Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 October 1875 — Page 2

THE MAIE

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

AWKWARD.

BY J. CIIEEVKB OOQDW1S.

And no Rhc-'s engaged to be married Tooneofoorelaw! I afraid That If very much longer »he (arriwl

Her dean* would be O. M.—Old Maid. I know her?" Oh, yes, or I thought HO But I'm roorp than inclined to believe I was wronjf. I'm the fellow she sought so,

But couldn't deceive. You're surprised I Imagined yon would b*i It* a thing I w»y little about Two* inow-n a case a* well could be—

Did ithe love me There wasn doubt. Why, Khc jn*t threw herself at my head

But I knew she'd no heart and lew brain* And though money will Kettle bread bill it won't wash oil KtulnK.

You're astonished at this?" My dear fel

loir!

What the deuce did I care for her a«e! I like w:ii-n like ajplt*—''when mellow. But the fact

WM,

I knew every page

Of her history. "Flirted You think

mire?"

HO,

There wa* Hurry M. Keown, sixty-three It was nh'! that drove him to tbedrtnk so •'Am I

As can be.

She's asehemluK coquette, and I know it Hhe hnxu'l th- least bit of soul Or an atom of truth. "lKx*n show it?

No her feelings are under control. Then it's nonsense to say she has beauty, I pity the fellow she's caught. it in ust a mutter ofduty

With him, or he's bought. Who the l-uoe can It be? There's Tred Baker

You remember him ?—scorei for the Nine But there Isn't much fear that he'd take her lie want* blue blood, and not a gold mine, •'Chicken".Jones? No, he's married. Twos tunny.

How lie ran a tie race with Jim Front, For the "da** cradle," wasn't It? Money lie's got, and the gout.

Tub" A bliott was sweet on her. Sandy MeIliumhe must be the one, Bv Jove, It's old "Handy, the dandy!" "It's not he? I slve up, then. I'm done. hi it one of our chuw, fire you sure,

That the vixen hits seined for her pjey? Who's the f.-llow? let's have it! What you nrr

The dickens yon sny! —'Serlbner for October.

Too Late?

Four o'clock on a Hultry afternoon In Auguxt—the hill above tno drowsy little llsliing village wrapped in a smoky hfi7,e of blue and purplo anil violet—tho harbor empty, except for a couple of trawlon* and a coal-vessel lying in close to tho qtiav, with a sailor or two asleep on deck In the nun—an odd, dreamy hush, a stillness of intense heat over everything __ven the smoke creeping laxily from the ehltnnevs—and far away, where the faint sea-line merge* imperceptibly into the sky, a cluster of little brown dots close togother—the herring lloet creeping out into the bay.

Hut tho hot silence Is broken presently. Tho regular dipping sound of oars Is followed bv the apiKaranoo of a long groen-und-wlilte yawl, pulled by an old man in a blue guernsey and oilskin hat, which crosses tho harbor obliquely in the direction of a Might of htono steps leading down front the quay to the water'* edge. At the t.u of the steps a party of ladies and children are watchIng its approach.

Another much smaller loat, with two mon stretched lazily along tho seats, is lying In close to'the wall, rising and falling slowly on tho long swell which heaves in from the harbor mouth. \Ve may take down our sails, Hans," observes one of the two, looking up regretfully at I ho slender varnished mast with the white canvas lying against it, and the loose foresail Mapping Idly to ami fro as the boat rises and falls.

I think so," I say—for I am the other —alluding my eyes "to blink across the glassy expanse of water, where not even a "cut's paw" is to be seen.

The girls will be disappointed," remarks Will Caxton, laughing. "They wanted particularly to sail to-day, because the sea looks ao nice and sire."

I. clasp mv hand* behind niv head, and .look up at "the girls." Tliere are two of tliein—I'axUm's sister and oousln, Hilda IV-nnant. Miss OttXton I a piquant-looking little lady, with fair hair cut across her forehead, a mite of a nose, and a pair of groat gray eyes. She is dressed in blue veil twisted round her hat. Hilda is dark, with a thin face and long lank black hair hanging down her imek. Hut she isoniy a school-girl, and will be pretty enough in another year or two. These two are sworn friends and allioa, after the fashion of girls, am almost a stranger to both, ns my acquaintance with Miss Caxton dates only lrom the previous evening, and have not seen Hilda wince I leU her. a little thing of nine, when I went to Australia goven year* ago, until tho day before Aunt Sophy and several smaller cous jus make up the party. They are waiting for throe persons who aro coming leisurely along the quay, and whose heads presently appear above tho top line ef stones which furin our visible horiron.

