TWO CHRISTMAS DAYS.

A Story.—By M. or N.

IK Ralph Hope had fallen on his feet into Victoria from one of the neighbouring planets in the year of grace and confusion 1852, less could not have been known about his pa>.i life than the world knew. A slim, colourless, close-shaven, spectacled, self contained young wan. A fellow bound to make his way in the world. Plenty of work in him —every sign of brains, none of heart.

The liuniaii tide at that early period of our history ran so strongly towards the wonderful diggings that few had the strength to swim agaiwst it. Hope and I throw all our worldly goods—our swags — on a rafl in the shape of a Imllock dray thai was Marling from Elizabeth-street, and after a week's tramp found ourselves on (he banks of Bendigo Creek, amongst the iirst of those who rushed to (hat world-famous goldiield. It was this accidental acquaint anceship (hat caused me to become Hope's iirst mate on the diggings. AYe were fortuitous human atoms, thrown by chance together, and impelled by the attraction of necessity to form a putnership. But we ucver, 1 am sorry to say, pretended to be friends.

1 was, perhaps, the only one who knew this young man ut nil in Ins early colonial days, and yet when I knew him host I felt that my knowledge of him was only skin deep. Ho was rather a pleasant companion for n man given as I was to much talking. In those days I wore my heart upon my sleeve, and did not suspect how the daw.s pocked at it. He would listen to all I had to nay, and say nothing in return. He was .silently cynical. He wouM listen in his obsorvnnt appreciative way, and smile when I had anything had to toll—and how few young men, alas, have not ?—but be lost in abstraction or yawn wearily when the con versation turned on innocent subjects. He had one, and one only hope in life. lie was resolved to win gold. That he honestly acknowledged as his only article of faith. !Not to squander it. Not'to gratify coarse desires, I»ut gold enough to make him a rich mart, to buy the world's esteem, to gain the position in the world that without it he could not hope for. I never saw his eye kindle, or his cheek colour, but when ho heard of rich finds or rend of the fabulous amounts* scut to town by the weekly cscirts.

Wo worked two claims together on Ciohlcii .Square, but neither gave more than wage*! Tiring of hard work for little Tctvtrn,lie wont into the service of n store keeper as shopman, and I seldom saw him afterwards, except when I went to buy things nt his store. For a man us utterly without conscience aa lie was, as ignorant as an nnbaptiscd babe of all ideas of moral right or wrong, I must confess I was rather struck at Jiis sudden conversion to religion. He gave up the Sunday excursions wo used to make into the ranges aliout in search of specimens, or oft" to the little oases of greenery that were then to he found on the outskirts of the goldfield. He had "found the Lord," ho said, and disapproved of desecrating the Sabbath, and as I had picked up with plcasanter companions, and only cured for him as all impulsive men care more or less for those they have been intimate with, Ralph Hope gradually drifted out of my list of acquaintances. For six' months I lost sight of him, and when I saw him next he was a gold com mission clerk on the great new msh at. the Whipstick, the fame of which was drawing the diggers in thousands from Uendigo. It was then I learned the profit that my old mate derived from his "finding the Lord."

