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By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
Avlhor.of the "Wreck of the Grosrenor,'1
"A Sailor's Sweetheart," Etc.
. Out of his bed rose Cuthbert, to the tune of
the school bell, swung by the man who
cleaned the boots and thrived on pocket
money errands to the destruction of youthful
His own mild hint yesterdaj-, by which he
had hoped to put his father off from.grappling
questions, had stirred him into perception of
. new sympathies in his nature, \1ith thoughts
of his wife, and tho secret to be divulged be
fore another night should come, had mingled
impulses of freedom, a yearning for the
shows and struggles of an outer world,
and n placid weariness of spirit, whon the
school room rose in his eyes, with tho tasks
to be set and the ignordhce to be corrected.
His resolution to proclaim his secret was a
quickening spirit in the soil of his mind,
germinating seeds there which he himself
knew not of.
"Why need I fear my father's angerf he
thought, as he threw open his bedroom win
\dow, and stood in a stream of sweet warm
wind, fresh from the blue water; "I have
served him dutifully, nnd will yet justify all
his fine thoughts of his calling by sticking to
it, if he will lovo Jenny, and bear with me
for marrying her. If not, tho world is big
enough to find mo werk, surely! What I am
fitted for shall not troublo me; but what I
can get to do, Til do."
This honest soliloquy dose, he betook him
self to dressing.
Never a looking glass gave back a hand
somer face than that hit*> which ho glanced.
Such a picture of dark auburn hair, white
brow and blue eyes, bright with mind, as
would sot a heartless beauty dreaming like a
And now for tho day's dry work, tho first
stage of which was the meeting of tho boys
in the schoolroom, to await, amid crackling
of yawns and restless shuffling of feet, the
arrival of Dr. Shaw in that academic gown
of his, which ho donned only to read tho
morning prayers in or to birch a boy.
Between prayer time and breakfast t?r e
there was a half hour, to employ which
profitably to his spirits, that stood sorely in
need of regen arating influences, and also to
escape his father's eyes, tho twist of which,
whon they all goj; off their knees, he did not
relish, Cuthbert went into the fields before
tho home; and so, through "tho glorifying
sunshine and tho narrow footway in the
barley, down to tho short grass of tho cliff
edge, on the swell of which ho stood within a
fathom of the sheer fall.
A scene of summer beauty and morning
splendor was this he overlooked.
But Cuthbert was toiling with a giant iu
his mind, or d nature was. only blue and
green to him; for there is nothing dainty to
a troubled miud but ease, and this our young
friend could not get, neither by sitting nor
But no use standing moodily conjecturing
troublo. So back again to tho school houso
through the crops, which went whispering to
the passage o::' tho wind, as though they had
snatched a secret from it 1
To tho ushers?this old-fashioned term ? is
very meaning?was conceded the privilege
of breakfasting with the boys. But Cuth
bert would, have been glad to exchange
places with nay one of them that morning,
bo little fancy had he for a tote-a-teto with
. wIt mas his fluty, however, to bo in the room
when the boys assembled, and observe that
grace was duly said by one of the masters,
and deliver tie order for the boys to fall to.
Under tho dock he stood, punctual to the
hour, and in a hungry swarm tho boys
Graco having been said by a bachelor of
arts, and the order to begin given, out sprang
forty- hands from undor tho tables, and the
pyramids lost their form and substance.
Then" Master Cuthbert, with a pleasant
smilo around him, loft the room.
Old Dr. Shaw, with Ids legs crossed, and
showing no prodigy of calf, bent an eye upon
his son as he entered tho room that seemed
to twist round and round into him.
Cuthbert took a chair and waited, with his
father, for the servant to bring in tho ham
Until theso things woro forthcoming tho
doctor held his tongue.
Then, wheeling round, cup in hand and
tho saucer poised on thumb and forefinger,
after on old-fashioned habit of drinking tea,
he looked hard at Cuthbert
"I have no right yet, I suppose," said ho, in
a level voice, "to ask you to explain your
mysterious hints of yesterday?"
"It was understood, sir, that I should have
a day or two for reflection."
