Novelist.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1175, 14 October 1882, Page 3 (Supplement)

Novelist.

BY SLOW DEGREES. A STORY OF AUSTRALIA. BY ALEXANDER MONTGOMERY. AUTHOR OF “THAT FELLOW FARNESE.” CHAPTER XXXVII (continued). “ Servant, gentl’men, servant,” he said, “ Goin’ to have a shaver, I thinks. I hopes it will clear off before the Cup’s run. A grand race it will be ; thirty-five starters for certain ; but, I’ll tell you what—l doesn’t believe King of the South will do the trick; blamed if I does!” “ What do you think of Isandula’s chance?” asked Walter.

“ Isandula ? Lord bless you 1 he ain’t in it, by a long way. The company’s a lot too r good for him, —How do, Mr. Tompion ? Excuse me, gentlemen, I wants to say a word to him.” And the ornament of the prizering hastened off after the magnate of the betting-ring. A few minutes afterwards, we came across Shu ter and Fysshe. “Very man I wished to see!” said the former to me—“if you don’t mind cooling this way for a moment. You'll excuse us, Addison,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye. “ Fysshe will keep you amused till your friend comes back.” “ Mr. Fysshe is here professionally, I suppose,” said I, when we had got some distance away from the others. “I should scarcely have thought he was the man to do justice to such a scene.” “Neither is he,” returned Shuter. Good enough for the bare details of the racing. As to writing a readable narrative of the general proceedings, he could no more do it than fly ! —completely floored, when he had exhausted his stock phrases. But what I wanted to say to you is this, you are staying with Count— Count — What’s his name ?” “ Giustiniani ?” “ Yes; and you can tell me, therefore, if a —a young lady, named Stone, has recently joined the family as companion to the Count’s daughter.” And Mr. Shuter blushed like a girl. “ Yes. It is about a week since she came to live with us at Cintra.” “ Thank you ! I know her, you see I Just thought I’d ask you, you know. Let’s go back. Or, stay !” added Shuter, suddenly, “ you’re sure to guess how it is, so I may just as well tell you that—well—that I have rather an admiration for Miss Stone ; but her father won’t hear of it!” “ Yes,” I said; •* I have heard something to that effect.” “ Deuce you have! From whom ?” asked Shuter. “ Addison, I suppose! Well, it’s rather unreasonable of the old gentleman ; but I don’t despair of bringing him round. Let’s go back now, and see if Fysshe has bored Addison to death.” “So there are two distressed, but hopeful, knights,” I said to myself, as we walked back. “ Well, this one has my good wishes as well as the other.” “ The weather is characterised to-day by excessive variability,” observed Fysshe, with reference to a smart shower which began to fall as we rejoined him and Walter. “ Let’s get inside, then,” said Shuter, “ and correct the ‘ variability ’ with a ‘nobbier.’ ” “ Dark brandy and port wine,” said Mr. Fysshe, as we stood as the refreshment counter,” with a slight preponderance of the latter.” “ With a—what, sir?” asked the astonished barmaid. “ Let the proportion of the less potent fluid slightly exceed that of the other,” returned Fysshe, gravely. The girl giggled, then frowned, and tossed her head. “ I wish you’d ask for what you want, sir,” she said, “ without trying to make a fool of one!” “ I am unaware of having said anything of an exacerbating character,” said Fysshe, opening his eyes very wide. Shuter explained. The girl laughed, and supplied Fysshe with what he desired, and we went outside again—to find the horses coming out for the next race. It was run in a heavy rain ; but, scarcely had the drenched winner returned to scale, when the clouds broke, and the sun shone out again. “ A good omen for the Cup,” said Walter. “ It cannot be a good omen for everybody, ’ I said ;—“but do not let me discourage you. You look quite pale and anxious. I think a glass of brandy would have been better for you than the lemonade you drank. lam no friend to the spirit; but I think it would do you good, just now.” “ I’ll have some directly, ”he said. “ Who’s that Shuter’s talking to ? As I live, it’s Mucklebody! What a spectacle the man’s made of himselfl” And a curious spectacle the Scotchman certainly presented, as, evidently in jovial case, he stood talking and laughing in a manner that drew every eye in the neighbourhood upon him.

“ TVs the royal tairtan, man !” he was saying to Shuter. “ Ma mither was a Stuart, ya ken, an’ sae that gies me a kin’ o’ richt tae

The royal tartan in question figured upon Mr. Mucklebody’s person in the capacity of a kilt, in front of which hung the usual sporran, while between it and the short hose appeared shat gentleman’s legs—lank, scraggy, redhaired, and ridiculous. His upper man was encased in a green velvet jacket, profusely ornamented with silver buttons, and from the bonnet, which surmounted his grinning features, ascended an eagle’s feather of portentous length. Claymore, dirk, and pistol he had also, and everything else proper to the Highland warrior, of which he presented so ludicrous a caricature.

Suddenly catching sight of Walter and myself, he came up and greeted us with a tipsy effusiveness, which procured us such a share of public attention, that we were far from sorry when Mucklebody, espying a compatriot in the distance, strutted off in pursuit, and was soon lost to view in the crowd.