We'd bettor clear awav these lines and get Tom to carry our fish up to the house," savs Onxton, sitting up and yawning. lapa," calls out a chorus of shrill voices, here's tho boat—may we get in?"

Presently. Oo quietly, Harry, or you'll lie into the harW. Let Daisy go down first, t'harlk. Ito you hear me, sir Haskets stowed away, Tom

All right, sir," say* the old sailor, laving hold of the wet eea-weed-cover-oi wall to steady the host as the young fry board her. .Fortunately she is a big, raotiiv tub, not to be cosily capaiced. The tide has gone ont considerably since Will and 1 came in from our morning's fishing off the rins.

Harrv, you'll knock your al*ter down! iWy, get in at once, dear. Ay liner, take the bow oar. Now, So-

lunt Sophv descend* leisurely. She 14 bourn! for the sea in a ailk dmw long in the skirt, a black I see shawl, a bonnet, and a parasol. The jiwl draws several inches more when she is seated in the stem. We watch the family arrange

The two lat»*t* arrival* draw nearer, and etiuv within range ot my vision. Mr Tktncted. is a small, slight man, with

if I half expect her to speak, though I know she will ^ot, and assist Will in his arrangements with a shade lees of enthusiasm than he has displayed.

Are we all in?" says Uncle George. "That's right. Now, Tom, give us a shove."

The old sailor has stepped ashore, and gives the boat a powerful push. We watch them forge slowly anead, and then slip into their place and take our freight on board. "This is a horrible little cockle-shell," says Miss Caxton. "Is it dangerous?" Hilda asks the question with a look of her dark eyes at Will which opens mine a little. "The young monkey—is she beginning to flirt already I ask myself, as Caxton returns the look with interest.

Not a bit dangerous, except in bad weather," he says, laughing. I'm glad I'm not that stupid old boat, at all events," observes Hilda. "Oh, Hans, you're not going to tako down the mast? It looks so pretty!"

Not if you don't like," says Will so I Sit down again and say nothing, though the mast is rather in the way. I am watching tho other boat while I keep stroke with Will, who is pulling his best.

Oh, do look at mamma," cries Hilda —"do look at her with her parasol up And papa rowing against the two boys How absurd they look! I say, papa, shall we give yon a tow?

This as we shoot past them and take the lead. The boys answei with some "chaff." I look at tho girl in the stern Her head is turned away from us I can see only tho grave, sweet outline cheek and brow and chin, and the curv of long eyelashes against the blue back ground of the sea.

It's a shame to have left Helen with the old fogies," says Hilda, drawing her brown hands through the water. "She ought to have come with us." look at'the old fogies, or at one of them, whose gentlemanly suit of pale gray makes mo rather ashamed of my rough blue guernsey and canvas shoes. "l'crhaps she doesn't think Mr. Tan cred an old fogy," says Miss Caxton.

But ho is—he is us old as tho hills, Hans, you and Helen used to be great friends long ago. Why do you cut each other now?'

I laugh carelessly, and roll tip my sleeves. There are blue tattoo-marks on my arm, which I am rather ashamed of now—an anchor and the letter perhaps it stood for "Hans."

I remember how you were always togother before you wont to Australia,'" Hilda goes on, mischievously, "I was 'daisy-picker' for you very often."

Helen's going to marry old Tancred isn't she?" puts in Will. 1 have never asked that question though 1 have been nearly threo days in tho houso and Helen Ray is my cousin too. My first glimpse of her after my return from my seven years' exile had knocked some nonsense out of me, I thought. Dashing into my aunt's drawing-room, I came upon Helen and Mr. Tancred Me-a-tctc. I could not see her face—she was standing in tho window—but thero was no mistaking tho expression upon his. I rushed out of the room, and when I met Helen, an hour later, my greeting was as cold as Ice—hers, if possible, colder. Wo have not thawed since.

They're not ongaged," remarks Hil da—"not actually—but I daro say he'll bother her into it this evening."

Wo aro now quite close to the rocky Inland tor which we are bound, and to our left lies tho sharp, jagged reef called the Pins. The island, which lies some two miles distant from tho mainland, looks very still and sunny and quiet, transfigured by the evening light. On the side next us it slopes down, golden brown with short, thyniy turf, to tho strip of silvery be8cb on tho other side litis of two or threo hundred feet stand sheer from the summit to the sea. It is as prcttv a place for a gipsy tea as one can weft imagine, and many a cup have drunk thero in tho old days, than which nouo have tasted sweeter since. As our keel grates upon theshining wet shingle, where tho lino of sea-weed shows how far the tide has gone out, hundreds of rabbits scurry up through the fbrns and brambles, or vanish in the shadow of tho big gray rocks. Will jumps ashore and helps Hilda out, holdlug her hand considerably longer than is strictly necessary. I follow, and turn to assist Miss Caxton. Our consort Is coming up slowly in our wako. "Oh, dear, however shall I get across all that water?" cries Miss Caxton, with a comical look of despair down at the half-yard of sea under the bow. "I can't do it! Oh, Hilda, how did you manage?"