"For reflection on what?" demanded the
"In asking that, you ask all, father."
Tho doctor uttered tho exclamation with a
most embracing emphasis.
Cuthbert made no answer.
"I should be glad to have my doubts set at
rest," continued tho doctor, with a gloomy
nod of the head, intended to servo as a chal
Still no reply from Cuthbert
"Indeed!" exclaimed Dr. Shaw, with a
great deal of the schoolmaster in his face and
a flourish of the saucer, "I have a right to
demand an answer from you."
"So you have, sir, unquestionably."
"Thon give me, in a fow words, the mean
ing of this change in your behavior."
"A few words will convey nothing."
"Then," shouted tho doctor, "be elaborate.
Give me prolixity if you will, so that you ex
I "Pray, sit-, moderate your impatience. I
pledge myself to be open with you shortly."
jj?Dr. Shaw grew rod in th9 face, and de
Bositod his cup nnd saucer, that lie might
gesticulate unconstrained ly.
uWhtU,n said ho, subduing tho passion in
his voice, "what I desire to know, is this
matter?in your miud, that is?not yet ripe
for confession P
"I have promised to tell you."
"So, sir, it is a secret ?" said the doctor,
with his eyes full of exasperation.
"So you will have it," replied Cuthbert.
scarcely.smotheriiig a smile.
This was stubbornness dreadfully mortify
ing to the doctor.
But, in any case, the l>est compromise to
justify present anxiety and preserve his
dignity in the future, was a dark brow and n
These were not hard to come at and under
their shadow breakfast ended.
Cuthbert might well be thankful that
there would be no need for him to moot his
father again that day in privacy unless sum
It was not quite clear to himself why he
should choose to make his'and Jenny's secret
known to old Strangfleld before he spoke to
his father; but men in mental straits yield
often to inclination without much inquiry;
and that his father, to his way of thinking,
was, of tlie two doses to Us swallowed, tho
I more ill-favored for his honesty to gulp at,
j was the only reason he could have given
i you for carrying his bit of nows to Strang
i field first.
J Into the .school room he went, wftti his
j nervous brooding and face of unpeacefnl
I thought, and mounted his stool, loathing the
j pantomime of his actions.
I At ten o'clock, with the punctuality that
Invites av*e, entered Dr. Shaw; up rose the
forms and the desks to salute this head, as
wigs in the law courts spring into a flourish
of vegetation when "my lord" comes rustling
to the judgment seat "With a short bow?
for pomp is difficult to five foot six of stock
ing and tail, though swelling with frill?the
doctor took his seat, and with a smart rap
on his desk summoned tho Grecians to their
Noon was the hour for a frisk in the play
To escape his father, Cuthbort joined the
boys, but had no heart to mingle in their
sports, though invited by some of the elder
The English master, a cautions, reddish
haired son of tho Borderlani, but of speech
untainted by Eisjp, unhaunted by Runic
germs, came to him with a trim politeness of
air and extolled the sky.
?Sir," said the English master, clapping
some book under his arm, "this is weather to
make boys fat with pleasure."
"When I was a lad I ran most nimbly when
the sun was hottest. It must please your
father's son, Mr. CuthWt, to see these boys
I so hearty an-1 spirited."
"No doubt, lie is pleased," rejoined Cuth
"You will observe, sir, that health is a
larger condition in tho eyes of parents than
"It should be so."
"One should bo a boy to lead boys, Mr.
"Sometime* one gets tired of boys, though."
"It is plain, Mr. Shaw, that you And this
business of teaching boys irksome."
"I need not deny it," replica Cuthbort, can
didly, with a glance round the playground.
"But?pray pardon my freedom?you nro a
younger man than I, of bright promise, Mr.
fihaw?forgive me?and ardent, as I may
fairly presume from your abilities. I some
time* respectfully wender that your father
does not give scope to your ambitions, and
deliver you, with such opportunities as hl<
position warrants, to th i world you could
not fail to grace."
