DONALD'S PLOT. STORY OF An Unfaithful Guardian

B y SYLVANUS COBB, Jr,

CHAPTER XVII.

THE nBBAS-A WONDI.OVS STORY

0v a chill and dri--I.Y September evening a. Laan, supporting his trembling step: I . long oaken stair, knocked at tho dooi f„ roar porch of Donald Owen's residonco He was a battle-scarred veteran; his flow M hair white as snow ; board, hanging lov v ,r his breast, of tho samo silvery hue hi, face seamed and tanned, a black patel banking ortir his loft eye ; his loft arm in . t! I ■ his garb of tho aea woU worn' witl: there a darn and a patch, yet clear an d comfortable. A servant answoied his summons, gruffly demanding who was there. „ Ho | you lubber ! Oo tell your master , i Tt™ Christie's hero, and bo blow'd to yor|! Coi-Sryor stumps, or I'll help, yor I!» The oaken stall'w i raised threateningly, a the servant inado a vtrtuo of necessity, _„d backed away without further remark ; and ere long thereafter tho host himself ap- Christie I Is it you V nu's what's loft ot mo, Cap n. Gad.l m „_.t on a lee shore at longth : timbers firm, dplspkin' tight, but lookers empty Vnti'lleivomea bunk for a fow days, old friend till 1 can pick up a bit, and get this fi'pero'niino in workin order I got a fall the other day that give my shoulder a bitof a strain." . •■Why certainly 111 give you a bunk. Come in. P'ess mo' X thcuS ht J' 0" wero *&5 "Sy.il the veteran, as ho hobbled „i on£r after his old commander. "It'll ....more-an ord'nary storm to swamp this old hulk. You hold yor own wonder fully, Cap-." ~ . T , ~ "Pretty well, considering. Lets sco, M t |, o y enterod the room where tho servants eat their meals, "it's boon-bow long sinco I saw you before ?" ,__,._ " Not sinco you turned ovor tho old Spit fire brig to yer mate, Obcd flawkcs. That's goie'on thirty years ago." "Saven-and-twenty, Ben. I came hero then, and married, and settled down, and haven't boon to sea sinco." "So so. Well, the years nro slippin away. Donald." "Yes. Tbore, now; you sit down here and eat all you want; and when you're done ono of tho boys will bring you to my ° An'hour later the old sailor was sitting with the host ia his privato sanctum, and for a while they talked ovor tho old times and the old adventures which, had another overheard, would hare led him to strongly anapectthat the Spitfire had beon a pirate, that Donald's father had boon her first com mander, tnat Donald himself had beon her lecond, and that Bon Christio himself hud been boatswain under both of them. By-and-by Walter Tarboll enmo in, and went to his desk. The two wont on talking, bat were more guarded in their conversa tion than they had been when alono. Three days old Bon had spent beneath Donald Owen's roof, permitted to go and come-she ploassd. Tho host treated him with seeming kindness, but did not con ceal his wish that ho should make his visit brief. The old boatswain had bocomo gar rulous with the lapse of years, and there was no knowing what damaging utterances might fall from his tongue. He know too much of his host's antecedent., and of his family record, to bo trusted at largo in tho town; so Donald had looked to it that he did not wander far away. On the evening of the third day of the old man'a visit Donald asked him, shortly alter supper, what ho meant to do with himself until bedtime. "Are you going out?" Ben asked, sleepily. "Yes. I have a mattor of business that tills me to Dunsport, and I may not bo tack till late." "Good!" tho age. waif cried, heartily. "I'm tired and sleepy. Let mo have a tot o'jtng, and I'll turn in." "Allright. Hero you havo it, old fellow. Tils a good one, and you'll sleep the hotter kit."

The old man swallowed a measure of rnm-his favourite tipplo—then took a •andlo, and bade his old-timo skipper good night. Half an hour lator Rupert and Doris, sitting in the chamber which George had occupied, heard a rap upon tho door com municating with the hall. The young man answered the Bummons, and found the white-haired old sailor outside, leaning heavily upon his staff, "Ah !—you are hear." " Aye, You said yon wanted to sco me." "Yes, yes. Uomo in. This is Mrs Ber tram." "Aye, aye; I've met her afore. You cull her Doris, don't you?" "Yes, Uncle Ben, that ia my name," the beauty said, rising, and giving him hor land, He took it, aDd looked upon her with nn earnestness—an absorbing interest—that startled her. She thought it must mean more than appeared on the surface. "Mr Christie-" "Hold on! Belay there ! I'm Ben, and nobody else—unless you choose to call mo Bo'.'n,"

"Well," .aid Rupert, with a light laugh, -Iter tho old man had found a c.mfortabtc •eat, " Ben, I havo been told by Walter Tarbell th nt you once knew Jack Clearstjr." "That's truo, sir." "Oh!" cried Doris, laying a trembling land upon his arm, "did you know him truly? Was it our Jack?" "yes, my pretty; I know'd him well; >-d Iknow'd yerpapa, too. Oho ! I know lots o' things ; and I've como here to tell yet all about 'em." For a brief space Doris waa so beside her Kit with excitement that she knew not *hat to say. Something in the old man's look caused Rupert to ask : "?™i was it you who brought that note w Doris, informing her of her husband's safety?" "Ooo! Was that what 'twas ? Yes, 1 met a man—a sojer and I told him I was _0"i to see Donald Owen, at Owonsville ; and he asked me to bring that bit o' paper along, and givo it to tho lady private liko tun why I stuck it, under her door." At this point tho old man bent his head upon his wrists, his hands supported on "is staff, and seemed for a timo buried in thought. When ho at length looked up » new light was in his single eve, and ho ■i iv *"* i°''d ?eYeral timo significantly. What's the use," ho exclaimed, "o' 'eepin' the truth from you ? I might as .'ell toll you a, not. That lettor was put '"to my hand by the man himself- Hold on ! u °n t break in on me. If you do you'll put oe out, I happened into a hospital on tho «ew River-a Federal hospital and found Mm a prisoner there ; and, would you bo- Move it- w ho should bo with him but old ™* hteself— Jack Cloarstar, large as life, oW ,_ lßt a 8 ""feral, only growod a bit '0, Ben !do you mean it? Is it true ? "W you sco them ? and speak with them ? ™« were they both alivo and well? *™ did they know ono anothor ?" so cried Doris inpetuously, on hor feet, and PMP»RoId Ben by the arm. n_ I 2 on! Now Ju9t you look bore, Miss trans-Excuse me, Missus—eh—Bortram ! flowjujtyou hold on, and let mo toll my _y> In ?! y own way, for I've got a long »Mto tell- nncl t0 Bpoi . k tho truth ri , ht '. nit and plump, I como hero for ne r? r _r- WOn in the world but to sco you two, WW tell you what I've got to tell. It's i"™. 1 Promised old Jack, and the young «n, both.- So, now, will you listen, and lot ™ spin away »•■ sn^ 0ri 8, nodded a rearfy unirmativo, and re 8»oed her scat. Said Rupert; ._. i? on' Ben- I'H listen with all the *™iy_ got." «_.'_ M Lld, you. Rupert Owen-I'm coin °w".v back beyond your present knowledg, ' f °Ur , own folks; so don't bo surprised ™°eon t interrupt mo if you can help it.' _,_T , the °'d m™ went on, mildl. J!;., ' nethodieall v , and in language lest witK ._ unco""' than ho had been using in Li f tary which h° ™d he liad P ro ?m Jack Clearstar ho would toll to thi ~ £ oun!- People now before him. cv._ or. °He n' Vm soin'to °p°n y°u vnn.i. 80 llsten to me patiently. Mini for 11 V- °ry 1 ellilll tell l know t0 bo true »_»i n• , from °"c wh° knowed what h "™ Wilkin* about. anil. Eeventeen-oighty-eight-that's three ova. T enty ycara ago-Alfred Owen cam ,a_H l° m ? nKland. with two or threo thou hers .°TJ 8 in his Pocket, thinkin' to eettl btafJS? found an estate liko one of th Be Z I estates in the mother countrj ten „_n forty Veare °W. End had a wif taL k-r. y°unser than himsolf. Neve a hls travels. In time he hit upon thi

