LOST AND FOUND.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2254, 18 December 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

LOST AND FOUND.

There was a sound of rain in the air, an unusual stillness among; the leaves ; the birds twittered and the cattle lowed in the distance ; from time to time was heard a sudden lustling among the branches, then silence reigned again over the earth and sea. The clouds were gathered fast in the sky, and it seemed as if nature were resting awhile ere she burst forth with one supreme effort in the steam that was approaching. It was early summer time, hut on the Atlantic coast, where the waves foam and lash the most western coast of Cornwall, the brightest day is sometimes followed by a tempestuous night, when the elements seenstriviug to surpass one another in their wrath. Some little way back from the sandy shore stood the picturesque village of L , inhibited chipfly by the seafaring men and their families or by fishermen, who carried on a thriving- trade. The coastguard station stood on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, for it was said to be a spot frequented by smuuglers, and indeed the many caves and hollows in the rocks, some of them unknown to the inhabitants of the place, or to the cois*"guard men themselves, seemed to favour their unlawful practices. To the left of the village were scattered s^nie dozen houses belonging to a better class of people ; retired naval o'Reers on haU-pay, and those who loved the sea. In one of these there had lived for some years past an old man, said to be haughty and stern and who kept himself aloof from his neighbours. Peop'e thought he was a. foreigner, for he spoke in in an unknown tongue to the two young grandchildren — a boy and girl, who were his companions, and the two dark-com-plexioned woman who managed his household. But Gilbert Noel was an Englishman, although from much living abroad he had contracted habits of life unlike those of the people around him. His aspect was stern pernapa to those who did not know him well, for he had seen great sorrow and many vicissitudes, but his heart was not hardened by trouble as are the hearts of some men. Oa the evemnpf in question lie w«9 moving restlessly betweeen tho house and the shore, which wero separated only by a sloping lawn, bounded by a low stone wall, and allowing 1 an uninterrupted viow of the Hea. To the north tho house was sheltered from the wind by a plantation of fir treew. It was strongly built and luxuriantly furnished ; round the rootn.s generally occupied by the family wora couches covered with richly woven tissues; on the floor lay oostly carpets ;wd ruga, and thero were curiously devised cabinets filled with brights shells and birds, and precious gems from far offclirnes. On one of these couches lay a boy of about fourteen years of age, whose pale face^behpoke continued suffering 1 . He seemed to be reading or dozing, but from time to time he raised his dark lustrous eyes to his grandfather and &aid anxiously, "Are they coming ?" „•*■*** Gilbert Noel's father was the son of an Englishman, and had been disinherited on account of his lawless and profligate life. He contrived to live on the miserable pittance, as he called it, of £1,000 per annum, allowedhimbyhisfuther, buthe wasalways in debt, uiul he roamed from place to place to escape from his creditors. Sometimes iv the height of the season he was to be seen amongst the gayest of the gay iv in Paris, at other times at Monte Carlo with Ins boon companions. He was good looking and fascinating, and notwithstanding his many follies, he won the heart of a clever and handsome Engli-h girl whom be met with during- his travels and married unknown to his friends. The Gilbert Noel with whom our story has to do was the only child born of this manifige. When he veil years of age his father killed in a duel, and the yountf widow left with her child to fight through life as best she might. She was in Greece at the time of her husband's leath. Her father-in-law had ditd a few years before, and the younger son had succeeded to the e&tates ; but he was a h:ird man, and would not listen to tho appeal made to him by his brother's widow tor the education of her son ; he ret' us *d to acknowledge him as bis nophi'w, and although i oiling 1 in wealth he allowed the iu*tl)Gr barely sullioieut to keep her from But she was biavo, and she sorned to accept tho help ho grudgingly given; she sold the tow ornaments and valuables she possessed, aud contrived, by giving lessons in hor own language to earn sutheient to keep herself and l»pr child, who inherited his father's good looks and love of roving and his rnothoi'ti patience und intellect. He adored tho mother who sacrificed so much for him, and swore that as he grew older he would repay all the love and care that she had lavished upon him. But alus for his dreams of ease and happiness! She died suddenly, and Gilbert experienced his first bitter grief. He was quite alone in the world, and for a time he gave himwelf up to despair ; but he was youn<r, aud although the young 1 did not forgot, time soothes their griefs and fresh joys apnng 1 up to cheer them. Gilbert always carried with him the recollection of bia mother, and of what he would have do:i« had she lived. By his talenth and application he wou for himself a place anionprst the wealthy merchants of India, and in that c mntry he studied the Oriental languages und became an adopt in sonnce ; but be considered that his home was iv

