Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1908-07-17
,SEzzzV.
CHAPTER LII.


strength and it's proportions-now dilapi.
dated and grown grey and wrecked
through stress Of age and, neglect, the
August sun is smiling, lighting up its
moss-Grown corners, its falling chimneys
and its crumbling walls, that would have
crumbled even faster but for the faithful
ivy, friend Of many years, that still GiiHga
to 1t.
Over therc-a little further up the hill,
and half hidden by a belt Of trees that
had been planted between 1t and the mill
the house may be seen-"O'Connell's
House." as it is called by the peasants
round. 4 very ordinary old house, square
and bare, and exposed to all the winds
of heaven, with sad touches here and
there on it, made by time and want of
care, and redeemed only entirely from the
basest commonplace by a splendid old
mullioned window on the north side, and
the massive oak wood Of the doorway. A
forbidding looking house, with the re-
mains of an old moat running round it,
that once perhaps was full Of water,
but now is dry and overgrOwn with rank
grass and poisonous weeds. No doubt in
the past generation the river that flooded
it had been turned into another channel
to feed the DID. mill below, that now in
it's turn is dry and silent too.
The sun to-day is shining too holly for
the comfort of one person at all events.
Captain Adare, who has been out fishing
since early dawn, has now, as it draws
towards evening, reached the small river
Arrigaun, that beginning quite a long
way up between the shoulders of the two
big hills runs down here straight into
the arms of the old mill.
He looks to right and lcft-but no one
comes in sight, and there is not a rising
cloud Of smoke upon the air to tell of
a peasants cottage. Once again he turns
his glance on the old mill tina had ap-
peared 50 homeless a derelict to him at
his first glance that he had given it I'D
as a means of Communication with his
fellow creatures. who could live there,
in that old wind-ridden barrack of a place,
windowless, lmost ~roofless, q mere splen-
did ruin appearing it's damaged head to
the skies-that never care?
His eyes sweep it carelessIy, as if
knowing nothing is to be got from it, and
then all at once grow concentrated on one
spot-one opening, where a window in
the past no doubt had been. Surely there,
in the framework Of it, someone CAL re
seen. He can hardly be sure, as the sun,
so brilliant half an hour ago, has now
capriciously retired, giving way to a soft
pale grey mist that rising, rapidly en-
velops most things in its delicate folds.
Piercing the mist for a moment, the
sun shines out again, making the figure
more prominent-tall, slender, girlish.
''The Maid of the MIST he tells him
self with a smile. well, anyway l sup
pose she can send me on my way with or
without her blessing"
He wades through the river, banked so
closely and so shallow as to be hardly dig
nifed by that name any longer, and talk
Ing a fence, pulls up presently right I'M
der the old mill. He has got beyond the
range of the window where the figure
stood and the old gaunt framework of the
place becomes a blank to lin.
Still she was there" he says to him
self, and going farther on, and rounding
a corner or two, find himself in front of
a huge opening in the walls it was once
a doorway. no doubt, and of these door
ways he can see that there are several
farther on, but he stays at the first he
comes to, and, entering it, runs up a bare
tottering staircase that Is ~clinging, as it
were, to the wall on his right.
Before going up this rotten treadway
he had noticed distinctly, yet with in
difference at the time, the mark of an
arrow-a small black arrow painted on
the side of the wall by which he had come
in-an arrow pointing downwards.
Now he has com to the top of the
stairway, and bowling his head beneath an
arch that has been built very low, finds
himself upon a floor, that once had had
many a bushel of grain upon it, but is
now broken Inc rotten, a mere trap for
unwary feet.
She stands up as he comes in. Once
again the heavens, as though in r~ecogni-
ton Of her beauty, open wide, and the
sun, shining through their clefts, falls
upon her. She had turned at his ap-
proach, and is now looking at him it is
a calm, dignifed look, that has no fear
in it, and no ill-bred confusion. Erect,
beautiful, expectant, she stands, her eyes
on his. her head a little forward bent, a
book, half closed, lying between the fin
gers of the hand, that has now, in her
surprise. been lowered to her side.
II beg your pardon says Adare, great
~ taken aback at this sudden coming on
a gently born girl, where he had expected
to find only a young woman of the farm
ing class, who would have set him on his
right road to Carrig Castle. but the
fact Is, I've lost my way, and I couldn't
see a living soul in sight to make in
quiries of, until I caught sight of you in
the window"
"Yes?" She too smiles family, and
as her lips part he acknowledges yet more
deeply the charm, the loneliness of her
perfect face. YOU" with a glance at
his fishing boots, saw me from the riv-
erT'
From down there" pointing through
the bare open space where q window once
had been, to a turn in the stream below.
o. course, I cannot be sure it was You
l saw"
"Oh, yes" She mods her head graHely.
II am the only one who ever enters this
old ruin"
II feel I've been awfully presumptu-
ous,' says Adare. Coming here disturb.
ing YOU. But will you be so good as to
tell me where ! amp"
You are in the townland of Bean
REACH, and his is the old mill. O'Con-
nell's Mill, they call it. 1t belonged to
my father. Our house is up there Her
eyes go over his shoulder, and one slen-
der hand points to where, as he turns
round, he can see through a broken win
dow n bIg gaunt white house. dull and
unattractive.
Your house. You are, then"-regard-
ing her c~losely-your name is-OCoa-
neil?"
EIn.-l. .-Z-H-E