Ralph llopo was a far-seeing young man. He Ticvor acted upon impulse. He thought things out beforehand, ami then gradually worked up to their accomplish ment, lie saw n certain definite aim to bo gained by obtaining a clerkship in the Government gold otlice, and he laid his plans so as to ensure success. It was for this that he first joined the Rev. Mr. Dawson's church on I'endigo — that lie asked to lie given a clasi in the Sunday wchool- that he sacrificed time, and spared no trouble to have himself thought much of. Every penny lie was worth in the world he took one day to Mr. Dawspn, telling him he had found it, and imploring him to try and discover the owner. Hand bills were issued, and the loser invited to call and Identify the money. A letter came from a man describtng to the exact Eenny the contents of the chamois leather ag, and requesting Mr. Dawson to send the money to a certain address, minus £10 for the honest finder. Hope undertook himself the task of hunting the man up, found him, gave him the money, and handed over the reward to Mr. Dawson for the good of the church. What need had Mr. Dawson of lotter of introduction or testimonials regarding the worthy young maci when he asked him for his interest witli the resident commissioner for a clerkship in tho god ollico at the great new rush ? The worthy clergyman couldn't have said move his own son than he did for Ralph Hope, and as lie gave prrof of his perfect fitness for the work, he was soon at work issuing licenses and takin,' gold from the diggers on the Government camp at Wliipstick. The consequence was that an awful barrier, the nature of which Victorians of the present day cannot under stand, the differenco of position between an ofiicial on tho goldfiolds and a common digger, separated me from my former mate, and I now ceased to know him.except in a nodding sort of way—his patronising, and mine, in spite of myself, deferential.

An'l then I heard he was going tn bo married to Miss Dawson, Tins was bad news to me My acquaintance with Mary Dawsqn was <-f the slightest. My inter views with her were like angeli* visits, I Diet lior first at the hospital, where I was rending to a mate with a broken leg ; then three or four times in the tent"ot a sick old woman, whoso rascally husband had left her alone to ilic, and whom we in our youthful folly thought we wore doinggqod by prolonging her miserable life; then'Hi-a jolting coach for two hours from Bcndigo to Whipstick ; and then for an hour at the table she gave at the first and only tea meeting I ever attended. I was getting bad when I resolved to go to that tea meeting. For two years I was

out of the way of ladies' society, and the little I had seen of Mary Dawson—l made artful inquiries to find out her name, and when I heard it always thought of her as Mary—gave mo a longing to see much of her. I wouldn't have stopped at tea meet ings for licr sake, poor thing, and I felt sick at heart and disgusted with the world when I heard the had news of her engage ment to Hope. It was then that the consciouscpss sud denly awoke in mo that I hated him from the first day I met him—that Ikncwhim to bo a hypocrite and a liar, a man utterly devoid of conscience, of honesty, and of honour. What wild things I wrote of him. What mad wordn of love, and despair, and sorrowful warning I poured out my heart in I had brought up to me long years after wards by the Bight of my yellow, time stained, but carefully preserved lotter bear ing the date of " May, 1854.' The oidy treason of my poor darling was preserving my Jettor—her only secret from him the concealment of my love.

When 1 saw her again she was Mrs Hope. He had ceased to know me, and she, with the loyalty of a wife, would not look on a man who had slandered her husband. What more I have to tell I tell from second hand. I never, never saw him again myself from the day I met him by the side of his young wife. Ido not say who my inform ants are, story-tcllera have private sources of information, or they would speedily have to cease their art. I will simply say that in what I have to say I do not make Hope out a bit worse than he was, for the simple reason that I couldn't. Bear the cud and judge. From the first moment of Hope's appoint ment in tho gold commission the aim of his life was to inspire conlidence. He was, perhaps, the only oilicer in the camp who neither drank nor gambled. lie was too shrewd and practical a man to overdo a thing, so ho never rebuked his reckety com panions for their misdeeds save by his own pure life. He was, in fact, bo kind and nice with them, pitying and forbearing in stead of setting himself up on the strength of his own superior virtue, that he was a general favourite ; and there was hardly a man in the camp he hadn't placed under an obligation by a small loan on nn emergency, by hiding Borne misdeed, or by doing work out of oilicc hours that other fellows had neglected. In Hope's calculations for making him self thoroughly respected, getting married wa.«, unfortunately for Mary Dawson, one of the elements. A bachelor, however re spectable, of whoso antecedents no one knew anything, might be perfectly trusted ; but a marriod man, a man married for love to tho good and pretty daughter of a clergy man thought as much of as Mr. Dawson must be I He used her, and the love with which lie inspired her, as a burglar would the falsa keys, or a forger the pen and ink, that he meant to commit his crimes with Ho marriod her precisely for the same reasons that he wore spectacles, that ho dyed his hair of a reddish tinge, that he shaved his face, that lie walked vita a slight limp, and talked with an affected voice. Ho married my poor darling for a blind.