And now came the great event of the racing year. Walter had his brandy, and we made our way to the saddling-paddock, where an eager crowd was already assembled. Here Mr. Crusher turned up again. “ No; it ain’t in him,” he whispered to me, referring to “ King of the South,” who had just been brought out, to form the chief centre of attraction. Too much daylight under him, as I’ve always said ; and, besides, they’ve trained him too fine. He has a tired look, to my eye.” But, to my less experienced view, the big bay looked all that could be desired, and the animal to which Crusher now directed my attention had, I thought, more the look of a cross-country performer than of a flat-racer. “That’s the horse for my money,” said Crusher. “If they makes the pace anyways hot from the beginnin’, that’s the little animal as’ll do it.”

And “ Tour-de-Force,” as the horse was called, certainly did look like staying, whatever his turn of speed might have been. Dark brown in color, and nearly a hand lower than the favorite, he stood, nevertheless, over as much ground, and had an ugly, but gamelooking head, a deep girth, and short, flat legsThen came Walter’s wonderful horse; a bright chestnut, in magnificent condition, and looking, to the superficial observer, the very picture of a racehorse, but with a general look of want of power about him, that made me tremble for Walter’s misplaced confidence. The preliminary canter is over, and the vast crowd settles itself once more to attention. A sharp squall sweeps over the course, and the horses are almost hidden by the gloom and the driving rain, as they go down to the start-ing-point. But, as they are marshalled into place, the clouds break, and the sun lights up with sudden brilliance the long, undulating line of gay jackets and caps. Once—twice—they start, only to be sent back into line again; but, at the third attempt, a vast, many-throated murmur proclaims that they are off. The dull thunder of hoofs sounds nearer and nearer, and past the stand they come like a flying rainbow—flying too fast, I say to myself, for Isandula’s chance.

“By Jove—what a pace to begin at!” says a man near us. “ That’s Cataract leading ! What he’s making play like that for, I can’t think!”

“ Sent to make the running for his stablecompanion, Tour-de-Force, you may depend on it,” answers another. Round the sweep; the white jacket on Cataract still in the van, and half-a-dozen horses already tailing out behind from the severity of the pace. “ Blamed if this ain’t a buster!” exclaimed Crusher. “ It’ll be ‘ bellows-to-mend’ with all but the stayers directly I There—Cataract’s had enough of it, for one!” he adds, as the white jacket sinks back into the ruck, and the green-and-gold of the favourite takes the lead, only to be joined immmediately by a second white jacket on Tour-de-Force, and—yes!—by the purple-and-black of Isandula. “You see!” says Walter, grasping my arm hard, only to let it go again, with a muttered anathema, as his horse’s short-lived effort comes to an end. The pace had been too good throughout for him, and, as they turn into the straight for home, I can see with my glass that the favorite has also had more than he likes of it. Still he leads, however, and, responding gallantly to his jockey’s call upon him, draws away from the white jacket that has hitherto hung upon him like a leech, as a tremendous yell arises of “The King—the King !” But it is not to be; the white jacket works steadily up again; for one breathless moment the King holds his own—then gives way once more—and a stentorian shout of “Tour-de-Force!” rends the air, to be followed, the next instant, by another yell, as a big black horse challenges the beaten favorite, passes him, and draws up to the white jacket. It is Dynamite, the second favorite. Up he comes—up and up—till the climax of excitement is reached, as the black and brown approach the winning-post neck and neck. “ Dynamite ! Dynamite /wins !” “ No— Tour-de-Force!”—and a culminating roar goes up from fifty thousand throats as the brown horse begins to draw away from his antagonist. Half-a-head!—a head—a neck! inch by inch—till the post is passed, and Tour-de-Force has won by half-a-length. “ Tour-de-Force, first; Dynamite, second ; King of the South, Third.” So say the numbers ; and, taking Walter’s arm in mine, I draw him away without a word.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

“ A narrow escape from certain death,” said a newspaper of the following morning, “ was experienced by one of the visitors to the racecourse, yesterday. Towards the conclusion of the races, when the platform of the Flemington Station was crowded, and just as a train from Melbourne was approaching, a man, who was dressed in full Highland costume, fell, or was pushed, over upon the line. He appeared to be under* the influence of drink, and must inevitably have been killed, but for the prompt and timely action of Mr. Sharpe Shuter, a gentleman connected with one of our contemporaries, who, at the imminent risk of his own life, sprang down after him, and succeeded in dragging him out of the way, when the advancing engine was within a yard of the spot.” The paragraph caught my eye, as I rode into town, from Cintra, and, strangely enough, one of the first persons I encountered when I left the railway-station, was the hero of the incident himself. “So you have been distinguishing yourself,” I said, tapping the newspaper with my finger, “It was Mucklebody you saved, of course!”

“ Yes,” he replied. “ Mucklebody it was. But, for Heaven’s sake, my dear fellow, say no more about it ! Heard too much* of the matter this| morning already. Almost sorry I pulled him out of the way.” “ Well, I’ll say no more on the subject, except to ask you how the old fellow feels about it.” “ Far more grateful than there’s any need for. Do anything for me. Wants to make me his heir.”

“ And upon my word, I don’t see wiry he shouldn’t. He has no near relatives,” Shuter shook his hea<d. “Don’t you!” he said. “ I do. Like my independence, wouldn’t sacrifice it for all his money.” “I don’t see that yoit need do so at all,” I answered. “At any ra|te you can’t prevent him from making you his heir if he should insist upon it.”