"Ah, Mr. Saunderson, there is much to
wonder at," replied Cuthbert. gently. "Tim ?
squares everything, if we luivo patience for
the rou**?ie of phases. There is the lltrl<
baroneterj-ing?who has been bullying hlnif
?with which excuso be left tho Engli-li
So tho day wore away and the evening
came, end when tho boys had trooped to tlie
dormitories Cuthbert weut to his room tc
prepare his mind and person for the lx'gin
ning of a difficulty. He had no acquaint
ance with Mr. Strangfield, but knew hin:
wpII by sight, of course, as Jenny's father,
add by hearsay as a mule of a man in preju
dice, rancorous as a moslom in his mannor of
belief, and with those disdains of blood prece
dence and factitious rights which tilled th<
pot-houses of tho time with eloquence, and
gave a strut to tho low man's stride. So, as
a tacticinn should who knows that big ends
are often compassed by small provisions.
CntMbert dressed himself in his sobered
npparcl?a well-worn monkey jacket nn !
dark small clothes?resolved, at least, with
true world cunning, that tho hard-eyed Bap
tist should find nothing foppish in his dress to
smell rankly to prepare prejudice.
Then, with his lips twitching to the
strength of his silent arguments, our hero
wont lightly down the staircase, and softly
passed his father's study, and out by the
He bad hoped to get away unseen; but lo!
in front of tho garden gate stood Mr.
Saunderson, smoking a pipe and contemplat
ively enjoying the strong evening breeze.
The twilight was small, and the moon red
dening behind the glowing foreland lamp,
Had Cuthbert chosen to walk on Mr.
Saunderson wuuld not have recognized him;
but in his embarrassment ho must needs
stop and speak, whereat the master whipped
his pipe out of his mouth and stared cere
"A fresh evening, Mr. Saunderson. Pray
continue, to smoke."
"It is, I may truly say, my only Indul
gence," replied Mr. Saunderson, giving his
pipe a loving snake. "There is less chance of
I my being observed here by the boys, than
I wero I to light my pipe at the back of the
j house. You nro going for a stroll, sir."
"Ay; one cannot do without exercise."
And with a nod Cuthbert went on his way.
Mr. Saunderson looked after bim earnestly,
j and when the young fellow had vanished in
tho folding shadows, shook bis head and be
took himself to his pipe again, sucking
Mr. Strangfleld's house was a long twenty
minutes' walk from Groystone school, step
ping it briskly; but even if the dust, when the
curve was compassed, that drove fu'l in his
face had proved no hindrance to Cuthliert,
tho obnoxiousnoss of his mission, and the
thoughts that it bred tweaking savagely at
his nerves, would account for tho froqucnt
drag of his pace.
He had passed his trysting-place, and had
turned the ell>ow of tho road which laid the
town broad under hia eye,when the sounds of
men's voices came up with the wind, and. in
a few moments, be perceived a crowd of per
sons approaching him. Tho moon, stooping
clear of a pillow-shaped cloud, threw out a
full radiance, by which ho saw that the crowd
j was ti company of sailors?some ten of them
at least?and that they walked in two gangs,
one on either side throe men, who strode
abreast with heads dejectedly hung and t^ir
hands pinioned behind them.
"Deserters," thought Cuthbort stepping
"Stand!" sboutcd a youthful vojee, -in tho
king's name! Thompson, her? is a toe-and
j heeler for us. He'll make the complement,
j and no more sweethearts to bru.\k our heads
j with frying pans."
Tho word "Stand f* thWjSk Tory forpibly
i Jelivered, produced no epfec on Cuthbert,
i ivuo could scarcely Credit, indeed, that it
j was meant for him; and ho v??s passing on
j when a young man In a cloak stepped in
! front of him.
"Now, my bantam, turn about! You're
! uDo you address mef exclaimed Cuthbert
j so much amazed that he looked behind him,
half persuaded that there must be somo one
i tlu re for whom the accost was intended,
j "You or the man in tho moon, nry hearty:
whoever is the nearest."
"Suffer in" to pass you, sir."
"N<>w, this is t->o bad," cried the young fel
: low, in u ;:io.-k voice of consolation. "Oaths
! we are used to, but politeness in a son of a
I quid is Hi for nothing 1 ut to get lush on tick
j with. Stand. 1 tell you: Damn it, don't
y?m imdi-i>t?ii(l king's English!" for Cuth
! tin ! was pushing past.