spot. Ho liked it. There was plenty of jui-t tho sort of land ho wanted : there was fore.t, and glade, and lake, and river ; and on tho river was a chanco for a magnificent water power. So horo he bought—bought Hip whole township, and began to clear and to build. He let men come'in ; lot 'om holp him build, antl gave 'em long rents, or lease.., in payment. Some louses be gave for as long as thirty years. In this way ho worked on till ho had built up a village, with farms outlyin'; and, mind you, ho never sold a foot of land, nor a stick in nny iot his houses. _" At tho end of fifty years, at tho ago o' ninety, ho was surrounded by a flourishing _ -. villago, and that surrounded by good farrasj < and every inch and stick and stone belonged •|t to hitn. In these fifty years his leases had . i paid his debts incurred, and all had run out, , I and tho iucomo was all his own. Ho calcu j lated, on the day that ho was ninety years ; j old, that his incomo was equal to a little , ; ovorn hundred thousand a year ; and, mind you, that was clear of tho thousands he 1 gavo away. This was in eighteon-thirty i eight. " In sovonteon-nlnty-two a son was bom to Alfred by a second wifo. He hadn't a child by tho first wife. This son ho named . David. David married young, nnd in eighteen hundred and twelve a son was born to him, \\ ho was named Ralph." "My papa." ; " Yes, my pretty, that was your father — Ralph Owou. His father, David, howsum evor, died when he -Ralph—was but a boy —in oightoen-twon-y. So, yu sec, from that time—eigbtoen-twenty, to the time when old Alfred was ninety, his only living isstto wus his grandson, Kalph. And tho old grandfather lived a yoar and a half bovond that." Tho old man stopped hero and asked for a sip of wino. It was given to him ; a fow questions woro asked nnJ answered ; and presently ho wont on : " Now, my friends, 1 como to another part of my story. Ton years, or thereabouts, after Alfred Owen settled down here in his now town, bis brothor, Lanson, unexpec tedly turned up. Ho was fouryoars younger than Alfred, and hud been thought doad for a long timo. It was known to a fow that ho had been chief of a crew of pirates in tho Caribbean Sea, but his brother gave him a home, glad to wean him from his wicked ootir-O, Shortly after settling down—and bo euro Allied did nobly by him—Lanson married, though then almost fifty. It wus iv the first month of oighteon hundred that his first and only child was born—a son, named Donald—and Alfred settled upon this child a generous income. " Xow mark : In oightooa-thirty-oight, at tho ago of ninety-one, Alfred Owen died. His son, David, had died eighteen years before, and his brother, Lanson, had been ile.ul four years, having died in 'thirty-four. So tho only living relatives left by tho aged millionaire woro his grandson Kalph, his nophow Donald, and Donald's infant son, Rupert, which had been born the year boforo. Uo had sottlcd upon Donald, at his birth, sufficient for 'his support, but ho left him by will twenty thousand dollars more in cash. Ho had also settled upon little Rupert a gonorous sum, to which, iv his will, he added tho income from certain proporty, named, during his lifetime Ralph had boen married when his grand father died, but ho had no children. " Remember, to tho day of his death Alfred Owen had novor sold a singlo item of his real estate—not a foot of land, nor a stick, shingle, nor a brick of a building. Tho town of Owensville, with all its leal estate of evory kind, worth thon not far from live million dollars—that included the outlying farms, mind you—lie left to his grandson, Ralph ; to him and his heirs for ever ; and ho inudo Kalph his executor, without, bonds. " Within a year after tho old grand father's death coal was discovered in Chest nut Valley, and Kalph at once mado arrangements for working it. On the very day of tho discovery of tho coal a daughter w.is born to him, but tho little thing lived only a few week., and within a month after the death of hor child tho mother followed it, to the tomb. Ralph had been for some timo in ftoblo health, and this blow pro strated him. Ho turned tho caro of bis property and his businoss over to! is cousin Donald, and took to his bed. Tho doctors gut him up out of that, howover, but they could not got him back to his work, and by and'by they told him ho must travel. They advised him to sco tho seashore, which ho finally did, going to Norfolk. " One passage in tho life of Donald Owen I have not given. I hesitated on your account, sir." " Let us have tho whole," said Rupert. " You cannot tell mo more to my father's

discredit than is already known to me." '•As I told you," tho old man wont on, " Donald Uwon was born in January of eighteen hundred. In eighteen fourteen he ran away from home, and tho nest heard from him ho had shipped on board an Amorican privateer, tho war with England being then going on. After tho war was over word reached his fathor's ear that ho had found the old pirntical crew of the Antilles and had joined them ; and in time bo bocamo thoir chief. His father know this, but nobody else in this region. Donald led that buccaneering lifo till 'thirty-four, when he gave it up and camo home. Ho waa a rollicking, roystering follow, nnd his old uncle liked him and did for him ail ho could. A year after hi< return, at tho age of thirty-live, he married, and you, sir, woro born two years Inter. Of your mother I need not tell you. That she wns an angel of goodness you know ; and you know, too, that sho was beautiful. " And now, of Kalph : As I have said, ho had givon his pioperty and his business into the caro »f hit. cousin Donald, having in him most implicit faith. Donald Owen had never sought to hido his real character

under a cloak of piety, or sanctity, nor yet of extreme honour. The deeper hear, of the man, with its burden of evil and treach ery, had been hiihlon by his jollity and good fellowship, which, in his middle ago, before (lark plotting and a sense of wrong and treason had chilled his being, were most attractive. Into Donald's bands Ralph, then, gave everything, bidding him etiro for it, and make tho most of it; to pay himself for all time and trouble, and safely invest the rest. And then, acting on the earnest advice of bis doctors, he went to Europe "Now, my friends, comes another char acter When Ralph was six years old a poot widow died in Owonsville, leaving one child behind, alono, and uncared for. This child - a boy—Alfred adopted. He was tho same ago as Ralph, and became Ralph's playm.te. The boys grow up together, and were never to be separated except by death. That orphan boy was Jack Lloar star. He lovo-1 his young master—for ho mado himself Ralph's servant in tho outset -loved him with all his heart and all his strength ; and after they grew to manhood, wherever ono was found, bo sure the othor was not far away. ~,,,» , , " I need not tell you of Ralph Owen s ad ventures in England ;of his trip to Pans, of bis marriage thoro ;of his voyage with his young wifo to Calcutta, nor of his life in India! That is all known to you. 1 need only toll you Jack Clear, lar's story in contioclion with it all. " They had been in Calcutta about threo years when Jack discovered that Jacob Wen.ell bad como over, and that ho was dogging Ralph's steps. This Wonzell bad been a member of Donald's piratical crow, and I may say hero that Jonas Hotter had been another. Roth those men had found their old chieftain in Owonsville, and had been I. v him provided for. Tho moment Jack sot eyes on Wonzell ho know that Donald had sent him over ; and the purposo for which ho had booh sent was not hard to guess. Between Wonzell and Jack it was for a time a tio game. "At lom'th Ralph, in company with Maior Ashton and two others -Jack, of course, going-went upon that fatal hunt log expedition. You know how Ralph Owen was shot by tho native Shikaree When ho knew ho must die ho called his faithful esquire to his tide. I^can tell you the very words ho spoke. _ 0 d Jack ha* ■ given them to mo so particularly that I i cannot forgot thorn. First, however, 1 will say, Ralph had never told his wife of his ■ vast wealth, nor of any wealth at all. She was younger than he, and ho wanted that ) she should marry him for lovo alono ; and 1 know that sho did so. After she had be ' como his wifo ho kept .the story from hor . thinkiiK' what a grand surprise ho would irivo her when thoy should roach their ' Americau home, and ho could install her as , his queen; and but for that terrible acei . dent it might have come to pass ; for he ! was gaining strength and health con -3 fcHl" Yet, f"i- all that, ho went upon that ex pedition with dark forebodings. He, told r lack so on the way, and t.e honest ellow 1 tried to laugh him out of it, but .nthout c "''"As I havo said, Jack Clearstar was called to tho bedside of his dying master ; i- and there the latter gave into his hand the c gold crucifix, with theso words: Jack, t- said he, ' you will give that into the hands o of my darling Mary ; and you will go with o her to Thomas Lookwood, the goldsmith on -. the Strand, and tell him what to do with it. c When he has done his work, you will ov r plain to Mary all that sho should know, and is tell her to go with you to our old home io

Virginia, and there aasumo her trueplacoas queen of tho realm. Be faithful, Jack, and don't let the baublo go from your hand till you place it in her..'; and even then you will watch over it, as you will care for and watch over her.' "At that moraotit Jack raised his head and saw a face at the window directly over tho head of the bed. Jacob Wenzcll's face. It was but a glance, for tho faeo disappeared instantly ; but Jack could not bo mistaken. As soon as ho could go out he did so, but the wretch was not to be found. When ho returned to tho bungalow, his master had breathed his lust in the arms of Sidney Ash ton, "Now, Jack did not think the man Wenzoll meditated harm against him per sonally ; but he must havo heard what Ralph had said about tho crucifix, and he would cortainly try to steal it. And, know ing what dexterous thieve, there wore among the Hindoos, sovernl of whom wero in Wen-ell's company, ho feared, if ho kept tho precious thing on his person, it might bo taken from him ; so he gave it privately to Ashton, simply charging him that he should give it into Mrs Owen's hands ; also to beware of Wonzell. Ho said he would himself give tho widow all necessary in struction*. And Sidney Ashton took tho crucifix. " Ralph Owen diod lato in tho day, and they could not set out for homo with the body until the next morning. That night

