New York Clipper (Mar 1878)

FItAJNTK Editor and OTJEEIV, SWEET LOVE. ■WUITTES FOB THE yVW TORK CLIPPES, BY E. KORSfAN GU>-M30N. •'Swwi lore," I n A 1 d, and clasped her hnod: We walked be< fdde tbe aUrer riTcr, Which past the bordera of the land Went wtdeolns to the oceaa's Rtiand. Past rockv Isle, past oarrcQ •and, A.S IT to Journey OD forcTer. "My love Hhall be like yonder RtTeam, Which broadeiM as It nearv tbe ocean, : And. beuiiut In Ita depths the br«ani. f WbUtonlubreaj^t tbe white BaLU plcaiu, Ani over It the mn-raya beam. Ilaa bat one oltJect of devoUoo." "Ob. not like that, dear lore." nhe cried; "For 05 It onward floweth ever, It eroweth Id Ita scope too wide— I cumot bear the rapid tide, AJtbooeh onchenglnK In ItM elide— I^t not 7onr love be Uke tbe river. *'Bnt rather like yon little gpring That trlcklefl downward toward tbe valley. So happy that It can bnt frini;; PertaapA a weak and helpleM thinz. Where hrtebt-plomed wUd-blrOit dip tbe wing, And with Its watera pause to dally." And 801 love not Itke the tide Of the advandnjr. palaln;^ river. Bnt with the brooklets happy glide, TThlch wanden flowery bank* bcride. And Rome day, gnwn more mrllt and wide, "Hay Kcek tbe ocean^s depthn forever. THE DARK AND THE LIGHT; OB, DRIFTINB APART ONTHE OCEAN OF UFL ISlDirofAburblDirlnterMt, ThrilllnK EfTects, and PowerlU Dnmitle SltmtlOD*. BT JANE HILL, iinOS OP "Dt^e TREASFRK." "CLYTIK CRUtBOCBSE." •THE OoLDEK Bowl," otc. CHAPTER 1.—TH3 TTBECK. Thta rose trom sea to ek7 tbo irUd tarowell, men Bhrleked the timid, and stood still tbe brave: I iSbm eome leaped overlioard wltli dreadlul reU, As eager to anticipate tbeir grave; •iai tbe sea yawned around her like a holl. And down Bbe sncked wltli her the whirling wave. Like one who grapples with his enemy And strives to strangle him before he die. Tbe Indian Ocean, tlie wind blowing forlons- flf.tbe sea lashed np with a^^tation, till the I oests of the waves looked like so much whli>- I ped cream set on lidges of al dark-green, snaky 'noe, in whloh the steamship Lurllne rolls help- O^Bsly, 'water-IoKged. maimed, biokeo, and a n^jrom the bme of their leaving Bom- l la; djHgjessel bad met with nothing bat dls- I actus. iBefore they were five miles out at sea , Jcra^es were reversed, beiore a biMreolutr rte lowered to his aaalstonoe his would-be res- I'oeis saw him bitten by an enormous shark. fTblswos enough to throw a gloom over the aew and passengers, but it was only the begln- mg of their troubles. As evening closed in the wind rose, and tain sach as we larely experience in this temperate tone fell heavllj. ill through the night this continQed, and when morning dawned ue very atmosphere was thick and stifllnf with heat and moisture, for the rain still fell in sheets tuther than In drops, the wind howled and tore at the masts as thouf^h resolved to carry them amy, and the sea boiled and laged Uke a seeth- ing cauldron, Honiiing over the sides of the Teasel, which, with its freight o( human lives, aeemed bnt an objeotof sport and derision to it. The whole of the next day and night this con- tinned, bnt the third day they lost the jibboom, the toretopsalL topgallantmast and royalmast ilnat eleven o clock the same day the port life- boat was washed oveiboard, and two or three honis later the starboard life-boat shared the tame fate, and '.the captain's face looked stem and pale like that of a man nerving himself to meet death with the responsibUity of the lives ol two hundred of his fellow-creatores upon blB liead. It is near the closeot thethirdday, when, anx- kms as he is for the tbte of the vessel, the cap- Un follows the doctor to one of the state cablnB, where a lady is dying. A. fair, delicate, high- bred English womimlles upon the couch,while b the lower berth ore two <^dron side by, side. They are asleep, and as well as one can judge ue nearly of the same age; but one la fair and white as a Illy, while the other shows unmistak- ably the taint of dark blood in Its veins. Olanc- in; at the couch upon which the fair lady Is 17%. yon see her attendant bending over her, ud, tEuI and handsome as she Is, you recognize her as a halt-castei and to these two mothers belong the two Infants sleeping so peacefully ttuoagh the fearful storm. Kay, the winds and tbe rolling sea rock them bnt the more soundly to Bleep, all unconscious of the dangers that cniToimd them, and of the changes which this <torm will make In their Uves. With everytldng on earth to live tor, Lady Alice Filz-Howaid Hill is lying here tossed on tbe bosom of the deep, tempestuous ocean, siting to die. Wealtt^ position and beauty, the love of a devoted husband, the ollnging hands of a helpless babe,'all are hers to hold her back to life; but the flat has gone forth, and ■he knows that within but a few hours now at bitbest even thon^ the vessel reach its des- tination'In safety, she will have taken that jour- »ey whence there Is no return. She makes no struggle against it; she is past that, and her uxiety now is only and solely for the safety ol her eUId. Another presence by the side of her conch, and she opens her eyes wearily to look at the captain, vnio hss come In compliance with her request. Even at this awful moment Captain Speke looks at her blue eyes, thinks he Should know them again all the world over, ■nd sighs sadly to think how soon the cold ■saves will wash over them. "Captain," she says, but her voice Is so low that In the noise nuide by the storm he has to hand down almost to her pillow to hear the Voids, "shall ws—win the ship live tbrongh itr she asks. "1 do not know, madams," Is the calm, al- most stem reply. "It is not for myself—I am dying " she oon- tmnes. "But my child. Soma wm take care ^ her; she was my foster-sister, and I can ^■nst her to love my child ns well as her own," ■od she looks affectionately at her dusky at- 'Bbdant; "bnt she knows nothing of the world ot her way about It, and I want to ask vou, ^ptain, to take them under your care until my naaband can reach them. You have a wife and children of your own?" "Tes, I have—a wife and one boy. I will do w in my power for your nurse and child, '"'dame, if we are spared to reach land." "And