“ Could refuse to benefit by the will,” said Shuter. Idle talk this, though. Tough old bird, Mucklebody ! Live as long as myself, perhaps. Seen anything of Walter Addison, this morning?” “ No; lam going to his office now.” “Are you? Met him yesterday evening. Seemed cut up about something. Hard hit over the cup, perhaps.” “ Well, yes ; I am committing no breach of confidence in telling you that he lias lost some money, but there are other causes for his depression, which I am not at liberty to mention.”

“Ha ! Just so ! Not asking out of curiosity, you know. Only wanted to say, that if he wants rousing, you’d better bring him with you to the next meeting of the Kangaroo Club.” “ The Kangaroo Club ?—what is that ?”

“ Kind of comic club. I have the honor to be a member. Meets once a fortnight. Meets to carry on a lot of sheer nonsense, too, if the truth must be told. Very good thing, though, nonsense, sometimes. So, if Walter wants shaking up, bring him along with you to our next meeting. Just let me know; send your cards whenever you please. Good-morning ; must be off !” When I reached M‘Phuri’s office, however I found Walter in better spirits than I had, expected. His fund of hopefulness appeared to be inexhaustible.

“ Don’t make yourself uneasy about me, my dear sir,” he said. “As I told you, I have still got Hope left, and I am far—very far—from despairing! You see you were right after all, about the value of my tip.” “ Say no more about that now —but profit by it in the future. What are you going to do with yourself this evening ?” “ Oh; that reminds me; lam going to dine at M'Phun’s again, and he wants you to come too. He has been more fortunate than I have; some good fairy induced him to back Tour-de-Force. Will you come ?” “ Oh, yes ; who is to be there ?”

“ Only Shuter and Mucklebody. The Reverend Samuel has fallen greatly in Miss M‘Crankie’s favour, since she heard of his getting tipsy, and, by-the-way, I must caution you not to mention her nephew’s good luck before her. Horse-racing is anatftema maranatha with the old lady, you know.” “ I’ll be careful. Where shall I meet you ?” “ Say tho Flinders-strect Station, at seven o’clock.”

“ Very good ; I’ll be there. I see you are busy, so I’ll not detain you any longer. Nothing like work, to keep one from brooding over misfortune!”

Returning to Cintra about mid-day, I met Silas Stone coming out of the gates. “ Well, Mr. Stone,” I said, “ I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Shuter. Have you heard of his conduct at the Flemington racecourse yesterday ?” “ I have heard of it, friend,” said the Quaker. “ Verily it was a noble and a valiant act, but I would the young man were of another calling in life.” This last remark was made more to himself than to me, but, thinking to do the lovers a good turn, I answered it. “ Perhaps, Mr. Stone,” I said, “ a wider acquaintance with the literary profession would serve to remove your prejudice against it.” “ I beg of thee to call me Silas, friend,” returned the Quaker, with a smile, as he turned to go his way;” and, as regards what thou callest my prejudice, I am not inclined to discuss it with thee!”

“A dry old gentleman,” I said to myself, as I pursued my way towards the house. “ I wonder how he can be so forbearing with that young scoundrel, Harrison!” I found the little Quakeress bent demurely over her work, as usual, though a bright flush on the soft, fair cheek,-seemed to indicate that she had heard of Shuter’s behaviour. Paola, too, had a look on her face, that told me she had, as I expected, been made aware of the state of affairs, between Ruth and her lover. A sense of similarity in their positions, had drawn the two girls together, and, Paola stood, when I entered, looking down like some pale, pitying angel, upon the little fair head. The Count, xvitii the everlasting cigar in his mouth, stood ruminating by the window. “ We have been talking of Shtuer’s action yesterday evening,” he said. “ You have heard of it, of course, Raymond!” “ Yes; I have seen Shuter himself.” “ Who is the man he rescued ? He was in full Highland garb, it seems.” “Yes; his name is Mucklebody. I know him myself very well, and I saw him on the racecourse during the day. He has recently come in for a large amount of property, and I fear he is rather upset by his good fortune; which is a pity, for he is not a bad sort of fellow. Uncouth, perhaps, and uncultivated, but good-natured and jovial. I am to meet both him and Shuter to-night at dinner, when I shall probably hear all the particulars of the affair. I fear we shall have a storm though,” I added, as I walked to the window and looked out upon a lurid and threatening sky. Across the belt of trees which surrounded the house, I could see the ships at anchor in the bay, and, noticing something unusual in their appearance, I took a marine-glass from the table, where it always stood, and made out, with its assistance, that they were sending down topgallant-yards and masts in anticipation of a heavy blow. The glassy surface of the water reproduced the dull, coppery glare of the sky, and the ensign and pennant of a corvette which lay nearest to me hung limp and motionless, in the still, stifling air. Suddenly, a steel-blue ribbon of light darted zig-zag through the low bank of indigo-colored clouds that shut in the western horizon, and, following its course towards the south, my eye fell upon the gardener, crossing the main path of the shrubbery. “Ha ! —I had forgotten you,” I said to myself. “I’ll speak to you at once!” and, descending the steps of the terrace, as a long peal of thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, I strolled down to where Derrick was placing his tools in a wheelbarrow.

