VELLA VERNELL; OR, AN AMAZING MARRIAGE.

gy MBS SUMNEB HAYDKN, m O f "Littlo Goldic," "Tho Midnight Marriage/ " Beraldme'" oto" etOi

CHAPTER LXX,

V" UIE PAYMENT OF A DEBT. „ p Md , w ith a bullet through his brain!" M m inutea later Vclla and Miss Dorothy downstairs and into tho gaa-lit sitting a where, on the hearth-rug, two youth- stood together. «Ah I here they are !" cried Voyle's glad Despite his companion s murmured pro (stations, he still kopt his arm around her flm waist, as he laughingly turned his ovor his shoulder. ••Vella," he cried, " am I not the best of 'ihotherß to have won you such a sister ?" <'Eh?" ltd stock-still stood Miss Dorothy, (apbling for her spectacloß. Vollo sprang forward, with a cry of astonishment and .Wight.

" Oh, Voylo ! are you really such a lucky fellow!"

md Bhe caught both Bessio's hands in tors, and kissed, in levin? gladness, the shy md blushing faco of the little bride-elect.

"Ireally am!" Voylo 'leolared, proudly. "Hark 1 there's some one ! Get in > our Wging, Aunt Dolly, before a visitor spoils your chance of it. That's right " as the small personage addressed made a headlong charge at his protty fiancee. Two minutes later the hall-door was owned, in answer to a ring. '"A gentleman to sco Mr Vernell I" an nounced the servant To Bee him ! Voyle stared perplexedly. TVbat important bueiness could have brought anyone here to see him ? "Show him in," Bessie eaid.

The man who entered was grave of aspect, clad darkly and plainly, with a reddish moustache and goatee, and steady hazel eyes. ; "MrVcrnell?" "lam he, sir." "I hardly like to Bpeak before those ladies " Voylo interrupted him. " You cannot possibly have anything to sty to me which I could object to in their presence." The man went swiftly across the room to where the young fellow etood and laid his hand on his shoulder. "I arrest you," he said, " for the murder of your uncle, Colonel James Vernell!" ' A gasping cry broke from Bessie. Vella stood still as stone and marble white. Miss

Dorothy sank trembling to a cfaair. As for Voyle, ho struck off the hand upon hia eboulder, and wheeled around his eyes, blazing like those of a lion in wrath. . " Are you mad 2" he cried. The man stood quite unmoved by the tempest he had aroused. '"No, sir," quietly, " but I am doing my duty. My comrade is waiting in the hack without. Here is my authority."

And he flung back bis coat, disclosing on bis breast the star of a detective.

Voyle's brows met in an ominous frown. " What does all this mean ?" he demanded angrily. "lam no child to be trifled with." Terrified were the three women, and still as death.

" It means this," determinedly, "that you are under arrest for murder—that the Bonner and less rebelliously you come with me the better for you, and that if you are innocent you will have the opportunity to prove the same. That is what it means. Come!"

A resolute effort at patience drove some of the irritation oat of Voyle's face. He turned to the others.

"There is some wretched blunder," his young, indignant voice oatringing through the quiet room. " I shall go with this man, and tin! out who is ai the bottom of this fiendish work. Dcn't worry ;it will be all right to-morrow. I will follow you, air.'*" Taking his hint the man went out. Voyle hurriedly said good-night with as much cheeriness as he could muster.

"It'e only a mistake—all will be made Btraight in the morning," he whispered to Bessie. "Now you must be brave for my sake, darling." For down her cheeks so lately flushed with love and happiness great frightened tears were rolling. But on the morrow there wa« no lifting of the dreadful cloud which had gathered, no single gleam of sunshine. An afternoon paper got hold of the affair. The article concerning it was double leaded. The editions went off like hot cakes. The story was blazoned through the 1 city in an hour. People commented on it, devoted ifc voraci ously, discussed it with the rabid human.

hanger for sensation. So the lucky colonel had been murdered ! 'They had always thought there was some thing queer about his death. It was so sadden. And the nephew ? There was a sister, too, was there not '! And both wore ringularly beautiful and marvellously alike. And the widow 2 Ah, the charge was pre-

I ferredbyher. I Already, so rapid had been repertonal labour and so oomprehenisive its result, ■alleged statements of peirsons interviewed were given concerning it--the topic of tho honr.

A family on the west side had had for a I lodger one Charles Hartley, whom they now Identified in the prisoner. He had a visitor - me night. The woman af the house had ; overheard snatches of the conversation be .;;] tween them—had hearcl Vernell, alias Hartley, say : "Revenge I may foirego-justice I will have I"

Before his guest had left, he had made an I engagement with her to enter secretly his ■uncles house—presumably, at least, his uncle's house. "I'll come up," he had said, "this night I two weeks, about ten." Two weeks after the avowal, the murder had occurred.

It was also understood that a young ■ lawyer of tho city, Mr Dennie G rimes, would 'testify as to having heard Voyle Vernell say to an acquaintance, one evoniug in the ; alley near Mr Vicker's theatlre :. JP "As Burely as there is a just God in H heaven, James Vernell Bhall answer to me 1 for my sister's life !" Kg Between them, the reporter^ and detec ' twea, they had discovered and questioned ■th» former footman of the Vernella. Ye=, :; 1)8 recollected quite well haying-run against -Master Voyle on the basement stairway P the night of tho colonel's death. Voyle had 1 told him-Roberts—that he wma aware ot It hia uncie's return, and 'had given him money, with the request that ho be silent concern ing his presence. . , , And Mrs Vernell's charge 2 Oh, she had '■tfieen a witness to a terrific quarrel between , Voyle and his uncle, which had concluded by the former striking the latter a blow ■ which stunned him, and then driving into hia brain, through the oritice of his ear, a m lon B and slender nail. She had ever since been too shocked and lorritied to speak ; '; but now that the young murderor had come ! forward boldly to claiaa the crown of his crime—the end for which he had done so 1 foul a deed—she could 'be silent no longer.

The body was to be i esurrected. .. The cousin from the country had failed ' to materialise, so Hila ria still remained in ' toe grand house on Prairira Avenue, in I '•• sheer charity to the cor lvalescont old master. Her mistress, too, had. consented to remain .';■' a lew days longer. , ~ I -Of-the visitor the Hatter knew nothing. ; Neither was she awaro of the scheme which ;'-.',-*M on the tapis. > To-day, as Helm, muffled in shawls, sat bolstered up in the chair n-ea:t the window ; of an upstairs apartment, he suddenly cried out and lifted himself erect*. Hilaria, busying herself over some work at the farther end of the raom, roee hastily and went up to him. :.:■■'.. "What is it?" Hiß faded old eyes wure fastened on a man who had swung open, the gate and was : approaching the house. •as! Had he followed, tt.esn, then? So m coon! ■•" Shieeirank b'a'cb.

