ISHMAEL; Or, IN THE DEPTHS.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 437, 15 January 1890, Page 4

ISHMAEL; Or, IN THE DEPTHS.

By MRS EMMA D. E. IST. SOUTHWORTH,

Author of “Self-Raised,” “Fair Play.” “The Missinjr Bride.” “A Noble Lord, ’ “How He Won Her." “The Prince of Darkness,” "Tried for Her Life.” Etc.. Etc. CHAPTER XI. THE MARTYRS OF LOVE. She woke at length, but not as s'eepers wake. Rather the dead, for life seemed something new, A strange sensation which she must partake Perforce, since whatsoever met her view Struck not her memory; though a heavy ache Liy at her heart, whose earliest beat, still true, Brought back the sense of pain, without the cause. For, for a time the furies made a pause. Bykon. So Nora’s lifeless form was laid upon the bed. Old Mrs Jones, who had fallen asleep in her chair, was aroused by the disturbance, and stumbled up only h r lf awake to see what was the matter, and to offer her assistance. Old Jovial had modestly retired to the chimney corner, leaving the poor girl to the personal attention of her sister. Hannah had thrown off her shawl and bonnet, and was hastily divesting Nora of her wet garments, when the old nurse appeared at her side. ‘ Oh, Mrs Jones, is she dead?' cried the elder sister. ‘ No,’ replied the oracle, putting her warm hand upon the heart of the patient, ‘only in a dead faint and chilled to the marrow of her bones, poor heart! Whatever made her run out so in this storm ? Wheredid you find her ? had she fallen down in a fit ? What was the cause of it ?’ she went on to hurry question on question, with the vehemence of an old gossip starving for sensation news. ‘ Oh, Mrs Jones, this is no time to talk ! we must do something to bring her to life !’ wept Hannah. ‘ That’s a fact! Jovial, you good-for-nothing, lazy, lumbering nigger, what are ye idling there for, a-toasting of your crooked black shins? Put up the chunks and hang on the kettle directly,’ said the

nurse with authority. Poor old Jovial, who wa3 anxious to be of service, waiting only to be called upon, and glad to be set to work, sprang up eagerly to obey this mandate. Thank 3 to the huge logs of wood used in Hannah’s wide chimney, the neglected fire still burned hotly, and J' iolsoon had it in a roaring blaze around the suspended kettle. ‘ And now, Hannah, you had better get out her dry clothes and a thick blanket, and hang ’em before the fire to warm. And give me some of that wine and some allspice to heat,’ continued Mrs Jones. The sister obeyed, with as much docility as the slave had done, and by their united efforts the patient was soon dressed in warm dry clothes, wrapped in hot, thick blankets and tucked up comfortably in bed. But though her form was now limber, and her pulse perceptible, she had not yet spoken or opened her eyes. It was a half-an-hour later, while Hannah stood bathing her temples with camphor, and Mrs Jones sat rubbing her hands, that Nora showed the fiist signs of returning consciousness, and these seemed attended with great mental or bodily pain, it was difficult to tell which, for the stately head was jerked back; the fair forehead corrugated, and the beautiful lips writhed out of shape. 4 Fe ch me the spiced wine now, Hannah,’ said the nurse ; and when it was brought, she admi listered it by teaspoonfuls. It seemed to do the patient good, foi when she had mechanic lfy swallowed it, she Bighed as wth a sense of relief, sank back upon her pillow and closed her eyes. Her face had lost its look of agony ; she seemed perfectly at ease. In a little while she opened her eyes calmly and looked around. Hannah bent over her, murmur ing : 4 Nora, Nora, darling, how do you feel ? Speak to me, my pet !’ 4 Stoop down to me, Hannah ! low, lower still, 1 want to whisper to you.’ Hannah put her ear to Is ora’s lips. 4 Oh, Hannah, it was all true, he was married to another woman.’ And qs she gasped out these words with a great sob, her face became convulsed again with agony, and she covered it with her hands. 4 Do nor t>ke this so much to heart,sweet 6ister. Heaven knows that you were innocent and the earth shall know it, too ; as for him, he was a villain and a hypocrite not worth a tear,’ whispered Hannah. 4 Oh, no, no, no ; I am sure he was nob to blame. I cannot bell you why, because I know so little; but I feel that he was faultless,’ murmured Nora, as the spasm passed off, leaving her in that elysium of mere physical ease which succeeds great pain. Hannah was intensely disgusted by Nora’s misplaced confidence ; but she did nob contradict her, for she wished bo soothe, nob to excite the sufferer. For a few minutes Nora lay with her

