Rensselaer Republican, Volume 24, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 August 1892 — CAST UP BY THE SEA. [ARTICLE]

CAST UP BY THE SEA.

: CHAPTER XVll— Continued. As some months passed by, Joe Smart appeared to find an increase of business that claimed a greater share of his attention; at all events, he visited more frequently at the rectory, and Mrs. Jones felt At some moments qualms of uneasiness, as she imagined that she was the object of more than his ordinary attention. Yeara had passed, and the widow, Mrs. Jones, had long since thrown off her weeds, and had quite resolved * that Captain Smart’s constant visits to the rectory were directed specially to herself. In the mean time, Polly Grey had never forsaken her mourning ; although saddened in manner, she Still retained the sweetness of her youth, with' much of her original beauty; she*devoted herself chiefly to visiting the poor of the neighborhood and attending to the village school, trusting that the charitable duties of life would afford pleasures to compensate in some measure for a past happiness that could never be renewed. The world might have supposed that Polly had no care except the recollection of old times, but she had one cause of deep anxiety — Joe Smart loved her. She.was the love of his boyhood, had proved his affection through file with unvarying ...devotion : he had been her advisei* and guide in IPauTs absence ; and since his death she was under countless obligations to him, *as he had stood more in the position of a brother than a friend. It was natural that Polly should regard Joe Smart with warm affection : on the other hand, although he loved her with devotion, he almost dreaded to declare his feelings, lest she should consider that she was forced to accept him after the numerous obligations she owed to 'him. At length the warmth of his passion overcame this generous delicacy of feeling, and Jose Smart declared ifis love, ans offered her as honorable and manly a heart as ever beat inva sailor’s breast. It was with real sorrow that-Polly ■witnessed the effect of her refusal. The active and sprightly Joe Smart became an altered mao: his early hopes had been destroyed*" by her marriage with Paul, and with unchanging love he had almost worshipped her; in the distress of her widowhood he had h£en her comforter, and he had looked forward, not only to complete his own happiness, but to make hsr once more joyous by making her his Polly had received his declaration with tender regret, and she had gently but firmly assured him of hff love and respect,'together with her deep gratitude for all the acts of kindness and affection that he had bestowed upon her through so many years, but she imploredhim, as her truest friend, never again to speak of marriage, as she was determined, to die a widow. It was in vaTn that JM Smart endeavored to change her determination. Polly loved him asbrother, but she would not hear of marriage. She had frequently declared to him that she was happy in her present position, and that considered it to be her duty to -remain .a widow, She cherished Paul’s memory with deep affection, and she loved to talk with Joe Smart over ail the daring acts that he had performed in his adventurous life: the last scene of his bravery, when he met his death, she , dwelt upon with untiring energy and pride, and she expressed impatience upon only one point—for death, that she mig&t join him once more in heaven and tell him how true and devoted she had been. This example of affectionate constancy only served to heighten Joe Smart’s admiration and love, and, although firmly refused. he still hoped that tit some future time she would relent and sympathise with his-feelings, In the mean time Mrs. Jones had a great regard for the handsome, one-armed (sailor, whovwas at 7 the rectory, and was received almost as a member of the family. «, In this manner five years had passed away. Polly was now a handsome woman of forty, and was but little changed,but there was one in whom a few years had made a wonderful alteration. It was on a fine summer Sabbath that Polly was on her way to church accompanied bv a lovely girl about twenty years of age. who leant upotf her arna and shaded lfier with her parasol from the glare of the sun; her beautiful complexion and large blue eyes would alone have made her striking, but her regular features and the peculiar amiability ot her expression rendered Edith a perfection of charmcS that is rarely seeu. She was seated between her mother and Polly Grey. It was during the second lesson, when the church was perfectly quiet, a somewhat heavy footstep-sounded ih the aisle as a person entered the door and went straight to ’Squire Stevens’ jiew, in which he took his seat. The old ’Squire had been dead for some yeaj'S, and nothing had been heard from his son. The action between the Sybille and the Forte had been a theme of glory for the day; but having been duly chronicled among other brilliant achievements of the navy, it hrid ceased to be of public interest; the dead had been mourued for and the crape had long since been laid aside, and as theEorto had never been h%ard of she was considered to have been lost with all hands. Nothing bad been heard qf Ned. In those days there was no' regular mail from India, but the letter# for England were dispatched by the first vessel that chanced to sail; thus, as the Forte had been rapidly repaired she was thug first upon the list, and

BY SIR SAMUEL W. BAKER.

