LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3442, 12 March 1932, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.

AN IMMIGRANT SHIP ROMANCE. The sun was setting over the hills. A man stood on the verandah of the little new cottage nest ing among the trees, and surveyed it with a deep sigh of satisfaction. To-morrow it would all be over, and he would have his reward!

Through five long years he had fought and wrestled with the native bush, and now it lay tamed to his hand. Cleai'ed paddocks stretched away on every side. Sheep—his sheep—grazed on the rich pastures. Crops—his crops—were sprouting on the slopes of the hills. The Tittle house that had been built so laboriously, room by room, was finished. How many times had he watched the sun set over those hills, while his muscles ached with fatigue, and his heart with loneliness? Wei 1 , it was the last time. He would never stand, alone, and watch it set again. Those days were past. To-morrow it wou’d all be over. He gazed down at the little garden which he had prepared with such loving care. Violets, narcissi, wafted a ming’ed sweetness to his nostrils. Surely she would be pleased Five years! It had been a long time; but as he gazed about the farm that was his at last, at the home that was readv for her. and through the onen window to her photo, on his dressing table: he felt that it had been well worth it.

To-morrow he would see her, after five long vears! He was going to the cit.v bv the night train to meet the boat from England. Thev would be married ouiefly in Auckland and come straight back to the little home he had nrenared for her in the heart of the bush. How hanov they would be! The man smiled to himself. The light was fading now. but he staved on. ’eaning on the verandah rail, and dreaming hanuily in the dusk.

The sun was setting over the sea. A man and a woman leaned to-

gether on the deck-rail of a big liner staring into the west. “What shall I say to hint? ” the woman asked. “ Don’t worry, I’ll fix him,” the man replied. “ He’ll be down to meet the boat, I expect,” she said. “ I feel rather mean. I wish we had sent him a wire, after we were married.” “ There wasn’t time. Don’t you worry. He probably won’t mind much. How could he, when he hasn’t seen you for five years? ” “ Oh, he’s like that—steady, and plodding, and unchanging. I was rather dreading the monotony of life on his beloved farm.” “ You won’t find life with me monotonous,” the man whispered softly. “ I must have been sent to save you.” “ P’rhaps you were.” Their hands clasped together.

“ After all, it’s a good thing we’re married,” the woman went on. “Surely he won’t make so much fuss when he «ees it’s honeless.” “He won’t if he’s any sport. How could any man expect a woman to wait five years without seeing him? He ought to understand it wasn’t reasonab’e.”

“ Yes, but I’m dreading meeting him all the same.” “ Don’t you worry. I’ll fix him,” the man said again. And they fell silent. The sun was sinking into the sea, and it was growing dark. They leaned together on the deck-rail, whi'e the great ship bore them ever nearer the morrow’s destination—Auckland.

It was almost dark—and the man up in the hills shivered involuntarily. Funny, the sharp chill that came over the air as soon as the sun had set. He sighed, and straightened up. Time to go in and light the fire and scratch up a mea 1 before driving to the township to catch the train to town. The last meal he would have to get for himself. To-morrow! He heaved another happy sigh, and at the same moment a second shiver overtook him. It seemed strangely cold to-night. He shook himself impatiently and passed into the house.