Year: 1879

gre. l.. ....t.


in persol. rather than in writing, as she ex-
pected 80 loon to be at home.


However, "L'homme Kopose, mais Disu
dispose" and never had tins maxim been
more surely verified than in the present case.
When half way home, Mrs. Rathbone fell i'll
of fever, which in short time assumed q
malignant type, and she soon became aware
that she had but brief while longer to live,
and would never see her mother or child
again. With her feeble, almost dying hand,
she wrote a few tremulous lines to the former,
telling her of Mildred's existence, and asking
that to the little girl might be transferred the
love and favor rendered to herself; ending
with brief message Of affection to them
both, and prayer that they might meet in
better world. In this she enclosed the certifi.
cate of Mildred's birth and baptism, and a
lock of her own hair; and sealing them up,
placed them, with the proper address, in the
hands Of the ship chaplain, who promised to
have them safely delivered, together with
Mrs. Sinclair's, letter to herself, which she
desired might be returned at the same time.
A few hours later she breathed her last, and
her mortal remains we're consigned to the
bosom Of the deep, there to rest until the sea
should be called upon to 'give up its dead"


Strange to relate, all Of her bequest which
ever reached its destination, was the old lady's
epistle which was enclosed to the latter in an
envelope directed by an unknown hand, with
the brief word "Dead," scrawled across the
opening page. The few answering lines, the
certificates, and the lock or hair, were mystic
riously missing, and Mrs. Sinclair never knew
that they had been sent, or indeed that her
own offer of reconciliation and forgiveness had
been received by the one to whom it was ad-
dressed. She knew nothing of her daughters
fate except so far as that cold, cruel word
could tell. Of Col. Rathbone's death she
subsequently heard, but every other scrap of
information concerning either Of them, every
clue or link which could in any way lead to
her discovery of Mildred's existence, seemed
to be totally hidden away or destroyed. In
solitary grief and regret, her own life soon
after came 10 an end, and her large property
passed into the hands of a distant relative,
who was her heir.at-law. '',.''''


Thus it was that Mildreds chances Of pros


H
perity were blighted almost as soon as awak.
ened into existence, and she sustained at once
the loss of her parents and Of the fortune
which should have been hers. Of the latter,
loss, indeed, she knew nothing but the former
one was sufficient almost to crush her child
ish heart. Fortunately for her, she fell un.
der the guardianship Of Mr.. Crofton, who was
her cousin, in remote degree, on her fathers
side; and who, as we have seen, faithfully
discharged the duties he had taken upon him
self, proving alike father and judicious
friend to the orphan girl.


The Croftons' home, from which the family
seldom absented themselves, was near Dur
ham, in the northern part of England; and
with nearly the length Of the kingdom lying
between her and her mothers early home,
and all the people and surroundings connect
ed with her unmarried life, the child seemed
as completely cut off from these as though
living in another hemisphere. She knew lit
tie of her maternal relatives, even through
hearsay, for Mrs. Rathbone had never cared
to speak Of them, knowing that it displeased
her husband. She knew that they were South
of England people, and that her family name
was Sinclair, but here her knowledge ended.
In later years she learned something of the
facts which had led to the separation between
them and her mother, but these had already
so far become events Of the past, that they
could only awaken faint thrill Of interest
in her mind. ..ga ..f.r, ..r. ...'


Mildred was not of dreamy or sentiment
al nature. She was full of sterling, practical
good sense, and although as fond Of reading
poetry and novels as most young people OF
her sex, had seldom, if ever, allowed herself
to yield to those romantic fancies which few
girls attain the age of sixteen without indulg-
ing in. Alice and Ethel, who had already
had half dozen, or more, real or imaginary
admirers apiece, laughed at what they called
her "stolid impenetrability,' and predicted
that she would live and die an old maid,
since housekeeping and needlework seemed
to possess greater attractions for her than
society, and the fattery and attention Of the
other sex. Of late, however, "change had
come DER the spirit of her dream" Al.
though outwardly as cheerful and unruhled,
and as active in useful and unsel6sh employ
ments as usual, she had lost something of her
inward serenity, and troubled thoughts occa-
sionally disturbed the even temper Of her
mind. Contrary to her wont, she spent many
of her solitary moments in reflections which,
to judge from her aspects at such times, would
seem to be sad or uneasy nature; and
though nothing was farther from her wish or
intention than that those around her should
perceive anything Of this, an indefnable
change in her manner would sometimes un-
consciously make itself felt, a certain subdued
inaexion Of voice or passing shadow Of ex-
preston attract the notice of her companions,
and awaken even in the languid, Indifferent
mind of Alice, momentary sentiment Of
wonder, and speculation as to whether
"anything was the matter with Mildred.
Her secret-if she had one-was, however,
too carefully guarded to betray its existence