Hut Hilda is walking off along the shore with Will, aud does not hear. Whv, it's quite easy!" I say, laughing. 'Oust take my hand, and giro a good spring."

Hhe takes my hand, but she does not spring. I cant," she reiterates. "Oh, couldn't you pull her higher np, Mr. Havward?" 1 more one step towards the boat, and take Miss Caxton in my'arms. I carry her a little farther up than tho seaweed she pretends to be vory angrj\

Whew 1" says Uncle George, laughing, as he puts on his coat and steps ashore. "I'm getting too stout to row. One of you fellows tuust come back with as. How awfully hoi it is!"

We get Aunt Sophy out with difficulty. Sue is not exactly suited to a seafaring life. The young frr tumble ashore in company with the baskets of "grub" and a kettle Mr. Tancred givos his band to Helen with stately gallantry, but stands much more In need of assistance than she does. Helen used to be a fctnous sailor, 1 think, with a curious pang.

We scatter along the shore In search of drift wood for our fire. Miss Caxton and I dwadleoflT together, not stooping to pick up many sticks. Something has myde mo feel rather reckless just now, and, seeing Hilda and Will Caxton wander off side by side, I think there is nothing for me to do but tlirt with Miss Zoe, which I begin to do straightway, and find presently that it is much easier to go on tiian to stop.

Immediately upon landing aunt Sophy is down on the graw and begins to croait* diet—uncle Geoqire takes out his new*and stretcoes himself at full his hat over his eyes, pretending

pap«-r 1 length.

menu with a great deal of laughter and tn read. I *0011 think that walking unundutiful chaff. ,der this scorching sun will not do. Now, TVncml, you and Helen had better r*«t in.** say* I'ncle George,

Let us rest for a little—ills awftillv hot," I suggest, and weaeatoarselves on a ferny knoll in the shadow of a big brown rode. There is an xior of brine in the air, the seaweed glitters Just be-

a worn but handnome face, to which a! toi* us, tl»e sand to thick-strewn with t*lnu*l cray beard Rives a rather Kiln-1 »r shells, oyster she! la,scallops, ancient bethait character. The girl twaide him

barnacle-cohered

INtall and straight, with a pilot jacket like inotber-of-p«arl. other* smaller still on, ami wearing her light-brown hair iu like mee-leaves the children are exa knot of plaits high at the lack of her' pressing their delight afar off they head under a iwilor hat with a black rib- gather tbem up. bon round iu I watch the etnbarkaOon How nk* it is ben#! as*-s Oaxof these two with bent brow*. {ton, in her babyish vole* She has a

I MV, who's coining with us?** erica very affected way of Bpeaatiig abe ts Caxton! "Mr. Pendant

you're

not go- affected altogether.

fog awnipriaU»tll tlw iw ImtfrfttT** cry nlc*/ I mmlf railing !U\Vvnu room *r Hilda awl met" wiw ma pink* which bar* itoe raiafora*ks his sbrter, looking Uowa rather du- tuue to grow within reach of my hand, bku*ly at our amall craft bobbing up and tying them Into a bowjue* with a ami down like a cork on the wal*r. blade ol grs»«. ••Koom? I should think so 1 1 can our boose and the Pen-

I look st the girl in the pilot jacket as aanta*. Mow far off do you suppose the her side.

whelks, smal shells

Plus are from this?" She is looking westward as she speaks. About a mile."

They are dangerous looking things —with a shive—"but how pretty the hill ldoks—doesn't it?—and even tho village, at this distance!"

You look very pretty," I say. It is bold speech, considering the length of our acquaintance. But she did look pretty—more so than I cared to see

You deserve to have yonr ears box ed, sir!" she cries turning away her head.

Then box them," I say, magnani monslv. Whom are you tvjing up those flow ers for?" she asks, changiugthe subject

For you, if you will nave them." She holds out her hand with a halfshy glance—only half shy—from under her long eyelashes. I take tho little hand and hold it.

What will you give me for them?" What would you like she inquires sucily.