“ Going to have some heavy weather, sir,” he said, preparing to wheel his load away. “ Put that down for a moment, will you,” I said—“ I want to speak to you. I saw you on the racecourse yesterday.” “ Yes, sir,” he said, as he put down the wheelbarrow. “Is there anything strange in that ?” and he looked me straight in the face, with his quiet, unfathomable eyes. “ Nothing strange in that, certainly; but can you tell me who was the man I saw you in conversation with on the hill?”

“ I spoke to a good many men, sir,” he returned, without moving a muscle. “ This was a man about my height, and about as heavy as you are—a man with small, light eyes and rough, sandy whiskers.” “ Oh, that man!” said Derrick, with the faintest possible change of expression. “That man is a gardener, like myself, sir.” “ Ah —like you! And, perhaps, like you, he is also a— What was it? a mechanician, eh ? Now, look here, Mr. Derrick, I happen to know that the fellow is a professional housebreaker, who goes by the name of Brummagem Ike.” Well, sir, you may know more about him than I do.” “ I know so much about him that I think your acquaintance with him, taken in connection with other circumstances—other circumstances, mind I —” I repeated, pointedly, “ requires an immediate explanation !” “ I owe no explanation to you, sir,” returned Derrick, quietly. “ True; but you do owe one to your employer; and though, on account of the service you once did me, I have not yet spoken

to him, you may be sure that, were I to do so, he would not retain in his service a man who is the companion of burglars.”

“ You are taking the latter fact for granted, sir; but, as regards the Count’s employment, I am going to leave it, at anyrate.” “ Indeed ! When ?”

“ I shall give him notice to-night, and leave at the end of a week—or as much sooner as he can spare me.” “ That alters the case,” I said. “If you are really going, I shall have no need to speak to the Count about you.” “ I am really going,” returned Derrick, as he grasped the handles of his barrow once more, “ and you will have no need to speak to the Count about me.”

Was it fancy, or was it an illusory effect of the lightning that flickered over us at that instant, that made me think I saw a momentary smile of derision on his face, as, in a tone of half-mockery, he thus repeated my words? Before I could decide, a crashing peal of thunder brought down a sudden torrent of rain, and drove me into the house.

The storm continued in full force until it was almost time for me to take my departure for M‘Phun’s, when it slackened considerably, so that when I bade the Count good-evening on the terrace, there was no rain falling, and the thunder had ceased for the time, though the lightning was as vivid and incessant as ever. As yet, however, there had not been a breath of wind, and Paola’s voice came clear to me through the still sultry air, as I reached the bottom of the steps. “ Are we to expect you back to-night, Mr. Raymond?” she asked. “ No, Signorina ; it will probably be late when we separate, and I shall stop the remainder of the night in town with Walter Addison.”

It was pitchy dark as I answered, but scarcely had the last word left my lips, when a flash of the most intense brilliance lit up the scene with a blue ghastly glare; lit up the white front and dark windows of the house; showed me the garden chairs under the verandah, and the tall vases along the edge of the terrace; revealed every feature of the Count and his daughter, and revealed, at the same time, a dark figure, standing at the angle of the building, some twenty yards away. “ Derrick, again !” I said to myself. “He has heard me say I shall not be home till tomorrow. I wonder if there is anything wrong on foot for to-night! Those things have not gone to the bank yet, and this would be just the night for robbers. I think I had better come quietly back, after all—just to see that matters are safe?”

CHAPTER XXXIX.

The dinner at M‘Phun’s passed off without anything of special note. Miss M‘Crankie appeared somewhat depressed by the blow which her faith had received from the backsliding of the Reverend Samuel; the host was quietly hospitable as usual; and Mucklebody, no way toned down by his narrow escape from destruction, made his appearance fn the same excellent spirits and the same wonderful coat as before. Truly grateful to Shuter he was, nevertheless, and, though he made his preserver uncomfortable by frequent facetious references to the accident, it was evident that his feelings on the subject were deeper than he wished them to appear. “ There was nane but yersel’,’’ he said to Shuter, “ wad pu’ the feckless auld Scot’s body aff the line, an’ A’m glad for yere sake, laddie, he’s no’ the puir fallow they dootless thocht him!”

“ No more about it, my dear sir,” said Shuter. “ Makes me ancomfortable ! Really does! Let us have a song.” “ Ay, a’ll gi’e ye a sang, if ye wush, but for a’ that a maun repeat that its prood ye ought tae be, an’ no uncomfortable; an’ while Saunders Mucklebody has a bodle in the warld, its na his ain as muckle as its khairpe Shuter’s!” The improvement in the weather had been but temporary, and when our little party broke up, the storm was raging with greater fury than ever. “ This is somethink awful,” said the driver of our hansom, as Walter and I stepped into it. “ It’s as much as I can do to keep this old hoss from boltin’, an’ he ought to know what Australian lightnin’ is, too, by this time!”

My thoughts now reverted to the Count’s gardener, and, as well as I could, for the deafening and incessant thunder, I made Walter acquainted with my apprehensions. “By Jove!” he exclaimed, “if you think there’s any danger we’ll drive right out there and have a look at the place.”

