LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 90, 14 September 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ACROSS THE SANDS. Continued, ' The sands!' returned Nanny, aghast; 'why it would be throwing away another life, Mr Darrell, to venture on them now. By this time, the tide is in the Stour, and the stepping-stones' ' Nonsense ! 1 can wade, or, if need be, swim,' answered young Darrell, whose spirits be/an to rise at the very notion of personal peril. ' I suppose the town-lights will be beacon enough, once I am on the shore, to guide me along the path to Stourchester, and I shall meet her between the river and the opposite bank. Come, then.—Mercy, what is that!'

And indeed the exclamation was natural enough, for there, in the passage, stood Aline, wan and haggard as a ghost, with her hair streaming over her shoulders, but restored, as if by a miracle, from that deathin- life that, bad held her in its gripe. ' I know you, Frank Darrell I' she cried out breathlessly, as the women set up a shriek, as if they had beheld the very dead to rise again among the living; 'I know you will save her—my treasure—my darling—save her for me, for yourself. See I I am strong and well, and I will come too, and

'Hush, hush 1' Miss; you must not stir one step, on such a night,' said Darrell, as he gently led back the excited girl to the sofa, on which, the first wild impulse to exertion spent, she dropped helplessly. ' I must not lose fime. I will bring Margaret back—bring her safe and well, or you shall never see Frank Darrell more.' And leaving her in Nanny's care, he hurried, guided by Widow Brooks, towaids the hut, built of old ships' timbers, caulked aud coated with tar, in which her cousin Jasper dwelt. ' Can you get your coble afloat, the instant the tide serves, to save life on the sands ? It's a wild night; I know that—l am a sailor too—but a good boat and stout heart can weather it. Ten guineas—ay, or twenty, for your work ; but to a true seafaring man, and a Christian, the money is a less reward than the saving a fellow-creature from drowning.'

The men looked at one another. The howl of the rising wind and the roar of the surf were very audiblf, even within dcTors The women began to talk, in complaining accents, of the threatening weather. It was more than gold was worth, one of them said, weeping, to put to sea at such a time. ' There are things better than gold, though,'said Frank Darrell promptly ' 'and, till I see it with my own eyes, I'll never believe that English sailors will sit in cowardly security in the chimney corner, and let a girl drown, within, perhaps, a cable's length of their door ; ay, or thiit English-women would hold Englishmen back in such a cause. Come ; I risk more than I ask of you. I shall go down alone, this instant, to the sands, to save the woman I love, or to die witn her. Out with the boat, men! you'll never repent the good deed.'

Five minutes later, and the coble, dragged down by the main force of sturdy arms, came grating through the shingle of the pebbly beach, ready to be launched, so soon as the white waves, now very near, should afford depth of water sufficient for her to float in. But already Frank Darrell was on the sands, and fording the channels of the Stour, where already the water was deepening, as the fiist influx of the tide forced back the current- There was not light enough for the young man to distinguish the steppingstones, now completely submerged ; but he was active and strong, and waded his way across without much difficulty. Once on the firm sand beyond the river, he looked up at Stourchester town, the lights of which were to be his guide. The gale blew fiercer, and fresher than before, and the hollow roar of the sea drew nearer and nearer.

'To save her, or to die with her 1' he muttered as he bent his head and hurried on—'the last, I fear, is the most likely.' And he doubled his speed as he rushed on. It was when the first half of her difficult journey across the sands had been performed, that Margaret Gray, as she paused to take breath and snatch an instant's repose from toil, realised the peril of her task. She was strong in her youth and health—strong, also, in her unselfish courage, and the deep love for her suffering young sister which had prompted her to run a risk so fearful ; but now she began for the first time to fear that her decision had been unwise and that she had rashly taken on herself more than she could accomplish. All the old histories of lives lost, by carelessness or misfortune, on those fatal sands, crowded on her memory at once, and with a force which they had never had before. She was well used to traverse the wide estuary of the Stour by daylight, and in moderately calm weather ; but now, buffeted by the gale, drenched by the furious rain and driving spray, and hearkening to the increasing noise of the surf as it broke beyond the headlands, she felt her heart beating wild.y, and acknowledged to herself that she had done wrong. Behiud her was the lighted town of Stourchester; but to retrace her steps would now be almost as dangerous as to proceed. In front, a solitary gleam from the window of an upland farm was all she had to guide her, as she pushed ou, desperately, towards the Stour. Louder and louder grew the tumult of the wind and sea.

