary or long,
| At length It ringeth to evensong.
| And so at length the eventfu! evening
arrived. Aunt and mother dressed me In
petticoat and train Of loveliest white bro
cade, trimmed with filmy Honiton lace.
: Mother dropped many a furtive tear, re-
! whose romance Of love was cut short in
such a mysterious fashion; but aunt said
never word till was dressed, and then,
turning to my mother she exclaimed:
"She looks better. Mary. than should
have done; and after all. you see. 1t has
|
me powder your hair, Lettie, every one
wore powder when was young"
| At last was ready just as the numbering
| old chariot drew up to the door. With
parting advice from my mother, and strict
injunctions not to damage my precious
dress, I was started. Martha and all the
| maids being gathered in the hall to see me
off. gaping in open-mouthed wonder at my
unwonted splendor. I am an old, old wo-
man now; but when l. close my eyes
perceive every detail, even to the minut-
est, Of that night as II 1t were but yes
terday. The drive to the hall, the hedges
and trees sparkling with frost in the bril-
liant moonlight; the hammer, hammer Of
| the horses hoofs upon the iron-bound
road. The first sight OF the hall as we
drove up the avenue. all It's windows IL
, Illuminated; tie faint sound of the music
came upon the still night; then the entry
into the brilliantly lighted rooms; Sir John
ard Lady Pendarve's hearty welcome
all come back to me now. ! suppose my
| entrance mads sensation I was con-
scious o. Duzx of admiration as passed
| through the assembled guests.
"why, Le.tie my dear" exclaimed Lady
Pendarves, "how beautiful you look. I de-
ciaro your hoops and powder become you
nightly. But come along. child, let me
take you to Jack; he has been asking for
you ever since he came back" And, TAX
ing my hand in her jeweled one. "Lettie.
my dear, If you could
Just at this moment up came Jack major
Pendarves he wns now). looking handsome
in his hussar uniform, yet just the Same
merry, smiling Jack Of old. He was my
partner in the new dance, called the valse,
| Just introduced from abroad-a dance that
my mother did not quite approve, az she
considered It too familiar for young men
amt maidens; but which found very agree
able with Jack for partner.
| well. Lettie, you have grown quite a
J woman now, and suppose have quite for
| gotten your old sweetheart?"
| "Oh. Jack. how can you? have my
i salf here" touching my pocket; ''can yon
say ~ much7'
'sTes. dear, that can. I have never
partsd with Il: II has BEEN with me through
svSry battie-my talismau Of safety and
love-"
wlAt pssl 70 tau again The old story,
ever swest, nat mm Win love to tell and
women to hesr q long a. the World enc
duEvs: su1oe k that ere ~ 1Apce he'd
ended ha4 pgem1ge6 - oe ~ Via.
"oAs jock " I ~, = ~ NJ l1n1iBg -
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