UNWILLING WITNESS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7070, 16 February 1893, Page 4

UNWILLING WITNESS.

LITERATURE

.'CONTTKUBD.) The struggle ended as it mint alwayaond between young love and old decrees It was a relief at last when the marriage took place, two years Ellen’s position had eonae to that of a martvr prosecuted b? her brother for her faithfulness to her lover j for the mother had not been able to keep a consistent attitude ol protest, and long before the marriage took place had offored but a passive resistance. Her losses had weakened her power ol enduring the pain of those she loTcd. Toe risks ol Ellen’s marriage were in the future, while the sight of her unhappiness was an ever-present torture. Nor was it possible for a woman with Mrsßolewiu’s experience of men and of marriage to conceive what those risks yr-re likely to ha with one like Gnstis, She had no real conception of Bu«tis himself —a man who could not be relied upon even in the direction* for with a fatal inconsistency ho had not been at all weak in hik p-mnit of Ellen . He had been as true to his purpose as if the truth w»ro in him. There were times when B idewin wav ready t<> beliete that it was he who was the victim of halbcinii ion, «ud that Ellen’s ease was indeed one of so filled va< the house of that sen © of ol her outraged love which her muie presence conveyed. But on tb* day ol her marriago, in that search!ng light in which lore, acknowledged and triumphant, exhibits itself, Bodewin saw that he was not mistaken. In certain sure and subtile ways he 101 l th»t the bridegroom wss hopelessly beneath the dignity of his part. It cdald only be a question of time. It wss now thirteen years since the day of his sister’s marriage, and dur* ing ten of tho.*e years Bodewin bad hsld himself ready for tbo time when she would need him. His life had been ordered solely with reference to that time and that atonement he believed he would be permitted to make his sister for the husband he tad given her and the father he had given her children. Ha thought no more of marriage for himself than it bis mother and sister had been the only women in the world. He felt that bis sister he'd a mortage on his life, and year by year the unpaid interest went 'o swell the debt. Eustis took bis young wife to Virginia City, where ha began his business career as a broker in mines and real estate. In the course of a year or two he bad joined that wandering communi tv which follows the changes of luck from one mining camp to another. Bodewin made mines his business also, in a different way, partly that he night not lose sight of his sister on her hmblest pilgrimage, partly because the event had proved that he was no farmer, and be needed to put money in v ' ; 'hic purse for the time when his sister would accept his aionement. The mother still lived at Craoaborry Beach, in the retirement that suited her health and circumstances, with an unmarried sister a' her comj anion. Those lapses of m°mory wh cb had first warnod Bodewin of the break in his mother’s slreng h were now her greatest mercy. Ellen seldom wrote, never unless in times of cpmpara'ive prosperity ; ar*d act hesa grew moreand more infrequent the letters came at longer and longer intervals. They knew that children were born to her, tba'- she had lost children, bat ol the n«mele s s humiliation cf her life, of the eddy of shabby cares in which i'. went round and round, wearing into her soul, they could bnt silently cor jocture ; and as one prophecy after anoth -r ol all those that bad been made concerning her marriage fulfilled itself, s' s © wrapped hesell more and more closely in the fft’e she bad chosen, end bid her wounds with a pride that seemed all that was left of her love for her brother. The loving can never understand those who have ceased to love; and as little as he could comprehand the sundering of a Jife-tfe like that between himself and the sister ha had so innocently and hopelessly injured, still less could Bodewin fathom the mystery of a weak man’s hold on the life of a strong woman, who holds forlornly lo her own pure vow, as the sanctification of the shame it covers. One day, now three year* gone, in •be Mining Exchange in San Francisco, Bodewin took np a Deadwood paper, • week old by its da f e, and slw a notice of the death of Frank Eutis. His body had been found in the street, dead by bis own band ; * probable cause, domestic anxieties and drink.’ The notice was beaded, * Good-bye Frank P Bodewin learned more of the affair later' in Deadwood from Henry Wilkinson, a lawyer of bis acquaintance, with whom Eustis bad spoken last. Wilkinson had met Enstis about twelve o’clock Ihi night of hia death, as he was hurrying o»t of theVareities Theatre with the crowd. Eustis was hurrying along ' through a light fall of snow, bareheaded and half wild with drink. * For God’s sake, Henry, lend me five dollars 1’ he bad said I tzprer my wife and four children in by the stage to-morrow night, and I haven’t so much as a roof to put over their beads.’ •That wife-and-children game is about played, Fpank,’ bad been Wilreply. - Eustis r.bad v been kb fpr Bl f- roemtbs or more, pfthe ihiminent atri val of bis familv. * They are coming this time, by God I But they won’t find mo here I ’ were bis last words as be rau down the street, slipping and falling at last in the soft snow. WilkUiSf* bad polled bii» «p, *et

him on bia feet, brushed the snow 1 from his hair and neck, and, putting his own bat on his head, had lett him staring s»upidl/before him. . He was found the next morning, I stiff and cold, with his bead on the } kerbstone and a boll"l bole in the side j of it. The night following that morning EHen Eustis arrived with her children. There were but three. To the last Eoatis had not been able to help lying a little in an nni nporiant way. Hia wife bad come by sta;e, iwo hundred miles across thenonhem desert. She bad waited, in the last poor refuge where be had left her, for Eustin to return or send for her. His letters spoke of hia success in the new camp, but there were no ioclosures of money and no summons for her to join bins and share bis success, A.t last, when her means ol support were nearly exhausted, she had teken what money remained to her and desperately followed her hnsband, to what end she knew not, except that it could not be worse than the one she had in view. The roan who saved her from Using on that journey was Colonel William Harkins. As an experienced traveller, the Colonel had secured for himself the entire back seat of the , coach, and with lunch-basket, rugs, i sealskin coat, cigars, and japer novels, i had exacted to make the trip across I the frozen alkali plains in comparative i comfort. , It was just bis luck, so hs comi miserated himself as he surveyed bis j fellow passengers, to fled in front ot > him, occupying the middle seat, a wanf cheeked young mother with three a pretty, thinly-clad children, with f two Chinaman and a Jew * drummer ’ i riding on the forward seat.

(To be continued. )