if not?" asked the lady. The captain Involuntarily shrugged his shoulders as he said: "Onr lives are not in oar hands, madame. If Hive I will do as you ask. bnt you had better 8ive me your husband's addre8B--that Is, if yon aw sbong enough," "He Ism India, bat he wOl go to England in s tew months, when he can get leave, and his ■ddreas will be Captain Htz-Howaid Hill, Dray- Jon Abbey, Snney, and " But her voloe woke down, though It had previously been lit- ''S more than a whisper, and a tremwdous *9ash overiiead made the captain hastily rush on deck, woke the two Children sleeping in the hath, and roused the dying woman for the In- Btant from the lethargy of death that was creep- hJf over her. "Sums, give me my oblld; let me take her in B>y arms; we shall all die together." And as the woman hastily nanded her the In- UQt she preeaed her clammy Ups upon her soft, *atm cheek, then her head fell back; and she Kerned to sleep. And the ohfld slept while the doctor was oafied away to attend one of. the Allots who had been lijiiied bythefalllngmast' spars wfaioh lad oaased the craiiE that Mlled the captain \ deck; aiad Soma, the hcdf- ttste, believing her mtstzess to be ssleep, took apner own <^Udand nimed ^ Xhosonhonr pasEed,when Dr. Marker, looking in at the stateroom door, glanced at the nurse, and asked: ' "How is she?" "Asleep," was the reply. J ^ position of the sleeper made the dootor^s eye linger upon her. Then SL^?'**T**' pit his hand upon her " 1^8* sUent; the mechanism 01 that wondrous human machine had come to ?»,2Jl?5'^J'' 'J'^ pendulum that marked the throbs and pulsabons ol life had stopped, and no science or power on earth could set it in mo- tion again. "Take the child from her arms," he said: "she IS dead." ' And while the woman's wail for her loved and lost mistress rose even above the din of the »™ge^t, he went off to report the death to the "Poor lady I with her the question is settled To us it is scarcely doubtful,'' was the reply. And then the surgeon realized that its gal- lant commander was beginning to despair of his vwsel. and, though accustomed himself to meet death In many a guise, for just one sec- ond the man of science turned pale, and his limbs trembled. Then he roused himself There were women and children on board; surely he could meet death it they must And he made his way to the forecastle to see how some of his patients there were progressing. As night again cumo on, the maiiued vessel shipped heavy seas, which carried awny the engine-room liatch, and the water rushed ilown, putting out the Area. Then not only the Siulors, but the passengers, set to work to stop the leak and bail out the water; but it was useless. Heavy cross seas constantly broke over the doomed ship, and, though all the men on board worked at the pumps in turn through that long night, the hurricane continued, nnd when morning dawned Ciptain Speke called his passengers together and told them thoy must prepare for the worst Then all the ox- cesses that maddened fear and reasonless ter- ror could impel human beings to indulge in broke out over the vessel. Some put on their beet clothes, nrraycd themselves in costly silks, Indian shawls and jewels, as though determin- ed to meet death in all their beauty and brave- ry; and some broke open the spirit-room and til.>d to drown the thought of death in present Intoxication. A goodly number, headed by the captain, tried to pray, while the ilrst mate and some of the seamen, thinkiuf^ there might still be a chance to escape, launched the boats that remained nnd called on those who chose to try thom to make haste, as the ship was evidently fast settling down to her fate. But the number anxious to grasp this possible ohnnco of safety was few, for thesca seemed to be rolling mount- ains high, and ere the first boatful had clear- ed the ship by a dozen yards she was swamped', and all who had taken refuge in her perished. < Two or threo hours pa£ed. Still the Lur- line, though dismasted and but a wreck upon the waters, floated: the weather, too, seemed to have grown a trifle better, and once more an effort was made to man the boats. On the deck, watching them, stood the strange figure of a woman, blaok-eyed, dark-skinned, tall and commanding in proportions, with an infant tied up on her bock in the costly Indian shawl that was wound round her, and with a second Infant wrapped in an equally expensive covering in her arms. It was Suma, I^y Alice Fltz-How- jrH TTil )'a^to«itar plater and mira» ^yiiLS^th hei 'oyni oKlWTlErfBatot^rlifSlresf.\ras slana N^EW YORK:, S^TURD^Y, T VrAT ?r!TT 30, 1878. I r»rlce Ten Oents. Ing ready to seize any chance of life for the two children las well as for herself. Not that the chances wfere In their favor, but she had gath- ered together her mistress' money and jewels, also, as we have seen, her more valuable shawls, so that if rescued and landed upon any-stiange soil she would not be penniless, or vrithout re- sources. The pinnace was now got ready, lowered, and made clear of the ship, and Suma, stand- ing on the side of the vessel, cried: "Take me 1" "Throw us the child," was the reply, "then jump." One moment's hesitation and the child she held in her arms was thrown over the gulf of water that separated the ship from the lK>at, and safely caught by one of the sailors. "Now jump." They did not see the child she carried slung on her back, and she, too, for the moment, hod forgotten it Could she jump the distance? There was no time for hesitation. A leap, n splash, the boat almost capsizing with the sud- den jerk upon its side; but the woman is safely in it, and when she looks round she sees that the ship Is many boat-lengths off, and the waves seem so high as though thoy were trem- bling and hesltatuig ere they broke over them. The sailor who had caught the first child hands it to the nurse, an action that makes her re- member the second, and she puts up her hand to assure herself of its safety, but It Is gone. She asks the man nearest to her if he has seen her child; bnt he thinks her mind is wander- ing, for Is it not in her lap? And she moans and orles vainly for a short time, then is silent With death staring them so closely in the face, what is the life of an infant? and she has still one left to protect and comfort; perhaps, also, to remind her of what she has lost. And the sun sinks In the west—night comes on. By the last gleam of daylight they see that the Lurllne rail floats; but when morning breaks the ship Is no longer visible to those who have passed the night In the open boat. Either she has sunk or the distance between hides her from their tilght • CHAPTER n. I,AI>T ELIZABETH FTTZ-HOWABD. Where beauty watched to Imitate Her gentle voice, her lovely mion. And gather trom her air and gait The graces of Its queen.