! "Mate way for me. You are overstepping
] your I'tity, or tailoring under an error."
j ?. sy. we always do that Thompson,
: j.- ? ' ??: n -!r? r \>- ] ort We'll argue as we
i .'? I ushy-whiskered fellow approached
; Cu'i !??!who sprang back ? yard before the
? otitstr-!--hed arm.
j "Touch me at your peril!'- he uhoutvd.
j '*Cometcome, takeIt <50oUv,man, AHtho
nrguftration in the world H do no good, xne
MT-.: ??? wants ye, so give us j-our hand upon
ft P" With a bound the bushy-whiskered man
;-ra-p->d Cuthbert's arm.
'lhe thre-j pinioned men looked on with a
dull interest: tho sailors turned their tobacco
junks unconcernedly, glancing back at the
town or tip at the moon, muttering over the
wet pull before them.
Cuthbert had one of those nervous systems
which, in a fury, make steel of the hand and
steam engines of the muscles. His white fist
sped, like a .snow flake on a rush of wind,
right into the bend of the man Thompson's
brow, and a pigtail wriggled hi the dust, and
a pair of boots tried to hit tho moon.
A pigtail wriggled in the dust
Now, having done this, hnd he used his
hoots, ho would have saved himself, for
he was cf tho build for swift running;
whereas sailors are bad runners, though do
cent dancers. But his chivalrous courage, not
disdaining flight, for tho honorable reason
that it never thought of flight, held him
rooted, with nostrils quivering and gleaming
Thompson of tho bushy whiskers, gathered
himself off tho road, and rubbing the bridge
of his nose, looked with a cast in his ovo at
tho gentleman hi tho cloak.
"Wowtntuo bloodshed," exclaimed that
worthy. "Thompson, Jenkins, hero, three
r.i you ma ;o his hands fast and bring him
This was an order not to be disobeyed under
pain of a whipping; willing backs must not
bo bloodily plowod for boyish obstinacy. So
thoy went with a rush; the dust soared in a
cloud as from under tho neels of a flying
horse. It was a wild fight, a mad resist
ance, with tho hardhitting which tho ago of
Mendoza and the slogstor Crabbo made
free with. But a sudden blow must end the
unfair contest Down wont Cuthbert liko a
snuff seller's Scotchman under tho lurch of a
drunken man. In a moment his hands were
bound; but his legs declining to exert them
selves, he was hoisted on to the shoulders of a
couple of stout seamen and the party pro
ceeded smartly up the lull toward the gorge
that led to the sea.
Hard Ly an open space of yard, rudely
railed, stood a house of wood; n fair-sized
house, and strong as an oak-built hull
Tho yard that adjoined this houso was a
shipwright's yard, and often as tho tar cal
dron belched its smoky stench in the midst
of it, the fumes could never kill tho sweet
flavored smells that filled the uir around
from tho white deals and shavings of tho pine,
and tho blocks of red-hearted oak and- teak
And now even at this stagnant season,
when the Frenchman's and the Yankee's Jovo
of small sweet pickings was so voracious,
? that the art of the British coasting trade was j
n plucky coquetting with wind and haven, I
even now in this yard wore the skeletons of I
two vessels?a lugger and a schooner?to l?o ;
finished, equipped, and afloat by August, 1
under th? signed contract of Michael Strang- J
field, who wanted.neither pen nor witness to .
make his word binding.
On this evening of Cuthbert's impressment
the master shipwright sat in the parlor of his
Wooden home, filling the room with the mist ;
of navy tobacco. In this matter of the pipe 1
his flesh was weak.
Mr. 'Strangfield sat in a high-backed arm- |
chair ner-r the table, and opposite to him was
Both of them were busy; the ono with his
Tiipo and a design on paper of tho hull of the
schooner?a -skeleton yet in the yard?and J
the other with knitting needles.
On tho table, at Mr. Strangfleld's elbow, J
was a big horn Bible.