You know what I should like," I am saving, with my head very close toilers when Helen and Mr. Tancred come round the rock. I do not see them at first, but I know from Helen's proud averted look, that she seen us. I am afraid that I anathematize the small co quette beside me rather unfairly. At the same time I ask myself why 1 should care if Helen did sec. She is enjoying herself—why should not I? But some how the enjoyment has palled upon me. and when Helen and Mr. Tancred pass out of sight round the lend of the shore I suggest that we go back, and see how the kettle gets on. My companion does not seem to care about the kettle, but she gets up, and wo saunter slowly across thesands. The tide is at its lowest ebb—the small boat is high and dry, the yawl just on the edge of the water. Tho children are very noisy in their gipsy encampment a greatcacklinglirebla7.es up against the rocks tho kettle hangs above it on some cunningly-contrived support Hilda and Caxton are taking things out of the Welsh baskets—cups and pies, and ham and saucers, and plates and rolls—and taking a long time about it too. Thero is a great smoke from the fire, which chokes us and makes our eyes stream when it comes in 011 direction but tho children like it. Ay] mer sits in tho very thick of it, keeping up the tire with bits of drift.

The tea is made, and everything is ready before Helen and Mr. Tancred come back. Mr. Tancred looks rather bored by the proceedings, and spreads a shawl on the grass before he sits down I don't think he enjoys gipsy teas,

Thero is the usual number of mishaps common to such meals in the »on air A wasp commits suicide in Aunt Sophy's tea, Daisits down inadvertently

Charlie's plate of cold pie, Hany puts his foot into his teacup but theso only add to tho general hilarity. Caxton and Miss Hilda take their tea Me a (etc, with napkin for their table-cloth aunt Sophy watches them. Uunclo Oeorge laughs as gaily as the children Daisy pours out the tea. The short, dry, tlmm* turf is delicious to lie upon—tho air is growing cool. On our right the island rises up like a picture, still and sunn}', gray with rocks and blooming with heather and fern on our leit lies the dazzling glory «f the sea.

But at last tea is over. Tho delight of washing the teacups and plates in some translucent pool among the rocks is soon past, and Daisy is balancing herself on a rock to the imminent peril of her nose, when she suddenly startles us all by crying out

Papa, the fleet is coming back Nonsense, child cries t'ncleGeorge We cannot see round the point, and, thinking the child must be mistaken, traightwa\* forget all about her words. We are presently laughing at the gambols of the children, who have waded out into the warm bright water, and look like so many herons standing about

II tho shining shallows. Lot's race the uirls up to the top of tho island," says Will, stretching himself. "I shall soon be asleep if some one doesn't make 11 move. Come along, Miss Pennant—you ami I'll race Hans and Zoo tip to the cairn."

No sooner said tlmn done. I did not feel at all inclined fir tho expedition un til I saw Helen anil Mr. Tancred loiter down to the edge of tho water together, and stand there'talking. Then I thought I might as well go as not. Up among the tall red bracken and bronzed blackberry brambles, over lichened rocks and boulders, over heathy spaces 3'ellow with crowsfoot, we "scramble,* and, whenever the way is slippery, aud sometimes where it is not, I find Zoe Caxton's little hand in mine. Tho others reach tho top long before we do. I don't think wo care about bciug first. Wo find them sttting on the cairn,laughing, and ont of bre*th. What view wo have when we turn round to look at it! Beiow us lies the sea, changing like the evening sky afar oft, the pnrple hill, with the smoky village at its foot, transfigured by the distance and away towards the horizon aro tho red sails of the fishing-boats gleaming in the sun. They are all coming back—littlo Daisy was right.

I wonder idly what is bringing them in on such an evening, but my thoughts are wandering back to otlier ovenings, seven yeans ago, 11011 we used to row home fn the sunset after just such an afternoon as this—evenings when the air was cool, the skv aiure in the east and deep rose in the west, and the glassy undulations of tho sea reflected each color in turn—when the islaud lay behind us like one great amethyst and the pnrple hill before us, with the lights of the village below it, and the great round primrose moon above—when the beams of the moon shimmered in the water beside us, and made it drip silver from onr oars, and Helen's hand lav iu mine while the moon-rays illumined her ffcee. Caxtoe's voice breaks up my reverie.

I say, Hay ward, just look behind yon!" I do so, and start at the sight which meets my eyes.

A great bank of lurid cloud is coming up out of the sea, which shows against it black and dull. Some strange light, like the reflection of a great fire, illumines its edge*, and the white wings of the screaming sea-gulls are thrown out

in strong relief against its threatening background. .. Will, we're going to have some dirty weather," I say, gravely.

Then the sooner we get down into the boats the better," replies WiU. We hurry down the frightened idrls as feat mm they can run. Suddenly I ostch sight of a pilot Jacket and sailor bat among the rocks—it is Helen, coming aloogleisurely, her head bent down. She a too far ofl to bear us when we shout. I drop Caxton'* hand and dash away through the catching brainbiea. Will hurries the girls on, but Zos looks wistfully after me.