It is useless to waste indignation in telling what he did. He was simply a man without a conscience. A clever, talented, able fellow—tho manager of nine men out of ten ho was thrown in contact with; but with less of human feeling about him than would be developed in an animal given the form of man. With all his success, and her sorrow in after life, I think ho was more to be pitied than she.

At the Christmas of 1854 they had been married for seven months, and he was to spend two of the three Government holi days away from her for the iirst time. Two largo safes, of which'ho only kept the keys, were in the offico adjoining his sitting and sleeping tents—one foe holding gold and mouoy on deposit, the other the gold to go by escort. This he told her, the scoundrel, allowed him to go away with a light heart.. "For you know, Mary, my love, while the sentry "is on watch over the treasure in the safes, he must watch ovor my treasure of a wife." When the crash came the com missioner got into trouble for not keeping tho keys in his own hands, for not daily counting over the cash, for not doing, in short, what one never thinks of doing till it is too late.

Hope wouldn't for the world leave his wife on Christmas day. It might be a a sentiment, but ho trusted never.to be a Christmas away from her. Ho gave her in tho morning a handsome jewelled watch, on which was engraven to " his dear wife." Ho went to his father-in-law's church with her, prayed like a human being, went round with the plate, and unostentatiously dropped his own sovereign into it in the face of the small congregation. He wished every one he met going and returning " all the compliments of. tho season," and be haved in all respects like an orthodox and unsuspcctablo Christian.

The next morning he wont away. It was to be a walking expedition to a squatter's station on the Lodaon, two days fishing, and then homo again to her, and sweet work.

" You silly girl," said lie, as he polluted his wife's pale face by his last kiss, "you look as woe-begone as if I were bidding you good-by for over." "fm very selfish, I know, Kalph," she sobbed, "but li's our first parting, and I have such strange fancies. I can't ucar the idea of your going away. Do take care of yourself, damng." "Don't you be afraid of that, my pet. I'll lake care of myself," and with that he strode away. It was the only true promise he ever made her—;he only one he ever kept. The holidays were over, and the hour arrived for opening the gold oflico, but the clerk with the keys was not at his post. There was a. small crowd of diggers and storekeepers waiting; some to deposit, others to take out money or gold. Half an hour passed, and there was a flutter of ex citement over the camp. The commissioner was awoko an hour before his time, and hastily donning his gold-laced breeches, coat and hat, went seedy and cross to Mrs. Hope's quar'crs to get an explanation of the popular commotion. Poor tiling,' she could tell him little, Ralph had promised to be home last iiight; "and- she was sure some thing had happened to him. Would he send a messenger out to the Loddoh, and learn'the worst ? """I '"' x ■<.-•■■■

1 The commissioner, smothering his sus picion with his anger, as he thought of his

own responsibilities, despatched a trooper with a note to Hope, directing him to send back the keys if he couldn't come himself, and then went out to quiet the increasing crowd. The trooper took his time in riding to the Loddon, but rode his 20 miles back in an hour. Hope had not been to the squatter's, and bad not promised to go. In fact, they knew nothing of him. A terrible fear fell upon tho commissioner. Tie consulted with the leading officials on the camp, and the result was .that .black smiths were called in, and with the aid of cold chisels, wedges and sledge-hammers, the safes were, with some liours' hard work, burst open, and over £30,000 in gold, sovereigns, and notes found missing. -.', .