"I belfeve," said he, hi a slow, hard voice, !
withdrawing his pipe, and speaking slightly
through his nose to retain the flavor of tho j
tobacco, "that the lines here laid down bo
those that'll give Mr. Wainwright the speed
he looks for." He eyed the paper earnestly.
And as ho said this ho laid down the draw
ing, and looked at his wife through a pair of
The siiectaCiCS of those days were disfigure
ments, r-s all persou* know who are familiar
with old prints and paintings.
But neither the irresistible enlargement of
Mr. Stilingfield's eyes, nor the goblin circles
through which they*surveyed Mrs. Strang
field, could deform tho stern und worn
beauty of his countenance.
Fifty-live his age was, and ten years added
would still have left his days behind his faco
?duo to a half-weary expression of nsceti
oism, and the puckering of mi over-hanging
brow, and an acidulated droop of the under
lip. His dark hair, well laced with white,
hung in decent profusion over the white cel
lar of IiIk coat, and bis attiro wns gray, coarse
stockings, stout broadcloth, furnished with
dingy metal buttons, and square-toed boots,
with soles thick enough to warrant him ro
"H the mjou wasn't so clean I should al
low thero was a galo of wind in tho sound of
Ho yawned loudly.
"Wife, I've smoked enough, and enough is
contentment to a thankful heart."
He roso to place his pipe on the mantel
shelf, and reared a figure that brought his
head close to tho low ceiling.
"Jenny is in her bedroom, and there she
sits and sits. What ails tho girl? Hast thee
noticed her, Michael?" said Mrs. Strangfield,
who, though she put her questions with a
touch of fretfulness in her voice, went on
knitting very placidly.
This was a woman to bo admired for In
pretty hands, soft eyes, and rich brown hair
neatly smoothed beneath a full cap.
Otherwise, her face disarmed criticism by
its vacant, good-natured and cheerful in
Strangfield turned to look at her, und re
sinned Iiis chair.
"You have seen me watch her," said be.
"Why, therefore, do you say, 'Hast thoc
noticed hor, Michael?* You are apt to speak
without care, wife. Your lips go one way
and your mind another."
"Well, well, I havo my faults."
"Truly you havo, my dear."1
"As gospel says, 'Who is without sin? Un
loss it's theo, Michael; and that one should
know by your readiness to cast stones."
Mr. Strangneid frowned, but was wise
enough to hold his peace.
"What ails .Tonny, then?" continued tho
mother. "You should know. You be a
man of long sight J never could hide a
secret from thee."
Mr. Strangfield snt for a space behind his
spectacles., pondering, while his wife laid
down her needles to pass her hand over her
"What should be the matter with her?" de
manded Mr. Strangfield, presently. "Her
health is sound?"
"I hope so!" cried Mrs. Strangfield, ner
"No one has been meddling with her heart,
to my knowledge."
"Meddle! Certainly not Should I not
"Unless," continued Mr. Strangfield, "she
be fallen into that state against which the
Apostlo warned the Corinthian damsels, put
ting it in" this way?that the unmanned
woman careth for the things of the Lord;
which wjis, doubtless, a true thing to say
of those ancient people, but will not hold
Mrs. ?Strangflold shook her head softly.
"If she had a sweetheart she would tell
me," said sho, looking rather vaguely, how
ever, at her husband, as a woman, might
whose conscience does not place her perfectly
"I could not imagine that sho would not,"
said the husband, sternly.
"As to Mrs. Mead's gossip, it's idler than
the wind Being known to her somehow,"
continued Mrs. Strangfield, who was not
very easily repressed, and who, when sho had
a point to get at, always traveled to it along
tho most roundabout paths?"for che chit
will not explain how their acquaintance be
gan?is it not proper that Mr. Shaw, who is
a born gentleman and knows mnnners, should
take off Iiis hat to her and pass a pleasant
word when they meet? Now, through some
blockhead neighbor, Mother Mend hears of
their talking on tho beach, whither Jenny
had gone for shells for a pin cushion. And
to me she comes with a wise tossing of tho
nose. But, says I, 'Ma'am, I am my daugh
ter's niolhcr, and what concerns mo shall be
my proper trouble, under Providence, that
our neighbors may have full timo for their
own affairs.' That was well said Michael,
dost thee not think?"