Our course was accordingly altered, and after an hour’s driving in alternate pitchy darkness and ghastly illumination, we found ourselves nearing Cintra. Rain was again beginning to fall, and the wind, which had sprung up strong from the southward, howled and whistled through the surrounding trees, as we turned into the lane which, as has been said, formed a* loop round the entire premises. It was probably this sound of the trees which prevented our approach from being heard by a man who was posted at the back entrance. A flash of lightning revealed him, standing alone under the wall, but, catching sight of the cab at the same moment, he gave a shrill whistle and made off.

“Never mind him!” gl said, catching Walter by the arm as he was preparing to give chase. “To the house—to the house with all speed !” Even as I spoke the report of a pistol came sharply to us through the howling of the storm, and, mounting on the roof of the cab, we reached the top of the wall and scrambled down inside as best we could.

“ This way!” I said, as, rushing swiftly through the back offices, I opened a small gate that led to the shrubbery, and we found ourselves beneath the study window. In the haste and darkness I came suddenly, and violently against some object which stood in the way ; but just then the lightning flashed and showed us a ladder, while at the same instant the loud whistle of another sentinel sounded from the bushes close by. Alarmed by the signal, a man came out of the window above us, and hastily descended the ladder, to be seized by us the moment he came within reach. Extraordinary strength, however, he possessed, for, though Walter and myself were anything but weak men, we found our united exertions barely sufficient to hold him. There was a short, fierce struggle on the wet ground. Once the lightning shone out and showed us that our prisoner was masked ; again it flashed—the mask had fallen off, and the face was Derrick’s !

“ It is you, then, you scoundrel !” I said, between my clenched teeth, as I exerted all my strength to pin him to the earth, but at that instant a woman’s cry came from the open window above us. It was Paola’s voice, and, forgetting everything else, Walter let go his hold and sprang up the ladder. Then I felt the burglar lift me from the ground like a child—there was a crash—and I remembered no more till I found myself lying on a sofa in the breakfast-room, with the Count engaged in binding up my head, while round us in a group stood all the alarmed inmates of the house.

“Lie quiet for a little, Raymond,” said the Count, “ and there will be no need of a doctor. You have had an ugly knock, and have been so long coming round that I was beginning to fear concussion of the brain, but you’ll do very well now.” “But tell me—have you caught the fellows?” I asked feebly, as my eyes wandered from one to another of the group—Paola and

Ruth—Walter, Baldovino,’the cabman, and three quaking maidservants. “ No ! Walter and the cabman chased them for some distance, but the night was too wild to give any chance of tracing them.” “ How did I come by this ?” I said, sitting up on the sofa and touching my head. “ I suppose the robber struck me with some instrument.”

“ I don’t think so. From the position in which we found you, I suspect he gave you a violent fall, and brought your head against the wall of the house. But we must get you to bed, and we can talk matters over to-morrow. Addison here will report the matter to the police, and come out to breakfast with us in the morning,” and the Count clasped Walter’s hand with a warmth which told me that the stirring events of the night had materially altered the position of affairs between them. Paola gazed at them with something like a tear in her proud eye, and the little Quakeress looked on with a quiet primness which was proof against the strangeness of the scene, as well as against a certain incompleteness of costume on her own part. “ What are you going to do about the safety of the house for the remainder of the night ?” I asked the Count, “ The house is safe enough now, I take it,” he said ; “ but I shall sit up in the study till morning.” “ I wish you’d let me keep you company,” I said. “ I feel too much excited to sleep.” “ You would be better in bed, nevertheless ; but you can come with me if you like. Now, get to bed, Paola—Ruth—everybody !” and, as soon as Walter and the cabman had gone, the Count took my arm in his, and led the way to the study. The room presented a scene of great confusion. The antique cabinet had been broken open, and a large portion of its valuable contents removed, but a well-filled sack upon the floor showed that the burglars had been obliged to leave their booty behind them. The table was overthrown, and the floor strewn with the fragments of a large Dresden vase, which had stood on it; a statuette of Diana had been decapitated by its fall from a bracket near the window, and between the divided head and trunk lay a revolver, which I recognised as the Count’s. “ There was a shot fired,” I said, picking up the pistol, and finding that one chamber had been discharged—“ and, ah I —here is blood on the floor.”