eyes closed and her hands crossed upon her bosom, while her watchers stood in silence beside her beu. Then springing up with wild flaring eyes, she seized her sister, crying out : ‘ Hannah ! Oh, Hannah !’ ‘ What is it, my darling, darling child ?’ exclaimed Hannah in affright. ' I do believe I’m dying—and, oh ! I hope I am.’ ‘ Oh, no, ye ain’t a-dying, nyther : there’s more life than death in this ere ; Lord forgive yo, girl, for bringing such a grief upon your good sister,' said Mrs Jones, grimly. ‘ Oh, Mrs Jones, what, is the matter with her ? Has she taken poison, do you think ? She has been in a great deal of trouble tonight,’ cried Hannah, in dismay. ‘ No, it’s worse than pi’son. Hannah, you send that ere gaping and staring nigger right away directly ; this ain’t no place no longer, for no men-folks to be in, even s’posin’ they is nothin’ but nigger ere’turs.’ Hannah raised her eyes to the speaker. A look of intelligence passed between'the two women. The old dame nodded her head knowingly, and then Hannah gently laid Nora back upon her pillow, for she seemed at ease again now, and went to the old man and said :

‘Uncle Jovial, you had better go home now. Aunt Dinah will be anxious about you, you know.’ ‘ Yes, honey, I knows it, and I was only awaitin’ to see if I could be of any more use,’, replied the old man, meekly rising to obey. ‘I thank you very much, dear old Uncle Jovial, for all your gocdness to us to-night, and I will knit yoa a pair of nice warm socks to prove it.’ ‘ Laws, child, I don’t want nothing of no thanks, nor no sockßfor a-doin’ of a Christian man’s duty. And now. Miss Hannah, don’t you be cast down about this here misfortin’ ; it’s nothin’ of no fault of yours, everybody ’spects you for a well-conducted young oman ; an’ you is no ways ’countable for your sister's mishaps. Why, there was my own Aunt Dolly’s step-daughter’s husband’s sister-in-law’s son as was took up

for stealin’ of sheep. But does anybody ’spect me the less for that? No ! and no more won’t nobody you no less for poor mißforbinib Miss Nora. Only Ido wish I had that ere scamp, whoever he is, by the ha’r of his head ! I’d give his blamed neck one twist he wouldn’t’cover of in a hurry,’ said the old man, drawing himself up stiffly as he buttoned his overcoat. 4 And now good-night, chile ! I’ll send my ole oman over early in de moruin’ to fetch Miss Nora somefin nourishin’, an’ likewise to see if she can be of any use,’ said Jovial, as he took up his hat to depart. The snow had ceased to fall, the sky was perfectly clear, and the stars were shining brightly. Hannah felt glad of this for the honest old man’s sake, as she closed the door behind him. But Nora demanded her instant attention. That sufferer was in a paroxysm of agony stronger than any that had yet preceded it.

There was a night of extreme illness, deadly peril, and fearful anxiety in the but. But the next morning, just as the sun arose above the opposite heights of Brudenell, flooding all the cloudless heavens and the snow-clad earth with light and glory, a new life also arose in that humble hut upon the hill.

Hannah Worth held a new-born infant boy in her arms, and her tears fell fast upon his face like a baptism of sorrow. The miserable young mother lay back upon her pillow—death impressed upon the sunken features, the ashen complexion, and the fixed eyes. 4 Oh, what a blessing if this child could die!’ cried Hannah, in a piercing voice chat reached even the falling senses of the dying girl. There was an instant change. It was like the sudden flaring up of an expiring light. Down came the stony eyes, melting with tenderness and kindling with light. All the features were softened and illumined.