- Bibom. "More letters for Alice, but none from her." The speaker was a lady of some one or two and thirty years of age, tall, handsome, and with a resemblance In feature, color, and car- riage to the portraits of Queen Elizabeth, in her brightest and palmiest days. Her companion was^s few years older than hetaelf, and as great a contrast as it was possible to find; tor, whereas Lady Elizabeth Fitz-Howard was tall, stately, and handsome, Urs. Fish, her com- panion, was short, stout decidedly plain, with a soft, purring way about her, which suggested at once a near relationship to a wcU-fed tabby- oat True, her bands were pretty—and she knew it—soft, white, plump hands, with two or three seductive dimples, the left adorned with just her plain wedding-ring, and the right with a small solitaire diamond, just snfDcient to at- tract attention to the finger it encircled. Add to thi" that when in the least degree perplexed or excited she seemed to wash her hands with invisible soap and impalpable water, and some slight insight into her character may be easily obtained. "Tes, Lady Alice ought to have been here a fortnight ago," assented Urs. Fish, preparing to pour out the coffee, for the two ladies were about to take breakfast, and the letter-bag had only just been opened. "I hope nothing has happened to her, or to the child," continued Lady Elizabeth- anxious- ly. "I am almost inclined to telegraph to Charles—only, as he wrote to tell me his wife, with her nurse, had started, it may alarm him." "Tes; I would wait a few days longer; she may be overfatlgued, or the baby may be un- weu—a dozen things may have happened to de- tain her on the road when traveling such a long distance. A little more sugar, dear?" "No. Do you remember the name of the ship ♦hit* Charles said Alice left Bombay In?" "Oh, yea, the 'Lurllne:' but she was coming by the overland route; it is very different now from the time when I oame home from India." " Ah, yM. Ton were bom there?" "Tes, dear. Ky father, as you know, was In the Company's service, and I was sent home when a onild, and " "Tes, I know," with a movement of impa- tience. It waa an old story, and had been many times repented. "I must do something," Lady Elizabeth went on, pushing her scarcely tasted coffee impa- tiently from her. "I had a horrible dream about Alice last night I thought I saw. her standing on a sinking ship, holding up her child to me, and heard her voice distinctly saying: " 'Take her, cherish her; shelsthelast of our zaoel" "The horror and (right woke me. I thought to have had news this morning. I am sure aomethlng dreadful has happened. I feel it" . "Nonsense, dear. Ton are norvous and not vety well; bad news travels fast, and If any- thing had been wrong yon would nave beard it. Take a good gallop over the hills, or a brisk walk in the park; either would do you good." But Lady Elizabeth was not to be soothed in this manner, and she rang the bell, asking sharply: "Have the newspapers come?" "Tes, my lady." "Then bring them in at once; you know I hato to be kept waiting." The man withdrew, not, however, before he had cast an anxious glance at Mrs. Fish, who was, however, too intent upon her breakfast to notice it "Ttiat woman thinks of nothing bnt eating and drinking, and lining hor pocket with my lady's gold,'* muttered the old servant as he went to fetch the newspapers. "She mights', broken it to her gently, and It's more than my Ol liej. I placeworth to try It: and poor Lady Alice, But It's, just what the parson said last Suuday in church: 'One shoU be taken and another one left' " With whloh, having examined the newepa- pera previously himself, he carried them Into the breakfuet-room, taking core to put The Itmes under the rest, as though there was something in it he wished to hide, glancing furtively at his mistress at the same time in a manner that ex- cited her suspicions at once. "What is it?" she asked imperatively. '"The newspapers, my lady." "I suppose so; but what are you trying to hide." "Nothing, my lady; thai Is, my lady, I've been in the family lugh on forty years—and— and " The old man's voice broke down In a sob. Airs. Fish put down a tempting morsel she was in the act of conveying to ner lips without tast- ing it, and Lady Elizabeth, frightened at she scarcely knew what, yet awed by the grief of the old man, who had been a youth when she was bom, put her hand on his arm and said stomly: "Stevens, tell me what you moan at once." "Lady Alice, my lady, many a time I've car- ried her in my arms over rough places, and to think that now " Bnt he was checked by a low cry from his mistress, who for an instant staggered, then sank in a low chair, her face very white, but her features set, as she said to Mrs. Fish: "Amelia, read it to me." "Let me get vou some water—your smelling salts—you are faint" "No; read it," was the stem command, and Stevens, having pointed out the dreaded para- graph. Mis. Fish read: "FouKDEBma OP THE LVBLIKE.