“ Yes; sit down, and I will tell you all I know,” said the Count, placing a decanter and glass beside me. “Take some wine if you should feel any faintness, and, in the meantime, a Manilla wont hurt you. It was Paola who fired that shot,” he went on, when we had lighted our cheroots; “ and, what is more, she brought down her man! But, to begin at the beginning; I had sat up till nearly two o’clock, writing, and must have slept soundly after going to bed, for I heard nothing of the robbers until the report of the pistol awoke me. Paola, however, it seems, had heard a noise in the study, and, cautiously leaving her room, which is on the same floor, she glided up to the door, and saw two men filling a sack with the contents of the cabinet by the light of a dark lantern. Swiftly and noiselessly she made her way to my dress-ing-room, and, taking the revolver from a drawer, returned to the study door, and fired through the chink at the man nearest her. Why she did not first arouse me I do not exactly understand ; perhaps she was influenced by a generous fear for her father’s safety, or perhaps she acted at the bidding of the impulsive courage which is a part of her character. Like the courage of women in general, however, it failed her at the critical instant; the moment she had .fired the shot she seemed, she told me, to lose all power of motion, and stood gazing helplessly into the room, until the man, who had been only slightly wounded, sprang to his feet again, and dragged her in. He seemed to be mad with pain and fury, and, not noticing the pistol, which she had let fall, had drawn a sheath-knife upon her, when his comrade, who was in the act of getting out of the window with the plunder, jumped back, and struck the weapon out of his hand. “ Did your daughter recognise the other man ?” I asked. “ No; they both wore masks.” “ Ah, I had forgotten : go on please.” “Well, just then, there came a loud whistle from below, and flinging down the sack, the last-mentioned robber disappeared through the window; but the other ruffian, blind apparently to every consideration but revenge, picked up the knife,and again attacked Paola.. Ignorant of the direction from which the report of the pistol had come, I had lost some time in finding the place, and only reached the study, in time to see Walter Addison spring through the window, and knock over the burglar, in the very act of drawing back his arm for a stab.”

The Count stopped; he was undemonstrative to a degree, but the recollection of his daughter’s imminent peril, choked his utterance for a few moments.

“ Perhaps the fellow only meant to frighten her,” I said.

“No !” was the reply. “ The light of the lantern fell full upon his face, and showed murder written there unmistakably. I owe Addison my daughter’s life, beyond a doubt! But the man, as he rolled upon the floor, extinguished the light, and, as I rushed forward, Walter seized upon me in the darkness. Instantly discovering his mistake, however, he followed the burglar through the window, and, in company with the cabman, gave chase to him through the grounds, but the storm and darkness favoured the rascal’s escape, and they soon lost all trace of him.

“ Did Derrick give you notice, last night, that he was going to leave your employment ?” I asked. • ,

“ Yes; he did,” said the Count, surprised at the change of subject. “ Why do you ask ?” “ Because Derrick was the other burglar,” I answered, and went on, much to my listener’s astonishment, to tell him the story of my suspicions of the evening before, and how they had led me to return to Cintra, instead of stopping in town as I had intended. “I thank you sincerely for your thoughtfulness,” said the Count, warmly grasping my hand when I had finished. “ This then accounts for Addison’s opportune appearance on the scene.”

“ Pardon the question, Count, at such a time,” I said, after a few moments of silence; “ but you know I am interested in Walter Addison’s happiness, and that happiness is bound up in your daughter. Will this occurrence make any difference in his position with regard to her?” “It will make just this difference,” returned the Count, slowly—“ that he' shall have my permission to marry Paola as soon as she will have him ! Do not mistake me ; my old objections to the match remain in full force, but everything must give way to the consideration that, but for you and Walter, I should, in all probability, have had no daughter at all by this time.”

“ Don’t forget, Count, that Derrick prevented his comrade from using the knife in the first instance.”

“I do not forget it, and if he should bo captured, the fact shall be duly brought forward in his favour. There is the dawn breaking ; a I shall not go to bed, but I advise you to have a nap.” “ But what about the pecuniary objections to this match ? ” I said, as I rose to go. “ Walter will not accept assistance in that way from either of us.” “ There you have me on the hip ! ” said the Count, smiling; “and I shall have to do what I have not often found necessary—eat

my words! I said that I would not provide Walter with an income, and he said that he would not accept one from me. Be it so but let them marry, and there is nothing to prevent me from bestowing what I please upon my daughter, is there? ” CHAPTER XL. When I opened my eyes, after some four hours sleep, I found the Count seated by the bedside. “ What is the matter ? ” I said, starting up. “Is there anything fresh ? Why didn’t you wake me?” “I have not been waiting long,” he answered. “But first tell me how you feel about the head.” “ Oh, all right!—but for a slight pain* about the broken spot.” “No dullness—no confusion of ideas?” “ No—nothing of the kind ! ” “I am glad to hear it; I felt rather doubtful about the case when we picked you up. And now for my news ; you remember that I asked Walter to comeato breakfast with us this morning ? ” “ Yes! ” “ Well, he is here now, and I was looking forward with pleasure to the communication I intended to make to him, when the post brought me this letter. Read it! ” Surprised at his manner, I took the letter and read with still greater surprise the following lines: “ Count Giustiniani is hereby informed that the young man to whom his daughter is to be married has no right to the name he bears—nor to any other name. He is the child of shamb, and his supposed father is not his father at all. Let Count Giustiniani put this to the proof, and the writer accordingly. (To be continued.)

ON THE SPUR OF THE MOMENT.