A quick wonder as to the cause of Mr Helm's agitation took possession of her. "Doyou know him?" she whispered. " Know htm !" echoed tho old voice, shrill with hatred, scorn, excitement. "Know him ! Ho is my son \" " Oh, it cannot bo ! That is Mr Dennia Grimes. Your eyesight " He turned on her almost furiously, "My eyosight has been botter, but in this case it cannot fail mo. I know his height, his walk, his air. He has not changed much. I would kn6w him among a thousand. He is my son who robbed me, deserted mo, left me to die by the road side of fever and starvation. Curse him I"

His passionato vohomenco porsuaded her | of the truth of his words. What an incarna tion of cruelty, even in youth, had been this man whom she had once loved! Helm struggled to his feet. " Let me go to him I" ho panted. But her resolute grasp was on his arm. Without tho visitor having rung, the door was opened to admit him. They could hear it softly closed behind him. "Wait," and the woman's voice was an excited whisper, "do nothing raah. "If he is your son, pity mo when you consider what ho ia to me I" " To you !" " Yes. Ho is my husband 1" Ho fell back in amazement which was almost incredulity. How had ho como to marry this old woman ? She read his thoughts. " Stay here !" sho cried.

And she ran frnm tho room. In a few moments sho reappeared. Or— was it Bho '! There stood no bent, grey hairod, blue spectacled hag, but a womnn slonder ond tall, and still youthful, with keen grey eyea. " You have been wearing a disguise !" he exclaimed. " For what reason !'' Breathlessly, rapidly, sho told him all, every word of her strange story. And when sha had finished tho incredulty died from his face, leaving horror in its stend. "13 there a fouler iiend than he?" ho cried. Guila's oheeks had grown scarlet with tho telling of her tale. She was fairly quivering with excitement. Sho grasped the old man by tho wrist. "Como down!" she panted. "Come down I We can secrete ourselves in the alcovo off tho library and hoar what fresh villiany ho is plotting. Como !" And neither remembered that she had washed the brown dye from her face and flung aside wig and spectacles. Five minutea later they were crouching behind the portiere, listening. "Heis certain of—" began Mrs Vernpll. "Conviction!" put in Grimes. And at the sound of tho familiar voice the blood came rushing redly under the old man's wrinkled skin. "As certain as we both live and breathe. The papers have got hold of tho affair. They aro merciless judges. They will condemn him before he is tried, Yes, my dearest. Thus with tho hanging or life-imprisonment of Voylo Vornell for a murder a bride's pretty fingers committed," unable for the sal"ation of him to repress the taunting jeor, "we shall dispose of our last obstacle, our only enemy." A scream burst from Mrs Vernell as the portieres wero swayed and twisted with the writhings of Helm, who, tearing himself free from Guila's detaining hands, reeled into the room and confronted them. Even Grimes's usual calm composure de serted him. He turned absolutely ghastly. Was this tho dead—come back to confront him after all these years ?" Was this the spirit of tho man whoso body he had planned to murder, as sorely by neglect and starva tion as he could have dono with a dagger thrust—was this he?" " You know me !" and that cracked voico sounded in the silent room like tho howl of a savage beast. " Father!" That was all. Just tho one word. What a meeting for parent and child ! Still shrinking behind the curtains, a sudden, unconquerable impulse overcome Guila. She must como forward, sooner or later, to tell her story to the world. They were trying to fasten their brutal sin on an innocent boy. Sooner or later ! Prudence was dumb. Desperation said, " Why not now ?"

She thrust the portieres aside with a vio lent gesture, and stood between them.

" And do you know me ?" she cried. Her bosom was heaving tumultuously— her eyes like coals of fire. Grimes actually cowered-before he»p. Great drops of sweat oozed out on his forehead.

"QuHft— you '" he whispered, "Ay, Guila!" every word clear and distinct as the notss of a bugle-blast. "Tho wife whom you discarded—deserted! Madam, is it possible you do not recognise me ?" turning to Mrs Vernell, who, thrilling with instinctive comprehension of all that this scene expressed, stood like a maddened tigress waiting for her chanco to spring. "I am your maid, Hilaria. I have watched my husband closely, I have watched you. I know all I"

All! The eyes of the guilty pair mot wildly. " Ato you her husband ?" Slowly the words were uttered. Her rage was strangling her. Like the coward ho was, Grimes held out his hands imploringly. Tho very loot of his appeal condtsmned him. He had deceived her. He had blasted her life. Ho had dragged her down to infamy, dishonour —to tho worst and vilest grade of both. Well she paid her debts ! Boforo the others could guess at, surmiso ever so faintly her intention, she had thrust her hand in her breast, drawn therefrom a toy she hid long secrotly carried and ever lacked courage to ueo, turned on Grimes— fired! Her aim was true. He went down hko a log—lay still. The others, potrified with terror, did not stir. But she was beside him in an instant, had his head in her arms, was smoothing, patting, kissing it, talking all tho timo gay, merry, jesting words. "And we will go to Paris—won't we, Dennis ? And we will bo all the world to each other. You do love me dearly.lknow. When he is out of the way all will be well. Yes, I remember hew you told me to do it, I remember ! And then Paris —Dennis! — love ! Oh, won'tthatbe glorious-glorious?" Andßhe burstout laughing—loud, vacant, horrible laughter '. Guila and Helm glanced at each other in unutterable consternation. With the shot which had silenced eternally the false heart of the one creaturo she had loved in all her painted, hollow, glittering life, in all God s great fair world, the light of reason, long flickering, had gone out in darkness. They tied as fast as their shaking limbs would bear them from the room, from the house. ... When they returned with aid she was still whero they bad left her, groveling beside the corpse, kissing the stiff lips, smiling down in the ghastly eyes, whispering words of fondness and endearment. " Dennis ! Dennis I When he is gone.none will ever suspect mo ; wo shall be all to each other; heaven and earth! I love you—l love you, Dennis, Dennis !" Oh, come away ! Upon the house rests broodingly the crimson curse of Cain.

CHAPTER LXXI. DAWN. A head of black and a head of (fold, Her little hands in his llrm hold, ; E yea Haying more thanUPjtave gMP It was the pleusantest hour of the livelong day— " twixt daylight and darkness, when the night commences to lower." Voyle and Bessie were in the artistic, rarely-used parlours across thehall. She was singing softly and without on accompani ment. Over hero in the familiar sitting room Vella coulJ hear her. There had been no delay about Voyle's release. The statements of the wife and father or Dennis Grimes had been clear, consistent, convincing. The papers had a new sensa tion. Thelucky colonel had been murdered by his wife, presumably in a fit of mental aberration, as while labouring under the latter, she had shot and instantly killed her lawyer, Mr Dennis Grime 3. Shehad been consigned to a private insane asylum, and physicians hod declared her reason hopelessly dethroned. Voyle had been frankly, promptly, and publicly proclaimed innocent. Regret for the suspicions which for even so brief a space had attached to him were everywhere nfe. As Vella stood at the window looking listlessly out, a familiar figure tamed in at the gate-Xaptain Cbstello. She sprang to open the door for him.

He stooped and kissed her forehead in his kind, fatherly fashion.

" Where is Kitty?" "Sho would not leave Owen—whore are he others ?"

She drow him into the drawing-room. By the glowing grate first sat Voyle. On a low stool at his feet was Bessio. His face was laid caressingly upon her shoulder. Her face was upturned to his. They could see quite clearly in the golden fireshine, the gentle true happiness which illumined

One glance told Captain Costello the whole story.

So absorbed were they in each other they had not heard him onter.

Ho went forward. " Oh, you arch conspirators ! " he criod. They started up, exclaiming, colouring, laughing.

