The Story-Teller.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 10, 12 January 1870, Page 7

The Story-Teller.

THE SISTERS. (Concluded.) slt was soon settled, and the old General) i wj^ r much relieved at not being asked to retfNji his favourite child, and very much pleased with his future son-in-law, gave an unhesitating consent. Edmund was asked to stay to luncheon, and, in spite of the sickening dread of meeting Elsie, he accepted the invitation, resolved to go bravely through it all, and joined Janet, who breathlessly awaited him in the drawingroom. He might, however, have spared himself his hesitation, for Elsie did not appear. She was in bed, Mrs Fraser said, completely knocked up by the ball. " Poor child !" she added, "shecan hardly speak, her head is so bad; and she has eaten no* thing." Janet's heart beat fast, for she saw the colour recede from Mr Ro*coe's face, leaving it pale as death, while he Strove in vain to finish his cold chicken ; and she knew too well the agony of mind he was enduring. General Fraser looked concerned at his wife's speech. " The girl's not well," he said, sharply; " she has looked pale and out of sorts for the last three weeks, and eats nothing. I never saw her so dead beat as she was last night: she could hardly creep upstairs, and never opened her lips the whole way home." "Well, papa," said Janet, "she was bright enough last night, and chattered away like a child about my engagement." She coloured crimson as she met the grave, searching eyes of Edmund Roscoe, for she feared he knew she was speaking falsely. Oh, Janet, Janet I and yet your heart ached as that poor girl kissed you, and strove, with quivering lips, to wish you , happiness, while her hot tears rolled down her wan, cold cheeks ! " She has certainly not been well lately," . said Mrs Fraser; " and I think she wants change of air. I proposed her going to the sea-side for a few weeks, and she seemed quite delighted at the idea, and begged me to settle it at once." " She shall go," said the General. "We will all go. You can run down easily, Roscoe ; or come with us, if you will. I don't want to part you at the very beginning ;" and he laughed good-humortdly. The young man started, and replied hurriedly, " No, thank you, I can't do that; but I can run down constantly, and see you, if you are not far off." What a relief it woidd be to feel that that they were not close by—to be free from the fear of meeting Elsie every day ! Yet with these feelings in his mind, Edmund Roscoe thought he was acting honourably in fulfilling his promise to Janet. So it was arranged ; and when he left the house the General told him that they should start next week to spend a month at Redcliff, a small fishing village not far off. " We must get my little birdie's roses back in time for her sister's wedding, Roscoe," said the old man, cheerfully, as he wished him good-bye. Edmund Roscoe rode away, feeling that any death he could die were preferable to the life he w»s now living. He did not date to think what was the cause of Elsie's illness. He repeated again and again to himself Janet's false statement, that she > had talked and laughed about the engagement ; and he blamed himself bitterly for not caring more for the lovely girl ho was now about to marry. It was a hot sultry day in May, more like August in its still heat, and Elsie leaned sadly against a rock on the shore, gazing after the retreating figures of her sister and Edmund Roscoe. There had be)jn one of the now common scenes among them. She had agreed to accompany them as far as the beach, but was too tired and weak to go further, and, sitting down on '■no sands, had told them to leave her, as lue felt the heat too much to proceed. /Mr Roscoe, led beyond his usual indifferl ence by her sad, pale face, had proposed they should sit there ; and Janet, stung by his unusually tender tone, had flatly refused, saying warmly that he was not obliged to walk with her ; she could walk ' -i alone, and he might stay and take care

f Elsie, as that was all he cared to do : ,ft>or Elsie ! Wiih a burning cheek she j$M fV"> hastily, saying she would walk on, or \l gotpje—• anything Janet liked ; but Mr Rosfce cut it short by walking rapidly away, with an impatient exclamation to . Janet to " come along."

Elsie watched them walk away, Janet's head thrown proudly back, and hor face flushed, and Mr Boscoe with a troubled, weary look on his handsome features, his eye's on the sands, silent and grave, flow was she to bear it 1 In a month they were to be" iriarried, for Janet had fixed the day somd tittle hfefore. If he was only happy, she could bear" ail the rest; but to see Janet treat him sW hWsMy—oh, how could she! And Elsie leaflet the rock, a hard swelling in her throat, tidd great scalding tears rolling down her cheeks Meanwhile Mr Roscoe and Janet walked rapidly on in perfect silence, till they came to a tiny sheltered cove, where the sea had formed a small bay among the rocks. Here Mr Roscoe threw himself on the sands, and Janet seated herself by him, her eyes fixed on the distant vessels, determined not to speak till he did. She had not very long to wait. " Janet," he began, sharply and imperiously, " understand me once for all, and for once I mean to be obeyed. Say what you please to me. I can bear your temper, and perhaps you have cause to be angry; but you shall not attack your sister. She is ill and unhappy, I believe ; and I will not stand by and hear you insult her and me as you did just now. You only know what called forth such a speech, for I said nothing to irritate you that I know of. But let me never hear anything of the sort again." Then Janet burst forth, all her hot passions roused, neither thinking nor caring what she said, in her rage and jealousy. "You do not love me!" she cried, fiercely; "you know you do not. You love her, that pale, quiet, little shy thing, who tries to work on your feelings and win you from me. You are merely going to marry me from pity, because I was fool enough to confess my love for you; and you are fretting and chafing beneath the chain. And this is her doing. But for her you would have loved me, and she, for her own gratification, and silly, childish vanity, is trying by her delicate airs to win you from ma, only to throw you over and laugh at you as she did before. Yes, you start, but I know all; —how she threw your flowers aside, and laughed at your note, refusing to grant you even the explanation you begged for, knowing how wickedly she had led you on, till she found you loved her, and then drawing back to prevent exposure. But it shall not be. You are mine. And, whether you love me or not, I will be your wife." She paused, breathless and panting; but no word or sound came from Mr Roscoe. Pale as death, with set lips and clouded brow, he sat, looking straight before him, but seeing nothing. Then Janet grew calmer ; she saw that she had gone too far; and fearing lest, after all, he should escape her, she altered her tone. "Edmund, dear Edmund," she' said, piteously, " forgive me—l did not mean what I said. Speak to me ; say you only love me a little. Tell me you do not quite hate me. Only speak—do not look like that." Mr Roscoe turned his gaze on her excited face, his own cold and fixed as marble —and his voice was harsh and dry as he replied, slowly and firmly, " No, Janet, I do not hat* you, but you are right in saying that Ido not love you. Tdo love your sister Elsie, and shall never care for any other woman ; and after this scene, I see plainly that I should be wicked to marrv you, and bring lasting misery to both of us. lam very sorry that I have gained your love, if such be true; but I cannot blame myself, for I did not do so willingly. How you know concerning your sister I do not understand. I can hardly yet believe she was false and cold-hearted enough to act as you say, or to show my letter ; but be that as it may, I have made up my mind. I shall leave this place to-night, and leave England before two days have passed ; and wo will not meet again. I am quite determined ; so it is useless to remonstrate. I will tell your father myself, and bear all blame in the matter. And now let us go, for the tide is rising."

