The Quest of Happy Hearts | Page 9

too, dearly loved the story hour.
The quiet moment seemed to have at last arrived, as they all gathered together on the broad veranda, in the twilight.
The old lady smiled. "A story of long ago! It seems I shall hardly know just where to begin; in the long ago, there used to be merry parties, but--" just there she paused, and linked it up with the present--"now since you young people have come, it seems more as it did then."
Aunt Janice's face was thoughtful, and for a few moments no one interrupted the thread of her thoughts.
Outside the twilight deepened, and the stars began to shine down through the rustling trees, in the garden.
"Do you think Dad may get here in time for the party?" Alice's tone was a tiny bit mournful, and Aunt Janice hastened to dispel any feeling of homesickness.
"Who can tell? Perhaps he may surprise us at any time now; anyway, I'm sure he wants you to spend happy days at the old place."
"We are, indeed we are!" chorused the Merediths together.
Alice placed an arm around Aunt Janice's shoulder, and began coaxingly--"Tell us the story of the Tower room, please." In vain Nora shook her head, but Alice did not look up. "The first day that we went through the gardens, Janey saw something white waving from the window, but we hurried by, as you said, we must. Nora said, it was only a pigeon!"
Alice had completely forgotten her promise, and dismayed, but helpless to stop her, the others sat around, speechless.
Aunt Janice's face whitened with the request, but she patted gently the golden head against her shoulder.
"The story of the tower room is a long one, dearie, but perhaps you should know it. I shall try and hurry through it. Your own father could tell you much of those happy days gone by; Harry, his brother, and senior by a good many years, married Gwendolyn Arlington, and they had one son, beloved by his parents to almost a painful degree. When he was about sixteen years old perhaps, he insisted that the only thing that he wanted to do, was to go to sea, and although it almost broke his mother's heart, they gave in to his whim. With his departure, the life of the old place also seemed to go.
"In just a few months after that, a report was received that the vessel on which he had gone was lost with all the crew and passengers.
"After the terrible news, your Aunt Gwen's health failed, and she lost interest in everything; finally after the death of your uncle Harry, she went into a complete melancholy, and retired to the seclusion of the tower room, with an attendant. In all of these seven years since the tragedy, she has remained there; only at night sometimes, she wanders around the old gardens. Perhaps if Janey hadn't seen the handkerchief waving from the window, I should never have told the sad story of the tower room!
"The seasons have come and gone quietly since then, but this year I could stand it no longer. I had long wanted to see all of you dear nieces and nephews, and wrote asking your father's permission to have you for a long visit.
"He consented, and wrote of his business call that came just about the same time. He has come by to see me now and then, but for this same feeling of gloom that it has cast over the place he has never told you the sad story either, nor had we planned your coming before for the same reason."
Aunt Janice drew a breath of relief, as though after all in the telling a burden had rolled away.
The rustling trees broke the surrounding stillness, then the tinkling of a silvery bell at the gate.
"Who could be out on a visit so late?" The old lady peered through the shadows, as two figures advanced. The light streaming out from the hall revealed Donald Meredith and his brother Harry's son, supposed to have been lost seven years before!
The Meredith's sprang forward to greet their father, while Aunt Janice, the story warm on her lips that she had just been telling, sat quite still, scarcely believing what her eyes saw.
"Welcome, Donald--and--can it really be, or am I dreaming?"
She stretched out her arms, while the stalwart form of Harry and Gwendolyn's son walked straight into the shelter of their love.
Older of course, and careworn, because of those years of imprisonment among a savage tribe, yet the same! There was not time just then for the story of those years--how he alone survived in the shipwreck where all had been thought lost; of the struggle in the dark waters, but cast up at last unconscious on shore in the most uncivilized part of Africa where he had been