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Her First Lover. .

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Her First Lover. It was not to be wondered at that Catherine French was such a favourite with the people of this little East Coast village of Seafieid, seeing that she devoted the greater portion of her time and a not inconsiderable share of her income of 1300 a year to the good work of promoting the comfort and happiness of the fishermen of Seafieid and their families. Miss French, who was now in her thirtieth year. was a pale woman with a sweet and gentle face and a pair of beautiful brown eyes, full of tenderness and amiability; indeed, her expression was so amiable and pleasant that it would have made a less comely countenance winning and attractive. Of medium height. Catherine French would have been accounted a well-proportioned woman had she not had the misfortune to meet with a serious accident in childhood, which eventually brought on slight curvature of the spine; and though the deformity was not of a very pronounced character it was sufficient:y 80 to defeat all efforts at concealment. Miss French's house, a roomy, ivy-draped villa, with a small lawn in front and a spacious garden at the back. stood at that end of the village street abutting on the main road, the other end of which terminated in the cliffs overlooking the beach and the grey expanse of weltering sea. Here, with her faithful domestic, Martha, a somewhat crusty and garrulous East Coast woman, Catherine French had dwelt for many years, leading a life of perfect serenity and happiness, chequered, perhaps, with anxiety at times concerning the welfare of her numerous pensioners in the village. It was a lovely June morning when Miss French left the house to spend an hour or two on the beach, a favourite resort of hers during the summer months, where she ever found unfailing sources of enjoyment in the sea and sky, in the dappled blue overhead and the shining expanse of water, flecked here and there with the brown sails of fishing-boats and the dark hulls of passing ships. As she passed down the village street she was glad to see that Mrs. Bruce's annoucement of "Apartments to let" no longer figured in the front window of the widow's tiny cottage; and there was the widow herself in the little garden. smiling with evident enjoyment and satisfac- tion. "Good morning, miss," said the elderly dame, joming down to the wooden paling and salut- mg her. "Good morning. Ellen. I am glad to see you've got a visitor at last." "Yes. miss. the same gent as came last sea- son—the paintin' gent, you know, him what saved your hat," said Mrs. Bruce, explana- torily. "Oh. indeed!" "Yes, an' I'm glad to see"—here the widow dropped her voice—"that he's lookin' a bit more prosperous. He did seem dreadful poor last season, miss, though always the gentleman—I will say that for him. He's at his breakfast now—two lovely boiled eggs an' a. beautiful kipper. He say Seafieid do give him an appe- tite, miss." Catherine smiled, nodded to the widow, and resumed her wa-k. an expression of glad sur- prise and happiness in her gentle, brown eyes. So Sir Walter Raleigh—as she had privately christened the artist—had come back to Sea- field aagin; the frank and courteous and de-' lightully unconventional stranger who rescued her favourite straw hat from a watery grave last season, and handed it to her with such a charming air of old-fashioned gallantry and politeness. He was anxious, no doubt, to be near his favourite sketching ground, the Norfolk Broads, which were within two miles of Sea- field village. Going down the steep cliff pathway. Miss French was soon on the beach, where she seated herself in the shelter of an old fishing- boat, and proceeded to unpack her work-basket, -which she invariably brought with her on these jceasions. The sea was calm, no breath of wind ruming .he gleaming expanse of water, which lay tran- quil and glorious under a blue sky flecked with billowy clusters of shining clouds. A few fish- ing smacks, their brown sails swaying idly to and fro, lay motionless on the quiet sea, and nearer the shore a flock of wrangling gulls flew hither and thither, with shrill and queru- lous cries. Several ruddy-legged urchins were paddling in the surf with evident enjoyment, but no on else was visible on the beach. Catherine had raised her eyes from her needlework, and was looking at the children, when the boa.t against which she was leaning gave a sudden lurch. In another moment Sir Walter Raleigh, a big. handsome, loosely-built man, strode into view, and paused within a few yards of her. his eyes fixed on the sea. He had evidently not seen her, and she was glad-very glad. But as she bent over her work he turned sud- denly, and she knew that he was approaching her. "Has Miss French forgotten one Arthur Syl- vester, an artist from London, who had the good fortune to make her acquaintance last year?" She raised her head and smiled and nodded. "Miss French isn't so ungrateful," she replied. holding out her hand. "And so you've come to Seafieid again after all." she added, looking frankly at the bronzed and bearded face of the artist. "Yes." he replied, sitting down beside her. "I'm very fond of this spot." "I understood you to say last year that you might go abroad this season—to Veniace, I think you said." "So I did, but I have altered my plans. In :act, I think I can do better work here than anywhere else. I love the scenery of the Broads, and, besides, one can get some fine sea- scapes along the East Coast." After a pause he added in a tone of boyish exultation: "I never felt so happy as I do now. Fact is. Miss French, I have succeeded, after many weary years of heart-breaking struggles, in overcom- ing ail my difficulties. I feel now like one newly released from a long and severe spell of penal servitude." "I am pleased to hear such good news, Mr. Sylvester. You cannot fail to enjoy life now, having tasted so fully of its trials and disap- pointments." "If things hadn't taken a turn for the better with me. I shouldn't have come to Seafieid this year. Good fortune made me alter my plans." Then he paused again, and fixed his eyes on hers in a look of tender inquiry, the real sig- nificance of which she could not trust herself to believe. In a voice charged with deep and earnest feeling, he added: "One doesn't care to do such things- You might have misunderstood my motives." A shock of joy thrilled through Catherine's j heart. "Yon cannot misunderstand my motives I now," he resumed, after a short silence, "for I am no longer a poor man." It was quite late in the afternoon before Catherine returned home, and when Martha met her the faithful old creature exclaimed: "Well, miss, you do look sweet and happy to- da:v I" "Martha." replied her mistress, tears of joy welling up in her gentle brown eyes, "you will be surprised at what I am going to tell you." After a pause she added: "Mr. Sylvester has asked me to be his wife." "Oh "And I have consented, and I am so happy, Marthc--so happy:" Arthur Sylvester proved worthy of Cathe- rine's love, and her marriage was followed by a long life of unclouded happiness and joy. M. L. BARRY.

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