Helen,** I cry, "there's a storm eonling Not a minute la to be la* I know it," she says, looking up. "I shall be on the beach before they are

Ttrv to reach her through the matted briar* over the rocks. What do vou want

TERKE HAUTE aATOHDAY EVENING MAIL.

she asks, cold

ly. "I wish you would go on." I shai* stav by you,*I return, dngoedly, reaching her and walkiug on by

-'r^ -v f:

A little gold locket hanging to hor chain sparkles in the sunshine. I wonder you careto wear that still, I sav, very bitterly. 1 wonder I do," she replies, redden ing "perhaps you would like it back?"

Yes—If jpcaiMo not care to keep it." She detaches It from the chain, and hands it to me without a word. I take it from her band and fling it as far as can into the sea. The cool grav water receives it without a splash. gAbsit omen! "There's an end of that!" I say, thrusting my hands into my pockets. "I think it was ended before then, she says, with a grave smile. We are passing the rock where she has seen mo sitting with Miss Caxton, and the glances as it as she sneaks. I do hot. A sudden puff of wind blows my hat oft.

Ah, that looks like business!" I say recovering it. A white squall is frothing the dull leadeu-colored sea to the eastward. All the lurid light has died out of the sky There is an omiuous stillness among tho living creatures 011 the island—not rabbit is to be seen. P.ut the gulls are whirling wildly round the Pins, Wo reach the sliore'without speaking auoth er word.

Hurry, Hans, make haste!" shouts uncle George. "They are getting aunt Sophy into the big boat, all the others are oh board."

Every wave—for the sea has risen into waves already—sends her roughly up the shingly beach. The tide has turned is as much as they can do to keep her off the stones. "Come, Helen!" cries aunt Sophy, nervously clutching the gunwale steady herself. "We must all go to gothe'r I cannot trust any one in that wretched punt. But do make haste haste, child—we're going to have an aw ful storm." "Uncle George," I cry, "vou aro over loaded tho yawl won't hofd any more Let some of'the boys come with me, for I shall certainly return in the punt." "Xo, 110!" aunt Sophv shrieks, cannot lot any of the children go in the punt." "Then Will must come."

Hut Will looks at Hilda's face, and hesitates. "No, no," says uncle George "we could not get on without Will—tho boy could not pull a stroke in such a sea." 'Let ine get out," requests Mr. Tan cred, standing up in his place.

Sit down, sit down!" cries uncle George, distractedly. "Wo are losing nrecions time with all this talk. Shove ncr in. Will. Now, Helen jump in at once!"

I walk away in tho direction of the smaller boat. 'I am going with Hans," says Helen following me. "Uncle George, you are terribly over-loaded already. I shall bo as safe—safer in tho punt. "Push hor oil Mr. Caxton, for I'm not going."

Helen, nro you mad cries Aunt Soph}', in despair. A sudden squall sends the sea rushing up tho shingle the sky grows darker every moment, and tho yawl comes swinging in 011 the beach.

Pull, Caxton, pull, or you are done fur!'' 1 cry, and they are oft'. A few good strokes place them in safety. They cry to us again to change our minds and go* with them, but I shake my head and wave them oil". The last I seo of them is Aunt Sophy's terrified face, and Ze Caxton's wistful eyes watching us the last I hear is the children crying in cho us, and Will telliijg them to "shut up." Thov arc vory deep in the water.

Vou ought to have gone with thom," I sav to Helen. bo you think so?" she questions, moving awav to our boat. I lollow her sullenly enough, yet with a mad delight in my heart which I try to keep lrom appearing in my eyes. \Ve reach the punt, and then excla 111 simultaneously,

They have taken our oars!" 1 Utterly I

anathematize Will Caxton's

stupidity. We are in a precious "fix" now. I reniemlx'r our placing the oars in tho large boat for safety 011 tho landing, but I supposed they had been taken out before they pushed her into tho water however, neither anathemas nor lamentations can ring them back now. What is to be done? "It would bo madness to attempt to sail tho punt in such weather as this, say, as the squalls grow more frequent and the sky becomes blacker.

What can bo done?" asks Helen, looking quietly at me. Wo must remain here till they send for us," I say, doggedly. Perha|s it is because she herself suggested accompanying me—perhaps from some other feeling at all events my cousin turns awav with a proud and angry flush

I am going, at all events,'' she pushing tho little boat into the water, help her, of course there is nothing else for me to do. Tho waves dash the little craft angrily against the stones it is a dangerous moment while wo get on board and shove her off. Fortunately wo have the boat-hook left in the boat. I set the foresal as we clear the shingle but, though sho lies over very much even under such a rag of canvas, and draws rapidly away from the shore, •he will not sail. Helen sits in the stern, the tiller-ropes in her hands. "We must set the mainsail," I say, butt am afraid it will carry away the mast"

says^

I loose it as I speak, and sit down with thcBheet in my hand. The wind fills out the sail in a' moment, and we scud away at a tremendous rate, leaving the shore behind us, and a long wake of greenish-white foam.