—The ship Lurllne left Bombay on the 28th, bound tor Suez, the crew and passengers numbering 220 persons. From tbe first she experienced very heavy galea, the masts being blown away, the machinery ren- dered useless, and the vessel water-logged; for- tunately the good ship Lena came near her In time to save the captain and tbe greater part ot the crew and passengers before tbe ill-fated Lur- llne sank. Two boat-loads bad prevloasly put off, but their fate Is unknown up to the present One very sad thing occurred: Lady Alice Fltz-Howord Hill, second daughter ot the late Earl ot Drayton, wife ot Captain Hill ot the — Hussars, died on the flth day, leaving an infant to tbe Joint core ot her nurse and tbe captain. In jumping into one of the boats tbe nume dropped the child Into the sea; It was wonderfully rescued. Its long dress being caught by a boat-hook, and, stranger still, the motherless child Is alive, though the (ate ot Its nurse Is stlU dubious." "My dream," said Lady Elizabeth, with a shudder, as Afrs. Fish ceased reading. "The last of our race I Oh, it is horrible I And my poor sister—dead, in ail her youth and beauty. "She wos but your liaU-sister, dear," said Mrs. Fish, robbing her white handis noiselessly. "How dare you remind me ot that, and now, too? Leave me I Cannot I remember how un- kind I have sometimes been to her, without your taunting me wiUi it? Oo away, and donx let anyone come near me UUI ring." And, stamping her foot as she spoke. Lady Elizabeth almo^ drove Stevens and her com- panion from the room, then locked the door to keep out any witness of her misery. Hour after hour passed, no bell was rung, no sign ol life fiven from that locked room, and those who new Lady Ellzat>eth's disposition and temper dared not even knock iipon the door until she had summoned thom. Day waned, night setln, and Mrs. Fish, who was beginning to feel anx- ious about her dinner, condescended to take counsel with the housekeeper, who, having been In the family ever since Lady Elizabeth was bom, might be supposed to know something more about her than the woman who had never seen her until within the last dozen yeara. In the midst of their consultation Stevens came to announce that a gentleman with a woman and baby had arrived at the Abbey, asking for her IndyshicP _ "Perhaps it's the child 1" exclaimed Kis. Fish with alacrity: "if it Is, somobody must tell her; perhaps yon had better do so, Mrs. Hood." "Very well, ma'am; then 111 see the gentle- man first," whereupon the housekeeper went to receive Captain Speke. "It's very kind of you, sir, to come all this long way, anxious as you must betogettoyour own tamfly," said Mrs. Hood as soon as the feicts were explained to her, "and my lady will be veiry graterul.wihen ahe knows it; but she's very bad to-day:'she only got the sad news this morning, and she's shut herself up. I sui>- pose I had better go to her." "If yon please," said Captain Speke courte- ously, "but flnnly. "I junsf return by the niner o'clo<^ train ;ItiB now seven. I promised Lady Alice I would take care of her chUd, and If lAdy Elizabeth Fitz-Howard does not wish to take cnarite ot it I must take it back to my own wife until I can communicate with - Captain Fitz-Howard HIU himself. This Is the question I want answered, and vrith as little delay as possible, if you please." "Ot couisemylady will want to keep It, sir; but m go and tell her." .And, In some trepldatfon, old servant, as she was, she went and kBooked at the breakfsst- Koaniwer. A second, and again a third time, when soQdenly the door waa TASSISG AWAY. opened, nnd the mistress ol tho Abboy, with a pale, swollen face, and eyes that wore burning and tearless, stood before tho startled woman, asking, in a low, fierce tone: "Am I never to )m obeyed? How dare you disturb me?" "If you please, my lady, the captain of the ship has brought nor ladyship's baby. He won't leave it unless ho sees you and hears from your own lips that you'll take care ot it and wish to have it, and no goes awny again diroctly. I'm the only one in the house who has dared to come and tell you what you'd never forgive us lor hiding; but I nuraed you when a baoy, my lady, and it you send me away alter these years of service I must go. But what shall I tell the gentleman?" "Tell him—teU him to wait" "He oame to keep his promise to a dying wo- -ipfl" Iwfnm BTilfig_tQ.,hisoHa.yife. Lady Eliza-. ■»jein," atoU'Mia^<W*,-a3Kt<»*6SSn7=tJi*^ pose he will feel he has done his duty, uhd take the child away with him;" and the house- keeper, with more dignity than her mistress had ever seen in her slight form before, was walking away, when the latter said: "Hood, forgive mo; I did not mean to be hard or bareh. I will see this man, but not just yet Ask him to have some dinner, take care of the child, and tell me how long ho can stay." "les, my lady; ho says he must leave by the nine-o'clock train. I'll tell him you will see him at eight, and I'll bring you the baby my- self. I forgot to look and see If It's like Its mother." "Do." But while Captain Speke, in company with Mrs. Fish, was eating his dinner and thinking that the little waif he had rescued from tho sea would have everything that wealth and influ- ence could purchase, the child itself was under- going an o-mmlnation which, had it been old enough to understand what was said, it would have scarcely considered flattering. "Why, she's got black eyes I" exclaimed Mrs. Hood, aghast, "and such a thing was never heard of in the family before. Lady Alloc had blue eyes, and so have you, my lady, and so has her father; and bow Drown her skin Is—a pretty child, some folks might say, but not like the old stock. I suppose there can't be any mistake, can there?" "How should thore be? All babies are more or less alike," replied Lady Elizabeth. "But I must see tho man who brought her; let him ksow I will do so when he has finished dinner." And without besto^Ting even a kiss upon the infant. Lady Elizabeth Fitz-Howard walked away; the dark baby had found no favor in her eyes. CHAPTER in.