Those who have watched the dying are familiar with these sudden re-lundlings of life. IShe spoke in tones of infinite sweetness :

4 Oh, do nob say so, Hannah ! Do not grudge the poor little thing his life ! Everything else has been taken from him, Hannah ! —father, mother, name, inheritance and all! Leave him his little life ; it has been dearly purchased ! Hold him down to me, Hannah ; 1 will give him one kiss, if no one ever kisses him again.’ 1 Nora, my poor darling, you know that I will love your boy, and work for him, and take care of him, if he lives; only I thought it was better if it pleased God that he should go home to the Savour,’ said Hannah, as 6he held the infant down to receive his mother’s kiss.

4 God love you, poor, poor baby!’ said Nora, putting up her feeble hands, and bringing the little face close to her lips. 4 He will live, Hannah! Oh, I prayed all through the dreadful night that he might live, and the Lord has answered my prayer,’ she added, as she resigned the child once more to her sister’s care. Then folding her hands over her heart, and lifting her eyes towards Heaven with a look of sweet solemnity, and in a voice so deep, bell-likeand beautiful, that it scarcely seemed a human one, she said :

4 Out of the depths have I called to Thee, and Thou hast heard my voice.’ And with these sublime words upon her lips, she once more dropped away into sleep, stupor, or exhaustion - for it is difficult to define the conditions produced in the dying by the rising and the falling of the waves of life when the tide is ebbing The beautiful eyes did not close, but rolled themselves up under their lids ; the sweet lips fell apart, and the pearly teeth grew dry. Old Mis Jones, who had been busy with a sau epan O'er the fire, now approached the bedside, saying : 4 Is she ’sleep ?’ 4 1 do not know. Look at her, and see if she is,’ replied the weeping sister. 4 Well, I can’t tell,’ said the nurse, after a close examination. And neither could Ilypocrates if he had been there. 4 Do you think she can possibly live ?’ sobbed Hannah. 4 Well—l hope so, honey. Law, I’ve seen ’em as low as that come round again. Now lay the baby down, Hannah YVorth, and come away to the window ; I want bo talk to you without the risk of disturbing her.’ Hannah deposited the baby by its mother’s side, and followed the nurse. 4 Now you know, Hannah, you must not think as I'm a hard-hearted ole ’oman ; but you see 1 must go.’ 4 Go ! oh no ! don’t leave Nora in her low state! I have so little experience in these cases, you know. Stay with her ! I will pay you well if I am poor.’ ‘Child, it ain’t the tear of losin’ of the pay ; I’m sure you’re welcome to all I’ve done for you.’ ‘ Then do stay! It seems indeed that Providence himself sent you to us last night. What on earth should we have done without you ? It was really the Lord that sent you to us.’ 4 ’Pears to me it was Old Nick ! I know one thing: I shouldn’t a-come if I had known what an adventur’ I was a’goin’to have, mumbled the old woman to herself. Hannah, who did nob hear the words, spoke again : 4 You’ll stay ?’

‘Now, look here, Hannah Worth, I’m a poor old body with nothing but my character and my perfession ; and if I was to stay here, and nuss Nora Worth, 1 should jest lo«e both on ’em, and sarve me right, too ! What call have I to fly in the face of society ?’ H winah made no answer, but went and reached a cracked teapot from the top shelf of the dresser, took from it six dollars and a half, which was all her fortune, and came and put it in the hand of the nurse, saying: ‘ Here! take this as your fee for your last night’s work and go, and never let me see your face again if you can help it.’ ‘Now, Hannah Worth, don’t you be unreasonable—now, don’t ye ; drab the money, child ; I can live withoutib, I reckon ; though I can’t live without my character and my perfession ; heie, take it, child—you may want it bad afore all’s done ; and I’m sure I would stay and take care of the poor gal if 1 dared ; but now you know yourself, Hannah, that if 1 .was to do so, I should be a ruinated old’oman ; for there ain’t a respectable lady in the world as would ever employ me again.’ ‘ Bub I tell you that Nora is as innocent as her own babe ; and her character shall be cleared before the day is out i’ exclaimed Hannah,tears of rage and shame welling to her eyes. ‘ Yes, honey, I dessay; and when it’s done I’ll come back and nuss her for nothing, too,’ replied the old woman, dryly, as she pub on her bonnet and shawl. This done, she returned to the side of Hannah.

