PART THIRD.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4622, 27 October 1883, Page 4

PART THIRD.

CHAPTEB X. THE COTTAGE BY THE MILL. Some ,years ago, while yet the now beautiful city of Auckland was but a little town, there stood, in the vicinity of a certain old windmill that for many a year had served as a land mark to the home* ward bound mariner, but which the progreßßive hand of improvement has long since removed. A pretty cottage residence, surrounded by a pleasant garden, and aspiring to the rather mythical title of " The Woodnymph's Bes#'' • 'Twas evening, and the beautiful tints of sunset, such a sunset as may call forth the artistic admiration of any nature loving, . 'appreciative, mind, clothed the scene that s was so truly bewraful at all times, in a glorious settiog- <ff.rich and lovely hues • , that varied andjjjianged as the moments passed till th*£King of clay had finally retired 1 tp^fest beyond the distant ; horizon. ',*„' S i : From the window of the pretty sitting room, where he lay on his couch in cvi- .. -dent weakness—as from recent illness—a young man watched with eager eyes the fading beauty of the scene before and ■. beyond him. His features, though still ' handsome, were haggard and worn, as by extreme suffering. His hair, though he could not have been past five-and- twenty, was streaked with grey, and the clear noble brow, that denoted no ordinary intellectual ability, bore the shadow of recent sorrow, from which the sufferer had not come forth unscathed, though it might be that the soul of that tried one Bhould be as' gold refined, even seven times. The beautiful tints of gold and crimson fade gradually away, and the ' shadows fall Ughtly over the silent room; the invalid closes his eyes languidly, and a sigh escapes his lips that yet again relax into: a smile so tender, so full of gratitude and calm content that the pale pain-worn countenance becomes almost beautiful for the moment, even as though an angel had hovered near, and by the influence of his pure presence, had cast a halo over the - brow of the patient, sufferer. Presently there are sounds of approaching footsteps, and a lady enters softly, carefully shading the lamp she carries, lest its subdued, rays should disturb the occupant of the quiet room. Having placed the lamp on a side table she approaches the .couch, and stands for a moment in watchful consideration. But the' young man opens his eyes and stretch- - ing out his left hand says, in tones of tenderest respect and deference, "I am not asleep, Countess; I have boon , watching the lovely sunset and thinking." \ •' Oh, Ralph, replied the lady, bending over him eagerly,." I hope you have not wanted anything; Ine& looked in once % and «jas so sure you were sleeping that we 7.-'. '■; would not ,have you disturbed, though \ '-V&ueeniedidso want to come to you beliforetea." "No. indeed, I could not want for any* thing," said Bal ph. "Your loring care readers that, impossible, and the pain is so much reasitr; I am sure X must have slept for some time, though how much of '> itba happiness I, have realised must have come to me in dreams, dear Countess, I could not quite be certain of." : '" Well, well, we will not talk of that fust now, dear boy," replied the lady, as ,' the tears gathered in her eyes,," we will now discuss the important question of tea ' in the parlor, which is indeed a great improvement to tea in a darkened chamber, such as you have been accustomed to for so many weeks.. Here is'lnez; ana ... Queeniehas, I believe, a little pleasant surprise for you." '.'-,' ; "•' As the Countess spoke, there entered. [' one whom we directly recognise, for me

has chatfged so little, since we saw her last. ■, The same beautiful face with the silent impression of a sorrow such as few hearts could have borne so calmly ; the same dark expressive eyes from which the light seemed to have faded except when she raised those heavy drooping lashes, to gaze with the tenderest affection upon the Countess, whom she always addressed as " mother " now. To Ealph the Lady. Inez had been an inexplicable mystery all through the long tedious days and nights of illness, during which the Countess and her adopted daughter had tended him with most devoted kindness. He could understand the feelings of the Countess on the recovery of her long sought grandchild, the particulars of which our readers shall learn ere long, but who and what this strangely beautiful, touchingly sorrowful, yet most devoted, companion could be he knew not. The outline cf the past history of the child whose life he had been enable to save was known to him, but as yet he had no clue to this inner sorrow, this secret grief; and all the tender services be daily received from the hands of Inez only increased his interest in, and admiration of, her quiet unobtrusive devotedness to these other two who had be. come linked, as it*were, by the most tender almost sacred bonds of sympathy with his own life and being. {To be Continued.)