The wretched wife was mercifully spared for many months all consciousness of the misery that had fnllcn upon her. Spared the daily rumours of her husband's arrest; the lengthened accounts in the papers of every little particulnr that bore upon the crime, the placards on the walls describing his person, and the police search in theLo tent to see if -ho-had hidden any part of the treasure at home before ho . decamped.. Spared till time the'healer had'almost wiped out of men's memories_ the cause of her sufferings.' It was not till the sickly little infant that was born in'the first shock of the horror was able to toddle about alone and lisp out "Mamma," that her mind awoke from its loftfj sleep. For months her life had been little hoped for, her return to reason utterly despaired of, and those who loved her best would have thought death a blessed release from the future in store for her. But she lived as so many do, to whom existence,is a pain. She lived to drag through life tho heavy burden of dis grace that her scoundrel husband had loaded her with. And lived to enjoy, the s>veetest revenge upon him that a human being as good as she could experience, Hope's chance of escape.from. Victoria the police declared Utterly out .of the question. There wore at different tunes detectives on his track who wouldn't have taken £500 down for their share of the Government reward of £1,000. Every ship that sailed from our ports was searched with a thoroughness that did credit to the earnestness of tho Executive. Several stow-aways were turned up; some innocent, and one or two guilty men arrested by mistake. Every man iti the colony with a limp had to render an account of himself, and people were never tired admiring the activity and vigilance of the detectives.

All this Hope had confidently counted on. lie was not a man to spoil the success lie had worked up tp by undue haste to en joy the fortune he had acquired by euch skill. He was a man of simple tastes. To gain comfort hereafter he was quite content to moderate his desires for the present. Tlie" simplicity of his plan made it impossible for any one to suspect it\ vHe calculated on the cleverness of the police, and he was not mistaken. The detectives nover for a moment imagined that, after tho able way he luid managed matters up to the point of absconding, he would apt like a fool at last. According to their lights, it would have been acting like a fool to have remained anywhere near the scene of the robbery, and so they searched for'him in all the places a clever thief should go. . ~

Hope's scheme showed rare genius and knowledge of human nature. Three days before the robbery he saw a notice on a gum-tree, stating that a horse, cart, tent and tools were to be sold cheap, as the owner was going to town. He went in the evening to the tent a short distance from the camp, in his old digger's dress, and bought and paid cash down for.tho lot. The gold was next Ids own sitting-room, and communicated with it. In anticipation of what lie was now doing, ho had been in the habit of working late at night in his ollice, and going from it down to the township. The keys of the safes were in his own possession; there was not a soul in the world to suspect him. He didn't leave a sovereign, note, or ounco of gold behind him, when he threw, up,. without notice, his Government service. ,■:■■-

Ho was not a man who ever offered ex cuses to himself for what he did. 'His wants and his will were his sole laws, and! not even respecting his wife did he think a defence necessary. "If sho wasn't such a" little fool," ho reasoned, "I'd feather her vest nicely before I left. I could spare her I.OOOoz. well, and would, if she'd Tseep it. But I know the goose she is. She'd give it all up to the police tho instant she heard tho news," and his feeling towards her waa. rather righteous indignation at thus frustrar ting his charitable intentions than pity for the ruin he brought upon her. ;. •

After bidding his wife good-bye,' Hope went into the scrub, where the night before ho had planted his old clothes and a blanket. The suit he wore he put in the blanket, and rolled up into a swag. Tiien, with the mere disguise of darkening his hair and eyebrows, and putting colouring on his nose and cheeks, he walked but with the swag on his shoulders through- the streets of the diggings, with the air and carriage of one who liad nothing to fear from anyone. ~ " ■'■ ■■•-■•■■ • ■ He remained for- a_ few. days in his new home, calm and, triumphant. Travellers of fill kinds, he thought, would .be open to suspicion at the first hue and cry _; but at; the end of a week he took down his tent, packed his things *on hisdray, passing by the camp, and looking for the last time at his old home, where his wife was then lying smitten down by him; returned by easy stages to Bendigo,-taking: with him the new name of Edgar Vane, in-,place of the one ho had left disguised in the dismal Wliipatick scrub. -. •; >.■- ': 'On Bendigo he pitclied his tent in a gully,' and worked for two long years for a miser able existence. If it app ars strange, that he was not recognised, let the reader try an experiment. Discolour your skin, dye your linir, leave oft' your customary spectacles; let your b»ard, moustache, and whiskers grow, change every article of your clothes,' and drop a limp that you have hitherto walked with, and see how many of your best friends will recognise you. Vane, the honest digger, would' havo laugbed in the f.icc of any man who pretendeiho: saw a likeness in him to the defaulting gold:officc clerk. Howhe'revelled.-as;he:;sat in his tent at night in the consciousness of ,the gold in his possession'! What dreams he formed 61 the pleafeant future in tt6;e for him, dreams to be realised so sure as virtu'd remained in gild ! ' Two feet under the old gin case he sat upon mending his old clothes was 'money enougli.t'o buy nb'use and car riages and garden?, and tno good opinions'