Ned had expected to%ring home the glad tidings of his arrival in person. Edith had never forgotten the love of her girlhood, although time and. altered circumstances had so far modified her sorrow at Ned’s mysterious disappearance that she had ceased to be absolutely unhappy. She rigidly executed her promise, and every Sunday evening she went with either her mother or Polly Grey through the churchyard, and removed the weekly weeds from the neatly kept grave beneath the cross marked Lady Unknown.” Here she would frequently sit "and recall the time when Ned sat with hes as a lovely boy and talked of the futur# with the enthusiasm of his age; and then a blush would tinge her cheek and tears dim her eyes when she thought of the warm kiss he had given her at parting, and the vows that the determined boy had made to work his way to win her. In the night these old scenes were frequently renewed in dreams, and all the characters that were associated with Edith’s early youth reapE eared in their accustomed places; er father, who had been so mysteriously murdered, shfe had sometijmes seen as though in life; Ned had again sat by her side beneath the old mulberry tree that was still her favorite haunt; she had heard Nero's bark as he came bounding toward her; and then, in wild fitfulness, the characters had become confused and faded into nothingness and mist, through which sometimes flitted the horrible figure of an old hag that resembled Mother Lee. The events of her youth had thus left a somewhat melancholy impression upon Edith’s character; although so beautiful, she was utterly unconscious of her attractions. and-her chief happiness depended upon the duties of her daily life. Deeply religious, without appearing to be so, except in her generous conduct and unostentatious charity, she found an intense pleasure in attending to the wants of the poor in her neighborhood, by whom she was almost adored; her lighter pleasures consisted in sketching and attending to her flowers, and in charming the ears of all who heard her beautiful voice, for, of all her accomplishments, Edith shone most prominently in music—in fact, many of the poor people of the village declared that the church service would be nothing without Miss Edith’s singing. At the time the stranger took his j seat in the Squire’s pew, all eyes were for the instant turned upon him, as it had long been vacant, and it was seldom that an unknown person of the upper class appeared in the secluded village. He "was a tall and powerful man, exceedingly weather beaten, with a face bronzed by exposure to a hot sun, and freckled; his large sandy whiskersgave him an appearance of advanced manhood, but upon closer observation his age might have been guessed at twenty two or three. As Edith for a moment observed him, she' could not help thinking that she had seen his face before; but, chasing all other thoughts from heT mind, she 'direcfedheratteiitiOft to the service until it was completed. When the throng of the congregation passed down tne aisle at the conclusion pf the sermon, Edith remarked that the stranger’s eyes were fixed intently upon, her; and hardly had she quitted churqhyard, in company with her mother and Polly Grey, than he turned romid and approached her, and stretching out his rough hand in a familiar manner, he exclaimed “Edith Jones, have you forgotten me?” Edith paused, and, without accepting his hand, she examined his features for a few moments and replied, “I hope you will forgive my wantofMßffiOJ*y- I tbinklmay have seen you before, but I cannot recall the occasion.” At that instant a peculiar unpleasant expression passed over the stranger’s face, and Edith immediately recognized, Jem Stevens. She could no longer withhold her hand, which he pressed warmly as he exclaimed to her mother, “I am your old schoolboy, Jem Stevens, Mrs. Jones.” The latter lady looked at him for some moments with astonishment, and then grasped his hand warmly. “How wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones. “Why it’s only the other day, not seven years ago, that you left us a mere boy! and you look five and twenty! and your poor father’s dead! and the hall’s empty! and all sorts of changes have taken 'place! My poor husband, too! but of course you know. But no, let me see; I dom’t suppose you do. How should you? You have been away from England all this time, haven’t you? When did you come back?" Come along with us and lunch at the rectory, and tell us all about yourself,” continued the voluble and impatient Mrs. Jones, who overwhelmed him with a string of questions without giving him time to reply. Now, if Mrs. Jones' thoughts could have been analyzed as they rapidly passed through her mind, they would have discovered a natural instinct that 6he would have at once denied, had the fact been asserted. It really did occur to the mother in one moment that Heron Hall would be no bad home for Edith. In another moment she reflected that Stevens had been a bad character when at school; and subsequently, with the rapidity of lightning, she concluded t|iat he must have changed for the better, and she therefore asked him to lunch. Stevens accepted the invitation without the slightest hesita-