—"I wnx have rr." Was the bargain made In an angry moment, when pride was hurt? Was It then that the snow-white robe waa laid To t>e trampled on In the dirt? "And you are sure this is my sister's child?" It was Lady Elizabeth Fitz-Howard who asked the question, and Captain Speke, who had just finished his account ot Lady Alice's last request to him, and the peril of the ship, and the rescue of its passengers, started in sur- prise at the question, as he replied: "I havo every reason to bellove so; tt Is the child which your sister's nurse lot fall Into the sea when she leaped into the boat But why do you ask the question? Tou cannot doubt me, surely." "Certainly not But had not the woman Suma a child of her own?" "I think so; yes, there were two babies, but it was natural she should think of her own child first: the other one was taken away in the boat with her." "Then either of the children, and we do not know which, belonged to my sister?" observed the lady with cold decision. "Tes," was the answer, with an Impatient shrug, "and I have brought yon the one we rescued without any certificate as to its parentr age, unless the clothes in which it was dressed may be taken as such." "I vrill tell you my reasons for asking these questions. Captain Speke," said the lady, more graciously. "The baby you have brought me IS dark, with block eyes, with the taint ot color about her, and we as a race are all tair; so are my sister's hu8t>and and his family. But the nurse Suma was a half-caste, though her hus- l>and was an Englishman. Don't you think that the presumption is that tills is her child, and not my sister's?" . "I really cannot say. If the nutse and the other child survive you can easily decide the auestion, and in the meantime what is to be one?" "I will keep the chUd, ot conrse; It Is'only an idea on my part, and I may be mistaken. I also b^ to express my sincere thanin. for your great kindnnsB. and the trouble you have taken. You have a wife, I believe; will you ask her to accept this ring from me as a token of my grat- itude to her husband?" And the Lady Elizabeth, with an air as gra- cious as conld ever have biaen assumed by ner lUustrious namesake, took a magnifloent dia- mond from her linger and banded it to the cap- tain of the iU-tatad Lnrliha. "My wife will feel proud to wear your ring, madame," replied Captain Speke frankly; "it shall be a token between ns also; if ever I learn anything to conflim your theory atMut the Identity ot the children I will send it to you, even If I cannot oome myself; yon will know then that I agree with yon and have proof to conflim your suspicion.'^ ','Tbank .you. I shall bring up this chfld as though I had no doubt about her relatlonshlt)' to me, and from. this hour I shall not even breathe a srisplaion of It unless I have incon- testable proof; and von, I am sure, will feel it a matter of right and justice to say nothhig of our cOnSrtfrsation.'bnt'It Suma and the other child ^oold be found, to' gtve' me your aid In arriving at the truth." Oaptain.Speke bowed over the hand extended to hiin. He quite nndarstood the Implied com- pact he was pledging himself to, though be could not know the leaaons whloh prompted this proBd, beantifal'woiiiaii to ths ooniaeahe wivs pursuing. And yet, to those who knew hor, tho motives which actuated her were clear cnou;;h. It was far from probable that she would evei- marryand have children ot horown. The earldom of DrayUm had t>ecome extinct with the death ot her father, consequently she anil hor sister had been coliolrcsaes in his enormous wealth, and her sister's rights nnd property would descend also to her daughter. In the favor of whoso son, it she had one, tho title might bo .again revived. Theroforo it was im- portant, in Lady Elizabeth's estimation, that thore should bo an heir, male or female, to tho property and name, and henoe tho readiness with which she accepted the child brought to her trom the vrreok of the "Lurllne," even though in her heart she did not believe her to be her half-sister's daughter. So Captain Speke went away, canying the ring w1th_ him—a curious ring and somewhat tre, and a circle of smaller ones round it form' ing a cluster, while on the gold at the back ot it were engraved the lettere E. F. H. "A handsome present," thought the gallant sailor ss he exanuncd it when alone in the rail- way carriage on his vray back to town. "I wonder If It Is the right baby or not?" He could only wonder and speculate on the toint however, having not one acrap of fact or nowledge to guide him inadecisionogainst the helpless waif he had taken to Drayton Abbey, for tho clothes it wore when rescued from the sea were of the finest description, and evidently formed part ot the outfit which Lady Alicu Fitz- Howard Hill had provided for her baby. 'What more conclusive evidence could there be of an infant's identity? A new element had oome Into Drayton Abbey. A nursery was established, two nurses were en- gaged, and Lady Elizabeth seemed to sink into comparative insignificance before the tiny tyrant who had thus arrived to share her domain. Not that Lady Elizabeth bowed down to cjid be- came the slave of the wonderful infant, as all the other women in the house, even down to Mra. Fish, did. Sho was never seen by anyone to kiss it; she never took It In her arms, bntshe ordered everything tor its comfort nnd amuse- ment, visited the nuraeiy once a day, and order- ed baby to l>e brought to see her tor about five minutes before being put to bed each night And thus the days and weeks and months went on. No news oame of Snma and the other child, except that the boat in which they and the sailors had sought to save themselves had been picked up by an American vessel, after having been tossing about for eight-and-foity hours on the sea; but how many of the boat's crew were saved and what became ot them could not with accuracy be discovered. "I will keep this up till Charles arrives," thought Lady Elizabeth, as she looked at the dark-skinned baby. "Surely he will know if it is his own child, for he has seen it before." But she hod longer to wait for her brother- in-law's arrival than she had calculated upon. Lady Alice hod been ordered to leave India at once by the doctora. If she would save her life. Her husband had not been able to get leave at the time, but was promised It later- on; and so ftusband and wife ported, never in this world to meet again. When the news of his wife's death reached Charles Fitz-Howard Hill—he bad taken her name on his marriage—he was frantic with grief and despair; tho shock brought on a fe- ver, from which he had scarcely recovered when his regiment was ordered to the Crimea, the Busslan war having just broken out, and the idea of obtaining leave to go to England, or ot selling out of the army, was, of course, out of the question. Besides, what had be to live for? A helpless