Greece, for there lie ha I iived with his mother, und there nhe lay buried, aud after Home yeara of absence the longiug to revisit her tomb led him back to his native land. Soon, however, he grew weary of his solitary life, and began to take long voyages to all parts of the world, and during one of these he visited the sunny shores of Italy, and there bec.ime enamoured of a beautiful Italian girl, whom he carried back to share his desolate home. But after one short year of happiness he was doomed to lose her too ! She died after giving birth to a son, henceforth to become the idol of his father, and for whom he toiled night and day. His one aim was to become more wealthy ; to heap up riches in lieu of those of which he had been robbed by his uncle, and, through his only child, to redeem his fathei's name from oblivion, lie was not avaricious, but he thought it a duty to obtain for his son the position which fate had denied to him. Riches bring with them many things, and he thought they would be a door to open the way into society ; and why should not his son enjoy the smiles, the flatteries, the indulgences, which riches bring ia their train ? Wild schemes of future grandeur floated through his brain ; not for himself— for himself he cared little— but might not his son one day inhabit the isle where his ancestors wure born, and bear proudly the name he had inherited, and which no one could take from him ? He intended him to marry some daughter of the proud English aristocracy ; he did not look for a wealthy bride ; nay, if she had but little, would she not the better appreciate the riches laid at her feet? The child, however, did not prove worthy ot his father ; as he grew to be a boy, he was wilful and passionate, his mother's hot southern blood ran in his veins, and to these faults he added all the indolence and love of ease characteristic of Eastern climes. But his father was blind to his faults and indulgent to his whims and fancies. When he talked to him of all his cherished hopes he would smile languidly and agree to anything that did not thwart his own desires ; for he was supremely selfish ; and he looked upon his father's schemes as so many myths ; he was far too indolent to assist in the execution of them. Years rolled on ; the youth grew to be a man, and Gilbert began to hope for the realisation of his dreams. But how seldom are men's dreams relised ! Some become prematurely old in the struggle to obtain glory, or position, knowledge, aud the many ambitions of the world, and too many grope aud grovel after gold alone, and, by the time they have gained it, they themselves are too worn out to enjoy it. AM too soon was Gilbert to be awakened from his bright visioua of the future. His dealings with other men took him away ssmetnnes for several weeks, and during bis absence on one of these occasions his son took to himself a wife. This whs the first blow to his scheme*, and it fell heavily ! His non was of nge, and argued that he had ft right to marry whom he pleased. The young wife was fair indeed to look upon, and she soon won the old man's heart, po that he forgot to regret his son's choice ; and when twin children were born, hi* joy was great, and he began to think his prayers were partly answered, and that he should live for his children, and his children's children. Abis! poor man. The plague, that scourge of his country, visited his home, and before flight from the city was possible, struck down iv a few days the son whom he po idolised. With anguish too great for words to expre-s, the unh.ippy father watched the young lives ebbing away. Of what avail were riches now, and all that riches could do ? The skill of the wisest men could not save them, and he followed them to the grave where those who had gone before already rested. The two helplcsq children were saved, but at first the eight of them only added to their grandfather's gi ief ; he seemed stunned, and silent for hours, regardless to those around him. He could no longer endure the land where he had lost all he most valued upon earth, and he determined to seek some other soil where he could end his days. His choice fell upon the isle from which he and hi" father had been exiled, and which he had visited many times in his day-dreams. His two grandchildren were all that remained to bind him to the world — he wax their only guardian and protector. B^th were lovely children, with more of the Oriental than of the English type, and as they grew older, and could call him by name and cling to him, his heart yearned more and more to this legacy left to him by his dead son. They were now about five years of age ; the girl was strong and healthy, but the boy began to show signs of delicacy, and the physician* whom Gilbert cons-ulted recommended a change to some cooler climate, as the best, or perhaps the only means for his recovery. In haste therefore he wound up his affairs and departed with tho children and two faithful servants, one of them tbo nurse, who had been with them from their birth. By some strange fatality he was led to choo»c his future home on the shores of the Atlantic, very near one of those old ancestral halls which had belonged to his forefathers for many generations, and which was from time to time visited by some of the family. Chance had at first led him to fix on this spot, for the circumstance was