"Please go on, Anna."
"I cannot expect you to comprehend my exceeding loneliness at that time, because your life has never been empty, and you have now your beautiful child. When first I met you I had nothing. When I say nothing, I do not mean to infer that I was destitute of worldly means. I had an ample fortune which I inherited from my mother, besides the manor house and the landed estates of my grandfather; but I was destitute in the deepest sense; I had nothing of my own to love; I was alone. Do you know what that word alone means, 'when hope and the dreams of hope lie dead?' No, Ada, you cannot, God grant you never may. At length there dawned that rich, golden autumn day, when you named Cora, and gave me the right to say 'My.' The surprise was so great to me that I scarcely knew whether I was moving about in a dream, for my existence had been so long void of interest that I deemed happiness for me dead. But when I took Cora in my arms, and looked into the wondrous eyes, and saw the love, the purity and the delicate sensibility of the being to whom I could always in the future say 'My,' a new world and a new existence seemed before me, and I thought angel voices thus whispered and said, 'We have brought this beautiful child into your life to dwell forever as a sweet, fair flower in the garden of your heart.' And as the child grew and talked and called me by my name, the music of its voice and footstep gladdened my soul and sent a thrill of joy through my whole being. Ever since the day of our shipwreck, when you were lying on the beach so near death that I did not dare to allow myself to believe that you could live, (and may I say it, Ada, without seeming vain), when I was made the instrument to call you back to life. Ever since that day until this, you and Cora have seemed to belong to me; to be mine to love and live for. So you see you have brought back the sunshine into my life. I have finished; I shall never again talk in this way. My study shall be to brighten, not to sadden, the path which lies before you in the future."
Anna Vyvyan kept her promise to the end.
CHAPTER XIII.
The heart that has been mourning
O'er vanished dreams of love,
Shall see them all returning,
Like Noah's faithful dove.
And hope shall launch her blessed bark
On sorrow's darkening sea.
I have had joy and sorrow; I have proved
What lips could give; have loved and been beloved;
I am sick and heart-sore,
And weary, let me sleep;
But deep, deep,
Never to awaken more!
It was September again, and the golden rod and fall asters, that had for seven seasons been Cora's delight, were once more in their yellow and purple glory. The day was sunny, and the rich autumnal glow spread itself over the walls of the old castle, the forest, the rocks, and the sea, and the island and its surroundings seemed to the little family to be more beautiful than ever.
Mrs. Carleton was engaged in decorating the green parlor with flowers and trailing plants, which Miss Vyvyan and Cora had gathered for that purpose. The two latter had gone down among the trees near the beach to get the last basketful of moss to complete the work of adornment.
"Quick, Trefethen, quick, hand me my gun; see those birds, what an immense flight of them," shouted a strong masculine voice within a few yards of the trees which concealed them from view, and which also prevented them from seeing from whom the voice came.