‘ Now, you know I have told you everything what to do for Nora ; and by-and-by, I suppose, old Dinah will come, as old Jovial promised ; and maybe she’ll stay and ’tend to the gal and child ; ’twon’t hurt her, you know, ’cause niggers ain’t mostly got much character to lose. Tuere, child, take up yourmoney ; I wouldn’t takeibfrom you, no more’n I’d pick a pocket. ; Good-bye.’ Hannah >vould have thrown the money

after the dame as she left the hut, but that Nora’s dulcet tones recalled her : 4 Hannah, don’t !’ She hurried to the patient’s bedside; there was another rising of the waves of life; Nora’s face, so dark and rigid a moment before, was now again soft and luminous. 4 What is it, sweet sister?' inquired Hannah, bending over her. 4 Don’t beAngry with her, dear ; she did all she could for us, you know, without injuring herself—and we had no right to expect that.’ 4 But—her cruel words !’ 4 Dear Hannah, never mind ; when you are hurt by such, remember our Saviour ; think of the indignities that were heaped upon the Son of God ; and how meekly He bore them, and how freely He forgave them.’

4 Nora,dear,you do nob talk like yourself.’ 4 Because lam dying, Hannah. My boy came in with the rising sun, and I shall go out with its setting.’ ‘No, no, my darling—you are much better than you were. Ido not see why you should die !’ .wept Hannah. 4 B it I do ; I am nob better, Hannah—l have only floated back. I am always floating, backwards and forwards, towards life and towards death ; only every time I float towards death I go farther and farther away, and I shall float out with the day.’ Hannah was too much moved to trust herself to speak. 4 Si-ter,’ said Nora, in a fainter voice, ‘ I have one last wish.’ 4 What is it, my own darling?’ 4 To see poor, poor Herman once more before I die.’ 4 To forgive him! Y T es. I suppose that will be right, though very hard,’ sighed the elder girl. 4 No, nob to forgive him, Hannah—for he has never willingly injured me, poor boy ; bub to lay my hand upon his head, and look into his big eyes, and assure him with my dying breath that I know he was not to blame ; for I do know it, Hannah.’ 4 Oh, Nora, what faith !’ cried the sister. The dying girl, who, to use her own words, was floating away again, scarcely heard this exclamation, for she murmured on in a lower tone, like the receding voice of the wind : 4 For if I do not have a chance of saying this do him, Hannah if he is left to suppose I went down to the grave believing him to be Dreacherous —it will utterly break his heart, Hannah ; for I know him, poor fellow he is as sensitive as as—any— ’ She was gone again out of reach. Hannah watched the change that slowly grew over her beautiful face; saw the greyness of death creep over it —saw its muscles stiffen into stone—saw tho lovely eyeballs roll upward out of sight—and the sweet lips drawn away from the glistening teeth. While she thus watched she heard a sound behind her. She burned in time to see the door pushed open, Herman Brudenell—pale, wild, haggard, with matted hair, and bloodshot eyes, and shuddering frame totter into the room. CHAPTER XII. Herman’s story. Thus lived—thus died she; never more on her Shall sorrow light or shame. She wasnotinado Through years of moons, the inner weight to bear Which colder hearts endure’till they arc laid By age in earth : her days and pleasures wers Brief but delightful—such as had not stayed Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell.— Byron. Hannah arose, met the intruder, took his hand, led him to the bed of death and silently pointed to the ghastly form of Nora. He gazed with horror on the sunken features, gray complexion, up-turned eyes of the once beautiful girl. ‘H.nnah, how is this? dying?’ he whispered, in a husky tone. ‘Dying,’ replied the woman solemnly. 4 So best,’ he whispered, in a choking voice.