unknown to him, and when he became aware of the fact ho considered that Providence had led him thither for some un kuown purpose. Ever scheming and building plans for the futuic, a new thought now took possession of his restless mind. His uncle was dead, but the eldest cousin, Godfrey Noel, was married, and in tho autumn season would sometimes spend weeks, or even months, at the oLI hall. In pursuance of his plans Gilbert now changed his n une to that of Lesli , with the puipo^e of making the acquaintance of his cousin. He knew nothing of the character of his relative, or whether he had been left in ignorance of the existence of his truant uncle ; but, Godfrey Noel was, as events proved, very unlike his father. He was a ju-t man, and although he had n^ver troubled himself as to the fate of his cousin, or knew whether he was in the land of the living, he was old enough at the time, of hU uncle's deith to under stand that his punishment had been gie.iter than the deserts, and, child as he was, he telt his father's injustice towards the widow and her child. Thus it was that Gilbert took up his abode in this com para t vely solitary place with its few .scattered inhabitants. He surrounded himself with luxuries, and his books and his graudchildren became his constant companions. When they became old enough to learn he spent many hours of the day in their instruction ; the boy especially was possessed of extraordinaey intelligence, and the girl was not far behind her brother. They were seldom separated, and the sister dovotcd herself to her invalid brother with all the warmth and affection of her passionate nature. At fiist the change of climate seemed to beuotit the delicate boy, but it was only for a time, and to all around him— excepting to the grandfather who refused to believe the truth — it was apparent that he would ne\ « i grow to manhood. He might, indeed, linger for years, but probably only to be become a hopeless cripple, Gilbert's anguish was indescribable ; what had he done to he so cruelly punished, and why was he doomed to see all that ho loved perish before his eyes ?

Was it that the sins of the father were visited upon him and his children ? He could not bear to have the boy out of his sight. He wonld sit for hours by the little couch, or watch by his aide when they laid him on the smooth sand ; for the boy loved to ga/e at the sea, and during hia many sleepless nights the moaning waves lulled him to rust. It happened one day that the little party had gone further from home than w;w their wont ; the tide overtook I hem before they wore aware, and Donato's state rendering speed both dangerous and impossibly, they would have been cut off from the lanu hid it not been for the timely assistance of a youth, who, seeiug the danger, ran like lightning down the cliff and helped to rescue them from their pcriUoua po sition. This youth was none other than the son of Godfrey Noel, 'Ie bail often watched fiom a distance the handsome white-haired man and two children, and hi was glul ot the opportunity of approaching them. When Donato, the bick boy, was in safety, Gilbert smilingly inquired the name of the youth who had rendered him such signal service, and who had won his everldstiug gratitude, and great whs his hati.xfaction on learning that ho bore his own name. Hi* wishes seemed about to be realised, fortune was favouiing him at last ! From that day a friendship was begun which added greatly to the happiness of both parties The old man's noble bearing, his rare intelligence and learning, together with the love he showed for hid grandchildren, quite won the the heart of the youth, and ho became an almost ddily visitor to Cray-house. The children were some five years hia juniors, but the extreme beauty of both, their attachment to one auother, and the boy's misfortune, drew him irresistibly towards them, and their grandfather did all in his power to strengthen this feeling. Many an autumn evening, when the weather was wild and stormy, he would amuse his young visitors with thrilling accounts of adventures by pea and land ; with romantic tales of Oiental life ; or they would examine the many curiosities and rare manuscripts which he had accumulated in his travel*. At other times, with a powerful telescope, they would watch the ships in the far distauce sailing on their way. Then he would encourage the lad to speak to him of his school life, of his father and mother, and of all they did in town life. So it came to pass that, as each year came round, the intimacy increased, for it was only once a year that the friends met. Gilbert made few acquaintances, and those few he knew but slightly. Occasionally he would pay a hurried vi^it to London, but his absence never lasted beyond a few days. The invalid boy became an increasing care, but he never complained, and always had a smile for those around him. Lida, the girl, grew daily more lovely; shy aud retiring by nature, nhe became the more so from the manner of life led. The only chnnire was when young Herbert came to spend the few autumn months by the seaside; no wonder then that they looked forward to his coming ! Gilbert traced in him some likeness to his lost son, and cheered by his presence, he bi uoded less over the fresh norrow which slowly but surely was coming upon him. The brother and sister welcomed him as the bearer of tidings from another world, for they lived in a world of their own. (To be continued.)