Jack Clearster was attacked whilo asleep —struck a blow on the head that completely stunned him—and borno out from tho bungalow. He heard tho veico of Wonzoll and tho jabbering of two or throe Thugs whom ho had seen in the villain's company. So much ho know, and thon his souses wero locked in uttor gloom. When ho came to himself ho was in tho close cuddy of a small boat sailing swiftly down tho Hoogly. When ho was called out into the opon air and

the light, the long night had passed, and it wn_|well intoanothorday. Tho boat, mannod by ton Lascars and ono white man, whom he did not know, was ten milos bolow Cal cutta, just coming-to alongsido a clipper built brig. Jacob Woni_.ll was not there. but Jack well knew that ho had boon the author of tbo outrage. Ho knew, too, that Wonzell hud eonio clown as far as Calcutta in tho bout, and that whilo ho had boon gagged and bound in the cuddy the ruffian ha I searched his person for tho crucifix, oven going so far as to rip open certain purts of his clothing. What little monoy ho had had about him was gone, probably to tho Lascars ; but thoy had guiuod nothing moro. "The brig was tho Spitfire, Captain Obed Ilawes Jack was sent bolow, and there confine 1 until she had got to soa, when ho was brought on deck and given his choice : Walk the plank, or sign the brig's articles. Naturally, ho did tho latter ; anil for twolvo

years ho sailed in that brig leading a pirate's life, with never a chance to escape. You may think it strange that he could havo beon held to long ; but the brig's only ports of entry wore two settlement, on ono of tho smallest of tiio windward islands of tho Antilles, and there, of course, escape was impossible, as all tho inhabitants wero banded with tho piratos. Two yours ago tbo brig had put into the Congo Kivor after a consignment of slaves, One day, while she lay there, Jack sighted a barque becalmod oil' shore outside. At night ho managed to steal a canoe and put off to tho barque, which proved to bo an Englishman, from Li-'orpool, bound for Cape Town and Aus tralia, New South Wales. Sho proved to be short handed, nn j he was gladly wel comed.

" f.ittle more than a year from that time passed before Jack again saw Calcutta : but he reached it at length, just ten days after Doris and her husband had sailed. Perhaps you can imagino his feelings. If you can, you can fancy yourselves crying with a good relish. Howsumover, ho gained all the news ho could find, and on the first opportunity took passage for America, arriving at Now Orleans just as the war was breaking out ; but he didn't mind that. Without a dollar of money ho stinted on foot to mike tho best of his way to ihe heart of Old Virginia. He got along very comfortably for a time, but by'mbv iio came to whoro things were rather warm and feverish, ami before bo could get further he found, himself forced to take up arms. "It wild a curious affair, the way nnd manner in which a recruiting squad liid hold on him ; but 1 won't tire you with it. Knough for now that ho found himself where ho couldn't get off without running moro risk than ho thought advisable, lie was in two ongagoments, and came out all right. In tbo third, ho was wounded, anil taken prisoner, Tho Yank» treated him kindly, as they did all tho rest of their prisonors. Ife had a good bed in a snug barn, and there bo came across a young confederate ollicor, also a priaonor, who woro on his watch-.hnin a seal which he tit onco knew for Kalph Owen's. In this way ho discovered George Bertram, who hail been known us Forsyth Amnion. "There, that's my story: and 1 thtnk I've tired you enough. 1 havo only to add - I promised 'em that I would come this way, and let you know that till was well. Only one thing they were anxious about — was tho gold crucifix safe '.'" " It is safe,'' sdd Rupert. '■Oh! Thank God!" The ejaculation was so e-I'nost that both Rupert and Dons

stared. , ~.,,. Tho former leaned forward, and laid his hand upon tho ohl mini's arm; but it was quickly shaken off, and tho veteran aroso from his seat. " Hush !" he whispered, casting a furtive glanco around. "No more now."

" Hut-one question." " What is it ?-Not oi myself

" 'N'°'" , , • Tho questions were of tho old times in India. Thov wero asked and answered ; and the old'man wis suffered to depart, leaving the twain behind him tilled with all sorts of wild and fanciful conjectures,

CHAPTER XVIII

THE M7STKKV OF TIU-IH-CIFIX

Fotril-AND twenty hours later. It is even ing again, and Donald Owen is at his desk 1 in his private cilice. Enter Jacob Wen-ell, ] in a stuto of palpablo excitement. , "Ha! How how? Why are you back ; here?" I "I como with a bit of nows, old man. Ooorgo Bertram is alivo and stirring !Ho t has beon —" ~_...' "You lio '." gasped Owen,clutching his in formant by the arm. "HE 1.. I>KAD !" " Well, if ho is, ho is tho most sprightly . corp-o I over saw. He is, at this moment, , in tho saddle, not five miles away. I loft • him at noon, at Wallack's Ford, and have well-nigh killed two horses in bringing you word." ~-, ~ ~, "Fool! Dolt! Idiot! \\ by iiidn t you ; settlo him where you found him?" "Como, now ! That's cutting it rathor too tliick ! How was Ito trouble him, and ho with a squad of cavalry in his train ?" For a little timo tho astoundod man was toohighly wrought upon tospeak coherently. , At length ho afked, huskily : "How was it? Why is ho coming this way ? How did ho get, away from his com ua and ?" ~ , ~ " I'll tell you. I got sp.ech of ono of the men with him, and ho let the cat out. of (he bag In one of thoso sharp engagements on the New River, or tho (iatiloy, between Floyd and Ro.eorans, young Bertram was wounded and taken piisonerby the Federals Somehow ho happened to got speech with Rosecrans himself, and told his story.wliieh, you can judge, ho made pretty interesting^ The result wa=, that the Yankee general swore him not to bear arms any more against tho Government of the United States, and lot him go, giving him back all his property, and allowing him to tako a good horso. If that bad boon all, I might havo sottled his hash for him on tbo road ; but tbo miechiof was this : Two days after leaving tbo Yan keo hospital, ho fell in with a party of his old comm.nd-asquad of Renwiek'a cav alry—on their way to Willsburg; and they'll como through with him." •• Will he bo here to night?" " I aint euro. If ho is, it will bo lata' Donald Owen took two or threo turns across tho room, to and fro. At length, grasping his henchman by the wrist, ho ox '" .lako'! Colonel Bloodworth is at Wills burg, with his troop." . " Ho was there." " He's our man. Kirk Bloodworth owes mo moro than money can pay. Take my best chestnut mare, and away with all your might and main. Bring tho colonel himsolf back with you. Don'tslooponthe way, Make the etory strong. Tell him there's a de serter here—claims to I c English -run away from Renwick—tell him, if ho says lies taken an oath to the Yanks, ho lies. Uo ! Kirk'll make quick work of it." "Good!" cried Wenzoll, clapping his i hands enthusiastically. "If he gets into ; them hands he's shot if he looks crooked. ! '"One word, Wenzell. Tell Kirk I'll i make it a rich thing for him if ho gets this . fellow off out of my way." " Aye. aye. Ho won't refuse money ' I'll bring him." And with this tho ready '. tool waa gone. i A few minutes lator, when Donald had , returned to his ledger, and a file of papers

that had beon in use with it, Walter Tarbell noisolessly emerged from a little closet near the snfo, and slipped out from the room without being observed. A3 soon as ho had gained the hall, he quickened his steps, and when he stopped it was within tho little chamber occupied by old Ken. Christie. "Ah I—Walter ! What is it? Ho has not arrived." "No. Listen." Tho secretary cast a furtive glanco round ; then opened I ho door softly and looked out; thon returned and related to tho old man the scene and dialoguo which had just Iranspiied between the master anil Jacob Wenzell. "Hoavons!" ejaculated Christie, leap ing to his feet. "1 have hoard of 'Kirk Bloodworth and his lambs.' Urged on by hi 3 own paa.ion, by Donald's lies, and Donald's gold, there is nothing short of downright treason he would not be capablo of. Lot mo think. Wiltsburg is ten miles away ?" " A trillo over." " But —it makes no odds. I think I can outflank him, Can you snrldlo mo a smart horse and bring him around on to tho sward nbovo the house ?" " Yes. I'll havo him thorein.ixminutes." "Right. Do so. (livo mo v roadster, with bottom," " You shall have him." As soon as Tarbell had gone tho old man turned to the work of making ready for a ride. Ho throw off his shoes and put on a pair of top-boots; put off his light sack, and put. on a close frock coat, with a liyht duster over it; then he took a pair of gaunt lots and a close-fitting cloth cap, with a straight visor ; then took a lighted candle in his hand, extinguished his lamp, and wont out from bis room. His movements wero quick and lightsome ; he left hi-" oaken staff behind, and'forgot, his stoop and halt in_r. On tip-toe ho found Rupert's room, and on entering found tho young man within. " Hush I—not a word. 1 havo not a moment to spare, l.ertiam is in danger. Ho will not come to night, as wo havo ox pectod—" " How know yon '.' Have —" •'lam going to slop him. Ho will be hero to-morrow, and all shall bo safe. Com fort Doris, and trust in me." " Stop ! —Say ! 0 I you arc—" •' Never mind now, dear boy. If you can stand up under a father's shame, you shall bo satisfied." "His shame is not mine. Do your duty, lot the blow fall where it will." "Right Till Doris to keep up a good hoart, All shall coin.! out right. She has more friends than she thinks, as havo you. Courage I look for him before noon to morrow. Coed-night." (To b. Co.itin.-.,i! )

Mark Maynard's Wife, A LOVE ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE.

C_IAPTI_R 1. TIIK SKCKF.T MAI-KIAIIK ASH ItKUKLIIOX.