Captain Costello's face was full of genuine delight as he shook hands with Voyle and kissed his daughter. " Great Jerusalem ! But this docs—beat creation I"

They laughed out merrily again at his own praise of astonishment.

" Are you glad, papa?" whispered Bossio. For answer—still holding her in his loving embrace-ho outstretched his hand, and onco more wrung Voyle's heartily. "If I was to be robbed of my baby," ho said, " I'm glad you're tho thief, sir."

" Won't you offer a reward for your stolen proporty, Captain Costello 2" queried Vella demurely.

But Voylo shook his fair head in gay dis sent.

"It would bo no aao. Possession ia nine ioints of the law."

" Where is Kitty!" cried Bessie, as Vella had dono.

"Is Owen gotting bottor?" from Vella lerself.

" When are they coming back ?" ■ de manded Voylo.

Holding up his hands in dismay, Captain Costollo rotreated.

" Julius Ciusar !" ho ejaculated. " One question at a time. Mr Gago and Evelyn are going to Europe next month. Owen and Kitty have decided to go with them." "To go with them!" Voylo and Bessie cried out, in astonishment.

Vella was silent. She was wondering if Evelyn would be married before her departure. " And now about this wretched affair, tho news of which brought mo back," said tho caotain. " Tell me all about it."

And as they sat there, narrating, question ing, interrupting, explaining, a littlo rotund, dark-eyed figure camo into tho room.

" Why, Terry !" Tho namo was fairly wrung from hor, so great was her surprise. Ho sprang up to shake hands energetically. " By Jingo, if it isn't Dolly ! And how aro you ? Sit right down !" And when, ten minutos later, the room waa filled with cheery ohatter und gay laughter, Vella rose and stolo away.

An infinite sadness had fallen upon hor. Sho would not bo so selfish as to mar the mirth of the others—tho sweetness of their reunion.

In the cozy room across tho hall, sho wont over to tho mantel and stood there, loaning her elbow against it, her head on her hand.

She ought to be thankful and happy for the joy of hor dear ones, she told hersolf—she ought. Voyle was honourably acquitted of the terriblo charge which had boon pre ferred against him; ho was supremely happy in his lovo ; tho Vornoll thousands were to bo lawfully theirs ; Aunt Dolly was filled with rejoicing. And die? Sho was glad because of all this—indeed, indeed, sho was ; but Ah, there it waa—that hideoua littlo word ! Oh, what if tho whole world wero hers, its broad, fair beauty and tho beat of its joys, without him- lacking his love! With a great sob, she dropped her faco on her arm.

'•Marc!" she murmurod. "Oh, my king !" How it canio back to her, haunted her, lived with her, was ever before hor, sleeping or waking —that night, that hour ! Below, a blue, smooth river; übove, a sapphire sky ; a white moon drifting over head ; the soft, sweet, summer wind n-blow ing ; the tender hush ! And a grand, dark face bent down to hers, a doar voico speak ing passionately the words which to the woman who loves hor lovor, aro the divinest music which oarth will ovor hold for her'; and up near the companion-way, whore clustered the other pleasure soekars, Bono one was singing. Ah, she could hear the song still ! It was ringing in her ears now as it had rung that radiant night across tho pulsing waters of tho lake —

"I only know some dny,sinme day. Eyes clcaror grown tho truth may Beo, And ovory oloud shall roll away That darkens lovo 'twixt you and me!" " 'Twixt you and me !" Bho flung up her hoad with a sharp catching of her breath. " Oh, my Marc ! the clouds will never roll away that darken lovo 'twixt you and me !" She had not hoard tho boll nor tho open ing of tho door. A dnrk figure came softly in, stoodsilently regarding her. What an exquisite picture sho mado standing there ! The proud and slender form clad in black, clinging, trailing draperies; tho pure gold of her hair ; the snow of her skin ; the dreamy brilliance of her sweet, sad eyes. Coated, travel-tired, but full of passion and eagernass, he went forward—hold out his arms.

" My darling I" Juet a whisper. She looked up—Bhrank back an might one long blind from tho sudden glare of day. "Evelyn?" She was loyal to tho laßt. "She sent mo to you. Como !"

Tho light that never was on land or soa swept over her face, transfiguring it with its rosy splondour.

And then l Well, then his loving arms were round her, her head was happy on his heart, and the little old firelit room whs paradise by Christ's greatest gift thus glorifiod.

(To be Continued.)

Popping the Question

In the " Ladles' Treasury " for April thoro is a chatty article on " Popping the Ques tion." There are some novel ways of pro posing, even in this prosaic age. Here are two waya:— Stories are told of persons engaging to be married after an hourp acquaintance, and of people proposing m all mannor of places, such as in a ball-room, in the theatre-most likoly places—on the top of a mountain, and up in a balloon. The spirit of proposing fell upon one swam -who had often attempted it, but tailed to express his ecntiments-at a dinner party, and although this would seem inopportune, ho accomplished his purpose by a rather clever and novel expedient. Affairs were rendered more than usually diflieult because the ludy wus Boated at the opposite Bide ot tho table from the gentleman. Ho, how ever tore a loaf from his pocket-book, and wrote thereon,'"Will you be my wife? Write Yea or No at the foot of this, which was certainly demurely put. He called a servant, and told him to give the note "to tho lady in blue opposite." He saw the note delivered, and eagerly watched what effect his quaintly made offer would pro duce. Ho had forgotten, however, that tho lady was not likely to have a _ pen cil at dinner, and was despairing, when his beloved one, equal to the occasion, turned to tho servant and whispored, lell the gentleman, Yes." An emigrant found himself on his arrival in the same lodging house with a newly arrived lady,, and sat next to her at supper. " I looked her over, he afterwards said, "and caw a round, strong, cheery-looking lass, with a laughing foce, and thought she'd do. I didn't "know how to go foolin' round her to find a soft place, and when we came out into the passage I gives her a squeeze and a kiss. Says she, 'How dare you?' Says I, 'I wants to marry you.my dear.' 'Marry me, she said laughing; 'why, I dont know you.' 'No more do I you, cays I; so that makes it all fair and equal, bhe, didn't know how to put a stopper on thatt so she only laughed and said she cou d no,, think of it. ' Not think of it,'says I,'whe o you've come all those thousands of miles fo the purpose?' 'What do you mean 'eh : M id, stating. 'Come now,'eays I;'don , tell me. I know what's what. When man emigrates it's to get work; when i woman emigrates it's to get married. You m ay say oo It once.' Well, she wnggled a bit-butwewero married two days after ward." Such is the story of. a new eettler.

A SHIP OF '49.

A ROMANCE OF CALIFORNIA-

In Three Parts

By ±srkt Hart is,

PART FIRST.

Chapter I,

It has rained so persistently in San Fran, cisco during the first week of January, 1854, that a certain quagmire in the roadway of Long Wharf had become impassable, and a plank was thrown over its dangerous depth. Indeed, so treacherous was the spot that it was alleged, on good authority, that a hastily embarking traveller had once hopelessly lost his portmanteau, and waa fain to dispose of his entire interest in it for tho sum of two dollars and fifty cents to a speculative stranger on tho wharf. As the stranger's search was rewarded afterward only by tho discovery of the body of a casual Chinaman who had evidently ondeavoured to wickodly anticipate him, a feeling of commercial insecurity was added to tho other eccentricities of the locality.

