AFTER SEVEN YEARS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 2611, 7 August 1876, Page 3

AFTER SEVEN YEARS.

(By Frcmcst Lovett, in the Dankury News.) (Oonoluded.)

When the time came Dorothy *as only too glad ti go. The place had little obarmfor her now, and the sight of the sea on a stormy day filled her with disquiet as she thought of one who at that moment perhaps wm in a tossing ship— her vivid imagination picturing him, his face worn with anxiety, thinking of her— bis faithful little friend! While the reality ? Well, Sane, though he did reccll the little whit a face, and felt sadly enough sometimes that m leaving it bo had left all that loved him best in the world, did not by any means refrain from such few alleviations of his affliction aa were offered him on board that weary troop ship on a smooth day— and on a rough one, who would wish to pry into the disquiet of hit soul P

Seven years passed, and Folkestone was very full. Every one was out to tee and be seen; women and men jostled each other along the crowded asphf't pathway. Abend was playing in the gardens near; and Dorothy Alston, trim, and dainty to look upon, paused to listen to it at the urgent request of a little child she was leading by the hand. Ohanoe or destiny, in the shape of a plague of whooping-cough among the small sops and daughters of her eldest sister, the wife of a ourate in the North, had been the indirect cause of her revisiting her former haunts. Mrs Everest, kpd'hearted as ever, had come to the rescue of the affliotsd mother of eleven olive-branches, and, having token oharge of the puniest speoimen, acted on the advice of her ouiieal man, and brought little Nessie to Folkestone to see what fresh breesee would do for her. Dorothy had warmly supported the doctors opinion. Never since that eventful summer had she revisited her old haunts. Now, the unfoTgotten prophecy ringing in her ears, she would fain test the truth of it, fain seek the appointed trysting-plece. Haply th# same longing whioh was burning in her might eater Clement's soul, and he top, pbeying the call of fate, might, in the well-remembered spot, meet his true love " ©ace again/' •; ■• During a month of waiting, Dorothy heard no news of Clement Bine. Hope had, aft bat j died within her breast, wJWr^j^^***!; at last on whioh seven years "tefbre ne but worusTand thought how, in spite of ell their sadnen, he had felt the hope tf a brighter

I future rising through the gloom of tfeeMmeat, Still, though her heart wm eore, duties rfKBl be done ; and Nessie's daflj walk on the Law always fell to her young aunt's share, so tbey mingled with the throng. Ifee child found her patient listener lea* attentive than usuaL In fact, Dorothy bad no room in her thoughts for aaght:Mt a> supreme longing for a glimpse of CUtbaaft face— only a glimpse of it. He was all tbe world to her, and he had been ao long away. Presently she raised her eyes to whan • group of people were staadiof wafetfa* tte f asMisappearing Boulone boat. She started and looked again. Sorely she could alts* mistaken in the tall, dark-haired meawJaft** standing a little apart from the- real, engaged m lighting a cigar, his back to the passou. B till more intently she pied, her fao* growing pale beneath her iti), Kcsne'e efafidiah prattle unheard and unanswered. Tf, there stood the hero of her girlhood, flaw* dening her eyes once again ; end sorely that was one of bis favourite songs that the band was playing? Lore me once again, Meet me once again; Old lore is awaking, Shall it wake ia rain? As the refrain died away the tall figure turned, and Clement Sane— for ho it was— found himself face to face with Dorothy Alston. They had neither of them forgotten old times. He had been very faithful, after a man-like fashion, to the old remembrance, and she— could she ever forget the lore which wae the crown and the sorrow of her life ? Sfleat, arenas when they parted, they stood fora, few moments together now. Shall it wake in rain? the music repeated, Dorothy'* heart echoed the question back to her ; aod then— well, the) Lees at four-thirty on a summer afternoon was not the place for leader passages, ao bo broke silence — oh, pathos ! — by remarking- " It is a long time since we bare mat.*' "Seren yean," she answered almost shandy —she bad counted those weary days of wait* ing too of en not to be able to fill vpthe measure of their length at once. "Have you never been in England sine* that summer ?" " No— what should I hare done hen ? I had no home to go to, except my poor uncle'* It was his death brought me orer now. (Che old man has made me his heir, and I bad to get leave to come and settle matters at once. Until to-day I hare been poring orer titledeeds and law papers ; but I nude up my mind at all hazards to come hem for this day — partly because I wanted some fresh air toset me up after the worries of entering upon my inheritance, and partly because I wanted to see if any of my old friends were hero still, and would remember me. But how ia Mrs Everest? May I come and see her ? " Please do. Auntie will be very glad. " At the old time ?" "Whenever you like," she answered, her faee flushing up. "We are in the earn* boose in Royal Terrace which we had befoW 11 1 remember," he said ; and titan, tenting abruptly to Nessie, " Whose child is that ?" " My sister's youngest one,* replied Bom* thy, a half -smile on her lips as she wondered if he imagined Ressie was a daughter of ban, and she no longer Miss Alston. ■■ - ' \ " Do you ever take her along the lower roan to Sandgate ?" he asked. "Fever." she said, decidedly. M I haw not been there for ages — never alone since that day— but yon won't remember it perhaps when I first saw you." * " " I have a very good memory, Miss Alston. Why should you suppose I forget tangs ?** "I— l don't know. It is so long ago." Dollie was growing crimton under hit steady gase. Captain Kane stopped short. " I must leave you now," he ••id-—* 1 1 am dining in camp ; but may I come in to-night and see you ? Your aunt wont mind. It m so long since we bate met, and I should like to hare a talk with yon again. Am rteoir then. Good-bye, little one, to Neuie,who was staring, open-mouthed, at the big,ujdy man " auntie Dollie " seemed so pleasea wwh. Dorothy flsd home to tell the good tidings. "He is come!" was all she said, but Mra Everest needed no other explanation. The light on her darling's face told her who " he" was better than Tolumes of words j and with happy tears she thanked Heaven that hex favourite's sorrow was orer. Meanwhile Dorothy, alone in her room, was rejoicing ia her new-found joy. "He has come be*!" she said, over and over actin— come bcs ? % she knew, to her $ while erer in her ear* raa the refrain — ~ Lore me once again, Meet me onoe again ; Old love is awaking, with the last lice altered to suit her own pleasureIt shall not wake in Tain. With a feeling that where her souow had come upon her she would await the coming bliss, she again took her station on the balcony, and gazed ou upon jiut such anoder night as that pictured dimly in hex memdky. As in a dream still, she heard the dear rdSe speaking to Mrs Everest when be ease to, tilling her of bis sudden return, and aekng where Mies Alston was. "In the baleony," said Mrs Everest. "She sits there every evening ; you can go and find her if you i ; ke." She felt he was comiag now. In another moment he was at her side. " Dorothy," he said, " little friend, have yon forgotten your promise to me, made in tha place seven years ago? You see »y superstition has come true ! I felt that h would, and that I should find my darling where I left her. Will you bemy friend still— the dearest and truest that man can have? Dorothy, I want you for my wife. Won't yott coaje to me ? Ob, love, when I left yon it wm ao bard to go. But I could not drag you down f)|h« poverty that was my lot then. Bowi&lee have come to me, little one, will you share them with me?" i Lovingly she turned toward him, her bands outstretched, a grateful thankfulness I taming in her face. * , " Yours always, Clement !" she answered, aa she laid her head on his shoulder and felt b*a first kiu on her lips,