Fotheringay's Son.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 10713, 19 December 1912, Page 2

Fotheringay's Son.

WS SERIAL.)

BY ALAN ADASR

CHAPTER. IX (Continued.) The coast was strewn with logs and strands of soeweed rudely torn up from the roots. Suddenly her eyes alighted on something anions tho debr'is. It looked conriousVy'like a human "body-. . Like ;•• flash it ranis 1 to hor that [ this might ho sonic poor creature least ashore from tho ship she had I soon struggling in its death agonies. [ Without a moment's hesitation she scrambled down the el iff and van across the litt'e hay to the spot wliere the body lay. t'l was tho body of a man about thirty-five years old, and ! as 'handsome as'men wore .only in her 'drontns. His head, with it? clustering hrown curls, streaked with gray, was like tho bead of a classic statue that the Viear had on his study mantel shelf. The finely chiseled features, a little worn by dissipation and suffering, had a nobleness that impressed itself on this daughter of many generations of farmers who had taken, to rending books. "He is an aristocrat. T am purs of that." siie said to herself. Adelaide knelt, beside the body. Quickly unloosening his vest, she made a desperate effort to resusciate the unfortunate man. Slip rubbed, and rubbed 'until «he saw a flicker of the eyelid and fe.lt a faint beating of the heart. Adelaide hurried'home for assistance. The -man's face haunted her all tlio way. Tho sun was breaking through the clouds as the shinwrecked man was being earned to the farm. CHAPTF/R X.

Tb» 100- five in the. b"st bedroom was "hurnm" brightlv. It lit up the figure of a little woman who was fitting patienely looking into the fire, with a book slipping off hor knee. Her grave face, her eyes, and her repose seemed to exhale an atmosphere of peace. That was what the ■shipwrecked man thought as he came back to full consciousness.

ATI day long he had been on the borderland—half conscious, half sleeping. Ho had now and again swallowed something that sent a glow of life through him, and ho had relapsed into .slumber. Now he lay there, feeling a sensation of well-l>eing, of comfort, that lie had not felt since the days when he was a. child and was tended in the warm nursery. He lay ouite*"awako, but disinclined to move hand or foot. One of tfce logf burnt itself- out, and the girl tiptoed to the. wood box to put on another. He watched her. He still felt a disinclination-to , s peak. She took up a log and dexterously put it into its place with scarcely a sound.

She sat half an hour longer, and i then a slow, wheezy clock on the i stairs struck seven. She rose, instant- j ly, lit a candle, and went to the bed- j side. To hor surprise, she met the j gaze of a pair of dark-blue eyes. ' "You are awake, then?" she said. It was too dark in the'room to see hor slight embarrassment. "Yes," he replied, with an effort. He bad noticed that she spoke with a west-country accent. "If you are awake you .must take some broth." Sho left the bedside and presently reappeared with a cup in her band. Ho made no movement, and she, bending forward, put one arm under his head and with the other fed him as if he were a child. "Thank van!" be said. "I do not know why you should be so good to me." "I found, you on the seashore," she seid, with a Kiiul*-. "You must not try to talk yet; to-morrow you will tell us your name and how you came where I found you." "Yes," he murmured, closing his eyes, "I think T could sleep my life., away." I "No," she i said. "You are stronger : you had scarcely any pulse at all when, we brought you in. You are going to live," she said encouragingly. He was scarcely conscious of her personality, but her voice was firm and courageous. "Very well," he said resignedly. It seemed to make very little difference to 'him whether he lived or died. Several dead bodies had been washed ashore, and the excitement in the village was great—so great that .the Symondses quite overlooked the fact that it was half an hour beyond their supper time. "Well, is he alive? Has he spoken?" her father eagerly enquired as Adelaide entered the kitchen. "Just a few words. I gave him j same broth a few minutes ago, but J he is still exhausted. Will you go and have a look at him ?"

Author ol "An Island Princess," "A Marriage of Felicity " Etc.

1 "I don't mind if I do," said hor | brother, "while, you get -supper { ready." j Father and son made their way up {'tho creaking staircase and entered 1 the room where the man lay. They j looked rather awed. The stranger had something commanding about him. "Xor T," said hi« father, helping himself to a largo piece of o(M bacon. Adelaide turned to the fire and stirred something in a jiot. She did not wart to speak about the manshe nouid not tell why. "There will be no need to sit up with him," said the older Symonds. "I can't have you waiting on a. strnn- | ger man, Adelaide." • "Why not?" she asked' curtly. "When the carter was ill I sat up with him and you made no objection." , "This man is no carter," «aid Mr Symonds. "and I will not have you do it. my maid! That is the long and tho short of it! John and I will see to the fire. You go to hod." "Why?" asked Adelaide again. "There ain't no 'why, 1 " paid her father; "only I've said it!" "Very well,' she said, not Avanting ' to seem obstinate. "You will have to give him some broth before you go to sleep." Tho girl made no further comment, hut began to wash up the supper things. When she had finished she wished her father and brother good night and went upstairs. They heard hor go into the best hedroom, as she , intended they should. The .stranger < was sleeping quietly. Adelaide, bending over him. felt a tightening of her heartstrings.! and a sudden fear which .she could not account for. The man was not going to die. He going to live. Perhaps she had a premonition -that it N would be far better for her that he should have died. Ho did not wake, and she went to her room. She had no intention of disobeying her father. She did not want to show too much interest in the stranger. Nevertheless! she lay awake, listening. She heard-her bro- ' ther go twice to the stranger's room, and the second time she heard him talkin v.. She could not hoar tbe stranger's voice; probahly it was too faint. The stranger was awake, a"d feeling refreshed, when she entered the room the next morning. He was not so weak as he had been, and was inclined to talk. "Your brother says it was you who • found 'me," ho began. I "Yes," said Adelaide "it was I. Are yon. strong enough to tell us anything, or will you breakfast first," » "I am all right,' 1 said the. stranger. I with a wry smile. "Tarn brtiisod and I knocked about, but T have years of j life in me »till. T must he hard to kill. Nothing .short of a outlet through my heart would do it!" fTn ho Continued.)