It is frequently observed that names, utterly unknown before, rise suddenly into notice, and become for a time household words, solely through their owners having been able at some critical time to act on the spur of the moment. To such occurrences our army and navy records can testify; battles have been won, ships saved, lives rescued, and heroic deeds performed, solely by some one being able to act on the impulse of the moment. Occasionally, however, very awkward consequences have been known to follow frotn acting on the spur of the moment. It is related of Lord Ellenborough that, when, on one occasion, he was about to set out on circuit, his wife expressed a wish to accompany him, a proposition to which his lordship assented, provided there were no bandboxes tucked under the seat of his carriage, as he had too often found there had been when honored with her ladyship’s company before. Accordingly, they both set out together, but had not proceeded very far before the judge, stretching out his legs under the seat in front of him, kicked against one of the flimsy receptacles which he had specially prohibited. Down went the window with a bang, and out went the band box into the ditch. The startled coachman immediately commenced to pull up, but was ordered to drive on, and let the thing lie where it was. They reached the assize town in due course, and his lordship proceeded to robe for the court. “ And now, where’s my wig?—where’s my wig?” he demanded, when everything else had been donned. “ Your wig, my lord,” replied the servant, tremulously, “was in that bandbox your lordship threw out • of the window as we came along.” Second thoughts are generally said to be best; and an old adage bids us “ think twice before we speak once.” In these go-ahead times, however, scarcely any one but a very slow person indeed would consider it sound policy to follow to the letter these really kind and inestimable precepts, laid down for our guidance by our great-great-grandparents. Yet, remarks made on the spur of the moment have not unfrequently a meaning which was not quite what the speaker wished to convey. For instance, two ladies having missed “ the meet,” drew up their pony-trap, and one of them accosted the old gamekeeker who was passing: “Do you know where the hounds are, Robins ?” “ Y’re just too late, ma’am,” was the answer; “ the gentlemen be all gone.”—On another occasion, a matter-of-fact corporal was compelled to bring a refractory soldier before his superiors, and his account of the delinquent ended in this way : “ Why, you see, Major, he thinks he cap go out whenever he likes, and come in when he likes, swagger about, tell lies, get tipsy—and in fact, sir, behave just as if he was an officer.”—Again, two gentlemen met in the City, and at parting, one said : “ Well, you’ll look us up at Primrose Hill—near the “ Zoo,” you know?”—“With pleasure, my dear fellow,” was the response; my children have been anxious for some considerable time to see the monkeys.” These and other similar expressions are doubtlessly spoken innocently, and without due consideration as to their consequences. During a wild and raging storm at sea, the chaplain nervously asked one of the crew if he thought there was any serious danger to be apprehended. “ There is, and no mistake,” replied the sailor. “If it keeps on blowing as hard as it does now, I reckon we shall all be in Paradise before twelve o’clock to-night.” The chaplain, terrified at the answer, cried out: “ Shall we? Heaven forbid.” Circumstances alter cases ; and words hastily'uttered and passed unnoticed at one time, would not be perhaps seriously countenanced at another. We must therefore make many allowances for what is spoken on the spur of the moment.

Once, when Bishop Burnet was preaching before Charles 11., the preacher became much warmed with this subject, and having given utterance to a certain doctrine in a very earnest manner, he, with great vehemence, struck his clenched hand upon the desk and cried out in a loud voice: “ Who dare deny this ?”— “ Faith,” observed the king, in a key very little lower than that of the preacher, “ nobody that is within reach of that great fist of yours.” This took place about a couple of centuries ago, when the habits and customs of the people were rather different from those of the present day. Were an interruption of a similar kind to occur now, it would probably be thecause of no slight confusion. Freedom of thought is, however, very natural, as the following instance will show. The butler of a certain Scottish laird, who had been in the family a number of years, at last resigned his situation, because his lordship’s wife was always scolding him. “Oh !” exclaimed his master, “if that be all, ye’ve very little to complain of.” — “ Perhaps so,” replied the butler; “ but I have decided in my own mind to put up with it no longer.”—“ Go, then,” said his lordship ; “ and be thankful for the rest of your life that ye’re not married to her.” In this case, the grievance of the faithful domestic, and the humorous admission of his master, point at once to that disagreeable tenant known as the skeleton which is said to inhabit every man’s household.

Another example may be taken as a “ diversity of opinion,” and thoroughly applicable to our subject, but by no means flattering to the’ principal speaker. Some years ago, a clergyman in Perthshire, who was considered more skilful as an angler than popular as a preacher, was once giving advice to a parishioner on the benefits of early rising, and mentioned, as an instance, that a few mornings ago, he had, before breakfast, composed a sermon and killed a salmon. “In fact,\