of people, and the respect and esteem of the world, it shows what the man was, that for thesn two years, from the'day ho buried his gold till he dug it up, to turn it to account, he never desired to see or touch it. There was something almost sublime in the patience with which he worked steadily on till he was ahle to enjoy the fruits of his rascality.'; '."_' ' .■•,'"'" At the end of his;t\rq year's ' probation, he thought that the time had come "for making his virtue known, i The great gold robbery at the' Wbipstick }was: pretty well forgotten, and'the great gold'robber grown quite out of the memory of people But lie omitted even then i} 6 pr'eCautioDj and Trait tirwork as cautiously iia : \viicn' hia crjme was fresh in men's minds and "a'description of hispersohori orery walli 'Heßold-gold here and there in "small parcels'.." He kept three' or four 'baflking a'cptinta,7fti'd' specu lated by' correspondence . wifcn Melbourne agents in banks, gas," arid''railway,'shares! He bought through thp iatae'nieansattlie Government land salps and private auctiiinsi arid in six months' time; every 'bunco of his stolon gold was converted inib Valuable securities, and Edgar "Vane was ai capitalist of no meah'standing. '', "; ■'■"••;.""; Years rolled on in wealth and peace, and all the solid advantages hehopM for; became his. Vane's' station was !the_' pleasantest home in.' the Western district," an^d'its master the most popular rdan^ A kind and liberal master, a warm and generousifiieridj his purse and time were^ ■always.',ai the service of those who weredoin^^oiiy deeds'. His wife added to 'his popularity,'"for 'she was just the woman to rha!ke';a'country house what it should bp. A genial, pleasant, lady-like woman, who had never "known a real trouble in her life,"'her. whole ;oini seemed to be to make everyone she came in contact with as happy as herself; and the only reward she sought for was the lore! of all who knew her.

Towards tlio end oi IS72 r Mr, Vane found it necessary to go to Neiv. Zealand tp see personally into station property that lie held a partnership.. interest l£ yyaa.^&isl arranged that his wife arid daughter jveni to "0 with' hiniy Taut .Mrs Variie was delicate and feared tlie sea.S'byage, .and the idea was reluctantly"given up. wipte, to his Melbourne agent.,jfco'engage .a lady who would act as govern ess. to his. little girl and companion to his wife 'during, his absence. She must be an educated wpmaui of course, but likewise pleasant ahd.lady likb, and have acharacteri beypndYdpubk "In. short," he wrote, "I, want, a lady who will be completely a, menaberj.of the family, and I leave the terms altogether With'you. You know I never disputed an account in my life." The agent wroteJmck to say he could secure a treasure'. ".JL, >vic|6w lady, J with an only 'daughter, a guT.ofc',lß, for whose thorough respectability .lie" and numbers of persons in good' positions, from the .bishop down,; were willing to vouch j would be disengaged in a short time; They had a, private ; school in the? auburbs," but "now, you know, tho Stated, has i taken teaching into its own hands, and. the poor woman—as true a lady as eyer lived—will have to take to something else for 4 living. Both she and the ' daughter are . highly accomplished, and she is the most winning and agreeable woman T evjw met in my life. They, would be" glad; to "go tp, you, together; they will not] be separated^Mrs Prior as housekeeper andj cpmmpion,'and Miss Prior as gijverness. .If this' ,wl^ "suit you, you will not only be doing a'gopd, a<ps fora good woman, but one thaT I.caij,'. war rant will be quite as good'for youraelf. There' is a sad' story, abo^t, fifrs, iPrior^ which none but lim intimate friends Jcbnvr.; She will tell it to your wife if/shegoes/tp you, and, if youever hear '.it it' wifijnuiko you value her all the'moire.", ",," \ t j '.' ftolis