4 So best,’ she echoed, as she drew him away to the distant window. 4 So best, as death is better than dishonour. Bub you ! Oh, you villain ! oh, you heartless, shameles- villain ! to pass off for a single man and win her love and deceive her with a false marriage !’

‘ Hannah ! hear me !’ cried the young man, in a voice of anguish. Bog! ask the judge and jury to hear you when you are brought to trial for your crime ! For do you think that I atn-agoing to let that girl go down to her g ave in undeserved reproach ? No, you wretch ! not to save from ruin you and your fine sisters and high mother, and all your proud, shameful race ! No, you devil ! if there is law in the land, you shall be dragged to jail like a thief and exposed in court to answerforyour bigamy; and all the world shall hear that you are a felon and she an honest girl who thought herself your wife when she gave you her love !’ ‘ Hannah, Hannah, prosecute, expose me if you like ! lam so miserable that I care not what becomes of me or mine. The earth is crumbling under my feet ! do you think I care for trifles? Denounce, but hear me ! Heaven knows I did not willingly deceive poor Nora ! I was myself deceived ! If she believed herself to be my wife, I fully believed myseJf to be her husband.’ 1 You lie !’ exclaimed this rude child of nature, who knew no lino word forfalsehood. ‘ Oh, it is natural you should rail at me ! But, Hannah, my sharp, sharp grief makes me insensible to mere stinging words. Yet if you would let me, I could tell you the combination of circumstances that deceived usboth !’ replied Herman, with the patience of one who, Having suffered the extreme power of torture, could feel no new wound. ‘Tell me, then!’ snapped Hannah, harshly and incredulously. He leaned against the window-frame and whispered :

‘I shall nob survive Nora long; I feel that I shall not; I have not taken food or drink, or rested under a roof, since I heard that news, Hannah. Well, bo explain—l was very young when I first met her—’ ‘ Met who?’ savagely demanded Hannah.

4 My first wife. She was the only child and heiress of a retired Jew-trades-man. Her beauty fascinated an imbecile old nobleman who, having insulted the daughter with “ liberal ” proposals, that were scornfully rejected, tempted the father with “honourable” ones, whrdi were eagerly accepted. The old Jew, in his ambition to become father-in-law to the old earl, forgot his religious prejudices and coaxed his daughter to sacrifice herself. And thus Berenice D’lsraeli became Countess of Hurstmonceux. The old peer survived his foolish marriage but six months, and died leaving his widow penniless, his debts having swamped even her marriage portion. His entailed estates went to the heir-at-law, a distant relation - ’ ‘ What in the name of Heaven do you think I care for your countesses ? I want to know what excuse you can give for your base deception of my sister,’ fiercely interrupted Hannah. *1 am coming bo that, lb was in the second year of the Countess Hur3tmonceux|s widowhood that I met her at Brighton. Oh, Hannah, it is nob in vanity, but in palliation of my offence that,,! tell you she loved me first. . And when a widow loves a single man, in nine cases out of ten she

will make him marry her. She hunted me down, ran me to earth— ’ 4 Oh, you wretch ! to say such things of a lady !’ exclaimed the woman, with indignation. 4 lt is true, Hannah, and in this awful hour, with that ghastly form before me, truth and nob false delicacy must prevail. I say then that the Countess of Hurstmoneeux hunted me down and ran me to earth, but all in such feminine fashion that I scarcely knew I teas hunted. I was flattered by her preference, grateful for her kindness and proud of the prospect of carrying off from all competitors the most beautiful among the Brighton belles; bub all this would nob have tempted me to offer her my hand, for I did not love her, Hannah.’ 4 What did tempt you then ?’ inquired the woman, contemptuously. 4 Pity ; I saw that she loved me passionately, and—l proposed to her.’ ‘Coxcomb! did you think she would have broken her heart if you hadn’t?’ 4 Yes, Hannah, to tell the truth, I did think so then ; I was but a boy, you know ; and I had that fatal weakness of which I told you—that which dreaded to inflict pain and delighted to impart joy. So I asked her to marry me. Bub the penniless Countess of Hurstmoneeux was the sole heiress of the wealthy old Jew, Jacob D’lsraeli. And he had set his mind upon her marrying a gouty marquis, and thus taking one step higher in the peerage ; so of course he would not listen to my proposal, and he threatened to disinherit his daughter if she married me. Then we did what so many others in similar circumstances do—we married privately. Soon after this I was summoned home to take pcssession of my estates. So I left England ; but not until I had discovered the utter unworthiness of the syren whom I was so weak as to make my wife. I did not reproach the woman, but when I sailed from Liverpool it was with the resolution never to return.’