tion, and, offering his arm to Mrs. Jones, while listening 1 to her long list of questions ana her rambling conversation, he accompanied them to the rectory. During luncheon, Stevens made himself unusually agreeable to Mrs. Jones, and gave her a long description of his voyages, and of the engagement between the Sybille and the Forte, in which- he described his own prowess as having in no small Measure contributed to the victory. Mrs. Jones was charmed; aqd wfien he narrated thd subsequent shipwreck of the prize, and the destruction of all the crew with the exception of those saved in the yrhich he declared he was the last man to enter, the amiable but weak lady was moved to tears. Stevens then described the voyage of the cutter to Madagascar, where the crew and himself were made captives by the natives, until after years of suffering, he was at length released by a Portuguese trsy|ipg vessel that took him to Zanzibar*whence he had only arrived on the preceeding evening. There was much in the story of his adventures that interested Edith, but she little knew how much that would have been dear to her he had as yet. concealed. He said not a word of Ned. “What a wonderful change!” ex* claimed Mrs. Jones, as Stevens took his departure late fb the afternoon. “I never could have believed that so bad a boy wauld have turned out so nice a Young man; he is really a charming young man! and so clever! and evidently so very truthful! There was something m his way of telling his stories that seemed to assure one of their truth. Well, ” continued the enraptured Mrs. Jones, “as your poor father, Edith, used to say, ‘When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness’ (and of course that meant the boy, as men are only bigger boys), ‘he shall save, his/soul alive.’ He was quite right. This is a wonderful instance of the works of Providence, my dear child, that you should observe attentively. How changed! He is a nice young man! so very gentlemanly! and so good-natured for a man who has fought the French and seen so much of the world! Not at all proud or stuck up; and remembered you, Edith, directly, and me, too; but, of course, a few years make no difference at my age; as Captain Smart remarked the other day, ‘an Englishwoman never begins to look her best till she is" turned forty. ’ A very clever man is Captain Smart; very sound judgment; if he only had another arm, there would be no one like him. Then, you see, Heron Hall and a very good fortune belong to him, now his father’s dead?. I don’t mean to Captain Smart, As he died, or rather his father died, long ago, but I mean Stevens, as we used to call him, Jem Stevens. James is a very pretty name; one of the apostles was called James. I wonder if they ever called him Jem? I hate abbreviations, but Jem is not so very ugly; not so bad as Ned, for instance,” Said the discursive Mrs. Jones^thoughtfullv. au ugly name! I would not wish for a prettier!” exclaimed Edith. “Edward is quite beautiful, and Ned iS a lovely name, I tliink.” At this juncture Polly Grey joined in the Q6nversation,andwarrhTysup'ported Edith until the argument grew hot. and only terminated by each retaining her own opinion. From that day Stevens’ visits to thq rectory became frequent. By a little judicious flattery he had succeeded ih captivating Mrs. Jones; and as Edith, when a girl, had been the love of his boyhood, he shortly faund himself hopelessly smitten with her now ripened charms. Edith was fond of riding, and as she daily cantered her pony along the springy green turf, above the cliff by the seaside, she was invariably met by Stevens, who joitfed her -in. her ride. After some months the object ,of Jem Stevens’ visit to the rectory had become unmistakable. offered Edith a beautiful horse which she would have declined, but her mother had insisted upon her acceptance of the present. Polly Gray had watched the growing intimacy with anxiety. She had no fear that Edith would lose her heart, but she was much afraid that the folly of Mrs. Jones would compromise her by giving Stevens* an undue encouragement. She -accordingly took an opportunity of sneaking to Edith on the subject, and the innocent girl was startled at the idea that she would be expected to return Jem Stevens’ love. . On the other Kadd,. Mrs. Jones was determined that if possible, the match should come off. She had really learnt to • like Stevens, and as he was landed proprietor of the neighborhood, and Heron Hall was a fine old place, she considered that it would be a very desirable marriage for hpr daughter ; accordingly, she one day placed the matter clearly before Edith’s view.

It was late in the autumn ; and as Edith and her mother were from their evening walk, they were met by a gamekeeper, who had been sent by the young squire with a leash of pheasants for Mrs. Jones. “Really, my clear Edith," said Mrs. Jones, as| after having thanked the keeper, she passed on, “I do not think that I ever saw a more lovable young man than James Stevens has become," Edith said nothing. After a pause her mother continued : *‘l think he is a deeply religious young man, and you know, my child, that your sainted father was partial to religious young men. ” Edith still remained silent. “I think, mjr dear Edith,” con-

tinued Mrs. Jtfhes, impressively; “1 think—that is to say, I do not think, for I‘feel perfectly convinced—that the good amiable, the warm* hearted and deeply religious James Stevens, who is now the proprietor of the Heron Hall estate,comprising. i believe, about five thousand acres, is an unhappy man. ” ~ , -j “ Unhappy 1” replied Edith ; “ what should make him so ? Surely he has enotigh of the world’s riches to He is young and has no cares. What can you mean, mother ? ” ' “ I mean, ” said Mrs. Jones, “ that he is in love. I can see it in his manner f he is nervous, Edith. You should be kind to him. Your poor father was nervous, and I believe he never would have proposed at all had I not given him some slight assistance. Not that I was too forward—quite the contrary: but some men require that particular kind of courage, although brave in other respects. James Stevens requires assistance, my dear child ; you alone can afford it; you would make,him a happy man. Think what a blessing it would be to confer happiness upon a fellow-creature. . Tvr. especially with a large landed estate in our immediate neighborhood, ” added Mrs. JoneC who had wound herself up to a pitch of enthusiasm. v (to be continued,)