"Let Mrs. Mead bewaro how she meddle
with Jenny's namo! But there should be
no cause, neither for her nor any other gossip,
"Cause!" cried Mrs. Strangfield, opening
her mild eyes, with a littlo toss of the knit
ting noodles. "A pretty pass, truly, if Mr.
Shaw cannot pull oft" his hat to Jenny, and
praiso the weather, without his politeness be
ing called a cause. A cause to set Mrs.
Mead's tonguo going.' You need not stand
ou your head to do that"
"I'll not have Mr. Shaw's name chimed
with my wench's,"- exclaimed Strangfield.
"Beelzebub himself is not harder on us than
the doctor up at the schoolhouse."
"Dear heart alive, j know naught of Mr.
Shaw," exclaimed Mrs. Strangfield, with a
corner glance at her husband. "If Jenny lias
set him gaping, his mouth is not tho only one
her beauty has opened. I like to look at his
hnnd6ome face in the street when I meet him,
and his eyes never were matched for tho blue
of them. These are the Lord's doings, and a
woman may admire the works of creation, I
hope. But Jenny would not make a sweet
heart of him without opening her heart to
"What does Jenny do in her bedroom nil
these tioursf" said ho. "These mopings have
come upon her since her return from Syden
bam. Did sho leave hor heart behind her
. . 'jJTow, how you talk! "Were that so, would
not Rachel have written/"'
"Jane, Jane, I do not liko thy habit of flee
ing. It is an old taint of saueiness."
"I'll go and call Jenny, and she shall argue
with theo herself," said Mrs. Strangfield,
quite unruffled by her husband's reprimand.
She put down her knitting, and leisurely
rising, with a pretty waddle left the room.
Up the staircase. ?Wide enough for a big
house, .sho went, and, with a smart turn of
the door haudlo, entered a bedroom. Hero
all was dark, until a few moments' gazing
exposed Jenny's figure seated at tho window,
with the windy moonlight streaming upon
hor and the summer gale tossing her hair.
"Jenny, Jenny!'' exclaimed Mrs. Strang
flold, advancing quickly, "what sickness art
thou courting at that open window, foolish
child.'?letting the cold wind fill your bones!
Come away from the draught, nnd shut tho
window. Father wants thee down stairs."
I "It is past nine, mother. "What does father
want? I liko this cool wind, and tho stars
: arc pretty to watch*, running among the
"Father does not understand your moping.
> Here have you l>een sitting for nbovo im
hour. We have been talking about thee, and
I ho has some questions to ask."
j "What questions?" exclaimed the girl,
quickly. "Let me stay here, mother. It will
j be time for bed soon. "What questions ha3
j Cathc-r to ask/"'
"Why, you speak as if you wero scared!
. Jenny, if you would fly in tho face of tho
i Lord, tho way to do it is to flout thy mother,
j What ails you? A dozen times I have asked,
J and you say nothing nils you. Are you not
j well? Is thero somo secret to trouble you?
j Are you wear}'of home? Come down, come
, down, and open your heart to your parents."
! And saj'ing this she took Jenny's hand, but
I finding it cold as stone, cried out, "See, now,
i if this wind will not put thee in a sick bed!"
I Aud in a littlo passion of nnxiety nnd nnnoy
I ance, she closed the window sharply.
Tho sweet and faithful heart, bidden to
I watch for her husband'? coming, felt tho
; closing of the window to bo the true ending
j of her hopes and fears for that night. It
! was a repriove that left deep yearning and .
; faint beartcdness nnd sorrowful wonder.
J Never had he failed her before. It could not
be feartliat made him shirk the interview he
I had himself planned; neither fear of ln.-r
j father, nor want of passionate love for her.
With (;nrs straining to catch at every sound,
she gazed through the closed window at th<j
! vision of dancing lights without, and tho \
I flare of the moon sweeping beyond the
clouds and silvering the tossing tops of the
j bay trees.