A lovki.v rustic scetio : a line, grand old orchard, laden heavily with fruil : tho trees and oven tho grass beneath were covered with mellow, fragrant apples. The departing sunlight, glinting through the tree tops, in ule fitful, dancing shadows on the volvbt vcrduro. Little birds carolled merrily amid tho branches; a timid hare started out from the waving grasses, lifting its head as if in quest of tho scout of danger, and thin quietly nibbling away at tiio lei.der clover roots. In the distance the cattle lowed, and the faint whinny of a horse, calling to its mate was beard, while under one of tho grand orchard trees, a century old at Ini-t. a young girl stood waiting. She wus the fairest part of this quiet sene; niolio nle-s as ti slutuo of marble sho stood, gazing anxiously towanl the ancient farm-houso. Ono bund grasp.d a branch adove her head, and her sleeve tell from an arm of delicately rounded propittions that would havo been the envy of many a daughter of Eve le.s bertilly endowed. A lovely, sensitive face, chubby and dimpled, and moiidrous big brown eyes dewy with unshod tears. Hair hangin ; in long c_rl« of darkest auburn line i mass of riotous curia, unio. trained save by a a tingle ribbon, tied i.i.elu-.ly behind. Hor dress was only afa led calico, but neat and clean ;it iit't tl tho supple, willowy figure as perfectly as the finest dre.-s created by Worth. But she was not happy ; one could .c_ that by th. -ad look in tho botiuio blown ou's, tho pittilll curve of the ripe red lip-, a. .lie stood there waitirg—waiting for wind ':"

A whistle rang out, loud and clear; the whistler, with a single bound, c.uno over the weather-stained rail fence that divided the meadow from the orchard lot -hand somo Hondo young man. with a look of ve.atinn'.on his attractive face at tho sight of tho motionless figure beneath the droop ing apple tree boughs.

'■ Candico, what aro you doing hero ?" 110 asked the question abruptly, almost angrily "(lan you not see that you are imprudent ?" " I did not think Mark : but 9 .rely I havo dono nothing wrong ; no one can say aught against me ! 1 am your wedded wife ! I have a right to meet you hero !"

" llii. It ! Candice ; do not talk so loud ! 501110 one might bo pa-sing nnd hear you : Of course, you havo n right, child, but wo must keep onr secret yet a little longer." " I cannot, Mark \ Oh ! my darling, do not ask mo, for I cannot !''

" What in tho world ails you, Candico Is the thought any wor.o than it was ?"

"Yes, yes! a th'iiisand times worse Mark, will you not tell tho homo folk. ?"

" Candico, you must listen to rcu. on ! Do you want to ruin my prospects, child ':'•

"No, Mark, I do not wish to ruin your prospects ; but oh ! Father in lleiven ! how much better it would have been if I h_il never enmo into your life !" There was suoli anguish and bitterness in hor enveet young voieo that her youthful husband gazed at hor in wonder.

"Candico, are you sorry you married mc ?" ho u«ked, softly, for this girl's freaks were unaccountable to him.

" You know I am not, Mark," sho said pitoously : " but it is so hard to have others gaze at you with distrust, to have even your board and scanty covering givon to you grudgingly ! Your mother grudges 1110' every mouthful I eat, and oven this," pointing to tho faded calico, "while your . istcrs sneer at mo whenever I speak to you or oven mention your namo. I over heard Alice tell Aunt Kezia yesteulny that 'Candico is fishing for Mark !' "

" You must not tako such things to heart. Caudico ; woman's tongues will clatter."

" I cannot help it, Mark ! Sometimes I oven feel us if I could hurl a bombshell into their midst by saying, ' I havo 0 right bore ; I am Mark's wifo !' "

" Candico," Mark said, atixio.sly, "you must control yourself. Why, child, yon nro actually getting nervous over it; this will never do, for 'tis but a slight thing to worry about after all ! Uncle sam and Alda will soon go ; then I will explain it all to mother and tho girls."

" And not until then ?'

•' No, not until then ! Will you not kiss me, Candice ?"

" Kiss you ? No ! no ! Mark Mynard, at this moment 1 can almost find it in my heart to hato you ?''

" Pleasant talk from one's wifo 1" he said, coolly. " All right, (..mdico ; I won't ask you to kiss mo again !" Candico did not know what she retorted ; bitter, angry words roso to hor lips and found utterance. Sho was only a woman after till ; she loved this handsome Hondo giant with all her passionate, undiciplincd heart, and could not forget that sho was his wife.

"A sweet temper you'vo got. Caudico ! Why didn't you show it sooner?" Mark was laughing at her.

"I had no occasion, Mark Maynard now, I have !"

" V\ ell, cool oil' boforo I sco you again, won't you ? I'otnember you would tit kiss 1110, and 80 good-by," and ho sauntered idly away across tho meadow, actually humming " Sweet Violets ' in a rich, melodious voice.

Then the reaction camo to Candico ; down in tho grass sho sank, lower and lower, until her bead was pillowed on her rounded arms, whilo great choking sobs burst from her. Mark, her husband, could leave hor thus, and sho was but four months a bride, with only promises for the future

At last she rose wearily, wiped tier tear wot eyes, gathered some mellow apples from off the grass, and wandered homeward. Already dusky shadows wero crcoping about her and she would be missed ; Aunt Kezia would bo angry with her

Mrs Maynard's brother, Samuel Desbro, had arrived that morning, accompanied by hia ward, Alda Lome, a bright, sparkling brunette, and Candico, creeping softly through the hall on her way to her room, glanced carelessly in at tho open parlour door. Alda was reclining on a low divan, and Mark, her Mark, was holdiughor hand it

seemed to Candice tenderly, but in reality 1 c was just in the act of examining a sor petil ring that encircled one of Alda's taper lin"er.t ; tho conversation had wandered to lino's, and Alda was showing hers as a keep sake and a curosity.

Ilnl: Candico did not know this; like a wounded deer alio lied io her own little room, wilh swerving, unsteady steps. Close down by tho little window, the only one tho chamber contained, she-sank wearily, looking out over tho quiet landscapo with dry, tearless eyes. The world had somehow gone wrong with her, and her girlish hopes and future happiness seemed likely to fall in ,|i: feted fragments at hor feet.

CHAPTER 11

" A SKKt.ANT ; NO'I'IIIN'II MORF

"CAMi-ii'l. !" ft was her Aunt Kezia, standing on tho threshold and surveying her with an air of stern disapprobation. " "es, aunt," and Candice rose instantly ; " do you want mo " "Yes, Candico. What an ungrateful girl you aro I've been running all ovor the house, trying to find you, and you are moiling up here. What in tho world ails you '!" "Nothing," Candico said, quietly, hurt moro than she oared to own by her aunt's unkind words.

"Thon, if that's tho case, and you are not sick, yon could put, your timo in much moro profitably helping Ratio ; she's in ono of her pouts again."

" Hurry, then, for it's tea time, and Katie's as nn.l as a March hare. I don't know what lo do with her,"

Ciindioo followed her aunt's elegant figure from tho littlo room down tho grand old stairway and went straight to the kitchon. Katie looked up defiantly, as if expecting lo sco Mis Maynard, como to find fault as usual, but, instead, Candico said lankly :

"Ratio, 1 havo como to help you ; tell mo what to do, quick !" and she bared her rounded anus preparatory to active work. Katie's countenance cloured, liko April's sunshine breaking through storm clouds, at Ciindioo'. eh.cry words and gentle voice. " Miss Candice, you ate always kind and good, and I'm so tired I'm lit to drop ; what v ith all this work to do and thonourallajayin my head, I'm that put out 1 fnlo liko setting me»elf down and letting tho mistress storm or else come ami do tho work herself ; slime sho's always finding fault with poor Katie':"

" I'm .-o sorry for yon, Katie ' Docs your poor bond hurt yon" badly? if so, just tell me what to do and you sit hero by the stove and keep your f-.c; warm : perhaps that will make it feel better."

"Oh ! no, Miss Candice; there's naught but tooth pulling will do me any good." Katie ulmo.-t groaned with pain. " Cell I howly Moses! 'tis jumping it is liko it ■/, uhl jump out of me poor head, ami all this wiinuk to do !"

" Never mind what's to be done," Candico said, soothingly, seeing that Ratio was in real pain : " i can manage that," and quietly and deftly she went to work ; tho tea was drawn, the table was sot, the roast turkey anil boiled ham sliced to perfection and tiinimeil oil uitisticully with celery leaves. Mollis of wine red jellies wero emptied from their glasses into crystal dishes.