The plank led to tho door of a building that was a marvel even in the chaotic fron tier architecture of the stroet. Tho houses on either sido—irregular frames of wood or corrugated iron—boro e^ idenco of having been quickly thrown together, to meet the requirements of tho gooda and passengers who wero once disembarked on what was tho muddy boach of tho infant city. But the building in question exhibited a certain elaboration of form and design utterly inconsistent with this idea. The structure obtruded a bowed front to the street, with a curving line of small windows, eurmountod by elaborato carvings and scroll work of vinos and loaves, while below, in faded gilt letters, appeared tho legend, " Pontiac— Marseilles." The effect of this incongruity was startling. It is related that an in ebriated miner, impeded by mud and drink before its door, was found gazing at its remarkable facade with an expression of the deepest despondency. "I hey lived a freo life, pardner," ho explained thickly to tho Samaritan who succoured him, "and ovory time since I've beon on this cix weeks' jamboree might have kalkilated it would come to this. Snakes I've soon afore now, and rata I'm not unfamiliar with, but whon it comes to the starn of a ship risin' up out of tho street, I reckon it's timo to pasa in my cheques." "It is a ship, you blasted old soaker," said tho Samaritan curtly.

it was indeed a ship—a ship run ashore and abandoned on the boacli years bofrre by her gold-seeking crew, with tho debris of hor scattered stores and cargo, ovortaken by the wild growth of the strange city and tho reclamation of the muddy flat, wherein she lay hopelessly imbedded; her retreat cut off by wharves and quays and breakwater ; jostled at first by sheds, and then impacted in a block of solid warehouses and dwellings, her rudder, port, and counter boarded in, and now gazing hopelessly through hor cabin windows upon the busy street before hor. But still a ship, despite her transformation. The faintest line of contour yet -loft visible spoko of tho buoy ancy of another element; the balustrade of hor roof was unmistakably a taffrail. _ The rain slipped from her swelling sides with a certain lingering touch of the sea ; tho soil around hor was still treacherous with its suggestions, and oven the wind whistled nautically over her chimney. If, in the fury of somo southwesterly gale, she had ono night slipped hor Htrango moorings and left a shining track through tho lower town to tho distant sea, no ono would have bcon surprised. Least of all, perhaps her present ownor and possessor, Mr Abnor Nott For by tho irony of circumstances Mr Nott was a far Western farmer who had never seen a ship before, nor a larger stream of water than a tributary of the Missouri River. In a spirit half of fascination, half of speculation, he had bought hor at tho time of her abandon mont, and had Binco mortaged his ranch at Totaluma with his livo stock, to defray tho expenses ot filling in tho land whore sho stood and tho improvements of tho vicinity. He had transferred his household goods and his only daughter to hor cabin, and hnd divided tho space "between decks" and hor hold into lodging,rooms and lofts for tho storage of «oods. liquid hardly bo smd that tho investment "had been profitable. His tonante vaguely recog nised that his occupancy was fr-mntimonkil;. rather than a commercial speculation, .m* often generously lent themselves to~tfce illusion by not paying their rent. Others treated their tenancy as a joko—a quaint recreation born of tho childlike familiarity of frontier intercourse. A few had left, carelessly abandoning their unsaleable goods to their landlord with great cheer fulness and a sense of favour. Occassionally Mr AbnerNott, in a practical relapse, raged against tho derelicts and talked of dis possessing them, or even dismantling his tenemont, but he was easily placated by a compliment to tho " dear old ship," or an effort made by somo tenant to idealise his apartment. A photographer who had in geniously utilised the forecastle for a gallery (accessible from tho bows in tho next street), paid no further tribute than a portrait of the pretty face of Rosoy Nott. Tho superstitious reverence with which Abner Nott held his monstrous fancy was naturally onhanceel by his purely bucolic exaggeration of ita real functions and its native element. " This yor keel has sailed, and sailed, and sailed," ho would explain with somo incongruity of illustration," in a bee lino, inakin' tracks for days runnin'. I reckon more storms and blizzards hez tack led her then you ken shako a stick at, Sho's stampeded whales aforo now, and sloshed round with pirates and freebooters in and outor the Spanish Main, and acrops lots from Marcelleys where sho was rarod. And yer she sita peacoful-liko, juat cz if she'd never been outer a pertator patch, and hadn't ploughed the sea with fo'sails and studdin1 sails and them things cavortin' round hor masts." Abnor Nott's enthusiasm was shared by hie daughter, but with more imagination, and an intelligence stimulated by tho scant

literature of hor father's emigrant waggon and tho few books found on the cabin shelves. But, to bor, tho strange shell she inhabited suggested more of tho _ great world than tho rudo, chaotic civilisation she saw from the cabin windows or met in the persons of her father's lodgers. Shut up for days in this quaint tenement, she had seen it change from the enchanted play ground of her'childish fancy to the theatre of her active maidonbood, but without losing her ideal romance in it. She had translated its history in her own way, road its quaint nautical hieroglyphics alter her own -fashion, and poeeossed herself of its secrets. She had in fancy made voyages in it to foreign lands, had heard the aoconts of a softer tongue on its decks, and on ' summer nights from the roof of the quarter deck had soon mellower constellations take the place of the hard metallic glitter of the Caltfornian skies. Sometimes in her isola ;ion the long, cylindrical vault ehe inhabited ■ corned, like some vaßt sea-shell, to become musical with the murmurings of the distant eea. So completely had it taken tho place of tho usual instincts of feminine youth that she had forgotten she was pretty, or that her dresses were old in fashion and scant in quantity. After tho first surprise of admiration her father's lodgers ceased to follow tho abstracted nymph except with their eyes—partly respecting hor spiritual shyness, paitly respecting the jealous supervision of tho parental Nott. She seldom penetrated the crowded centre of the growing city, her rare excursions were confined to the old ranch at JPetaluma, whence she brought flowers and plants and even extemporised a hanging-garden on the quartor-deck. It was still raining, and the wind, which had increased to a gale, was dashing the drops against tho slanting cabin windows with a sound Hkeppray, whon Mr Abner Nott sat before a table, seriously engaged with his accounts. For it was "steamer night "—as that momentous day of reckon ing before the sailing of the regular mail stoamer was briefly known to commercia San Francisco-and Mr Nott was subject at such times to severely practical relapses. A swinging light seemed to bring into greater relief that peculiar encased casket like security of the low-timbered, tightly fitting apartment, with its toy-like utilities of space, and made the pretty oval face of ' Rosey Nott appeara characteristic ornament. 1 The sliding door of tho cabin communicated l with the main deck, now roofed in and ', partitioned off so as to form a email passage that led to the open starboard gangway, . wheVe a narrow enclosed etairtjaee built on

the ship's side took the place of the ship's ladder under her counter, and opened in the street. A dash of rain against the window caueed Rosey to lift her eyes from her book. " It's much nicer here than at the ranch, father," she said coaxingly, "even leaving alone it's being a beautiful ship instead of a shanty, tho wind don't whistle through the cracks and blow out the candle when you're reading, or the rain spoil your thinga hung up against tha wall. And you look more like a gentleman sitting in hia own—ship— you know, looking over hia bills and getting ready to give hia order." Vague and general as Miss Rosey's com pliment waa, it had its full effects upon her father, who waa at timea dimly conscious of hishopeless rusticity anditsincongruity with his surroundings. " Yea," he said awk wardly, with a slight relaxation of his aggressive attitude :'' yes, in course it's more bang-up style, but it don't pay, Rosey, it don't pay. Yer's the Pontiac that oughter be bringin' in, ez rents go, at least three hundred a month, don't make her taxes. 1 bin thinkin' seriously of sellin' her."