"What questions ha? father to ask,
1 "Why, what these mopes signify. Re
j doubts if you brought your heart back with
j you from Sydenham. But / say i't was
! your spirits you left there."
"Mother, let me lw here. I am low in
; spirits to-night. Father would easily make
! me cry, nnd what would he think to see me
! in tears?"
"Jenny, just tell me this, then, that T may
oswer him when I go downstairs?hath Mr.
haw talked soft things to thee? Come,
I come, speak up, my child. Surely, I need
? not lie angry, if your beauty has pleased
I him, and be has saddened you with foolish
j fancies. Is that it.' We will make you smile
again when we know what troubles you,
"Why do yon say 1 mop.- and. am low
hearted, mother? Is not my laugh merry?
; Am I not a cheerful help to yon in the Mise?
I One cannot always be glad. The noise of the
sea, nnd tho cry of the wind to-night, and
the struggling of the sweet moon with the
clouds have?have?" Sho faltered, and con
tinued, in a voice a* soft as a flute's?"Some
times one has pleasant sorrows which one
likes to nurse. There is no reason that 1
should mope. I can feel very happy. Ah,
dear Lord! would that he had como and
saved me from another day of fear!" And
breaking out thus, sho threw her head upon
her mother's breast and cried.
But Jenny wept rarely?at least, in her
mother's sight; therefore, the honest l?osom
on which hor faco was hidden was rent by
the unaccustomed sobs, and anxious, plain
tive sympathy spoke in-the poor woman's
voice, as she exclaimed, with her pretty
fingers tenderly kneading tho girl's rich hair:
'?Oh, my child, my dearie! you will break
my heart with your misery! What is your
fear? Has any one wronged you? Kind
Lord, what trouble is this that Jjath como
upon you? Jenny, Jenny, raise up your
eyes?see how bright tho moon shines in
the room; it makes thy hair like yellow
silk Oh, my pretty lamb, who is he that
hath not come? and what is thy fear, Jenny?"
Now, the door of the bedroom and the door
of tho parlor both standing open, and the
staircase measuring but a small space be
twixt the low floor and the jjassago, it was
scarcely possible that Mr. Strangfield, sitting
in expectation of his daughter's arrival,
should fail to catch his wife's words. When,
therefore, in her clear, pained voice, sho
cried, "Who is he that hath not come?" and
"What is thy fear, Jenny?" up roso tho mas
ter shipwright, nnd tho staircase groaned
under his boots.
Jenny, hearing him coming, drew away
from her mother with a quick movement of
terror, nnd backed through the glare of
moonbght into the shadow near the bedstead.
"Wife," exclaimed Strangfield, in his strong
voice, "how Is it that Jenny does not como to
" To which no reply was vouchsafed. Ho
advanced by a stride and said, "What has
tho girl been saying, and what is her fear?
Jenny, come forth. I can see you standing
there. Give me thy hand, foolish wench,
and now down stnirs with us all. If thero
lw aught to fear, pray that the Lord may
deliver us from evil."
So speaking, Ire held forth his hand, nnd
the shrinking girl, not dnring to disobey,
came to him fearfully and dropped fingers of
ice into his palm.
As they went down the stairs there was a
lifetime of suffering in Jenny's thoughts.
For what now was she to do? Must she con
fess under the crushing gaze of her father's
eyes? Beyond her strength of voice, beyond
control of passionate weeping, would, the
confession take her. Cuthbert would be hero
nnon?to-morrow, surely?and shift the heavy
load of her secret upon himse'f. And with
him nt hnnd those stern oyes would not be
terrifying, nor the anger unbearable.
"Now, my girl," said he, h? voice insen
sibly softening under the beaut}- of hb only
child, "speak boldly, and acknowledge tho
trouble that has come to j-ou. I will toll
you," laying a forefinger on his thumb,
"when this habit of moping first became vis
ible to me; that was a full month before wo
sent you to your nunt Rachel. That visit
did not improve theo, but, on tho contrary,
has made thee worse. Now you have your
date, and so you shall not bo at a loss for the
Tho girl tried to meet her father's eyes,
whereof the severity appeared intensified by
the spectnelo rings that concentrated their
forces of fire and feeling; but to stand to
them hardily wus an impossible feat; hor
gaze went downward, and in a scarcely uu
diblo tone sho replied: "I do not mope,
father; sometimes I liko to be alone."