The girl looked upquiekly from her oe.-u ---pufii.i of bio id enlting. " What i 0 it, Ratio . Is your toolh " No ! no ; bul 'tis a shame the way you bivo to slave ; all day long you've been sweeping and dv.-ting, and now you are doing my wui'iuk, moro shame to tno to be • 'roaiiiti' ami lakin'-on to you when you have your hinds full already ! " "Tint's all rigid, Ratio. I'm only glad [can help you a little. Ami it's mv duly, remember, Katie." '■ Your duly ! Faith ' and what do lint gel i return^ Miss Candico. What littlo you ' • and 'i I''-■w calico drosses, anil, shore, you oiihl .'iru dacint wages at any other pltie and work .10 harder than you do hen.." • 1 know it," Candico said, quietly. ■Tin tired of it all, Mi-s C_nd.ee, ami I'm "oin' to hue' ; (here's worruk emit. here for Iwo Irish gurls like mo, and the mi-tie,-- t'Npccting me to doit all, and com pany stuck up in tho parlour in tho bar gain I" "Oh ' Ratio, you do not mean it !" Candico .aid, .anxiously. "Think, Katie, how would I manage without you? 1 could never do all I he work I" " 1 can't help it, Miss (.uudico ! I would do anything in the wurruld for you,but stay 1 can't much longer. She can got other help, or else let -hem lazy, good-for nothing gurls of bets soil their dainty lingers : .lime, if won't hurt then. !" Ratio was clearly in one of her humours, and knowing thai she would soon boiishuinod of her ill-tempo., Candice ran out in the old fa. hi .lied garden and picked all tho l.ato fall Hewers she conldjtiml. and made them into bouquets for the table. This done, -he stood nil' and .-I,novod the result ; it win certainly nil that could be desired, and with an vii' oi satisfaction Candice again sought tho Iri.h servant " Katie, everything is ready. What shall I do next?' "(11l '. Miss Candico, phiso ring tho bell, .and then. If you would not mind pouting the tay, 1 will try and sco about somu of the other wurriik." " All light, Katie !" and catching up a white-apron that hung over a chair hick, Candico tied it jauntily about hor'ivuist, and (hen rang the boll with a silvery peal, bringing the family nnd guests' from the parlour ; they were soon seated about the well spread table. Candice entered the dining room quietly, with a cup of lea in each hand. She felt dlii'hlly embarrassed, for this was tho first timo sho had nut tho new arrivals, having kept out of their way heretofore. " Will you have tea?" she asked of each guc-t in turn, every moment expecting her aunt to introduce her, but no introduction cm,., She looked across at Mark ; his oves wero bent on his platens if not noticing hor presence. ,; Cold water, if you please," Alda borne was saying, in a rich, melodious voice " 1 neverd'rink tea." Candico wailed just ono second longor for the introduction thut did not 001110, then witii head hold haughtily erected hurried from the room. "Quite a nice looking servant!" Alda's voice'came to her through the open door, and glancing back, Candico saw Mark look upquiekly, and then she distinctly saw Mrs Maynard cast him a warning glance. That was all, and when Candice rooiitercd tho apartment hor eyes wore shining strangely, a crimson spot glowed on cither, cheek and her red-tressed head was still hold haughtily erect "That will do, Candico." It was hor aunt's cold, metallic voice. "1 will ring when I neod you." " V'ory well," anil Candico quietly with drew. Ah! her aunt was angry with hor for waiting on tho table in placo of Katie, but that did not mutter, Mrs Maynard railed her in just once more, and as .soon as her (ask was com pitted sent her away. Candice heard iho click of spoons and glassware ami tho merry table chatter, but she was excluded from it, all as much as poor Katie groaning in the kitchen ovor her neuralgia. " Candico I" Again her aunt was calling her, and she answered quietly enough Sho was strain ing tho milk into big stone jus out. in tho milk cellar. Tho family bad all dispersed but her Aunt Kezi.a, and sho had followed her bore.

" What do you wish, aunt?" " Only this, Candico," and oven this harcl hearted'woman's face Hushed uncomfortably under the girl's clear, searching gaze. "Katie is not feeling very well. I wish you would help her all you can whilo tho com pany are hero." " Very well, aunt ; is that all ?"'

" No : I wish you would not call mo aunt in their presonco ; it will save all unneces sary explanations." Now tho girl's tones were cold and cuttingly polito. " You wisli me, then, Mrs Mitynani, to lie a servant only—nothing moro- during your visitors' stay?"

" Don't put it quite so plainly, Candice it is only for a short: timo."

" Ho the girls and Mark know?" "Yes," tho woman .aid, hesitating .li-'h'ly ; "they understand that you will mni-qu._i.idc for a timo at least !" Caudice's heart beat wildly liko that of an imprisoned biid ; however, she marjc no sign, but ivcnt on with quiet grace, arranging tho milk jars and skimming off. yesterday's cream to be churned early in tho morning, l'ler aunt stood and watched her for a few moment*, then, seeing the girl did not notice her further, noiselessly quitted tho cellar and joined tho company ; but her mind was ill at case. Would Candico ac quicsco or must there bo a scono? In nnler that the reader may understand a little more of the story, a few explanations are necessary.

Candico waa MrsMaynaid'a half sister's ohibl, the daughter of sweet Annie Desbro, who, marrying against her parents' wishes, had been an exilo from homo for years Cnndico- father, a poor, struggling mechanic, had died when sho was a baby.

Poor Annie, left with an infant child on her hands, know-not which way to turn or what to do, and had struggled on and on. fighting poverty at each and every stop, until Can dice was fifteen years old ;" then her strengt ii had failed her and sho died, first writing a letter to her half-sister, Kezia, begging her to care for her child, little Candice Lee. Kezia had consented through selfish motives only. ' Some of tho wondering neighbours called it an act of disinterested kindness, and others prophesied a hard lot for tho orphan, who was nt length duly installed in the .Maynard mansion as one of its in mates.

Tho family consisted of MrsMaynard,Can dico's widowed aunt, the daughters, Alico and Lota, two haughty, indolont young ladies, and Mark, handsome, indolont Mark.

Mrs Maynard had an only brother, Samuel Desbro, but ho had been absent for over twenty years in India and the old countries, and now ho had returned, accompanied by his ward, Alda Lome. Ho did not even know of Candico'_t existence :ho had asked after Annie, and Mrs Maynard had told him sho was dead, but never a word had she spoken of tho child left behind. Mrs Maynard knew her brother Sam of old ; if ho found out that Candico, his half-sister's child, was living under the -Maynard roof in almost the capacity of a menial, bo would instantly take possession of her and proviilo for hor out of his own abundant moans. This would not suit Mrs Maynard at all, for .sho did not care to lose Candico ultogothor ; boaid .3, there would also bo danger of Unelo Sam making her his heiress, and that would novor do, for sho hud sot her heart nn Mark succeeding to his uncle's vast wealth. For theso potent reasons sho hail doomed Can dico to tho kitchon dining tho visitors' stay. CHAPTER 111. ONE MUKI- APPEAL, Valley F_.km was a lovely place ; it was possessed of every modern improvement, and the latest was a tiny mock lake, whioh tho girls had christened Lily Lako It had been a pond before, but Mark becoming wild ovor fish-culture, hid hud it dug out and enlarged until it looked indeed liko a miniature lako ; that was about two years ago, nnd ho had sent to an Eastern Shaker village for minnows to people this artificial lake of his. Now theso minnows had grown until thoy wero almost two feet in length — great Herman carp. Uo had planted water lily roots, and at prcsont tho surface was dotted here and there with mammoth leave* and dancing water lilies. Mark enjoyed his fish-raising ; every evening ho look basket.-' of food and went down tho well-worn path to tho little lako and fed his finny tribo. Candice, knowing this custom, determined to make ono more appeal for protection from her aunt's last whim.

Candico had como to Valley Farm in the early sp'.ingtimo,.wcet and fair as tho iosc buds ju.'t bursting into life, and Mark, the handsome, indolent son of tho house, com menced straightway making lovo to hor. Mrs Maynard, whenever she found her son at Caudice's sido, was angry ; hence the poor girl wus almost afraid to look at him, but already the mischief had been done. Treated with cool indill'ei'cnee by l.eta an:l Alice, nnd with almost dislike by Mrs May nard, was it any wonder hor heart turm d to Mark .as the only friend on oar 111 to hor ? He was kind lo her, find sho loved him in return. Mrs Maynard, .ding how' it would end, had forbidden Mark seeking the girl, and ho hail sought Candico secretly, coaxing, begging mid entreating her to marry him. " On 0 we're married, Candice," ho said, "mother can't help hoi.sell, and it will bo •ill right."

Candice objected at llrst, but his pus lotiulo entreaties at length prevailed, and he consented with fear und trembling.

Tho family were invited to a .social one .veiling, and would bo gone until a late hour. Mark pleaded a terrible headache Hid remained at home. "I'll go to bod ..atly," he said to his in'flier, "and sleep it oil," but what would she have thought half an hour later 10. seo Mark, seemingly in (he beat of health and spirits, with Can lice at His side, driving toward the nearest town ?

It was about live miles away, and the li-t-ini.o was soon traversed. Stopping at Iho little parsonage, the young man hitched the smoking animal, blanketed it: carefully, mid with Cundii'o on his arm entered the minister's prcsonce. If seemed only a moment to Caudico, ant! then sho was again iv the open air, with Mark's ling on her linger, his arm about her waist, and tho marriage certificate tightly clasped in her hind, which proved beyond a doubt that sho was a wedded wife. '

Now that it w

till ovor.they dreaded tho

issue and hurried rapidly back, almost ex pecting to find the family at homo when thoy got there, but such was not tho c.^o, mil they chatted of the future gayly enough until thoy heard .Mrs Maynard's voice in. the liallway. Something had evidently gone wrong, and the glanco of ur.gry amazement •ho cast at Candico and Mark on ontering tiio sitting-room mado the girl shrink and "owcr with fear.