Janet had fainted, and heard him not. Mr Roscoe, who had never seen anybody faint before, was very much frightened. " Good heavens, I have killed her," he murmured, as he gently raised her head on to his knee, and hastily placed his hand on her heart. Slowly and gradually, however, her colour returned, though it seemed to him an indefinite time before she gently opened her eyes, and gazed round with a wild, frightened look. "Where am II" she exclaimed ; "what has happened!" Then, as it all rushed back upon her, she clung to him, saying,

piteoiisly, "Ob, Edmund, Edmund, say you will not leave me! Oh, it will kill me !" and she burst into tears. Nervous and distressed a» he was, she could gain nothing more from him than a promise that he would not tell her father that evening. The water crept to his feet as he gave the promise, and turning, with an exclamation of horror, he found that the tide had risen rapidly, cutting off all retreat. Janet uttered a cry of terror, and she seized ! him by the arm. Poor Janet I hoi' frantic terror was terrible) to see: Her" pl-eseticel of mind had entirely left lier j she climbed wildly to the highest shelf of rock, and Wailed aloud as the huge rock barred further escape*. " Oh, Edmund ! Edmund I" she fobbed, clinging to him ; " I cannot die- I cannot meet my Maker. You do not know how terribly wicked 1 am—how I have deceived you. Elsie never got your letter: I stopped it, and tore it up. I told her that you did not love her—that you wore amusing yourself with her. 1 have broken your heart and hers, and now I must die. Oh, save me, and I will give you up to Elsie. I will tell her all, everything. But death —oh, I cannot, cannot die! But the waves rose higher and higher and as death approached, Edmund Roscoe strove to banish all thoughts of this life, and prepare to nieet his Maker. 1 Thus they passed a terrible half-hour, while the foaming waters rose higher and higher. They were very near them now ; ten minutes more, and the place where they now sat would be covered, when—hark! There were Voices above them—a cry of " Janet!—Roscoe!" With a scream of ecstasy Janet sprang to her feet. " Papa, oh save us !" she cried. " Quick —quick ! the waves are close !" " My child !" returned the old man. " Let down a rope quickly," cried Edmund. " I will tie it to her." In another minute the rope was in Ed. mund Roscoe's hand, and he fastened it round Janet's waist, while a heavy wave broke over their feet. " Oh, quick, quick," cried Elsie, in agonized tones, as a huge crested wave rolled slowly forward. It broke as Janet reached the top of the cliff. One wild cry from Elsie, and Edmund sank beneath it. "Oh, Edmund, Edmund," she wailed, forgetting all but him in her agony ; then, seizing the rope, she flung down tho end, crying, "He may rise again—oh, hold it tight!" They watched eagerly, breathlessly, even Janet checking her sobs, till the dark head rose to the surface, and the struggling man grasped the rope. Then a cry broke from them, " Hold on for your life. Now pull all |" A long pause, and he lay on the cliff, saved ! In a tumult of happiness, such as she had never felt before, Elsie entered the drawing-room, to find Edmund Roscoe in dry clothes standing before her, while Mrs Fraser hurried off to see after Janet. One 1 >ok at her meaning, glowing face, and he saw Janet had told all. " Elsie—my own Elsie !" he cried, opening his arms. She sprang into them, and was locked in such an embrace as she had never hoped to feel. But little was said, for both felt that they could not speak without blaming Janet, which noither wished to do ; but sach deep, perfect happiness needed no words. Mr Roscoe had little trouble in persuading his parents to receive another Miss Fraser as their daughter, and people supposed they had made a mistake in the sisters, so Janet was spared the pain of the history becoming known. The shock she had undergone brought on it violent illness, and when she recovered she was ordered abroad for change of air and scene. She went with some friends, and was followed by her parents after Elsie's wedding, which took place very soon. She eventually became the happy wife of a young nobleman: but even that failed to revive that pride which had been so completely subdued by that terrible half-hour under tho cliff.