baby, whose mother's family would care for and richly dower. Had his chUd been a boy it might have been otherwise—be might have looked forward to the years when he should become his companion and friend; but a girl—one who would become an heiress too— was pretty sure to marry and leave her father, and he could build up no hopes for the future with her. So Captain Fits-Howard Hill rather hailed with relief than otherwise the ideaot Roing where there would be something more than mere ronOne in bis daily life, where peril, excitement, and death would be his constant companions, so that thought and regret might not crush him under their Iron heel or goad him to madness. When the news, reached Lady Elizabeth, at Drayton Abbey, that her brother-in-law. Instead of coming home, was ordered to the seat of war, she ground her toeth and pacod about the room as tnoagh, as Hra. Fish afterwards ob- served. She had been a wild animal, instead ot a human being. Indeed, according to this worthy woman, her ladyship did not take mis- fortune, disappointment or pain patiently. In- stead ot bowing her head to the blast, she stood up and raged against the tempest with a violence that silenoed and awed those who heard her, and where others would have wept and cowered and sat down In helpless misety, she fought and strunled, refusing, while life was in bier, to be subdued. Now she felt like a Uoness bound by numerous small cords, any one ot which she might have broken, bnt the whole were beyond her strength to snap. Day after day shs became more confirmed In her susplefon that this was not her sister's child, bnt that ot tbe nurse; but how conld she prove it? 'Where was the true heiress of Dray- ton Abbey, If this were not she? Alive, and ex- posed to privation and neglect? or dead? while a low-bom usurper filled her place. The thought stung this, proud woman, the last of ,thefitE-Howards,toinadne8S. If her brother- in-law would bnt come home, things might be clearer: but now she had gone too tar to draw back. Bad aha repudiated the infant at lint, she could then have taken steps openly to dis- cover the missing ehiM, wbereaa now to do so would seem as thoogb she had changed her opinion from mere caprice, and nothing else. Soil, to foist an Impostor , by accident upon the worid as her leoaf heir and descendant was more than Lady' Elizabeth was capable of, anions as She "iip* t be the name'and In- ' Ihieooe of her family should not die oot Tied as she waa by appeoiancee, I«dy Eliza- beth could do little or nothing openly; but wealth is a wonderful power, and opens with its golden key so many secret coffers, and tho«io who possess great wealth, as a rule, believe so inlollibly In its otficacy, that, hu\'im; once deter- mined to employ it without stint, shu could not doubt that she would get what sho required. An instrument, however, was wonted, and, look- ing over the morning pupets, her ovo rested upon the following advertisement wmch seem- ed as thouRh it would answer her purpose: "Oorlldge, Private Inquiry Agent. Confldentlal inquiries mode on every subject, next ot kin dls- corerod, legal cases Investigated, tbe utmost secrecy maintained. Address: Cecllstreet, Strand, London. "Ill write to him, at any mto," mused the ladv ot the Abbey. Three days afterwards Mr. Oorlidge himself came down to see her. A hill, rather hand- some man, of some two or three and thirty, "almost" a gentleman, ns Stevens, who usherud him In, mentally expressed it, with kiHsn brown eyes, which sccmc^d like a pair of sUluttoR, ready to dart through the person he was ad- dressing, nnd to drag out the thou!;hts ot their veiy souls; having dark brown hair, with a red- dish tinge In it, and full, sensual lips, bv no means ugly in shape, but, token os an indox to their owner's chamctor, like a very signboard, on which, in capital letters, was written "Uf- ware!" Wrapped about with her own prido :ind dignlt)-, Ludy Elizabeth looked upon him simply OS a tool, n paid servant—one, howovor, in whom it would bo desirable to place as little uunfldenco as possible. "And you vraat this woman Suma, or rather Mrs. WrlRlitaon, discovered, wherever sho may lie?" ol>sen-ed Mr. Gorlidgc, making notoe as lie spoke. "Yea, nnd tho child she has with her: that is as important -is herself," replied the lady. "Her own child?" The keen brown eyes fixed themselves uiwn Ijiuly Elizabeth's countenance, till, proud us sho was, and gifted with so much sulf-com- luund, sho ^It her face orimson. But her voice was steady us sho replied: "Of course." "Then it wrtll be dark like herself?" The lady shrugged her shoulders impatiently OS sho said: "I never saw it; her husband Is whito, and sho is not so very dark herself: but I want both the child and mother found, let the scorch cost what it may." "Yes, my lady, even though wo have to send, or I have to go, to America to find them?" "Yes; if you have to go all over the world." "Thunk you; I think my instructions are complete," glancing over his notes. "I will take a hundred pounds on account. It you please, and I shall send you a weekly report of my progress." So tho check was written, and Mr. George Oorlidge took his leave. '\Vhon tho fly In which he hud traveled from the station had left the Abbey half a mile behind he stopped the driver, got out, walked a little distance, sun-eying the magnifloent pile of buildiuKS with envious greed. "A chance comes to all men onco in tholr lives," be miitters.half aloud, as he looks upon the family mansion of the Earls ot Drayton, "and my lucky star was in the ascendant when ru wrote to me, my lady. If Hive longenough will be the owner and master of that house, in my wife's right perhaps, but as Island here I swear by all thaf s etemal l will have it I" • . j Had .IiMly El^kbsth-heard> jUN-.man takiilg had been dealing with a'madman. 