As Rosey know her father hadexperionced this serious contemplation on the first of every month for the last two years, and cheerfully ignored it the next day, she only said : " I'm sure the vacant rooma and lofts are all rented, father." " That's it," returned Mr Nott thought-, fully, plucking at his bushy whiskers with his fingers and thumb as if ho were remov ing dead and sapless encumbrances in its growth, "that's just what it is them's ez in it themseles don't pay, and them ez has left their goods—the goods don't pay. The feller ez stored them iron sugar kettles in the forehold, after trying to get me to make another advance on 'em, sez he belives he'll have to sacqiiice 'em to mo after all, ond only begs I'd give him a chance of buy ing back the half of 'om ten years from now, at doublo what I advanced him. The chap that left them 500 cases of hair dye 'tween decka ai.d then skipped out to Sacramento, met me tho other day in the street and ad vised mo to use a bottle ez an advertisement or try it on the starn of the Pontiao for fire proof paint. That foolishness ez all he's good for. And yet thar might bo suthin' in tho paint, if a feller had nigger luck. Thor's that Now York chap ez bought up them damaired boxes of plug torbakor for fifty dollars" a thousand, and sold 'em for foundations for that new building in San- Borne-street at a thousand clear profit. It's all luck, Rosey." Tho girl's eyes had wandered again to the pages of her book. Porhaps she was alroady familiar with tho toxt of her father's mono loguo. But recognising an additional querulousnoss in his voico, she laid the book aside, und patiently folded hor handa in her lap. " Thot's right—for I've suthin' to tell ye. Tho fact is, Sleight wants to buy the Pontiac out and out, just or. she stands, with tho two fifty vara lots eho stands on." "Sleight wants to buy hor? Sleight?" echoed Rosey incredulously. '•You bot! Sleight—tho big financior, the emartost man in 'Frisco."

"What does he want to buy her for?"

asked Rosey, knitting hor protty brows. The apparently simplo question suddonly puzzled Mr Nott. Ho glanced feebly at hia daughter's face, and frowned in vacant irritation.

"That's so." ho said, drawing a long breath, " thore's suthin'in that." .

" What did he say . continued tho young girl impationtly. "Not much. ' You've got the Pontiac, Nott,' sez he. ' You bot!' soz I. ' What'll you take for her and tho lot sho stands on ?' sezho, shortand sharp. Some foller, Rosoy," said Nott, with a cunning smile, "would hey blurted out a big liggor and been cotched. That ain't my stylo. 1 just looked at him. • I'll wait fur your figeers until noxt steamer day,' soz he, and off ho goes like a shot. He's awfully sharp, Roeey." " But if he is sharp, father, and he really wants to buy tho ship," returned Rosoy, thoughtfully, " it's only because ho knows it's valuable property, and not because he likes it as we do. He can't tako that value away even if wo don't sell it to him, and all the while wo havo the comfort of the doar old Pontiac, don't you sec?" This oxhaustivo commercial reasoning was so sympathetic to Mr Nott's instincts that he accoptod it aa conclusive. He, however, deemed it wise to still preserve his practical attitude. " But that don't make it pay by the month, Eosey. Suthin' must bo dono. I'm thinking I'll clean out that photo grapher." . -.jMtrtSlV**— ~- M'i^T**"*'. " Not jutft Sltbr he's taken such a pretty view of tho cabin front of the Pontiac from tho street, father! No! He's going to give us a copy, and put tho other in a shop window in Montgomery street. " That's so," said Mr Nott musingly, " it's no slouch of an advertisement, ' The Pontiac,' the property of A. Nott, Esq., of St. Jo. Missouri. Sond it on to your aunt Phtebo; sorter make tho old folks open their oyos—oh 1 Well, seoin' he's boon to somo oxpense fittin' up an entrance from the othor street, we'll let him slide. But as to that d d old Frenohman Ferrors, in the noxt loft, with his stuck-up airs nnd

highfaultin stylo, wo must got quit of him ; heis regularly gouged mo in tbut 'ere horse hair spukilation." " How can you can say that, father '!" said Rosoy, with a slight increase of colour. "It was your own offer. You know those bales of curled horsehair were left behind by the lato tenant to pay htß rent. Whon Mr de Ferriores rented the room afterword, you told him you'd throw them in in tho place of ropairs and furniture. It was your own offer."

" Yes, but I didn't reckon ther'd over be a big prico per pound paid for the dnrncd stuff for sophys and cushions and sioh." " How do you know he knew it ?" re spondod Rosoy. "Thon why did ho look so silly at first, and then put on airs when I joked him about it, eh ?" " Perhaps ho didn't undorstand your joking, father. He's a foreigner, and shy, and proud, and—not. like tho others. I don't think he knew what you meant then,

any more than bo believed he was making a bargain before Ho may b3 poor, but! think ho's been — a—a—v gotioleman." Tho young girl's animation penetrated even Mr Nott's slow comprehension. Her

novel opposition, and oven the prettiness it enhanced, gave him a dull premonition of pain. His Bmall round eyes becamo ab stracted, bis mouth remained partly open, even his fresh colour slightly paled. " Yer seem to have been takin' stock of this yer man, Rosey," he said, with a faint attempt at archness, " if he warn't ez old ez o crow, for all his young feathers, I'd think he was makin' up to you." But the passing glow had faded from her young cheeks, and her eyes wandered again to her book. "He pays his rent reeularly every Bteamer night,1' she said, quietly, as if dismissing an oxhausted subject, "and he'll bo here in a moment, I dare say." She took up her book, and leaning her head on her hand, once more became absorbed in its paces, An uneasy silence followed. The rain beat against tho windows, tho ticking of a clock became audible, but still Mr Nott sat with vacant eyes fixed on his daughter's face, and the constrained smile on hia lips. He was conscious that he bad never seen her look so pretty before, yet he could not tell why this was no longer an unalloyed satisfaction. Not but that he had always accepted the admiration of others for her as a matter of course, but for the first time he became conscious that she not only had an interest in others, but apparently a superior knowledge of them, How did she know these things about thin man, and why had she only now accidentally spoken of them 1 lie would have done so. All this passed so

vaguely through his unrefiectivo mind that he was unable to retain any decided im-

pression but the far-reaching one that bis lodger had obtained some occult influence over her through the exhibition of his

baleful skill in the horsehair speculation, " Them tricks is likely to take a young girl's fancy. I must look arter her," he suid to

himself softly,

A slow, regular slop in the gangway interrupted hie parental reflections. Hastily buttoning across his chest the pea-jacket which he usually wora at home as a single concession to his nautical surroundings, he

drew himself up with something of the assumption of a ship-master, deepito certain bucolic suggestions of his boots and legs. The footsteps approached nearer, and a tall figure stood in the doorway. It was a figure so extraordinary that even in the 6trange masquerade of that early civilisation it was remarkable; a figure with whom father aa'd daughter were

