The Forrest City times., 1892-01-08

But now the old hay could not sleep, for che saw the black cloud hanging in the sultry sky; and she stole softly to I!ma's chamber and opened the door. The girl started up from the window and came to meet her.
 "Auntie
 .My dear child,v said Miss Durnford, cit is past eleven, and you are not even undressed. What are you doing by the open windowf"
 "wstching that cloud, suntie. I am not tired"
 Miss Durnford could not see the speak. CTS face distinctly in the dusk of the apart ment; but she drew the slight form to- wards her, and said gently
 "I cannot sleep tonight, and I came to see if you were wakeful too. My heart fails me"--and her voice faltcred--" when think of Sir Philip Darrell-still at the Court"
 lima gently disengaged herself from her aunt's embrace, and went back to the window, not kneeling down this time, but standing with her forehead resting against the glass. Presently she said softly, with out looking round to where her aunt still stood
 al do not believe in the curse, auntie."
 "Ilma dear" returned Miss Durnford, "you must not mind my saying this, that I hope you are not speaking 20 because you do not wish to believe in misfortune com ing to Sir Darrell. mean, I hope you do not think too much of him. You under stand mel"
 "Yes, auntie; I understand"
 Miss Durnford paused; but lima said ,,, c.orn. and fha old iaA folf A;ea r.oct,,t cd. Why could not fhe child be frank with herr Surely, she thought, in fear and perplcxity, nothing had passed be- tween lima and Sir Philip' fthere had been anything, the child ought to tell her. Miss Durnford did not know how difficult is such confidence to sensitive nature, even ii willingly offered, and lima was not willing. The secret belonged to herself and Sir Philip, for the present at least. Its revelation could only make her aunt unhappy, and perhaps angry. Why should any one knowy So the girl stood silent.
 "Ilma," said Miss Durnford ayou make me anxious. You are not open with me, as you should be. do not want to blame you; Sir Philip is a most fascinating man, and it would be nothing strange if you had allowed him to engage your fancy"
 Fancy-when the very sound of his name thrilled through every nervel But tho girl shrank from the prim phraseology, and felt that she could not give her con fdence; besides, had she right to do soi It was true that her lover had not uttered word that implied he desired secrecy; but she would not-indeed she would not speak of what seemed to her too solemn and sacred to be talked about.
 "Auntie," she said pleadingly-and there were tears in the sweet young voice --"please do not ask me any questions to- night-another time perhaps, but not now. Don't think me unkind or ungrateful; but I couldn't say anything tonight"
 Miss Durnford sighed heavily.
 "You American giris,' she said sadly, care so independent, cannot understand you. When I was your age, I sought my mother's help when was in trouble, but you fight your own battles at seventeen. Good night, dear; go to bed and try to get some slcep."
 lima was alone again. Independent? Yes, doubtless she was; but somehow she did not now feel the need of even mother; and a mother, she argued--shc had never known her own--was something that the kindcst of aunts could not be. Her lover seemed all-sufficient.
 !" Father to me thou art. and mother dear,
 And brother too, kind husband of my heart, So speaks Andromache."
 And so spoke lima. Even with regard to Roland Sabine she felt stronger-she still dreaded him, but not so much. She might have spoken to lieraunt, and so as oid- ed an interview with him; but this ides. did not occur to her. She, could, in her fear, run away from him altogether; but 70 ask any one to interpose on her behalf was contrary to her nature: and, after all, sho thought, Roland had q right to see her. Certainly she would not seek an interview, but she would nolonger avoidit.
 At the turn of night the rain came. It fell suddenly, like Il vast sheet of water from the heavens, with the roar and hiss of cataract. It beat down the flowers in tue gardens; it laid flat the corn in the fields; it converted many dry mountain watercourse into brawling stream. Vil- lagers, started out of their sleep by the pouring of the torrent, drew back their curtains and gazed forth in terror and the thoughts of all turned to the grand old castellated mansion of the Darrells and it's doomed lord.
 Job Heston arose and went to his daugh. ter's chamber and knocked at the door.
 "Lass, lass, get up and look at tho rain ] It has not fallen like this for more than twenty years"
 The girl was at the door in an instants with white scared face.
 "Father, is the Mill safer
 "Aye, for tonight, yes; but, Zeth, 1t 1t rains like this for two nights more, the river will be over its banks, and this time the Mill will go."
 "And Dark Darrells" said Zeph in a low tone, after pause, filled by the rush of the rain, mingling with and almost drowning the roar of the weir.
 "Why," replied Heston steadily, "he'll die, and the foreign missy too. You saw her with him to-day, Zeph. l knew how 1t would be; hers is the life for which he'll lose his. 1t'll come about somehow. They'll toll the great bell in the chapel for the last of the Darrells before Sunday comes around again"
 The storm began to lessen at three o'clock, but the rain still fell in torrents till nearly midday; and at that time the CoaImere was rushing rapidly between it's green banks, \ swollen and angry tide. :.
 "The waters risen more'n two feet since six o'clock this morning." said the old lock-man to Zeph. ssit l was your father, I'd clear out of the Mill for there's no saying what may happen if the rain comes again tonight as it did last night"
 "We'll have to go to uncle's yonder," returned Zeph gloomily, pointing across the bridge.
 "And I'd see to it before nightfasl if I was you," said the lock-man. "fd war rant the Lords life as soon as I'd warrant the Mill tonight if the rain comes on heavy; and, once the floods are out. how'll you get away, even if the Mill don't go-