4 YVell, sir ! even supposing you were drawn into a foolish marriage with an artful woman, and had a good excuse for deserting her , was that any reason why you should have committed the crime of marrying Nora ?’ cried the woman, fiercely. ‘Hannah, it was not until after I had read an account of a railway collision in which it was stated that the Countess of Hurstmoneeux was among the killed that I proposed for Nora. Oh, Hannah, as the Lord in Heaven hears me. I believed myself to be a free, single man, a widower, when I marred Nora ' My only fault was too great haste. I believed Nora to be my lawful wife until the unexpected arrival of the Countess of Hurstmoneeux, who had been falsely reported among the killed.’ 4 If this is so,’ said Hannah, beginning to relent, 4 perhaps after all you are more to be pitied than blamed.’ ‘Thank you, thank you, Hannah, for saying that ! But tell me, does she believe that I wilfully deceived her? Yet why should I ask ? She must think so ! appearances are so strong against me,’ he sadly reflected.

‘But she does nob believe it; her last prayer was that she might see you once more before she died, to tell you that she knew yon were not to blame,’ wept Hannah. 4 Bless her ! bless her !’ exclaimed the young man. Hannah, whose eyes had never once left the face of Nora, now murmured :

4 She is reviving again ; will you see her now’ ?’

Herman humbly bowed his head and both approached the bed. That power —what is it V—awe ?—that power that subdues the wildest passions in the presence of death, calmed the grief of Herman as he stood over Nora. She was too far gone for any strong human emotion ; but her pale, rigid face softened and brightened as she recognised him, and she tried to extend her band towards him.

He saw and gently took it, and stooped low to hear the sac ed words her dying lips were trying to pronounce. 4 Poor, poor boy ; don’t grieve so bitterly ; it wasn’t your fault,’ she murmured.

4 Oh, Nora, your gentle spirit may forgive me, but I never can forgive myself for the reckless haste that has wrought all this ruin !’ groaned Herman, sinking on his knees and burying his face on the counterpane, overwhelmed by grief and remorse for the great, unintentional wrong he had done ; and by the impossibility of explaining the cause of his fatal mistake to this poor girl whose very minutes were now numbered.

Softly and tremblingly the dying hand arose, fluttered a moment like a white dove and then dropped in blessing on his head. ‘May the Lord give the peace that He only can bestow ; may the Lord pity you, comfort you, bless you and save you forever, Herman, poor Herman !’ A few minutes her hand rested on his head, and then she removed it and murmured : ‘ Now leave me for a little while ; I wish to speak to my sister.’ Herman arose and went out of the hut, where he gave way to the pent-up storm of grief that could not be vented by the awful bed of death. Nora then beckoned Hannah, who approached and stooped low to catch her words. * Sister, you would not refuse to grant my dying prayers, would you ?’ ‘Oh, no, no, Nora !’ wept the woman. ‘ Then promise me to forgive poor Herman the wrong that he has done us : he did not mean to do it, Hannah.’ ‘I know he did not, love; he explained it all to me. The first wife was a bad woman who took him in. He thought she had been killed in a railway collision when lie married you, and he never found out his mistake until she followed him home.’ ‘I knew there was something of that sorb; bub I did nob know what. Now, Hannah, promise me nob to breathe a word to any human being of his second marriage with me ; it would ruin him, you know, Hannah ; for no one would believe but that he knew his first wife was living all the time. Will you promise me this, Hannah ?’ Even though she spoke with great difficulty, Hannah did not answer until she repeated the question. Then with a sob and a gulp the elder sister said—- * Keep silence, and let people reproach your memory, Nora ? How can Ido that ?’ ‘ Can reproach reach me —there ?’ she asked, raising her hand towards Heaven. ‘ Bub your child, Nora ; for his sake, his mother’s memor v should be vindicated !’