It was not long before Margaret, with dismay, recognised the presence of a new peril. The sand, commonly so firm, was now palpably quickening, to use the local term, heneath her tread. Her progress became slower and more laborious as her feet repeatedly sank below the soft and spongy surface. Often, too, when she trod on the footprints which wayfarers had left behiud them that day, she found them already rilled with water that oozed from below; and more than once she had to splash and struggle through shallow pools, where no such pools had been when last she crossed the estuary. Her strength was nearly spent, but still she pushed bravely on, fighting every inch of her way against the driving gale. Almost, mechanically, she held fast the little packet that contained the precious drug which was to restore Aline to health. Poor Aline, what would become of her, if she were doomed, that night, to undergo a second bereavement, that should leave her, forlorn indeed, at the mercy of the cruel world ! The thought of her sister's absolute dependence on her. nerved Margaret to fresh exertions. m:d though greatly fatigued, she struggled on. But now the thunder, which had been of late less frequent, added its formidable voice to that of the raying wind, and the lurid gleam of the lightning came again and again to illuminate the waste. What was that,

coming on, fleecing white, advancing rapidly, and covering the yellow sands as with a spotless shroud ? Not the sea, surely. Another flash ! The low white f oam-line is nearer now, hurrying, stealing on ; and behind it, far away, is something like a snowy wall, rolling piteously on ; pushed forward, as it seemed, by the tumultuous blackness that followed close behind. Then Margaret knew that the worst had come to pass. It was impossible now to reach the Stour. The tide was in upon her, and she was lost ! Another blinding flash, and yet another 1 and while still dazzled by the lightning, Margaret felt a sudden chill as something white reached her feet, passed her by, and sped on, far up the estuary, and she was actually standing in the shallow water that had now overspread the sands, and which was deepening as fresh foam-lines rolled in, while the tumbling wall of surf came on, as if hungry for prey. She had no hope to be heard, no chance of rescue, yet instinctively she set up one long despairing cry for succour. No answer ! save from howling wind and seething sea, that seemed to mock her idle appeal for aid. Yet once again she cried aloud, and this time the call was answered, as, splashing through the knee-deep water, s man's dark figure became visible. In the next instant he was beside her. It was Frank Darrell, who hurriedly expressed his delight at finding her. There was no time to lose.

And as he spoke, he lifted her in his power* ful arms as easily as if she had been a child, and waded vigorously onwards. For a moment, Margaret, dizzy with the shock of this unexpected meeting with one whom she had secretly mourned as dead or faithless, was, as it were, insensible to fear. She seemed safe, with those strong arms around her, with drooping her head on the shoulder of the man whom she loved so dearly, and it was only the roar of the approaching sea that roused her from her sense of blissful security.

Ay this time Frank had gained, with some toil, the vantage ground which he desired to reach. By the light of the red flashes, his quick eye had espied a broken post or stake of stout timber, green with seaweed, that protruded from the surface of a sloping sandmound, and around which lay several heavy stones. Here, with his back to the weatherbeaten scrap of woodwork, he could rest and take breath, while eagerly scanning, at each recurrent flash, the wilderness of waters before him.

4 All depends on Venn and his coble,' he snid aloud; and then, exerting his voice to its full strength, he hailed the as yet unseen boat. ' The lubbers have had time, surely, to get their cockie Bhell thus far !' he muttered between his teeth; and then addressed a few words of encouragement to Margaret, as he informed her of the fishermen's promise to put off at once from the shore. ' Listen to the wind,' said Margaret, shuddering; ' hear the roar of the surf as it dashes against the beach yonder 1 It is no safe task to face this storm. Their hearts may have failed them, or their boat may have'

She did not complete the sentence, for she saw by her lover's pale face that his own opinion was much the same as her own. The rising tide ran in with the speed of a millsluice ; the water soon reached nearly to Darrell's waist, and he had to direct Margaret to cling with all her force to the post, to prevent her being washed away as she stood on the rorgh stones at the foot of the piece of timber. ' 0 Frank, to find you again, only to lose you, and to know that you have given your life for mine !' murmured the heart-broken girl, as hope forsook her. ' Poor Aline, too, dying, perhaps for waut of '.No, no,' interrupted the young sailor; ' Aline is well, or nearly so ;' and he hurriedly told of the invalid's strange recovery of the power of speech and motion, under the influence of intense anxiety for Margaret's safety; ' and I trust we'll live to be happy together this many a day. Boat ahoy I Was not that an answer V

Alas, no ; it was but the scream of a seamew hovering past. Again Darrell called aloud, and this time he was all but sure that the hail was returned. He strained his eyes to pierce the blackness of the gloom, but could see nothing but the white waves, leaping up like wolves greedy for their spoil. He had been compelled again to lift Margaret in his arms, and as he did so, a taller wave than any of the rest struck him on the shoulder with a force that made him stagger. It was impossible long to hold on, now. Calm and resigned, Frank Darrell stooped to kiss Margaret's sweet calm face, and the brave girl's cold lips returned the farewell caress. To he continued.