. "There, my ; dear,", said Mr Vane-when he had finislied reading the letter,to:his wife, "I always believed in the.Education Act, and one of-its first fruits-is to enable US to do two worthy people a kindness and us at the same time,- I lik« doing kind nesses to other pooplo when'thoy.-ara like^ ■rtise kindnesses to, onq's. self.'' ~ v ;.;;,,

: . " Don't try. and be; cynical, aEdgar. I It isn't nice^ and it doesn't beeome'ybiu rI am greatly taken: with the;idea; of Mrs Prior and-her daughter. Eva wants someone, to devote her whole time toher, and I really feel as if should have assistance in; manag ing." :i . eoJi! :>i;>-> ■'■f'ti! jnt&iTii& The thing was settled; as the Yankees say, "right away." Mrs arid Miss Prior wore to leave, Melbourne by traiti, and then come oivby coach.on the same; day iitf the middle of January of last year that-iMr Vane drove down'from his station to' Por tland to take the boat on his.-way: to New Zealand, -i .-," ■•?,■-■: <yi'nni\ ni**MsiU

"Any one1 could-get on ■with* Mrs Vane," was a common saying in the Western i dis trict, but no one ever.did<get on with her as Mrs Prior did; .Writing toheri husband three months after he'left; Mrs Vane said : —"The only fault I can see in hor is that she is too nice.- She isimakjngme unsocial- The house is so pleasant with her and her daughter ; tha,t I really don't care for, any of the neighbours. Sho would' go:outr.wiih lme .everywhere if I. wished- it ;>'but*1! poor thing, she doesn't care!for societyyiand you'll not wonder t when I; <tell>;you- the reason. She is a saint, Edgar, and'l think when" you hear all that yoirll- start off like a. knight, errant of old in search of some one. Don't hurry back,- darling, if you are enjoying yourself, lam • not' a bit lonely, asl.oxpected to be."■-,, r id [13 :-■•.; ,ip.il In fact, the young wife and the young widow—for they , were i both i young i aha beautiful—had formed for. each! other-a strong and lasting friendship.;. Mrs 'Prior had often met with sympathy and actite kindness.--! She was one- of• those women that.people, cannot meet-without taking to; but i suph Wing j sympathy,- such sisterly affection, as Mrs. Vane showered on her she i had never known before, andi-sho returned it with the warmth of one not given to placo her friendship, lightly. ...Mrs Prior | got on just-as-wclHvith Eva; the pet of the i honse;..and the year of sMr.Vane's- absence ; —he'suddenly made up.his mind for a trip ■ home, and left New Zealand, after finishing , his business, by tho Californian mail—was lone, of the- happiest that either, of' the imothers or daughters had ever spent.';,'-, ' ; .-At last a telegram announced, his, arrival in Melbourne, and-he was to follow so as .to spend his * Christmas Day at home!,. On that Christmas morning, just ayear,agb,' ■ Mrs Prior was up.before any one inj.ihe house but the servants.,. Mr Vane."\i;as epepected by midday, and; she was anxious to see that everything was as it'should be. She stood in the dra,wingrpom, whose bay

