CHAPTER XI.

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 29, 4 February 1899, Page 6 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XI.

Two years had passed, and few changes* had come with them. The old Squire, a rich man now through the generosity of Lord Khysworth, declared that he was growing younger; he was so thoroughly happy that Dolores felt every time she saw him she could have made a sacrifice twice as great for him. He thoroughly enjoyed his life, and began to take his favourite rides and walks. His was indeed a new existence. Sir Karl had not returned to England. Scarsdale was still in the hands of the servants. Lola, whose letters interested him because they were always full of news about Deeping Hurst, heard from him often; but in none of his letters was there the faintest allusion to his coming home. At Deeping Hurst itself there had been one event. Dolores had px-esented her husband with a little daughter, a tiny, beautiful child whom she idolised; and Lord Khysworth had been nearly beside himself with joy. After his long, loveless life to have a sweet wife and infant daughter —it seemed a marvel to him that Heaven had blessed him so. His loving fondness for his daughter was beyond conception; that there had been, was, or could be such a baby he refused to believe. Little Kathleen was not like Dolores; she had the Khysworth face, dark eyes and hair, and a mouth like a rosebnd. It was touching to see the old Squire with his little granddaughter—to him she was Dolores in her sweet, helpless infancy over attain. The child thrived, and everything at Deeping Hurst seemed to promise uninterrupted prosperity and happiness. Lord Khysworth, in his devoted love and affection for his little daughter, settled Deerhurst Manor, with a handsome yearly income, upon her. Deeping Hurst was entailed, and would go to his son; or, if he had no son, to the next of kin; but Deerlmrst Manor and Burbage Grange were his own, and he could leave them \u whom he pleased. Many a description of this wonderful baby Lola sent over the sea to Sir Karl; but when the little one was just a year old, able to call Lord Kuy'sworth by name, and to gladden the heart of Dolores by saying 'Mamma,' a terrible and unforeseen event occurred. One November evening Lord Khysworth was caught in a thick mist, and, being at some distance from home, lie was compelled to remain in his wet clothes; the consequence was, he caught a bad, feverish cold. Like most healthy men, he laughed when Dolores begged him to give up outdoor sports for a time and take care of himself. It was all right,' he affirmed; a cold was nothing. It would not hurt him.

The result was that one day he .was unable to rise from his bed; inflammation of the king's set in, and he was soon brought to the verge of death. Then the noble character of Dolores shone forth. From the first hour of her husband's illness until the last she never left"=:him. What rest she was compelled to take she vook in his room. She was the most assiduous and careful, the most gentle and loving of nurses. 'You make even death seem sweet, Dolores.' he whispered to her while the death-damp gathered on his brow. 'We have not been long together, but you have made me very happy.'

His little daughter was brought to him, and he passed away with his head on the breast of the wife whom he had loved so dearly and so well.

His death, so sudden and unexpected, coming in the midst of his great happiness, and so soon after his marriage, created a profound sensation in the county. People could hardly believe it at first. Its effect on Dolores was terrible. It seemed to her that she could never bear the common routine, of life again. It was a mystery to her, far above her comprehension, this sudden coming of death into the midst of life; this awful wrenching of a great human tie. She stood with weeping eyes by her husband's dead body. Was this indeed the man who had loved her with such lavish love? Where. was the light that had shone in his eyes for her; where the kindly, tender smile? The grim, terrible mystery filled her with awe and wonder. She had never seen death before; it had been but an emp^ ty word to her. She bent down to kiss the silent, lips.

4f have been true to you. my dear, in thought, word and deed,' she said, 'May we meet again in heaven.'

The funeral of Lord Rhysworth was an event long remembered in the county. There was not one present whose heart did not go out in warmest sympathy to the beautiful young

widow

The Squire was deeply affected by j

his old friend's death. 'Who would have believed that _ i should out-live him?' he said; and in his heart he knew that but for the dead man's generosity and kindness he would not have been alive. They buried him in the old family, vault, where all the Rhysworths^ tor many generations had slept. When Ms will was read it was found that he left all that he could to his wife— Burbage Grange, with an income oi five thousand per annum, which at her death was to revert to his daughter Kathleen, together with a large sum of ready money and several valuable investments, which made her wealthy for life. To his beloved daughter he had already given Deerhurst Manor, with two thousand per annum, the money to accumulate until she attained the age of twenty-one.

Deeping Hurst, with its revenues, went to the next of kin, Walter Irving, now Walter, Lord Rhyswortb, who was in India, where he had held an office under Government. A year at least must elapse before he could come home; so he wrote to Lady Rhysworth, asking her as a great favour to i-emain at Deeping Hurst until he returned to England. Sickness and death had somewhat scared Lola. She did not care to go near Deeeping Hurst, for the very thought of death was horrible to her. While the three months of rigorous mourning lasted, she wrote frequent, ly to Lady Rhysworth, being always very careful to mention the fact that she had just heard from Sir Karl; but she made no attempt to visit her. Only when the Deeping Hurst carriage had been seen in town did she venture near the place. Dolores was pleased to see her. She was young, and the long isolation had begun to tell upon her. It was cheering to see a bright face and to hear the sound of a laughing voice. Almost her first words to Lola were an invitation to the nursery to see baby Kathleen; and Miss de Ferras's first remark was—

'What a great pity. Lady Rhysworth, is was not a boy.'

'Why a great pity?' asked the young mother reproachfully. 'Could anything be fairer or sweeter than my little Kathleen?'

'No; but a boy would have succeeded to liis father's estates, and you need never have left Deeping Hurst.'

'I would rather have my daughter,' said Dolores, clasping the child to her breast, and Lola laughed.

'Sentiment is delightful, but a.large income is better. Dolores, do you ever think about the future? It seems a

straiige fate to have married so well, and to have lost your husband so soon. Do you ever think of the future? You have the best part of your life before yon ' !

'I have not thought of it,' answered Dolores, in a clear, low-voice; but her lovely face flushed and her lips trembled. ' 'My only thoughts have been of my loss and my sorrow and my beautiful baby. I have had neither time nor inclination for anything1 else.'

But Lola, looking steadfastly at her, repeated— 'The best part of your life lies before you. You are still very young; you are beautiful and wealthy; you have all the prestige without the burden of your husband's rank; and you have only one child. I say that you? future will be more brilliant, if you choose to make it so, than even your past has been.'