"So this is your headache, Mark!" tried sho ' Go oil' to bed this minute ! Candico, what an ungrateful girl you nro to repay my kindness with underhand work !" Alico and Lota wero looking at them scornfully ; Candico roso tremblingly from tier sent and quitted tho room, Mrs Maynard during after her angrily. The latter was in . passion ; Murk saw that at a glanco ; when angry sho was about as unreasonable 1 woman as tbo earth held, and if he should tell her now he dreaded tho o'lnscquences.

Procrastination was Mark's greatest fault, and ho thought to put oil' this con fession of his yet a littlo longer; in the morning, perhaps, his mother would be more reasonable ; so with n yawn he raised his six feet of masculine length from oil' the chair ami exclaimed ;

" What's tho use, mother, of making a scene? Did it hurt anybody very much for tno to talk 10 Candice a fow minutes?"

His mothor mado somo taunting remark, and with a scowl 011 his handsomo faco he quitted tho apartment, slamming tho door after him. Meanwhile, Candice in her littlo room, trembling with excitement, oxpeoted every instant to bo called ; sho looked for angry words, tears, and reproaches ; but no summons camo, and batoning until tho houFC was quiet, she disrobed and crept into her little bed, to lio thoro slooplosa until morning dawned.

Sho dreaded the wrath that was sure to greet hor if they know, but no allusion was made to anything extraordinary, only her aunt was a shtitio cooler than usual, and tho girls more haughtily unconscious of her presence than ever. Mark looked strangely embarrassed. When Camlieo wont to' the spring for a pitcher of clear, cool wntor, he sauntered slowly after her, whistling softly to warn her of his approach so that she would not hasten bacit. Tho spring was under the brow of tho hill, and his mother had not noticed his departure. " Hang it nil, Candice, I just fcol liko an infernal scoundrel !" ho said. "Mother's a perfect Tartar! I'd rather be (logged than tell her ' She's got ono of her spells new, and I expect sho'll send mo to tho right about when sho hears !"

" You did not 101 l hor, Mark?"

"No, littlo one, I admit 1 didn't havo the spunk to face tho music, and now I think it|would bo best to keep our secret until she gets hotter natured ! Do you care, Candice?"

"Oh ! no. Mark, You know best of course. A fow days will not mutter."

But tho days hud lengthened into wcoks, ! and weeks into months, and the secret was a secret still. Now that Candice's fresh young beauty was all hi.* own, Mark began to wonder if he had not been rather prema ture, and wished to put off the evil day as long a* possible. But the girl's proud spirit, chafed under the plights put upon her, and she. had more than once begged Mark lo tell the home folks ; but now Uncle Sam and Alda Lome had come, and ho had positively refused to tell till thoy had gono ; meanwhile sho was expected to act as ti moniol-.he, Mark Maynard's wifo ! The work was all done,and Candice, with weary feet and sadly beating heart, had teen Mark wandering toward Fairy Lako with a basket of foor, on his arm. Sho had teiled hard all day ; her "hands wero burned and blistered cooking delicacies for the com pany, and now sho was following her hus band liko some guilty thing through tho gloaming. Along tho bodge the t1i0r.,3 wounded hot fonder Hash, but she must not lisk defection; thoy must not boo her follow Mark. On sho went until, almost out of breath, sho camo to the littlo lako.

"Mark ! my husband !" sho cried. He turned quickly, angrily, at the sound of her low, melodious yoico and caught sight of her timid, shrinking figure. "" Why did you follow mo?" ho asked in a tone of annoyance.

" Because, Mark, my darling, I have come to plead with you once more ! I cannot livo on liko this ; my heart is breaking .'"

" Nonsense, Cttntlice ! Don't trot into the triigic vein ! I'm getting tired of this por r e>i.l digging at mo! It isn't pl_.i-.id, io ray tho least of it !" l; Why did you marry me, Mark?"

"Because I was a fool !" he answer .d, harshly, and Candice,. his sweet young •.>ife, threw up hor hands with a wail of anguish. Mark was not bad at heart, only indolent and imperious, When ho saw Candice with a look of despair on hor face, ho instantly relented. Putting ono arm about her, he drew her to him, kissing her trembling lips and caressing her red-brown cur_s. " Candice, I am a bruto '. I didn't mean it, child ! Don't tako it so to heart; I was only vexed for tho moment !" Now her arms were around his nock, her burning eyes wero looking into his. "Mark, Mark, I would want to dio if you were sorry that I am your wife ! Oh ! heavens ! I could not livo if that were so ?"

"But I am not, Candice, only I hato to be constantly tormented 1 I will make it all right as scon as mother's company is gone. I cannot go to them now, Candice, and make a scene ; you would not want to bo so unpleasantly conspicuous either ; and if mother sends us off, we don't want it done before folks, do wo, little wifo ?" " No, Mark : but oh ! how long are thoy going to stay v" " Only a short timo, Candice ; Uncle Sam never remains long in a place," "Mark, your mother has forbidden mo to oven call hor aunt before the visitors; did you know that ? I am to bo a servant whilo they aro here. Look at my hands, already burned and blistered ! Is this quite right, do you think '!' " Poor littlo hands !" Mark said, caress ingly. '* I will hunt mother up another girl. As for tho rest, I suppose she has her reasons for not wishing you to be known. She told mo Undo Sain was very angry with your mother for marrying benoath her, and said ho never wanted to see hor or hers again. Mother is doubtless afraid he will bo enragod at your presence hero." "So that explains it all," Candice thought; "but why didn't she explain it to me ? I would not have cared so much ii I had known."

"Jamie I J_.mio! do you hear me calling through the gloaming. Calling to you, darling, tocome home I"

Loud and clear rang out tho words of the song only a few rods distant. It was Alda singing with a ■voice clear as tho morning lark's, and tho notes of Alice's and Leta's voices were plainly audible. " The girls aro coming, Candioe 1 For mercy's sake, run before they find you hero I" Mark said hurriedly.

Candice, nimblo as a fawn, darted for tho friendly hedge and waited breathlessly for thoir appearance On they came, laughing and chatting as only light-hearted girls can, close to tho hedge where Candice was hidden, and sho dare not stir for foar of at tracting thoir attention. On they went in robes of white, fair visions of youth and beauty, and Candice, crouching in her faded calico, keenly folt tho difference be tween them and herself.

" I am as fair aa they," sho thought, sadly, as sho slowly and cautiously crept toward home, "but oh ! how unutterably different my life ia from that of the petted heiress, Alda Lome !" " Mahomet would not come to the moun tain, so tho mountain came to Mahomot!" Alda said, gayly, us thoy approached Mark. "I was afraid you would bo gone," Leta said, glancing at Mark auspiciously, ho seemed so wonderfully busy juat then, and ho had been gono almost an hour from tho houso.

"Is it not quite a sight, MisaLorne." Mark said, abruptly calling attention to the fish feeding, and pretending not to notico Ids sister's remark,

"Isn't it wonderful?" Alda said, deeply inteiosiad, gazing at tho water bubbling and splashing as the fish jumped for some particle of food and carried it beneath tho surface. "This fish-raiting is something now, isn't it ?' " It is not common," Mark answered, pleasantly ; then he unmoored the littlo boat and invited tho girls to take a sail over his mammoth lako. " The namo of tho pond doesn't suit tho girls, Miss Lome .'" ho said, laughingly, "and thoy havo christonod it Fairy Lako I" " Quito appropriate, I'm sure," Alda said, laughing at tho girls' quaint conceit. " Might wo not as well havo things poetical as so terribly matter-of-fact?' " Certainly," Mark said, bowiug iron ically ; " you ladioa aro privileged crea tures !'

(To be Continued.)

SOUTH SEA LETTERS.

SAMOA (CONTINUED.)

