Mexico weekly ledger., 1889-09-05
CHAPTER xxx

tone were the detectives. tone was the
"Namovna'' with her precious cargo. Gone,
too, Miss Strong, the aunt; even the very
housemaids, the grooms, the coachmen, each
and all were zone and, now, Fairfax was
alone once more in the deserted house, and
tomorrow he, too, would go.
The mellow softness and golden warmth
of Indian suinmer lay over all the land. For
all the sounds that man might make, Glen
Gore and Ed Field were still as death.
Closed were the doors and blinds and the
curtains drawn. No merry laugh, no hap
Ply snatch of song, no CHEEKY call nor loving
greeting was heard any more within those
walls. Life had fed away with Love, side
by side, n all within was dark and silent
as the tomb, save when the black fly buzzed
noisily in the window-pane, or some stray,
adventurous cricket, essaying his solitary
song in the eath-quiet room, was fright
ened again into silence by the unwonted
loudness of his own cry.
Through the lattice OF one lone, open win
dow, half hidden by climbing vines, came
the soft breath Of autumn, laden with fra
GRANGE from the balsam pine, the sweet ferns
or the Indian grasses. Lazy wavelets droned
on the beach in slow and soothing rythm;
and, far away on the hillsides, the herd-bells
tinkled family in silvery harmony, while an
k4~AI Va SiA2 RAAH Ia L4S 41oc 2hSSo
sanity sang their sleepy, monetonous song.
Here and there a drifting boat waved its
idle wings of white on the sea, that "great
sweet mother and lover of men," who gave
back from her vast, slowly-heavmg bosom
the deep hues Of a cloudless sky, blue al
the b~luest-vaulted dome of dreamy Italy.
Across the way stood lonely Eld-Field,
empty and still.
Gone, gone, were all those happy days
Never more to be recalled! Gone with
the sad-eyed Princess. Gone with Dolores
n Max and Medji, far across that wide
waste of waters-"Wherea alas. wherein
And Arthur Fairfax, leaning a heavy,
aching head on tired arms that rested in
the window-sill, peered vainly out into the
soft sunlight. With a sigh, he turned his
eyes back again and relapsed into sorrow,
full thought.
All things reminded him Of the past
Did faces glsmered thro' the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called him from without"
Bit by bit the stealthy twilight drew near,
and up from eastern wave rose a sad, pale
| moon-he remembered how they sat togeth.
er IN the rocks only the other night, ST.
lently watching its silvery beams playing
rel the rolling pillows. Bright enough II
seemed then-but ncws Was she watch
ing it, toos Would It remind her Of the
| pasta
A tear stole down over his cheek and,
| with a bitter sob, he hid his face in his hands
| and wept. Yes! ne was crying this great,
strong fellow, who ever prided himself upon
his stoicism and self-control.
All, ha! Arthur Fairfax, how often have
you asked yourself the question: "Have
l a heart, or not?" What is your answer,
now2
The crickets still sang in the grass. An
owl hooted family in the distance. Then
few a belated whip poor-will and perched
in q tree by the window.
"Whippoorwin Whippoorwin |" cried
the bird.
Fairfax looked up.
A brilliant path of glory lay Frightening
across the sea, from the moon to the beach,
and, just where it ended, lay a little row.
boat at anchor, rising and falling on the
long, lazy swell - hat boat in which
the two had hoated over the moon-lit
waters, and dreamed the happy hours
away.
Languidly he arose with q sigh, and
closing the door behind him, passed dow
to the shore.
With thoughts still far away, almost
mechanically he loosed the boat, took thu
oars, and slowly pulled out to sea-that
vast plain which bore upon its surface hi.
hopes, his heart, nay! his very life. Though
far apart they were, did not the sams
waters wash their boats keel; were not thu
same stars smiling down upon botha
On, on he passed, not needing nor car
ing to shape his course, oblivious to every
thing but his own melancholy reflections.
The moon rose higher and higher. B,
little and little, the shores Of the islant
passed into the distance.
How much farther out to sea he Nigh
have gone, or how much longer rowed, non,
can say; but a sudden jarring of the boat
keel, q harsh grating of pebbles against il
bottom betokened the fact that his-onwart
career was ended.
YEARLY raising his head and glancini
about, without surprise, as if it were all
matter of course, he slowly stepped ashor'
with the rope in his hand, half-consciousl,
making it fast to a large stone close by.
He looked around
ITO BE CONTINUED