"Bo honest, wench, lw honest!" exclaimed
Strangfield, harshly. "What was the mean
ing of those words your mother was repeat
ing just now?"
"Jenny, they were, 1 Would that he had
cotne and saved me from another day of
fear."" whispered Mrs. Strangfield. "Havo
no fear, my pretty. Thy father is stern, but
ho loves theo."
"Jenny, will you ansiccrme or notf"
The girl refused to speak. Then Mr.
Strangfield repeated his question, and her
hps turned pale, as under tho pressure and
torment of a thousand words which they
would not part to deliver, and one most tear
ful, wildered, pleading look she cast around.
Her father watched her steadily, and with
nn ever-deepening shadow on his face. Her
want of speech was want of honesty, ho
thought, and his mouth took a sullen curve.
"Jane, speak to her. She may answer
"I have questioned her, Michael. Jenny,
Jenny, answer thy father, dear heart, Tell
him thy trouble!" ami sho snatched at her
breast with both hands, crying: "Oh,
Michael, what has come to our child?"
"Jenny, will you answer me or not?"
"Father, you shull \*> answered, but not
? Who is he that should have come and
tavrd you from another day of fear?"
"(.'h, father," cried the poor girl, clasping
her hands, "have pif.y on mo?do not ques
tion me now."
"Not question you!" returned Strangfield,
in an inexorable tone. "Not question you 1
What has happened to you, that you nre not
to l?e questioned by your father?"
Sho shook her bond and sighed, with a low
moan in her sigh. Ah, that she had the
courage to speak the truth now, and intrep
idly make herself known! But it was her
husband that should speak for her, and ho
would be hero to-morrow surely! Oh, she
might be sure.
"Child," he cried, iu a grating voice, "I
have asked you for tho truth. Have it I
will, if it cost thee and mo our lives!"
To say which, and in his bitter energy, he
jerked his body forward, whereat tho girl
shrieked and became hysterical. "Oh,
mother! Oh, mother! what would he do to
me? Oh, mother! Oh, mother! save mo
from hi in!" and with wild alternate sobbing
and laughter she backed away from tho
table, until she felt Ler mother's arms about
her, when she fainted, ns a person dies,
with horrid suddenness.
(TD UK COXTINTK!.?.)
Win. M. Johnson, ;i colored preacher,
at Stoko's Bridge, Darlington, was sent
to jail Saturday, charged with digging
into ;i smoke-house and stealing hams.
II FINE DRESS GOODS,
The critical time in the Dress Goods trade
of the season has arrived and
will not delay the usual
Which he makes in the prices of his .Spring
Dress Goods Stock in order to close them
Those who desire to get the most for their
always respond to my notice of "OUT
Cashmeres, Plaids, Albertross, French
RaZCs, Mikado Suitings and Tricot ClotliS,
have been reduced fully 2.1 per cent, to re
Fine White Embroidered Robes in boxes
from g:J.50,S2.7." and?."., these prices are
one half of former price
""HENRY KOI INS new Shoes and Slip
pers, the best and cheadest stock ever offer
ed in the City.
NO SHODDY SHOES!
NO TRASH SHOES :
II EN It Y KOHN'S stock of Ribbons and
Laces, is beyond comparison, the largest
ami cheapest assortment in the City.
RIGS, MATTINGS AND SHADES.
Shade and patent rollere complete 7."?cents.
Cents reinforced Shirts, linen fronts ?u
No use in talking, HENRY KOHN leads
in the Clothing trade for Men, Roys and
Children, be sine and look when you want
a suit of Clothing.
Thousands of Uargains-in Corsets, Fans,
Domestics, Cassimiers, &c., limited space
forbids the mention of.
IT ?'1>ST* rvOTail.?K'TO IjOOK.
It will save you money to do so.
LEADER OF LOW PRICES.