If the mast will only hold!" I say, looking up attheslendeVspar, not thicker than mv wrist, on which so much depends. "Keep her as close to the wind as yon can." "She won't sail very close," returns my consitu The tiny canvas is shaking already. "Well, we shall only be 0bltge4 to tack," I remark. "Keep her awn v."

We dash along bravely, the sea bubbling at our bows, and" running away into our wake like milk. I look at Helen, but her face is half turned away from me. She has no gloves on, and I stare at the hands which hold the tiller ropes with a bitter remembrance of the time when they were mine—mine to hold and to clasp—ay, and to kiss. I set my teeth and give the sheet an additional twist, round my wrist. It is not very easy to bold it now. The boat is bounding along In quick jumps, like a hunted animal—all the weight being sit throws her boars oat of the water. We can see the yawl ploughing along ahead of ua. We are not able to keep as straight for the harbor as its occupants cau*

I think they left «s very ^cavalierly after all," I say, laughing, as I look under the sail at them. I begin to fee a strange thrill of exultation. To be with her—abe and I alone together—4s terriblr sweet tome, e*e» though she is so rMnged and cold, and we are fn danger of losing our lives.

OhTbot think of the ehildren! That old boat woo id bare gone to pieces in another minute on the shingle.' "Tsocrad left you very unconcernedly." I observe, watching her, while 1 Um\ if there is too much tension on the VLITBCFHITAVT

He did not know the danger," she explains, smiling for the first time.

c^Y^a

'V*

Why does ahe smile? sava elen" I say, bendiag towards her —we are ratting opposite to eaoh other— "we used to be great chums long ago. Tell me, do you care for that old man?" I speak very quietly, but my heart thumps hard enough to take away my breath.

I am not so very young" she answers. I know she Is laughing by the itotoe of voice. know yonr age very well. You are exactly three years younger than I am, and I was twenty-eight last Wednesday. But you have not answered me?"

He is very kind to me." Kind!" 1 echo, with supreme con tempt. Is he kinder to her than I should be—1 who—but my thoughts are soon turned in another direction.

Look out!" calls Helen, quietly "Here comes another squall." It is upon us before the words are out of her mouth, and for a moment I think we shall have to swim fbr it. The poor little craft lies over fearfully, the water rushing in over the gunwale before she recovers herself but she does recover herself, as we hastily lufl her up into tho wind. I think every moment the uisist will go, as I hold the slackened sheet in my hand, but it does not.

That was a close shave," 1 remark breathing more freely. Yes," agrees Helen, laconically. She has not changed color onee, except to grow more peerless-looking and bright with every dash of tho salt spray iuto her face. It has wetted us both thoroughly by this time, though, sitting with my back to the bow, I Iiave sheltered her a little. I have lost my hat somehow, and the water drips from my hair down the back of my neck. "lam afraid vou will catch cold, say, rather awkwardly. Helen is looking straight before her us a steersman should.

I never tako cold," sho rejoins. "I b?lieve you aro invulnerable," -I say, bitterly enough, turning away my thee. But I have time for no more. Another squall overtakes «s, and the boat heels over like a wounded bird, do all in mv power to ease her but tho sail is wet half way up before sho rights. Tho tin bait-can rolls down to leeward wo can hardly keep our seat*. I watch Helen. She utters no exciauiation—sho only closes her lips a little tightly What a sweet firm mouth she has! Well for mo is it that it i» not Hilda or Zoo Caxton with whom I have to deal now! Helen is as cool as myself, and I am made unnaturally cool by the despairing pain at my heart.

Ynothcr like that and I give up," I sar, cruelly. I wish to frighten hor.

l'Woshall

not make the harbor," sho

returns. "Sho will not sail any nearer tho wind." I look under the sail.

Wo must tack," I say, "and that will be neck or nothing now!" I ^ve the sheet a twist round tho cleat and pull oil' my soaking guernsey ami canvas shoes. Helen watches mo quietly.

It seems a pity to turn away when we aro so near," sho says, woman-like. But it tuust bo donO," I affirm, loosing tho sheet and putting the foresail in order for the change. "Now, Helen, down with your helm—hard down! That's it—we'll do it yet!"