added the parson, “it is an achievement on which I plume myself greatly.” “ Aweel, sir,” replied the man, “ I would much rather ha’e yer salmon than yer sermon.” It is, without doubt, entirely to speaking; on the spur of the moment that we arc indebted for these humorous outbursts. In the “ good old times,” a carpenter, who could not get his money for two gibbets that had been bespoke, refused to make a third, and an execution was, in consequence, delayed. The jailer being called to account, blamed the carpenter, who was at once summoned before the judge—a gentleman, by the way, somewhat remarkable for his severity, The judge demanded of the carpenter the reason why the work had not been done. “ I refused,” said the man, “ to make a third gallows, because the jailer had not paid me for the two first.”—“But you must understand,” said the judge, rather angrily, “that I myself ordered this one.”—“ Oh, in that case,” said the carpenter, “ I will make it at once. It should have been ready long before this, if I had only known the gallows had been for your lordship.” We may remark, too, how vastly interesting it is to contemplate the activity aud perseverance, which almost every individual exhibits in his own individual interest. Cooke the tragedian, was in the habit of giving passes to a widow lady, who, upon one occasion, occupied a prominent seat in the pit, with her little girl, when their friend, the performer, was about to meet an untimely end by a stage-rival. As the villainous-looking assassin, armed with a deadly weapon, stealthily drew near to accomplish his wicked purpose the maiden, roused by the supposed imminence of his danger, started up, anxiously exclaiming : “ Oh, pray don’t kill him! don’t kill him ! For if you do, he won’t give us any more orders for the pit.” We can readily conjecture how >he gravity of the situation was upset by this sudden outburst of feeling—undeniably tfpoken on the spur of the moment. Simplicity, however, according to Longfellow, is ‘ in character, in manners, in style, and in all things, the supreme excellence.’ “ Patrick,” said any Irish gentleman to his servant one morning, “I heard last night, from undoubted authority, that you have had the audacity to go and tell some people, that I was a shabby old rascal, a mean fellow, and anything but a gentleman. I am told that these are your exact words.” —“ Bedad, sor,” replied Pat, “ and it’s there ye’re quite wrong. I can assure you, sor, that I don’t tell me private thoughts to every wan.” Steele laid down the maxim that it was decidedly wrong to allow any one to be so familiar with you as to praise you to your face. We are told that the wives of men of sentiment invariably adopt this rule, and are not always the most appreciative of women. It is related of Siebenkees, an eminent German scholar, that having finished reading one of his beautiful imaginings to his wife, who appeared to be listening with bated breath, and eyelids cast down, he closed the book with inward satisfaction at the completion of his labours, only to hear the sharer of his joys exclaim: “My dear, pray don’t put on your left stocking to-morrow —I see there is a hole in it.” There was evidently neither praise nor encouragement in this remark, but the reader will perceive it was made on the spur of the moment.

Sometimes the greatest compliments, by being awkwardly expressed, may tend to give offence. A clergyman in the country had a stranger to officiate for him one day, and meeting his beadle afterwards, he said to him : “ Well, Dougall, how did you like last Sunday’s preaching ? ” —“ It was a great deal owre plain and simple for me,” replied the beadle. “I like sermons that jumble the judgment and confound the sense. Od, sir, I never saw ane that could come up to yourself at that! ”

It was Pope who remarked, that a person who is too nice an observer of the business of tho crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labour of the bees, will often be stung far his curiosity. Bishop Horne had his dignity considerably taken down when he arrived to take possession of the episcopal palace at Norwich in 1791. Being amazed at the number of spectators on the occasion, he turned round upon the steps and exclaimed : “ Bless us, bless us! what a concourse of people.”—“ Oh, my lord,” said a bystander, “this is a mere nothing to the crowd last Friday to see a man hanged.”—Another whimsical anecdote is related of the Duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV., who, riding in the Park on the road between Teddington and Hampton-wick, was overtaken by a butcher’s boy on horseback, with a tray of meat under his arm. “Nice pony that of yours, old gentleman,” said he. “ I’ll trot you a couple of miles for a pot of beer.” The Duke respectfully declined the match; and the lad, as he struck the heels of his boots in his horse’s side, exclaimed with a look of contempt: “I thought you was only a muff.”

In fact, from a king to the peasant, or a bishop to an errand-boy, all would appear to be occasionally “ tarred,” as it were, with the same brush. It is so pleasant, on the whole, to be able to speak one’s own mind ; and the absurdity often, if not always, lies in the sudden utterance of our thoughts. Two sons of an English aristocrat, were remarkable for hastiness of temper, which on certain occasions broke out into very indiscreet expressions. During a quarrel, and in the height of passion, one said to the other : “ You are the greatest ass in the world,” —“ Come, come, my lads,” said their highly incensed father; “ you forget that I am present.” Apropos to our subject, abundant materials might possibly be found in other countries besides our own, and such as would amply furnish us with food for reflection as wel as laughter. One instance may suffice. On one occasion, a colored preacher in New York, who was very popular, and who had overflowing audiences, was suddenly called upon to arrange his congregation a little more to the satisfaction of those in the rear. He did so at once by saying: “My dear bretheren, for mutual convenience, de forepart ob 1c church will please accommodate themselves and others by sitting down; so de hind-part of de church can see de forepart ; for de hind-part can’t see de fore-part ef de fore-part persist in stan’in* before de hind-part, to de utter exclusion ob de hindpart by de fore-part.” Nothing could be more lucid.

One more example, And we conclude these brief sketches. In a dancing-saloon one night, a sailor was asked by a messmate to explain to him in a few words and as quick as possible, the third figure of the quadrille. His description was as follows: “ You first of all heave ahead,” said he, “ and pass your adversary’s yard arms; then in a jiffy regain your berth on the o'ther tack in the same kind of order; slip along sharp, and take your station with your partner in line ; back and fill, and then fall on your heel, and bring up with your craft. She then manoeuvres ahead off along side of you ; then make sail in company with her until nearly astern of the other line ; make a stern board; cast her off to shift for herself; regain your place out of the m6l6e in the best manner you can, and let go your anchor.” I think we may take it for granted that not a word of this nautical programme was lost upon Jack’s intimate friend. On the other hand, it is equally as certain that if a landsman had received these instructions, he would have been as wise as ever. Due justice, however, must be given to Jack, who spoke evidently to the best of his ability, and on the spur of the moment.