windows opened out on a lovclv oifpS'H still gay with flowers ;and"creeK,«i grass-plats, and kept with the carott » P only the wealthy can command f£ E chord in her memory was"BtructYaßfli^H Paused for a while to tbink of th e Z i She tliought of a Christinas. morniX i years, ago, when a hushan^ow^liHH she contrasted him with the good ESfisiHß her friend was expecting !_ono wlimnA I then loved bettor than alllthu world rS^HI ing her,round the waist, an.l -,i,,' "'■" fond words .of falseness to her qaf idSfflili jewel' in herL hand, and told her' fiSrJ- BB gold in it was not,good OTong||&|rffiSMM[ young.wife he loved.. Aud.^'lKwSHH stole,over her face as she thbagfti'SLß long'months afterwards, when hlu-j.,,!' £. . back to . a hateful. con'scioi^ncgi't^^^^Hv. .tranceofhon-or,, her (first act'Vasrto IKI the loathsome gift, on, the floor; jiui# daaKli^B toatoms. r , t>ts U i fc As she mused' over,the past.a soundi"'™® horses' hoofs struck on her ear.but 1m»»2m« were constantly coining and Soing oa^HHi station, and she paid little attentioriSfflM Then she heard,,a .firm,. sniinging.'-n^raHH step, on the gravelled ,iialk, a of J familiar with the ways of »flp,p]Me,\pinnßfaßß nearer and nearer to the' urajvipg.SSf^Hß window.' Then a footstep on the vera^daMSii a shadow at the window, a,nd the iiiixt^SS moment a man was; in : the rqom: l .,'SaeHpi on a shawl of Mrs Vane's,,, and stood WHSJHI at the end of the room., .He came fwin'iJijiSßi brightwarm sunsliine of the summer KfrniftUl jng .into,the comparative darknegh uftlj * cool lofty room, and it is no wonder fk'tSpfflSl took the straDge lady for his wifo, ' 'f- '-'~; "tip already, darling," he cried,advimc- I , ing towards her, :"andl. rodCii&lll'iciTay'* I from Portland without drawing rcia t'i Mir- '■ prise you "—and then he stoppi <\ j'. didj^flß took two stops forward to. inoet him,",,' jV ' mh' It was thus after a separa_tion'of;l9^earj<p!]|- that Ralph Hope net his wife. ; '''u'ffl^Si ' .The .grave for boili had given-up its dead, j I and each stood for a few; terrible' mi-Eicnjg^Bßl before..the; other — isilent; ■ awe-.Btrick2§f§l livid, ghost-like. : As little' atfempfc&JtJ^lHH cealmeut now for Hope as if he: hai lifted | the veil of death, and stood before1 tlife pare £~ spirit of her heliad; Bo;crudiy injured! in f t life. /Allhis dis^uisbsgono'-^iillihisartiinl r an end. Lyingor no more'ayaiL'-He threw i himself, prostrate ; on .'the ' flobrybef orc'lier-^:^'1'1; he could not longer support her-gaze. ' \ "Mercy, Mary, mercy. Not forme—l F cannot usk it—but meroy 'for others. 'Ml E that yoii want Mary^-klll that'you c i hope or ask for—shall be .youi*. But don't dw grace:ine.!i"'My! ruin°'v^oul(ibe'iyours '100, B and theirs. - Spealc to me.' Say somethilig ( fj?|| if it's only to curse me, ■ Don't' look on rni^Bß with those horrible eyes. '■■ For; God'S sttjffflHH don't'scream'or make a hoise. Look' hete),!^ Miry. If you give me your mere'word, I -fe will write yon this instant"an acknowledggHH m'entfor £100,000.. Think what1 £100,000 'M\ will do'.'!