It is trying moment. Tho sullen erecn waves, looking enormous in comparison with our littlo craft, come rushing down upbn us, covering us with a lather of foam. But tho boom swings round, the boat trembles and shivers like a living thing, stands up straight for a moment, while tho sails (lap and tug over our heads, and then fall away 011 tho other tack, aud we aro running free again—towards the purplo bank of cloud where the sun has sot, and tho black, wicked-looking sea, however— not towards tho red gleam of tho lighthouse, which we can seo now and then over the breaking seas. Wo feel tho wind and waves rather less now but tho wind is veoring every moment, and every moment growing fresher. How suddenly the weather changed! But the ominous calm of the last fow days ought to have warned lis that something unusual was going to happen. The barometer was unaccountably low for some hours but in the face of tho glorious morning nobody paid any attention to it. It was very stupid of us, but I am not sorry now—I am glad.

Sitting here, opposite to Helen, nnd quite close to her, for there is not much spneo in the punt, my heart is beating with tumultuous throbwof mingled pain and ecstasy. To dio—it we ato to die— with her will not bo terrible to me—not half so terrible as to livo without her. never look towards the shore—I hate it. For, once on shore, another will claim her—hf re she 3s mine. Onlv one frail plank divides us from death. I think of the bottom of the sea, of the still green depths below our keel, of tho forests ot kelp and sea-tang and waving weeds, and picture us two lying there, drowned. One thing I determine upon —if we do go down we will go down together. Helen will die with my arms round hei. I suppose the idea makes me smile, for Helen says, looking at me curiously—

You* appear quite happy."—"So I am. Terribly happy." You think they are safe?"—"Who

Wh}*, those in the yawl." I was not thinking about them," I say, with sublime selfishness. "But they were almost in the harbor when I saw them last. The wind would not affect tlnm much thev carry so much bailout—"

Another wild gust comes down upon us belare I can finish the sentence. I really think all Is over this time. The boat shivers from stem to stern, and Ilea over periloual the slender mast cracks, and, with a sharp report, the foreaail blows out of the bolt-rope* and is whirl ed out to the sea like a pocket-handker chief. I think the otlier will follow, but ft does not. The boat staggers and catches herself up, and then staggers again, shipping every sea. lint she goes on like the game little craft that she is.

We mast go about presently, or wa shall be on the Pins," I remark, looking at Helen. I can hardly believe she realises our danger, she looks so nniet.

Yes, I hear the waves breaking upon them," aha says, smiling. The mast will go as sure as fate," I observe, without smiling.

Are we in danger or our lives aha asks, turning to me gravely. We are.'7

How soon must we cl&ftgtf our Course V9 In a minute, or less." .Hhe Is quite silent for a little while after this, with her face turned away from roe. The salt spray beats upon her bright cbeekt, and bangs upon her long eyelashes like team. My heart gives a tmmendooa bound, and then stands still.

Helen," I say, bending towards her a little—I csn flw-I bow white my faee has grows, and that my eyes are wild —-if tbeae are our last moment*—s* Heaven knows I think they are—I must asy one word to yon. You will not be angry with mo-we are so near death

Hhe looks surprised and startled—

moot surprised Helen.** I

Helen,** I cry, failing on my kneea

*$ W.^'Y

•.t'4

I bite my hps ropes and all, "I love yon so much thit it is sweet to me to die with you." Her cheeks flush more deeply than the cold sea-spray has power to flush them —a strange sudden illumination comes into her soft brown eyes.

Hans," she says, brokenly, "get up you don't know what you are saving.'' Do I not?" I cry, passionately, raising my head. "Oh, Helen, we are dying you might give mo one kiss for tho sake of times gone by!"

She hesitates. The boat gives a terrible lurch I think she is fairly going down with us, but I do not stir." Helen bends forward and kisses mv forohoad twice.

You are a ioolish boy," she says, with her grave smile. "'Now get up, and try whether you can save our lives."

I do get up, but I can think of nothing but the touch of those sweet cold lips. A wild, reckless, bewidering feelIng of happiness surges through me—if we could only sail on, on, liko this for evermore! Would it not be better to die with that kiss on my forehead thait to live and lose hor A mad resolve not to be saved—to run on the rocks just ahead of us and end it all—takes possession of me, but Hclun's voico recalls me to myself.

It Is timo to go about," she says, clearly and coolly. It is time. The darkness is coming on fast—not the darknessof night only, out, tho thiak darkness of the storm! Before us, straight in our course, lie tho Pins, a dangerous reef, only distinguishable now by tho whiteness ff tho water at its base. Tho boat is dashing along madly, but with an uncertain, sidelong motion, tho foam parting from tho bows in a shower of spray. There is a crack down the mast as long as my hand, ami over}* plank trembloBlike tfie heart of a bird. She cannot boar such a strain much longer, and yet wo nro going to try hor still more.