"already familiar without- abatement of 1 wonder—the figure of a rejuvenated old j man, padded, powdered, dyed, and painted j to tho verge of caricature, but without a j single suggestion of ludicroueness or '■ humour; a face so artificial that it seemed almost a mask, but, like a mask, more pathetic than amusing. He was dressed in the extreme of fashion of a dozen years be fore ; his pearl grey trousers strapped tightly over his tarnished boots, '.his voluminous satin cravat and high collar em braced his rouged cheeks and dyed whiskers, his closely-buttoned frock coat clinging to j a waist that seemed accented by stays. | He advanced two Bteps into the cabin with an upright precision of motion that might have hid the infirmities of age, and said deliberately, with a foreign accent: 1 "Your-r-raccoumpt?" ' In the actual presence of the apparition Mr Nott's dignified resistance wavered. But glancing uneasily at hia daughter, and seeing her calm eyes .fixed on tho speaker j without embarrassment, he folded his arms j Btiffly, and with a lofty simulation of ! examining the ceiling, said : "Ahem! Rosey! The gentleman's ac-

I count." j It was an infelicitous action; for the stranger, who evidently had not noticed the presence of the young girl before, started, took a step quickly forward, bent • stillly but profoundly over the little hand that held tho account, raised it to his lips, and, with " a thousand pardons, mademoi selle," laid a small canvas bag containing the rent before the disorganised Mr Nott, and stiffly vanished. ; That night was a troubled one to the gimplo-minded proprietor of tho good ship Pontiae. Unable to voice his uneasiness by further diecussion, but feeling that his late , discomposing interview with his lodger de- I manded some marked protest, he absented j i himself on the plea of business during the ! rest of tho evening—happily to his ' daughter's utter obliviousness of the reason. ' Lights were burning brilliantly in count j ing rooms and offices, the feverish life of , the mercantile city was at its height. . With a vague idea of entering into im- I mediate negotiations with Mr Sleight for the sale of the ship—as a direct way out of his present perplexity—he bent his steps towards the financier's offico, but paused and turned back before reaching tho door. He made his way to tho wharf and gazed abstractedly at the lights reflected in the dark, tremulous, jelly-like water. But whorever he went he was accompanied by ! the absurd figure of his lodger—a figure he '■ had hitherto laughed at or half pitied, but which now, to his bewildered comprehen ! sion, seemed to have a fateful significance i Hero a new idea ec'zed him, and he hurried back to tho ship, slackening his paco only j when arrived at his own doorway. Here | ho paused a moment and slowly ascended i the staircase When he reached tho pas sago he coughed slightly and pausod again. Then pushed open the door of the darkened cabin and called softly : "Kosey!" "What is it, father? said Rosey's voice from tho littlo stateroom on tha right— Roßey's own bower. '' Nothing!" said Mr Nott, with an affocta tion of languid calmness ; " I only wanted to know if you was comfortable. It's an , awful busy night in town." " Yes, father." "I reckon thar's tons o' gold goin' to the States to-morrow." I " Yes, father."

" Pretty comfortable, oh ? "Yes, father./" " Well, I'll browse round a spoil and turn in myself soon." " Yes, father." Mr Nott took down a hanging lantern, lit it. and passed out into the gangway. An other lamp hung from the companion hatch ito light the tenants to tho lower deck, j whence ho descended. This deck was I divided fore and aft by a partitioned passage —the lofts or apartments being lighted from tho ports, and one or two by a door cutrthrough tho chip's side communicating I with an alley on either side This was the case with tho loft occupied by Mr Nott's strange lodger, whi'h besides a door in the passage had this independent communica : tion with tho alley. Nott had never known him to make u.«o of tho latter door ; on tho contrary, it wus his regular habit to issue from his apartment at 3 o'clock every after noon, dressed aa he has been described, stride deliberately through the passage to tho uppor deck and therico into-the street, whero his strange figure was a foaturo of the principal promenade for two or three hours, returning as rogulorly sfc S o^clock to the ship and the seclusion of his loft. Mr ""Isott paused bsloi'e tJto^^BßE^nndor -the pretence of throwing the ligW before him into the shadows of the forecastle; all was silent within. Ho was turning back when he wa9 impressed by the regular oc currence of a peculiar rustling sound which ho had at first referred to—the rubbing of tho wires of tho swinging lantern against his clothing. Ho set down the light and listened. The sound was evidently on the other side of tho partition ; the sound of somo prolonged, rustling, scraping move ment, with regular intervals. Was it due to another of Mr Nott's unprofitable tenants —the rats ? No. A bright idea flashed

upon Mr Notts troubled mind. It was de Ferriores snoring. He smiled grimly. " Wonder if Rosey'd call him a gontleman if she board that," ho chuckled to himself, as he slowly made his way back to tho cabin and the small stateroom opposite to his daughter's. During tho rest of the night ho dreamed of being compolled to give Kosoy in marriage to his strange lodger, who added insult to the outrage by snoring audibly through the marriage service. Meantime, in her cradlo-liko nest in her

nautical bower, Miss Rosey slumbered as lightly. Waking from a vivid droam of Venice —a child's Venice—seen from the swelling deck of the proudly-riding Pontiac, sho was so impressed as to rise and cross on tiptoe to the little slanting porthole. Morning was already dawning ovor the flat, straggling city, but; from every counting houte and magnzine tho votivo tapers of the feverish worshippers of trade and mammon wore still llaring fiercoly.

CHAPTER 11. The day following " stoamor night" was usually stale and flat at San Francisco. The roaction from the feverish exaltation of the previous twonty-four hours was seen in the listless faces and lounging feet of promen adors, and was notablein the deserted offices and warehouses still redolent of last night's gas, and strewn with the dead ashes of last night's fires There was a brief pause before tho busy life which ran its course from "steamer day" to steamer day was once more taken up. In that interval a few anxious speculators and investors breathed freely, some critical situation waa relieved, or some impending catastrophe momentarily averted. In particular, a singular stroke of good fortune that morning befell Mr N ott. Ho not only secured a new tenant, but, as he sagaciously believed, introduced into tho Pontiac a counteracting influence to the subtle fascinations of do Ferriores. The new tenant apparently possessed a combination of businesa ehrowdnees and brusque frankness that strongly impressed his landlord. " You sco, Rosey," said Nott, complacently describing the interview to his daughter, '■ when I sorter intimated in a keerless kind o' way that sugar kettles and hair dye was about played out ez securities, he just planked down the money for two months in advance. • There,' sen be, ' that's your security—now whore's mine.V 'I reckon I don't hitch on, pardner,' sez I; ' security what for ?' ' Spose you sell the shipV sen he, 'afore the two months is up. I've heard that old Sleight wants to buy her.' 'Then you gets back your money,' sez I. ' And lose my room,' sez he; ' not ranch, old man. You sign a paper that whoever buys the ship inside n 1 two months hez to buy me ex a tenant with, it; that's on the square 'So I sign th« pnper. It was mighty cute in the young; feller, wasn't it ?" he said, scanning hit daughter's pretty muzzled face a little anxiously ; " and don t you sco ej I ain' goin' to sell the Pontiac, it's just about c: cute in me, eh '! He's a contractor some where around yer, and wants to be near hi: work. So he takes the room next to thi Frenchman, thut that ship Captain quit fo tho mines, and succeeds naterally to hi chest and things. He's mighty heart-looking that young feller, Rosey—long blaci moustaches, all his own colour, Rusey and he's a regular high stepper, you bef I reckon he's not only been a gentleman but ez now. Some o' them contractors ar very high-toned !" "I don^t think we have any right t • give him tho Captain's chest, father," eai