Religious Condition ef tho People 1 Tim Sanioans havo proved most amenable ' to missionary effort. Of tho population 27,000 aro claimed as adherents of tho , London Church Mission, whilo the Roman ( Catholic and Wesleyan Missions claim each J 4,000. All the natives are thus nominally £ Christian, and havo long been so, and it is I a notable fact that no missionary was over martyred in Samoa. Tho first Samoan 1 missions were started in 1830 by tho celo- ' bratcd John Williams, who met with his ' death at the hands of the nativea of Erro- ' manga, in the New Hebrides. Fifteen ' years later, the Roman Catholic misßion > w;i3 started, and tho Wesleyan misaionaries 1 also commenced to labour in Samoa c about tho same time. On condition of tho ( London Missionary Society ceasing opera- J tions in Tonga, tho Wesleyans agreed to j withdraw from Samoa, and that arrange- » moot was carried out. But though adhered l to by tho London Society, tho Weßloyans < violated tho condition by again entering tho £ Samoan mission field. The two missions • work harmoniously togothor at tho present ' timo, co that at all events no great evil has I rssultod from tho breach of faith. Not only ! havo tho Samoans readily adopted Chris tianity, but they have proved most zealous ] labourers in the conversion of the natives of ' other islands. Samoan native missionaries ( have worked most diligently in tho Loyalty, I New Hebrides, Gilbert, Tokolau and Ellice l Groups, with tho result that about 10,000 ' souls havo been added to tho number cyan- ' geliEcd by the agency of the London Mia- ' sionary Socioty. Attheprosenttimethoßev. ( Mr Phillipsischicf missionary of tho Society, I and tho total staff of workers embraces • eight English misaionaries, 152 native or- ' dained ministers, and lIS native preachers. ' Tho schools for tho education of the young J number '29 (i -ono-half being tho boys ' and tho othor for girls. At these schools ' (hero are 4,407 male pupils and 3,813 ' fomalos, or a total of 8,220. Tho education imparted ia roligiouß and Beeular, the Bible ! being the chief reading book for pupils suffi ciently advanced to uso it, Thoro are ' bosides elementary aohool books, with : graduated leßßons, hymn-books, and class ; books in history, Euclid and natural philoso phy, in uso in tho schools, Tho excellent translation of the Scriptures into Samoan which is published by the London and Foreign Bible Society is in groat domand among tho natives, at the high price of Ss per copy—Mr Phillips having disposed of a recent largo consignment within a week. Rev. Geo. Pratt's Commentary on tho Scrip tures in Samoan i_ also largely bought, at tho same price as tho Bible. Tho London Missionary Society agents are not, such adepts at " painloss extraction" as tho Wesleyan missionarieshavet provod in Tonga, for with a largo and deeply religious popu lation to work upon, the Samoan missions havo not yot reached the self-supporting point. Tho natives contribute about £2,000 to tho mission funds annually, and after paying the salaries of native preachers, &c, there remains a sum of about £1,000, which is remitted to London, and helps to pay theoxpensos 01 the mission schooner, tho English missionaries, &c. Educa tionally considered, the Samoans are not so advanced as the Tongans, but it is evi dent that tho elemonta of a sound educa tion aro being imparted to nearly every native boy and girl in the islands, and tho results of this cannot fail to be lasting and beneficial, Already tho Christian teaching has led to a considerable modification in tho savage customs of the people ; their tribal jealousies havo been to a great extent removed, somo of thoir immoral practices abolished, and their general mental, moral, and social condition vastly improved. Although the sale cf intoxicants to natives is strictly prohibited, a numbor of theso lively and amiablo people are, I foar, being sadly debauched by contact with Europeans at Apia. Still, after allowance is made for these exceptional cases, it must be conceded that intercourse with "the superior race" has not led to any generaldeterioration of the natives. The reverse, indeed, ia the case, and if work for work's sake could be im pressed upon thorn as a'cardinal virtue, theao Samoans might yet cut a very respect ablo figure on the world's stage, whether aa 1 regards physical perfection.moral standing, or matorial prosperity. Vl3it to the Gorman Plantations, i Tho morning of Satuday, 4rd July, found tho New Zealand commercial delegates on j horseback, ready to start for the Gorman ■ copra, coffee, and cotton plantations, about five miles out of Apia. Six times hud the cry of " Bring forth the horse " been heard, and each time there appeared in response a curious-looking compound animal, the size

of a pony, and the shape of a horse, looking by far too slonder to bear the weight of eomo of the substantial delegates. My steed was the last to " come forth," for being a parson's horse, and having presum ably cast his prophetic eye over the future, he had fled to the forest primeval, whence he was led an unwilling captive. Under the lead of Mr Kelsall, the able and courteous Municipal Magistrate of Apia, tho cavalcade sot forth at a gallop, but my oquiuo friend, who was by no moans "a Tartar of tho Ukraine breed," insisted on stopping at the first stream and having a drink, and this indulgence, which I weakly granted him, eeemed to disincline him for further exer tion. (I should have Baid that thi.. was my initial effort at equestrianism, and I had a natural delicacy about taking liberties with the horso). My brother delegates, who did not know my non "horsey" nature, paid no attention, but kept on thoir gallop, and of course my Rosin ante and I wero soon left far behind. Thon tho brute devoloped straying tendencies, and I had to engineer him round cocoanut trees and across patches of native cultiva tion ; in brief, he gave me such trouble that I soon lost Bight of my mounted brethren, and could only guess at the route they had taken. Still I pushed on, smelling the trail as well as I could, until after crossing several streams and trying one or two blind pathß, I came to a dead stop in a denso grove, and unanimously resolved that I was lost. "Right-about faro" was the order, and my fiery steed right -willingly threaded his way homeward.. Reaching an opening on tho aoa beach, I, met a horseman approaching from town, this proved to be a fellow-passenger who had resolved on accompanying tho delegates, but had been late at the start. After a brief conference, we resolved to follow up tho scent, and catch up to the runaways. Off we went, and as two heads are bettor than one, it was soon madeovident to mo where I had missed the trail at one of tho streams. Now wo struck it hot, for some natives informed us, as best they could, that four white men on horseback had passed that way. Still further, till all trail was loßt in the hard dry grass-covered soil, and we made our way more by instinct than observation. On, through a mile or so of cocoanut groves, where the trees are planted with mathe matical regularity, and where imported labourers aro at work collecting the copra, fei answor to our hurried query—" You see one—two—three—four white men pass on horseback?" they point in the right direc tion, let down a stile to let us through, and oft' we go again. There is now a well-defined road, whicli wo determine to follow. On we go through a couple of moro miles of cocoanut plantations, when we come within a mile of a hill, on the top of which is a house ; and by that house wo fancy we can see several horses tethered. Wo have to lead ourhorsesdown a gully.acrossa stream, and up the steep acclivity on the other eido. It is a toilsomo march, but we are fresher than our steeds, and occasionally havo to halt to give tho poor brutes a breath as wo mount the hi.ll. At the top we find our friends' horses in charge of two Papuan labourers, and Boon we join them in the coffeo plantation. We are now, perhaps, 800 feet above the sea level, and we catch a delightfully fresh breeze, though the heat, after our exertions, still troubles us. Onone side of us is the sea, and on the other are the hills in tho interior, rising to tho height of ■I 000 feet, and clothed in verdure to their top most pinnacle. The soil here ia of that rocky volcanic description which is bo common in tho Mount Eden district of Auckland. The rocka aro black and smooth, and are scat tered loosely ovor the ground instead of being consolidated in a mass. The land is not cleared, but the coffee plants are grow ing amid tho stony soil, where one would imagine nothing but weeds would flourish. These plants are of young and vigorous growth, being in fact just coming into bearing, and are about three feet high. We are disappointed in not finding the overseer, who has gone to a distant part of tho plantations, and rather than waste time waiting on him or finding out his whereabouts, we resolve to return to town. Once more the party got into the saddle—one of tho saddles, by the way, is a wooden one of the Mexican typo, the getting into which iB a science—and wo start the homeward journey. On the way we pass, evon on this elevated plateau, and in mid winter, a grove of banana trees hung with ripo elußtors. In tho absence of the German " boss," wo take French leave and regale ourselves with tho luscious fruit. [Enpas sunt I may say that the Samoan oranges aro a bad lot, and I am not surprised that there is no export trado in them.) From what we saw of the plantations, they havo fully proved tho capability o.' the Boil and climate for tho growth of tropical products. The Labour Question. As to tho imported labourers, they appear to bo tractable and happy, and by no means overworked. The work, in fact, is so light that it might well bo performed by Portuguese or Italian labourers, and so long as the heat does not hinder European carpenters, blacksmiths, &c, working at their trades in the sultrier air of Apia, it is vain to pretend that coloured labour is necessitated by the climate. As a matter of economy, coloured labour may be needed, for profits on most tropical pro ducts do not suffice to pay such wages as Europeans would demand ; but there is no reason why the work should not be done by Indian coolies, who could be prooured in any number that might be desired. By employing coolies or Fijiana, who aro British subjects, the villainous traffic in human flesh now carried on would be abol ished, for these men could only be employed under conditions which would secure to them complete freedom of contract and equitable fulfilment of the terms of engage ment. Until this is done—until the iniqui tous " labour traffic " is abolished root and branch—there can be no hopo for the real advancement of Samoa. Our homeward route from tho plantations was a moro pleasant one than that pursuod in. going ; our course lay through avenues of cocoanut palms, spreading over extenaive table-lands at various elevationa above the sea ; from one level to another we descended by easy gradations, until we left the planta tions behind and entered upon a level stretch of country behind Apia, which is dotted with native houses, surrounded by groves of bread fruit and banana trees. Again my Ro. inanto and I were left behind, and we reached the International Hotel about half-an-hour after tho others. It is not exactly pleasant to have to ask your way in a strango land, in a language " not under atanded of tho people," but my experience was not disagreeable. The salutation "Alofa!" will always place ycu on a good footing with tho Samoans, who return it with a pleasant smile. "Alofa," I may explain for the bonefit of the uninitiated ,is identical with the Maori "Aroha," and signifies "lovo." The greeting may be freely interpreted as " Love to you I" and it is certainly much more beautiful and melodious than tho English " How d'ye do ." tho French "Comment se porlez wus?" or tho Gorman " Wie befinden Sic sich?" On tho whole, I cherish fond rocolloctiona of these active and polite Italians of tho Pacific ; indeed, my recollections are about as tender as certain portions of my anatomy were for soveral days after my four' hours' rido in that tropical clime. I have no doubt the man who had the Mexican saddle fully agrees with me,

Theodora's Midnight Adventure.