'Biitno;he was sane enough, knew what he was promising himself, and some of the dlffloultles that stood in his way, and the task, after all, as we shall find, if he conld command all the attendant olronmstonoes, jnst possible. But the other Daby, where was she? In a very different position from the child surrounded by wealth and luxury at the Abbey, and yet hor eyes as blue as sapphires, her skin rival- ing the white rose In ita bloom, while etrangots wonder that so dark a mother should have so fair a chfld. The fair chUd's pathway through life le etrewn with thorns; and if roses thore oe any, they are In the far distance ahead. TO BE CONTIinTEI). HIS OPINION OF THE CLIPPER. wurrsN roB tbe mw tobk curm. CHECK BEFORE MATE. There was the Invitation to a plc-nic, and I knew Winnie must have hod a band In my getting It, but all the some I was miserable, dejected, ]eal- 0U8, and twenty-one. At last, after declaring I would not go a dozen times, I vowed I would. "I'll get on answer, yes or no," I said. "A girl boa no business to trine like this with a man's feelings." I was by no means the earliest arrival at Tbe Elms, and as I reached the gate I conld see the wagonettes waiting, and the ladles' dreaaes through the trees as the merry party strolled alwut the lawn, waiting tor the hour to start- eleven precisely. "How do, Jackson?" said Winnie's father brusquely, as be gave my straw-kidded hand a squeeze, and I saw him run his eye supercilious- ly over my costume, with tbe conseqoence that a hot flush ran up to the roots of my hair, and I felt quite cross as I walked across the lawn to where Winnie Morris was standing amidst a group Of friends. "I want to have five minutes' talk with you. MISS Morris," I said gravely. "Will you let me speak to you when we are al the Orover* "Certainly, Mr. Jackson," she said, halt laugh- ing at my serious aspect: and then I was alone and very uncomfortable; for nobody seemed to make any advances lo me as I stalked lolemnly abont. We reached the selected place, and at Isst I con- trived that Winnie and I should be alone In one Of the glades, where, In Impassioned tones, I spoke or my love, begging tor a reply. "BeallT, Fred," cried Winnie at last, drawing away her hand, "I don't think yon ought to ask tor an answer now. I have always liked you." "But I ask for your love," I sold gloomily. "Why, we are both very young yet. Fred, and Come, we must go bock to our friends." "Tou reject me, thenr' "I'm afraid you are hungry, young man," said a voice that came upon me like a thunderclap "or you would not talk In that Byronle strain. I din not come to listen to you, bnt It yon young people chooee to talk stuff In pablle placee you must take tbe consequences." I gazed at the burly figure and straw hat be- fore me. feeling endless humiliations. "Papal" exclaimed Winnie blushing. "Not cross, my dear. Ton've behaved very sen- sibly. Mow, young man, you moon marriage, I suppose?" "Of course, sir." "What Is your Income?" "Well, sir, only a hundred a year, hnt " "Tes; of course, improve and tbat sort of thing. Ton are a clerk to the late Arm ot Oreedle tc Spray?" "To lie firm, shr, and In their confidence." "Late Dim. In TMe Omtle this morning. FoU- ed. Tonr Income is nothing. Dinner's ready. Come, U yon are not afraid ot soiling yonraelt." It was all over then. This was why I so easily got a holiday. I was desperate as the stem old fellow marched tu off to the dinner spread be- neath a great oak, and Winnie did not even glance at me. I tore oS my delicate gloves with a halt-savage smile; hung my hat on a tree: and, kneeling down on the gross, I set to earring chickeos for the gueeis. "I can't degrade myself too much now," I said to myself: and somehow. In working hard and getting terribly hot in satisfying the wants of others, I forgot my own troubles, even wondering that I should laugh good-humoredly when in opening some bottled stout It sported all over my pale vest and snowy abirt. At last, jnst as we were about to return home, I was astounded by old Korrls taking me by the arm. "Fred," he sold, "I took you tor a fnol, and a tailor's dummy. I see you con act like a man under dlfflcnltlse. Nothing Uke trouble to bring a man to bis senses. Gome to the eonntlng-lunse Id the momlnc- B»ofr; Winnie's kMplng a place tor yon by her side." I went to the counting-house the next morning, and came away with teats in my eyes, and they were notcansedby the old man saying I was lo talk no nonsense to Winnie for two yeaiB. In fact, I am now a partner in ths Unn. and—is It?—impoo- alblel—yes. It Is-flfieen yean ago this very day. JL TICIOB HiKM Is reported to toe worth over 11,000,000. He Uvea very eeonomlcolly, and rides In an omnibus. People wonder who wUl Inherit his tortnne. He has only ono ehUd linng—a daagfater. His son's chlldrcn have been adopted by the wealthy and eiiUdlss M. Lockroy, whs Bjairied sot long ago their widowed mother.. SisiuaBAXuc la Chdich.— The story comest bm Dsadwood that a ^imnber ot a oenaln chnrch congregation was howle-knlted by asealbnsdeaooii for putting a oouaterteit quarter Inlhe eontriba- tlon-bos, and the'axelted paator, without leavlqg.' bis puIpn,'ataot tha good deacon tor aaatfnga dJetorbaaee dutfng divina aacrioe. Ilm'n jor CurriR— Xkw Tork CLoraat 'Nutlier volume jult besuo— Don't funtet It—*iie*ii a npi*r— llore v«r on fer No. 1. Olilext of the upoTUng papen, Xover cutji nn Tu'tfar capers, Ttwugh lla cou are good «a aoca. All abmt the dram* In It, AnyllilDj; yer wnnt* to know— Finti In Ju]4 a hAlt a minute Name and place or any Bbow. All Iheactnr-Mleni imd It, Them fw follrnt tho prolMi; irthity dUln'l l>ur ana niul It, UucM tlieir (tieodi would Uilak 'i Dien fer sporting newm I tellxyer lIcrc'Hthe »lM«t that tan *«in low— NcTcr (toy* and nenr pelu yer. Olve* the beta and doesn't blow. All thr aporlloc-men thoy Rota It, Think ItA artlelea are priia^ Pat tbclr money, when Uwy bHa It, with Tn( OupriR every tlmsl Talk abont hawball—It alotlca In that mur.h-admlrcd Rmme. While fcr Kqultn and poems and itof !• Taint no nicker on the aame I ChenA and eheckera. wmlklDg. I wie ll ll g, BtimlnR. wraailnff and tbe trigger, Turfewntacorrectl; notlDg— Tbne TBS Currsa baa to ilg 'tt. Ucreyormrot Tn Haw Toaa Cumat Volume NnmberTwi»nty.rfx. Don^t fbtiRt It—she's a tipper— Ueie'a tho cord that take* the trtekst THE BRABmtAS*S DEITH. WBITIX5 rOB TBB nw VORK oumB, BT B. KAT SEE. Might hod est In with rain and wind, whaa jba boy at tbe small hotel went to aosunoo (ha tor to the Itedslde ot Jim Braohen—tha brakaaaa who was hurt last week by theaoddsotoath* road, who had suddenly become worse—]iataft the people at the house were sitting dowijCjp St>^ t«r. . The^ were mosUy railroad .