Will sho stand it?" asks Helou, as I rise to let all go. I am afraid not. Sho will feel tho weather much more on tho other tack."

But must it bo done?" "It must. Tho Pins are not hundred yards ahead."

There is no hope?" "I do not think there is. And I do not wish it otherwise. Oh, Helen," 1 add, with a passlonato look into her upraised eyes, "iny darling, I must have another kiss, "iou will not refuse me. You don't care about me, but, I love you better than my life."

I stoop and put my arm round her, kissing her moro than onco. She does not push mo awny or speak a single worn. But her eyes aro full of tears. "You bad better let mo tako oft'that heavy pilot jacket—it will only drag you down."

She allows me to take it ofl' it is no easy matter with the sheet in my hand. Now," I call, preparing to lot tho shoot slip, "down with your helm—jam it down i"

Walt ono moment," cries my cousin, without obeying tho order. I am ready to let all go and spring forward as tho boat turns over. l'or I mean to hold Helen up as long as tho choking spray will lot me, and to hold her still as wo sink down, down into tho cold abyss. I know tho boat will novor right Kcrself again when sho onco heels over in such a gale. But I haul tho sheet home again when Helen speaks. Wo aro running right on to the Pins. Thero is nota minute to bo lost. Tho roar ot the surf sounds abevo tho roar of tho wind. lla"s," says the swoet, clear voice,

I may as well tell you—I would rather von know it, sinco this is to bo tho end, though you did uot ask mo, I love you too—navo loved you these soven years and more. Now!"

Sho puts tho helm down. Thero Is an awful second of suspense. Now with all my heart nnd soul and strength I desire to live. Theonoid'ja in my mind now is to savo her and to llvo fnit is it too Ittto? Tho gallant littlo boat answers to her helm with a last effort, and comes round shuddering. The sail llaps and fills she stands still a moment, as if drawing her breath, then falls overon tho other tack, and wo aro running for tho harbor again. But it tor the last timo tho squall catches her there Is a lurch—a stagger. Sho lies over almost on to tho wnter, ships a tremendous sea, {oea over still moro, ships two moro sea** in rapid succession, and I lion, with strange, gurgling, gasping sound, heels over and goes down.

I grasp Helen and try to swim, whilo the waves dash against my chest. I riso on a big green wavo, still holding Helen in my drowning grasp, and the rest is a blanlc, till I find myself lying on a sofa somewhere, and somebody trying to tnako mo drink something horribly hot and sweet. It is not lielon, though Helen is thero too. "Are they all safe? Who picked us up?" I ask, with a dazed look.

Tho coastguard. We sent tho galley out to meet you they were just In timo. Do drink this, liko a dear follow," says Aunt Sophy, with tears in her eyes. "No, 1 don't want it. Helen!" Sho bends over me. "Helen, you are mine? You won't retract what you said because we are not drowned You aro mine

I suppose I am by the law of flotsam and jeUuim," she whispers, smiling. "Now dr.»A.what Aunt Sophy offers— for nr. v."

TAKB AYBH'S SARSAPATHLLA to pu.ify the blood and purge nut the humors', pi in pica, boils and so res, which aro merely emblems of the rottenness within.

Business Cards.

CAL

THOMAS,

Optlelan and Watchmaker For the trade, Fourth and OI1J0 «trwts, slju of big man

TFREEMAN,watch.with

Ilctnil Dealer In

Amerfenn ssd Foreign Wateli** JEWELRY, Ac* Opera House.

LKLSSNER

Wholc«ttl" am! ft^tail !v*»T In I'lanoa. Nelodeens, Organs, WnwIcnJ IriMrom-nU, Ac.,

Palaee of Music, 49 Obte ».

A. FOOTE, Owners] Dealer in OAUDEX. FIKLD AND FLOWBR

HKZW.

No. SU Main street, Ten* Haute, Indiana.

W. RIFPETOE General Dealer tn UUOCKRHEH, PROVIHIOXH AND PRO

PUCK,

National Block, US Mais sUea

BUNTIN

ARMSTRONG,

DKCUUMTS Md

Manufacturing Pharmacist#,

000 Maa street,Conwrof Hlsth, Terrs Haul*

HILIP ADEL, Man affectum of daddies and Harness, Whips, Carry Combs, Brushm, Horse Btss

be Cora her, the sheet round one hand, Ac„all *rorfe warrant**!. Lowmt prlo» and grasping hen with the other, tiller- in tha city, Mala HU, near 9th, south sids.

yn.,aa»i»

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