Rosey; " there may be some private things in it. There were some letters and photo graphs in the hair-dye man's trunk that you gave the photographer." " That's just it, Rosey," returned Abner Nott with sublime unconsciousness, ; " photographs and love letters you can t sell for cash, and I don't mind given' 'em away if they kin make a feller creature happy." " But, father, have we the right to give 'em away ?" "They're collateral security, Rosey,^ said her father griaily. "Cola-te-ral," he continued, emphasising each syllable by ■ tapping the fist of one hand in the open palm of the other. "Co-late-ral is the word the big business sharps yer about call | 'em. You can't get round that." He ; paused a moment, and then, as a new idea seemed to be painfully borne in his round eyes, continued cautiously : " Was that the reason why you wouldn't touch any of them dresses from the trunks of that opery gal ez skedaddled to Sacramento! And yet them trunks I regularly bought at auction, Rosoy—at auction, on spec—and they didn't realise the cost of drayage." A slight colour mounted to Rosey's face. " No," she said, hastily, "not that." Hesi tating a moment, she then drew softly to his side, and, placing her arms around his neck, turned his broad, foolis-h face towards her own. " Father," she began, " when mother died would you have liked anybody to take her trunks and paw round her things and wear them 1" " When your mother died, just this side o' Sweetwater, Rosey," said Mr Nott.^ with beaming unconsciousness, " she hadn't any trunks. I reckon she hadn't even an extra gown hanging up in the waggin', 'cept the pettiocat ez she had rapped around yor. It was about ez much ez we could do to skirmish round with Injins, alkili, and cold, and we sorter forgot to dress for dinner. She never thought, Rosey, that you and me would live to be nihabitin' a paliss of a real ship. Ef sho had she would have died a proud woman." He turned his small, loving, bear-like eyes upon her as a preternaturally innocent and trusting companion of Ulysses might have regarded the transforming Circe. Roeey turned away with the faintest sigh. The habitual look of abstraction returned to her eyes as if she had once more taken refuge in her own ideal world. Unfortunately the change did not escape either the sensitive observation or the fatuous misconception of the sagacious parent. " Yo'll bo mountin'a few furbelows and fixins, Rosey, I reckon ez only natural. Mebbee yell have to prink up a litllo now that we've got a gentleman contractor in the ship. I'll see what I kin pick up in Montgomery-street." And in deed he succeeded a few hours later in ac complishing with equalinfelicity his generous design. When sho returned fromher house hold tasks she found on her berth a purple velvet bonnet of extraordinary make, and a pair of white satin slippers. "They'll do lor a start off, Rosey," he explained, " and I got 'em at my figgers." " But I go oiu so seldom, father, and a bonnet " "That's so," interrupted Mr Nott com placently. "It might be jest en well for a young gal like yer to appear ez if she did go out, or would go out if she wanted to So you kin be wearin' that ar headstall kinder like this evening when the con tractor's here, ez if you'd jest como in from

apasear. Mies Rosoy (lid not, however, immediately avail herself of her father's purchase, but contented herself with the usual scarlet ribbon that like a snood confined her brown hair when she returned to her tasks. The space between the galley and the bulwarks had been her favourite resort in summer, when not actually engaged in household work. It was now lightly roofed over with boards and tarpaulin aeainst the winter rain, but still afforded her a voiandah-like space before the galley door, where she could read or eew, looking over the bow of the Pontiac to the tossing bay or the further range of the Contra Costa hills. Hither Miss Rosey brought the purple prodigy, partly to please her father, partly with a view cf subjecting it to violent radical changes. But after trying it on before tho tiny mirror in the gallery once or twice, her thoughts wandered away and she foil into one of her habitual reveries, seated ova littlo stool before the galley door. She was roused frcm it by a slight shak ing and rattling of the doors of a small hatch on the deck, not a dozen yards from where she Bat. It had evidently been fastened from below during tho weather ; but, as eho gazed, tlio fastenings were re moved, the doors were suddenly lifted, and the hsad and shou4ders of a young man emerged from the deck. Partly from her lather's description and partly from the im possibility of its being anybody else, she at once conceived it to be the new lodger. She had time to note that he was young and good-looking—graver, perhaps, than became his sudden pantomimic appearance ! —but, before she could observe him closely, he had turned, closed the hatch with a ! certain familiar dexterity, and walked slowly toward the bows. Even in her Blight be wilderment she observed that his step upon the deck seemed different to her father's or the photographer's, and that he laid his hand on various objects with a half-caress inc ease and habit. Presently he paused aiS turned back, and glancing at the "■alley door for the first time, encountered her wondering eyes. It seemed so evident that she had been a curious spectator of his abrupt entrance on deck that he was at first disconcerted and confused. But after a second glance at her he appeared to resume his composure, and advanced a little defiantly toward the galley. " 1 suppose I frightened you, popping up tho fore hatch just now 1" "The what?" asked Rosey. "The foro hatch," he repeated impatiently indicating it with a gesture. "And that's the foro hatch ?" Bhe said ab stractedly. " You seem to know ships." " Yeß-a little," he said quietly. '' I was below and unfastened the hatch to come up tho quickest way and taise a look round. I've just hirod a room here," he added ex planatorily. "I thought co," said Rosey simply; " you're the contractor ?" "The contractor !—oh, yes ! You aeom to know it all." "Father's told me." " Oh, ho's your father—Nott? Certainly. I see now, he continued, lookinsf at her with a half-repressed smile. " Certainly, Miss Nott, good morning," he half added, and walked toward the companionway. Something in the direction of his eyes as he turned away made Rosey lift her hands to her head. She had forgotten to remove her father's baleful gift. She snatched it off and ran quickly to the companionway. " Sir !" she called. The young man turned half-way down the steps and looked up. There was a faint colour in her cheeks, and her pretty brown hair was slightly dishevelled from the hasty removal of the bonnet. •'Fathei's very particular about strangers bein<? on this deck," she Baid, a little sharply. "Oh -ah—l'm sorry I intruded." " I -I- thought Id tell you," said Rosey, frightened at her boldness into a feeble anti-climax. "Thank you." She camo back slowly to the galley and picked up the unfortunate bonnet with a slight sense of remorse. Why ehould she feel angry with her poor father's unhappy offering? And what business had_ this strange young man to ueo the ship so ' familiarly ? Yet she was vaguely conscious i j that she and her father, with all their ! love and their domestic experience of it, 1 ! lacked a certain instinctive ease in its . ' possession that the half indifferent stranger ' had shown on first treading its deck. i She walked to the hatchway and examined ) with a now interest. Succeeding in lift ' ing the hatch, she gazed at the lower j ' deck. As she already knew the ladder 3 had long since been removed to make t ! room for one of the partitions, the only 5 ! way tho stranger could have reached it was - Iby leaping to one of the rings. To make s sure of this sho let herself down, holding on 3 to the rings, and dropped a couple of feet r to the deck below. She was in the narrow » ! passage her fathor had penetrated the previous night. Before her was the door s leading to De Ferriere's loft, always locked. - It was silent within ; it was the hour when ;. the old Frenchman mado his habitual i, promenade in the city. But the light from c the newly-opened hatch allowed her to see more of the mysterious recesses of the for-: o ward bulkhead than she had known before; d ' and she was startled by observing anothe:;

