"ZELITA"

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11162, 7 September 1899, Page 3

"ZELITA"

A, BRIGHT little boudoir where the pap# of pen-green and gold harmonised with the trails of ivy that fills the window, and the go'dea javelins of the level February sunshine; a table heaped with books and magazines noodle eases and embroidery; an open pi» n o, and a grate that might have been alive with red jewels, bo genial was its glow—iliee Murray's room was the very casket for such a pretty gem as herself. She sat there, with sunshine turning I'M bright hair to threads of wavy gold, and her blue eyes raised to Momford Almy's fjee— just such a lovely girl as any man might lave gloried to call his betrothed. Monford Almy did feel proud; so would you, reader, could you have stood in his place. He had just come in, with a flush of he'lthy red on his generally pr.lo cheeks, and agio* in his dark eyes that made him look unusually handsome. "Reading, Alice, or sewing?" he isked, playfully retaining the soft, white lily-leaf if a hand in his, as he greeted her. "Moll, I'm afraid I must plead gully to a little of both, Momford." "The new novel," he raid, glancing down, at a publication that lay upon a table. " Are you as enthusiastic an admirer of ' Zclta* as the rest of the literary world? - ' "Do you like it, Momford?" " I think it is splendidly written-by a woman, of course "Why, of course, Momford?" 11 Because nono but a woman can touch the chords of human nature as that aitlior's pen has done." " Then you don't know who the autlpr is?" ' No nor do I wish to." " Why?" " Because, my jet, I never could endure a literary woman. They're all alike, '.ml all intolerable to me. I'll wager my mibroideied cigar-case cgainst your engagement ring that tho author of ' Zclita' is 9 great, masculine creature, like a Norway piie—that is, if she isn't an old maid, shivering down to the likeness of a Scotch herring." " Momford !" " I'm in earnest, my little white ro*. But now. let's talk of our own affairs, md let ' Zelita' alone, I havo brought pu bad news, Alice." She smiled. "It cannot bo anything very bad, Momford, since you are here to tell it to me." " Ah! but it is bad, Alice—bad erough to cast a shadow over a whole year of my lite. Listen, dearest. You know wo wee to bo married next month—" Yes, Momford." "We must- wait another year, /lice- 1 cm only a briefless young lawyer, and tho money I had scraped together to mike a cosy little nest for my bird is gone." " Gone!" " Don't ask me how, dearest. Ton know how reckless my brother is, and low easily ha succumbs to tho influence of tmiptation. I need only tell you it was to save his name from stain, and my mother's heart- fam brookins-" ice's hand closed with a, tendir press in lier lover's. "Was it much, Momford?" " No, not much, as the world view's things; tQ me, no inconsiderable sum. Two hundred pounds takes mo a long timi to amass, Alice." " And we could be married if yiu had two hundred pounds?" " Precisely. And as I haven't, at present, much more than two hundred peine, we must wait. My dearest, arc you sorry tint you engaged yourself to a poverty-striefcn sprig of the law?" Alice's upraised eyes brought a thrill of glad conviction into Almy's breas. She was sitting at her work tin next evening, singing a little Italian eanzoietta to herself, when Momford camo into the room, with a face brighter than any simmer dream. " Alice, my dearest, tho fairie havo been at work in our behalf." " Tho fairies, Momford?" " Sco what I found in my letter-box, sealed up in a blank envelope!" _ "Two hundred pound notes— it not? Exactly that. Something t' build our nest with, birdie! We can I*3 Hurried yet on the appointed day. But who en have sent it? Is it possible there is no instate!" "How can there be a mistab, Momford? Your namo is plain enough on fie superscription?" Then the days of fairy giftiore not over, Alice! Why don't you say southing? Are you not glad?" " Very glad, Momford! —only it seems so strange!" "Strange enough, dear! Ithought that I was dreaming at first, but a dream hardly lasts like this. Is tho wnddiq; dress ready, Alice?—for I shall claim my Title wife very, very soon?" " She is ready for you, Momford," said Alice Murray, softly, with tie fresh carnations blossoming rosily out on her round cheeks. So the wedding-day came-i bright bit of blue sky and March sunshin, prophetic of coming April violets and golen daffodils! _ " Momford," said Alice, ihen the marriage was over, and she was Ms. Almy, sitting at home, beside her husbarl's fireside, " I have a confession to make t. you." "A confession! Why, w.at a blushing, guilty little rosebud of a wit it is! Confess, then. I'm quite ready to abslve you." ".Well, then, have you eve found out who sent that money?" " No." " I sent it. Momford?" "You did? And where n earth did you get it, Alice?" " I wrote a book, dearest" Momford Almy was gettig more and more perplexed. " What book, Alice?" ' ' Zclita,' " she murmurd, hanging down her pretty head, to hide the blushes that would come. "You are lot frightened to think you have married a Iterary wife, Momford?" "Frightened! and at you, my lit"'a zephyr of a woman!" He took her in his arms with tender fondness. ''No, I am lint frigiitnncf; for you are neither a great masculine Norway pine, nor a shivered Scotch herrin; of an old lrai 1. You are my precious wife" So Alice Almv'i confesion found favour in her husband's eves; arl "Zclita" was I lie first and last secret she eer held from Momford