-.h" ^' beauselhey felt it wasihs last they wboU-i- ^ Jim's lifetime. His Injuries were luteniaI;'aod, though he hod not suirered much. It was evtdon to them all, even If they had not been told ao'br the doctor, that their old companion was dyln^ He waa a fine feUow, was Jim; young, h»fiifaftf ^ and Intelligent Nobody atwut the ploos knaw much of his history before be came among thaa, but It was said he was the son ot a rich man In a distant city, that he had been dlslnharitad, oi^ compelled to shift for himself, because hs mar- ried against his father's wishes. Jim's wife dlaA just after he obtained a place on ths railroad, abont a year after their marrtage, and the'moa rememtiered the young man's grief, and how daa- pondent he was for a long tlmo afterwords. In- deed, It was this that drew many of their hearta to him. and trom that time aU ot them loved Jim. They couldn't help 11; for, as Botwrts, ths odii- dnctor ot the train on which Jim ran, aatd at th» table ttiat night, as he abstractedly tappsd tit^ plate with his knife: "He was ths kindest, gaot> lest, and most accommodating feUow thaterv was." Then the conductor related how Jim once paid the fare of an old woman wtM> hod liar pocket picked on the train; and bow at the risk ot his lite he saved a child trom being run ovar by a train which was approaching with ii fht..t»y speed on the track tbe Utile one atiemptail to croee to reach its mother. These Ineldenta In tha life of the sick man recalled others to the mlada of several ot bis lellow-brakeman, and thvyioM them to the men present, who ecaroely ♦Tflml & mouthful of ths food set before them. "They couldn't eat." one of them, a tall en- glneer, sold, "for thinking ot their old oomnde.** when the doctor cmme they aU quietly vent np- staln with him, and waited outside the door ot Bracben's room in sUenoe, soaroely ^""^ng ia breathe for fear ot disturbing Jim, tlU they wsa* told thsy oould enter. By the doctor's oMen an poisons except the nurse tiod bean sxeludsd tma the room for the post tew days, and whan tha men pniwrifl In It was plain to them that tholr friend had been falling fast staoe lost tbeymv bim. Bis cheeks were stmken and paler, and hia sye had an unnatunl brightness awl aa <k- preaslon that told hut too truly that his mind waa wandering. He did not recognise them whea. they came In—he seemed scarcely to bear than, so quietly they stepped; but In a fSw minutes h* asked: "Doctor, are these the tmys aroiuul mar' When he was told they were, hs smiladand tried to turn his head to sea them betiar by tha dim lamplight. The nurse helped hlmovsrim his side, and be murmured his and aakad them all to-come nearer to the bedatds, put out his hand for them to grasp. "Boys." he said, as the flist one teadeily.'al- most reverently, took tbe thin, ontatretchsd hand- "I'm going u> leave yon. I have felt, ever slaeat was hurt, I oould not recover, and I havs prspafsd myeell to go. Bnt I hata to leave you, boya; yi>n are the only friends I have bad slnoe' I eaina among you. Tou have been very kind to me, an ot you, and I love you tbr U. I waa In aaed ot kindness when I come here, for I felt as tbonglt there was nothing left In the world tor ma to Uva for. I had tieen disinherited by my father for marrying without his consent; and though my wife—you knew her, boys, betoie ahe died—waa aa good as any woman in the world, she was not good enough for my proud father, and ha nevor forgave me tor wliat I bad done. When I Mt my home, and struggled along In the world for myself—I, who had never done a stroke ot work tietore—I knew what friendship and sympathx meant. I found both among you. Oo you won- der that I love you tor It? And so Ilslt that I oould not die easy wltboni seeing you alL How, boys, one at a time. Shake hands and aay goo^ bye, and then I shall die happy." He released the hand he had lieen tightly hold- ing.'and the others came np aiid with teas 'la their eyes bade bim farewelL Then hs talkad oC h Is old home, bis parents and his school-days; aaA then he re-enacted the lost scene with his fsthnr. when he left his home forever. There was bm a dry eye In the room. Even the doctor and Om nurse, both used to death-bed soensa.wepc with tba rest. Presently hs asked U one ot tha man wnold goforadergyman; he would Ukslo have one thai* when he died, hs said. Hone ot them hod »»>ong »it ot Jim—good, kind Jim—nsedlng a iiiiiailiiii at his bedside; bnt a messenger was immedlatelr despatched to tbe rectory, a abort «ii«t«iM» away, and In a tew mlnutea the clargyman enteied tlM room. Jim was glad to see Um. He took tha preacher's hand, and held It In his while he said: "I have not been Inside a church for yean, bat when I was a boy I attended rsgularly Wtlh mr father and mother. I want yon to read to ma, tt yon please, from tha prayer-twok that part at lha bnrlalsernos which U In'David Ooppaiflald.* Jt occnis In the chapter which tells ot ItavU'a mothers ftueraL Bead It to me. ^alak. plaaaal tor I feell am going fast-" The elstgymonopaiadhlBbook and laadt -l am ths rssumeUon and the lUe, aaltb tlla' lotd; he that beUeveth in me, though ha wva lisn, yetshaU hs Uve; and whosoever Uveth^aad h^ lleveth In me shall nsver die." . He ceased reading; ths hand wblob ha.soa held In his own gave a tilclii, coBytiistva gnoi • ireod Ji ' - - - smUe overspread Jim's face, and dsatk had 1 the splrH trom the dying hodr to'let It' vtaic Ita flight to the Kalfnn in which U '^shaH navwdte.** A MAM who bad anneonoed hia lint attack eC rhetunatlsm leaned to ona-half hour that Aa following wtitild onie It: Iodide ot r-*~*nr. anlnins. glaobsr saHi. onions, raw lemotii. zaw silk. oU sTlk Jin and tanaey. loek candy and whl». key, Tnrklahliatlis, a'potalo carried In his pocki^ aboni»«hsa«BiltflaRlad lnhlapaokat.aneal>Alm around his lag, a suit ot red flasoa), eUonr llhlment. hntlraaonade, a trip gpiuh. a dirali BhsM, eqaabl* tampsiatiire RU^nr b^tte,' i laid and^ot watsr, «»n i jlw i r UntmaaVandk i Matty.'. ■.