yawning hatchway at her feet, from which the closely-fitting door had been lifted, and which the new lodger had evidently for gotten to close again. The younir girl atooped down and peered cautiously into the black abyss. Nothing waa to be eeen, nothing heard but the distant gurgle and click of water in some remoter depth, bhe replaced the hatch nnd returned by way o£ the passage to the cabin. When her lather cani3 home that night she briefly recounted the interview with the new lodger, and her discovery of bw curiosity. She did this with a possible increase of shyness and abstraction, and ap parently more as a duty than a colloquial recreation. But it pleased Mr I. ott also to give it more than his usual misconception. "•Looking round the ship, was he-en, Rosey 1" he said with infinite archness. in course, kinder sweepin' round the galley and offerin' to fetch you wood and water, eh V Even when the young girl had pickod up her book with the usual faint smile ot affectionate tolerance, and then drifted away in its pages, Mr Nott chuckled audibly. "I reckon old Frenchy didn t come by when the young one was bedevlin you there." - ..... , " What, father 2" said Rosey, lifting her abstracted eyes to his face. At the moment it seemed impossible that any human intelligence could have eua pected deceit or duplicity in Eosey s clear gaze. But Mr Nott's intelligence waß Buper numan. " I was Bayin' that Mr Ferrers didu't happen in while the young feller waa there—eh '!" "No, father," answered Rosey, with an effort to follow him out of the pages of her book. "Why?" But Mr Nott did not reply. Later in the evening he awkwardly waylaid the new lodger before the cabin door as that gentle man would have passed on to his room. "I'm afraid," said the young man, glancing at Rosey, " that I intruded upon your daughter to-day. "I was a little curious to see the old ahip, and I didn t know what part of it was private. "There ain't no private part to this yer ship—that ez, 'cepting the rooms and lofts, said Mr Nott, authoritatively. Then, sub jecting the anxious look of his daughter to his usual faculty for misconception, he added: "Thar ain't noplace whar you haven't as much right to go ez any other man; thar ain't any man, furriner or Amerykan, young or old, dyed or undyed, ez hey got auy better rights. You hear me, young fellow. Mr Kenshaw-my darter. My darter—Mr Eenshaw. Rosey, give the gentleman a chair. She's only jest come in ,rom a promeynade, and hez just taken oil her bonnet," he added, with an arch look at uosey, arid a hurried look around the cabin, as if he hoped to see the missing gift visible to the general eye. "So take a seat a minnit, won't ye ?" But Mr Kenshaw, after an observant glance at the young girl's abstracted face, urusquely excused himself. "I've got a letter to write," he said, with a half bow to Kosey. " Good night." He crossed the passage to the room that had been assigned to him, and closing the door, gave way to some irritability of temper in his eftbrte to light the lamp and adjust his writing materials. For his ex cuse to Mr Nott was more truthful than most polite pretexts. Ho had, indeed, a letter to write, and one that, being not young in duplici'y, the near presence of his host rendered difficult. For it ran as fol " Dear Sleight : As I found I couldn't get a chance to make any examination of the ship except as occasion offered, I just went in to rent lodgings iv her from the God-forsaken old ass who owns her, and here lam a tenant for two months. I contracted for that time in cuse the old fool should sell out to some ona else before. Except that she's cut up a little between decks by the partitions for lofts that that Pike county idiot has put into her, she looks, but little changed, and her forehold, as far as I can j udtje, is intact. It seems that Nott bought tier jußt as she stands with her cargo half out, but he wasn't here when she broke cargo. If anybody else had bought her but this cursed Mi?sourian, who hasn't got the hayseedoutofhis hair, I might have fou nd out something from him, and saved myself this kind of fooling, which isn't in my line. If I could get possession of a loft on the main deck, -well forward, just over the forehold, I could satisfy myself in a few hours ; but . the loft is rented by that crazy Frenchman who paradea Montgomery-street every aiternoon, and, though old Pike county wants to turn him out, I'm afraid I can t get it for a week to come. "If anything should happen to me, just you waltz down here and corral my things at once, for this old frontier pirate has a way: ~ of confiscating his lodgers' trunks. Yours, .Dick."

( To he. Continued.)

HOW MY BABY DIED.

BY F. E. HUDDLE,

The doctor eaid it had a sevore cold, and prescribed for it. He went away, and returned in an hour without being called. Then I knew my baby boy was more ill than I had thought, and when he went away I followed him out of the house and into the snow-burdened air, and said to him: "Poctor, tell me the truth. Will my baby die!" "It is very ill," he replied, " but there is yet a little hope." Then I returned and looked again on the aweot face of my little boy. Where dimples had been were hard, white Hnea of pain. Where the nostrils had boon such a soft and velvety pink, you could see the light shine through their walls, and every hairlike vein was blue almost to blackness. The little hands which I was wont to feel patting my face and pressing my cheeks had Tost their tender cunning, and were Ijing uselessly on its heaving bosom, purple and clenched. I know my baby was not for long. I kuew that even then the angels, who loved it a little better than I, were waiting to take it away. I saw the death dew stand in diamond beads upon its alabas ter brow, and f It the dampening curl that clustered like failing sunshine where I had been wont to kiss it. I heard the faint gurgling in my baby's throat,' saw no recog nition in its eyes, once co soft and blue and laughing, but now glassy with the film of death. They were looking away, through the ceiling and roof of my humble cottage, into the realms where the Recordine Angel sat, with the book of life open before him, at i page as white as snow, save where the name wss written at its top—the name of my darling boy. , The snow-flakes ceased to fall, and tho glad sunlight from the weet came in through the window and fell upon my baby's bed, flooding it with a radiance and glory like that which trembles on the golden tiles of Heaven, and then the sun sank out of view, and in the grey twilight my baby lay, struggling body and soul, the one with the other for the mastery. As the shadows deepened I saw the bony hand of death reach out from among the pillows, and clutch my baby by the throat. I tried to fight the monster back, but he would not loose his hold. ,-,.:. ,-,■■'■ The lamps were lighted, and 1 saw my baby smile, as if it saw a face more welcome, kind, and sweet than the face of her that boreit bending over its cradle-the face of him who said, '• Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God," and while it yet smiled, the soul went out from the tabernacle of clay, and left the temple tenantless and cold, but beautiful as life itself. My baby was dead, and I was clasp ing to my heart only the clay image of its soul, now winging its flight through the ! boundless depth of the blue space that lies • between the grave and the throne of God. Is ■ it a wonder that men worship idols of clay, when clay is so grandly beautiful as this? I slept and dreamed, and as I dreamed I saw the pearly gates swing open, and I knew my baby had reached home. I caught a glimpse of heaven, and saw it ny •j straight to the arms of Him who died upon 1 the cross, and ore the gates were closed the 1 angel with the book drew his wand across I the page and held it up to the others, and , I saw that nought but the name' of my darling boy was there, written in characters of shining gold, while all the rest was pure . and white, and as the gates swung shut the. : barps of millions Eang a glad refrain.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 1886.

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