-Think: of bjir JcM]d: [ how I loved: you till';tho 'devfl;:;g6t-the '■*' • totter of me. . Mary, .will •'s>u»«'Bity) | ij|j me? TV ill you : think: of of'the poor woman-' who thinks' herself 'iny'Wife, and'will die if she.heara your story ?' Will you 4hink of little: EVai >nd what "her fate '4 will be." ;■ ■• ■■■■■-''-i' '";>! ,'-:^><mji <m -; It was'self he pleaded, for throughout, and she knew it, as if she had eeefl the working of his;brain. !As the first shock passed, and she became calm enough to listen to and comprehend his broken words a i sense of exultant scornu possessed her, ' This abject cringing thing—the man,'alie 6nce,lovedl- This:coward; liwhoKgroVelled | at her feet, the man who once 'trampled on , her heart! Thtsiheiiian whp desertldnhad S grieved her! ■ >• '. : •''■■ • ' -•■" >'>'< vtt : " Kalph Hope, you are—God forgive you my husband »nd my- child's: fathery tut I would rather sco her»in; the grave: tl len Id her touch your hand. Don't fear I shall ever seek to claim you as.a'husband. '(Now; if you dare speak to meagain,"{shecriedashe attempted to speak to her,: and then- mms ,i sternness iin her -voice- that :made'his 'hear t quake, " I may let my passion carry-me away, ariddenounce ymi as'the thief and ;5 villain that you•:>are'. Lie tliereibeforemc, n andhear in silence^vhat'lhavo'-tosay. .-I would no more:toucli your, filthy gold than I would suffer again the cpntarain^tion" of your touch.' You are; safe in thisiworld—in all you hold dear—in your'-gold- arid your body-r-foraU the evil youl have" done. On this day Heinwhom you.-have no faith ivas ', born into the world. He •suppbr>ed-'irii' when.yon deserted- me,» and for His sake,,,1 arid the sake of your deart^vifeand'child, B whom-may'He look'do'ivri on; and-pity, I I forgive you. Oh man ! I tell'youl-pity and forgive you 1; and for the pityandi-forgive ness of which you stand 60 sorely'in need 1 onlyaskyouinreturn toleavethishou'-evithi out a woid or a look on me, and let m'enraMM this day for the last .time in the'soeieiy- of the poor darling that I;have loved and yon have injured so deeply. But one word before you go,"i sho added,* as' he rireparcd to obeyhercommand.- ! "jonly-promise'to ; spare, you _public exposure. ■ I cannotanswer 1, for;what I may- -do iabout your imhappy wife.-;-I must have tinie to think.iahditlie advice of others to guide me." -!»i ■■> < ■:'■" The advice of others?' 'Oh'^Mary,' what other >yould you tell the secret to ? 8': This 1 he asked in tones of despair, as_ lie-stood \ before-her,: without daring tp!! disobey'her orders by lookin? at her. " '*'[,""''' ;'■•"Anhonestman, Kalph. Amanwhoso pure 16t6 I refusedj to accept the base-imi tation you offered'me. I tellybu plaihly I will tell him all, and1 be'guided by what he advises. Gonow." ~. ,' '; Kalph Hope, 'alias ;'. Edg'ar yahe^ left his wife's presence without anotner word or a look. But he left behind him the content and peace of mind that he' thought his; for life. All that he had s'ruggled and worked for—the we'al'h and comfort, the love' of Wife 1 and ; child, the good opinion of the world, the estem of friend", his very liboitj', \vere; -to be henceforth- held-on sufferance. His secret w*s! no longer his : own. His deserted wife held liim; in her power, and intended to share-that power with a man who hud. every reason to hato Mm. It was a black Christmas for Hope, arid wlien he strode down to the overseer's cottage where he'had left'his horse, and left a message fpr'Mrs'Vnneito say that'the most important business called him away to Boroon station, 40 miles away;; and that lie" couldn't be back for two days", the'over seer said to his'wife: that tlje' master* must liaye^had bad times' in i;he ( j>va| looking quite aged."l ■■;'• ■•'''■'" J''.V'" ( ■' ■'.. It was a sad Christmas,'.too^'for 'Mrs Vane: Following1 on i the uriaccountablt; arrival and departure of her husband, came the shock of the aiirionricemetiVthat Mrs

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STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT^ DECEMBER 24,; 18§}.