Of Course.

Evening Post, Volume XLVII, Issue 88, 14 April 1894, Page 1 (Supplement)

Of Course.

"It was awfully sad, Jemima!" said Lily. Jemima put down her plain needlework — Jemima rarely did embroidery — and nodded"Very," she answered. "You were such a child at the time that you can't remember much about it. But if ever two people loved each other in this world, Harold and Dora did. It was cruel." " She was your favourite sister, wasn't she P" " I think she was," said Jemima. "You were almost a baby, you know, and she was the nearest my own age." Lily tossed her novel on the table — Lily rarely inclined to sewing— and crossed her pretty hands in her lap. "Tell me about it," she said, peremptorily. " Love stories from life are much more thrilling than made-up ones. We were all rich then, and Dora was beautiful, and you, Jemima, were the same old dear that you are now — go on." "We were all "rich," murmured the elder girl, obediently. "It was twelve jears ago, and I was twenty- three." " Only twenty-three ? Of tourse — and yet, do you know, you seemed quite as old to me in those Jays, too." " Some of us are born old," said Jemima, with a little pain in her voice. "I am one of them, I suppose. I was twenty -three, and Dora was the age that you are now — twenty-one, and quite as lovely. If you want to know how she looked, go to the mirror — she had just your face." Lily smiled. We are vain at one and twenty, and a heroine who looks like us is interesting. "Do get on !" she said, cdmplacently. "We did not see many men, although wo were well off," pursued the other. "The town was a very quiet one, and father was ailing already. Ido not remember tho reason of Harold Ainslie coming there, but I know that he came one day, and that lie made many visits afterwards. Dora was away, staying with some people, so that at first he did not meet her. He only saw me and you." " I wonder," said the listener, " that it wasn't with you he fell in love. You must have been pretty onco !" There was a knot in Jemima's cotton, which stopped her speech a moment. She bent her head over it. " There never was a man like him," she, continued; "he was popular with everyone. And not what is railed a ' ladies' man' — not a fop, but a real manly man. His eyo3 were grey, and he carried himself lika a soldier, and his voice— everybody noticed his voice —it was so grave and tender. He was in a business houso at quite a small salary ; but you would nevor havo guessed that he was in commerce to look at him. As I said, he bad the air of a soldier." " I should have liked Harold," said Lily, meditatively. " I wonder if ho has changed ?" " When Dora came home, he fell in love with her at once, And she with him. They used to go out walking together while his holiday lasted ; and he useij to bring her songs, and practice her accompaniments. On one pretence or another they were together all the time. I shall never forget the night she told me. that he had asked h*r to be his wife, and further that he had been offered and had accepted a post abroad — who could dissuade him from accepting it? Not I, certainly. I said — ' Go, and trust me to look after pora iv yonrabsencc' He called me hjs 'sister,' and kissed my forehead " " Don't keep stopping," bagged Lily. "And sailed a njonjih later to make a fortune and win a wife. Don't stir the fire, Lily ; my head aches !" "It's so dark." " It was dark for Dora — those first woeks after he sailed, and no letters 'could come from him. But then news arrived from him ; he was well and contented. He thought there was a big opening in the firm where he was. 'Be patient,' he wrote, f and in a little while I shall be ably to ask fon to come out and marry me, my darling.' 3he had just been taken ill when that letter came. By the ne*t majl she was lead." The fire shot up into a sudden flame. Jemima's eyes were humid, and Lily was listening with an attentive smile. " I wrote and told him — I have his inswer now. I wrote him in reply, and so> the correspondence began betweon us— the jorrespondeuce that has lasted more than zlbvbu years. The grief died out of bis letters by degrpes, but he never forgot us. He has never married, and he always Bent his remembrances to you— 'the baby,' as we used to call you when he went away. Each step that he had taken I have heard of ; as he built his fortune, so I know." _ "And now he is coming home— a rich man," Lily murmured. "Jemima, do you know what would be the most natural thing in the world r" ' ' What ?' ' asked Jemima. " That you should become man and wife, a.nd have a carriage and pair, and take me driving in the park." "Don't 1 ." exclaimed Jemima, with a curious kind of Jaugh. "Do you mind, dear, if 1 take my needlework and finish it in the next room ? It makes such a litter here." There were two persons in the Bhabby parlour again, but one of them was Harold Ainslie. " You really knew me ?" asked the man. "You aren't so changed," replied the woman. He laughed, ruefully. "Yen have got used to me. by now, Jemima. Bf.y hair is grey— l feel different. Think what a long time }t is J" "Yes," $aid Jemima, '■' it J8 » long time!" " India takes it out of one. It makes England seem queer when one is back. The ' Harold ' who wont away, and the ' Harold ' who has returned— what a gap between tk^oin.'* " It changes us fn some things," said the woman, thoughtfully. "We are all older, of course." " I should have known you," fee said "I knew you at onco ; it was your sister that made me teel like Methuselah. She was a rhild, and now she reminds me of what I am anxious to forget." ."A man's ag* is nothing— he is ax old as Ke feel*.*' " Methuselah— J said it ! "When his f^eliujru aren't absurd!" Jemima added. "Whpu ypii have been home biz months, instead of two, you will have grown acclimatised." Harold Ainslie looked at her meditatively, and pulled his long moustache. " Are you as good a friend to me as ejrer ?" he asked. _ " 1 hopp so," she said. "Remember, once you were a eery good friend— my adviser , you were going to be my swter. We wero fund of each other, Jemima." Jemima nodded. "Ara you willing to like me as much again, to be as much to me ? I have something to ask you, and I am afraid." The woman's face was pale. "Is it about Lily ? ' bhe said, slowly. "Yes," he answered, "it, is about Lily. She is a great deal younger than I am, and it seems feajt wrong. If you think so ?' ' "What does shf think?" inquired Jemima. " Bhe thinks she loves me, Jfepll^ Mr : Ainslie ; " she thinks the disparity may be condoned. I said I would ask your consen this evening ; aud tbat is why she is not hero, and that is why I have come. Jemima, she is like Dora, come back to welcome me. Will you let mo take her ?" There was & moment's sileiice. Both lookfli out at ihe d».r\euing street in reverie. It was very quiet. Only the steps of the lamp- lighter beat on the stillness as he pursued his "round," and in the violet twilight the gas jets sprang redly into life. The door-bell jangled, announcing Lily's return. Her feet ran gaily up the stain.

" Will you let me take her?" the man repeated. Jemima gave him her hand. " And it ia all *o lovely, Jemima," said Lily, with a laugh of joy. "It seems like Providence, doesn't it? He will be your brother, after all, just as you used to wi D h."— The World.