Madame Sarah Bernhardt is staying at the Star and Garter Hotel, at Richmond, whither alio repairs by train after the per formance at the Gaiety. When ahe mado her dei ut, tho closo of tho theatre was so lato that she misaed hor train, and with her maid took a hansom " Richmond," said the fair fare. "Which way?" said the driver. " Your way, any way-Rishmond." Tho cabman drove off and wandered, till after somo time it dawned upon Madame Bernhardt that they wero not making much way to thoir goal. "Ou aommes nous? Where are wo ? waa now shouted through the trap. " Dunno, loat," was tho unsatis factory response. " Maia je ne veux pas etre lostee," said Theodora in her firmest tones. An explanation which enßued reaulted in tho cabman, in spite of offers of_ money, declining to go a step further, hie "hosa was beat," ho couldn't do it, and m .do some proof of sincerity by declining to take any fare. It was now very late, and the belated Empresß and her attendant wandered about until a light revealed to them the shelter of a police-station. Thoy found thoy were at Putney, and a police man volunteered to Bhow them the Rich mond Road, along which ho walked aongl way with them till by extraordinary chance they met a fire-engine returning from its duties at o small fire in the neighbourhood. This was hailed, and for a. consideration drove them to the Star and Garter, where Theodora arrived on this extraordinary conveyance at 4 o'clock in the morning. The hotel was shut up, but in the early dawn a group Boon collected, attracted by the appearance of tho fire engine, and imagining it had been summoned to tho great hotel. Shouts of fire soon brought the inmates to tho windows, and the doors wero thrown open to welcome their guest after her strange adventure,

AN OLD PAGE OF NEW ZEALAND HISTORY.

Removal of the Seat of Government i.-ora

Auokland.

(by telegraph—parliamentary

_ reporter).

As tho minda of a soction of tho press and reproaentatives of the people have recently been turned to the advisability of removing

;ho seat of Government from Wellington,

I havo been nt some trouble to hunt up the official record here regarding tho depriva tion of Auckland of metropolitan rights, now nigh twenty years ago. All soronesa on the part of Auckland regarding that period of her career has now disappeared, and her residents can now look with cynical unconcern on tho struggles that tho present unworthy Empire City will havo to retain the title of " capital of New Zealand." This is a mere unpretentious record of bnro facts, a modest attempt to freshen tho minds of this goneration on a matter that caused our fathers not a littlo tribulation Tho first mention wo havo in tho records ia amotion in tho Houso of Representatives on November, 1863, by Mr Domett, as follows :—"(1). Thatithasbecometiceessary that tho seat of Government of tho colony of New Zealand should bo transferred lo some suitablo locality in Cook's Straits. (2). That in order to promote the accom plishment of this object it is desirable that tho selection of the particular sito in Cook s Straita should bo loft to the arbitrament ot an impartial tribunal." Strong opposition was raised to the proposal by Atkinson, Dillon Bell, Vogel, Stafford, and others, A fow daya later both bronchos of tho Legislature passed an address to His Excellency the Governor (Sir George Grey) in theso terma :—" We desire to express to your Excellency our strong conviction that the time has arrived when it has become imperatively necessary for tho good government of the whole colony, and for the maintenance of its unity, that the permanent position of tho Beat of Govornmont should now bo settled. We are of opinion that the just claims and varied necessities of all parts of tho colony require that the seat of Govern ment should be placed in a central position, that is to say, somewhere on tho shorts of Cook's Straits. We desiro that the actual Bite of the capital should be submitted to some independent tribunal, by which tho interests of tho wholo colony may bo im partially considered apart from thoso looul claims which are sure to be asserted by tho soveral settlements of Cook's Straits in tho discussion of a question so important to their respective interests. Impressed with tho conviction that continued delay in the settlement of tho question will only tend to keep alivo thoso feelings of rivalry and jealousy be tween different parts of the colony which seriously impede the actions of responsible Government, and will threaten at no distant period the dismemberment of the colony, w c respectfully, but earnestly, pray that your Excellency will cause no time to be lost in giving effect to the foregoing resolu tions in such manner as to your Excellency may seem expedient." In accordance with this joint address the Governor communicated with the Governors of New South Wales, Victoria, and Tas mania, and the following gentlemen wero appointed Commissioners to report on tho question :—Hon. J. Docker, M.L.C. New South Wales; Hon. Sir F. Murpling, Speaker of Legislative Assembly, Victoria ; Mr R. C. Gunn, Tasmania. Tho Com mission met in Wellington en August Ist, 1864, wero formally sworn, and entered on their laboura. On October 3of samo year they forwarded their report to tho Govern ment, from which I make the following extract: —The Commissioners commenced their laboura at Wellington on tho southern coast of the North Island. They collected all the information that could bo laid boforo them on these several heads of inquiry, and tested the information so obtained by per sonal examination whenevor such a course was practicable. Tho^Commissioners then proceeded along south coast to Wa.iganui, and perßonallyexamined the harbour nnd tho surrounding country. The Commissioners then passed to the opposito ehoro of tho Strait, and directed their attention to Picton in the province of Marlborough, and minutely examined Queen Charlotte's Sound and the Tory Channel. Thoy then proceeded inland to Blonhiem, and (descending tho Wairau River) made a personal inspection of Port Underwood, represented to be tho natural harbour of thie district, They alco examined the pastoral districts lying to tho south and east of the Wairau Valley. Leaving Picton.the Commißeionersexamined carefully the Pelorus Sound to the town of Havelock in tho same province, and from thence proceeded through the French Pass to Nelßon. They made a personal inspection of Blind Bay with its various harbours including Croixelles, on the east shore, and Massacre Bay and Astrolabe roadstead, upon tho west, and visited portions of tho interior of the country. Having thus made themselves acquainted as far as was practicable, with the character and capabilities of tho shores of Cook'b Straits, the Commissioners decided on Wellington. After the receipt of the report of tho Commissioners on November 25, the address was passed to Government, asking for removal of Parliament to Wel lington. In the Governor's speech at the opening of the session of 1864 His Excellency intimated that ho proposed immediately removing the seat of Govern mentto Wellington. John Williamson move an amendment to the Addrosa-in-roply,

'' That report of Commissionera be not carried out until provision had been madei for con stituting Auckland a separate colony." Tho original question was carried by 29 to 17. Waring Taylor, now undergoing sonteneo for embezzlement of trust funds, was thon member of the Houso, and supported re moval to Wellington. July 26, 150,., Parliament met in Wellington. The coat of removal was .£54,650, including cost of commission.

Scarlatina in Schools

The great difficulty of stamping out scarla tina when it haa once gained entranco into an elementary school is well illustrated by Dr. Spottiswoode Cameron in a recent report on the health of Huddersfiold. Scarlatina broke out amongst the scholars at a par tieular school in that borough. Every case at this school was isolated as soon aa it camo to knowledge, and, so far as practicable, f he clothing of every member of the family, tho sick-room, and tho bedding disinfected, and yet new casea kept from time to time appear ing, Tho school waa visited twice by differ ent persons; and although a caeo was brought to light by the second inspection of a child whose illncaa had been concealed still there waa no reason to think that in this case the child had carried the disc, so to any others, At length Dr. Cameron learned from tho mother of two quito recent casea that two oldor children of hers had been ill of this disc, so several weeks before, that no medical man attended them, and that thoy went back to this very school as soon as they wero well enough—that is to say, of course, while they were_ shedding their poisoned akin— and this without any attempt at tho disinfection of their clothing, Tho people were exceedingly dirty, and to tho want of E roper isolation and disinfection of those two oys is attributed the spread of the disease to no fewer than fifteen persona. There is also a atrong suspicion that two othsr children, attending another school, took tho disease from playing with thoso children, who lived near.

There seems no room for doubt that tho poison of scarlet fovor may lie for a long time dormant in the clothes, and perhaps also on the persons of those who have been in contact with, or in the near neighbour hood of, those suffering from the disease, as well as in the clothes and on the persons of thoße who have themaolves had the ailmont. A case similar to this occurred in tho same borough a few yearß ago, where chill after child attending the Almondbury Board School waa taken with scarlet fever, although every case was isolated as it oc curred. At length it was found that a girl, whoso brother's akin was peeling from a Blight attack of ecarlet fever, in the common room of the house, was actually going to and fro from school. When her attendance lat school was dispensed with, no further case of Bcatlatina occurred.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1385.

3



Woman's Friend.—A mother's ndvico to mothers: "Keep by you, for yourselves and daughters, Mrs Dr. Stuart's Female Kemedi.s. I have never met with any modicinoß so well moritingthenameof '.Woman's Friend. They are invaluable for the weaknesses, henda_l,<'B, and other troubles experienced by fcmal. s. Koad.-lADVT.r "ROUGH ON RATS."-ctam _»t ra_v mi™, to. rl,._. Me, »_._.. bod--__•. -wtlu, Inwcl". »l"uiki. lick rutj-l _, g_, \,__ AtDni«l.t_. j-^p,!,,--,, P-.M».*_*.,A_.nl_,A_cU__... ,