The Forrest City times., 1897-07-09
FERN xxx
 99COTTAGE.
BY ANNA SHIELDS.
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\ ND Fern Cottage is leased for two


 "A years to a widow lady, Mrs. Raynor. She brought good letters from New York, and supports herself by col bring fashion plates for a magazine there."
 This was the last statement my law yer made upon the long-winded recital of the state of my affairs when I re- turned from seven-years' absence to take up my abode in my own home He had by my directions renovated and put into good order the large. hand some house that was my inheritance from father, grandfather and great grandfather, passing in each generation through a course of modernizing that still left the stately, old-fashioned walls and extensive grounds intact. We Hill tons were very fond of Hilton place and had ample means wherewith to maintain its beauty.
 But beside my own home I also pos sessed several houses in the village of Crawford and one cottage just at the boundary line of my garden, pretty place that my mother had christened Fern Cottage, from the number of rare ferns that nestled in the little garden under fanciful miniature grottos and piles of rock placed there.
 1 confess to feeling of decided an- noyance when I heard that this little gem of a country home had been leased to worldngwoman. It had been a sum- mer resort for some of our own inti- mate friends who preferred an inde- pendent home to the hospitalities of others, and it annoyed me to think of anyone living there who would not pre- serve its dainty furniture and pretty I kept my opinion to myself, and, in deed, for many days, was so crowded with business calls that I quite forgot the matter.
 It was after twilight on warm April evening that, passing the cottage, saw through open windows my new tenant. She was bending over a small table, ap- parently drawing. while the circle of light from a student lamp fell full upon her I had fancied vulgar. common place woman. This was what I saw:
 A figure slender and graceful. with hands as white and perfect as if carved in marble. A face purely oval, colorless and fair, with regular features and shaded by hair of midnight black. Twice while looked she lifted her eyes. large, lustrous and dark, full of sup pressed pain. A face that covered a heart full of bitter anguish. a brain sen sitive and cultivated.
 lam physician. though have prac- ticed little. preferring to write for the use of younger students; but love my profession, and cannot quite keep its in- stincts quiet when I study a new face. And all these instincts warned me that here was woman burning candle al- ready flickering at both ends.
 I had quite forgotten that mine was not a strictly honorable position, thus spying on solitary woman's privacy, when an elderly woman, seemingly an upper servant of better days, came into the room.
 "Will you never cease working?" she said, fretfully. "When the daylight is gone, and you cannot sort your colors, you take up that drawing that is ruin ing your eyes. Rest, child!"
 Then the voice I knew must belong to that face, full, rich, melodious. but freighted with sadness, answered her:
 Rest! You know I cannot rest!"
 "Piay, then. Do anything but strain your eyes any longer over that fine work"
 The widow rose then, sweeping her heavy, black draperies across the room to the piano, where she played. Surely. if this was recreation, it was a pitiful mockery. Wailing, minor music full of sobbng pain. Heavy chords melting into sad refrains. A master touch. rare power in the long, slender fingers only called out strains of heart breaking pathos.
 The old servant took out her knitting. seemingly satisfied to have driven her mistress from actual work. and the darkness fell around me, making still