‘ At the expense of making his father out o felon ? No, Hannah, no; people will soon forget he ever had a mother. He will only be known as Hannah Worth’s nephew, and she is everywhere respected. Promise me, Hannah.’ * Nora, I dare not.’ ' ‘Sister, 1 am dying ; you cannot refuse the prayer of the dying.’ Hannah was silent.

‘ Promise me ! promise me ! promise me ! while my ears can yet take in your voice !’ Nora’s words fell fainter and fainter ; she was failing fast. ...... ‘Oh, Heaven, I promise you, Nora —the Lord forgive.me for it !’ wept Hannah. ‘ The Lord bless you for it, Hannah.’ Her voice sank into murmurs and the cold

shades of death crept over her face again ; but rallying her fast failine strength she gasped—‘My boy, quick ! Oh, quick, Hannah !’ Hannah lifted the babe from his nest and held him low to meet his mother’s last kiss.

‘ There, now, lay him on my arm, Hannah, close to my left side, and draw my hand over him : I would feel him near me to the very last.’ With trembling lingers the poor woman obeyed. And the dying mother held her child to her heart, and raised her glazing eyes, full of the agony of human love, to Heaven and prayed: 4 Oh pitiful Lord ! look down in mercy on this poor babe ! Take him under Thy care !’ And with this prayer she sank into insensibility. Hannah flew to the door and beckoned Herman. He came in, the living image of despair. And both went and stood by the bed. They dared not break the sacred spell by speech. They gazed upon her in silent awe. Her face was grey and rigid ; her eyes were still and stony ; and her breath and pulse were stopped. Was she gone ? No, for suddenly upon that face of death a great light dawned, irradiating it with angelic beauty aud glory; and onco more with awful solemnity, deep bell-like tones tolled forth the notes—- ‘ Out of the depths have I called to Thee, And Thou hast heard my voice.’ And with those holy words upon her lips the gentle spirit; of Nora Worth, ruined maiden but innocent mother, winged its way to Heaven. CHAPTER XIII. THE FLIGHT OF HERMAN. Tread sofily—bow the head— In reverent silence bow: There’s one in that poor shed, One by that humble bed, Greater than thou! - Oh,change! Stupendous change! Fled the immortal one ! A moment here, so low, So agonised and now— Beyond the sun! Caroline Bowles. For some time Hannah Worth and Herman Brudenell remained standing by the beside, and gazing in awful silence upon the beautiful clay extended before them, upon which the spirit in parting had leit the impress of its last earthly smile ! Then the bitter grief of the bereaved woman burst through all outward restraints, and she threw herself upon the bed and clasped the dead body of her sister to her breast, and broke into a tempest of tears and sobs and lamentations.

‘ Oh, Nora ! my darling ! are you really dead and gone from me forever ? Shall I never hear the sound of your light step coming in, nor meet the beamings of your soft eyes, nor feel your warm arms around my neck, nor listen to your coaxing voice, pleading for some little indulgence, which half the time I refused you ? ‘ How could I have refused you, my darling,, anything, hard-hearted that 1 was ! Ah ! how little did I think how soon you would be taken from me, and I should never be able to give you anything more ! Oh, Nora, come back to me, and I will give you everything I have—yes, my eyes, and my life, and my soul, if they could bring you back and make you happy ! ‘My, beautiful darling, you were the light of my eyes and the pulse of my heart and the joy of my life ! You were all that I had in the world ! my little sister and my baby, all in one ! How could you die and leave me all alone in the world, for the love of a man ? me who loves you more than all the men on the earth could love !

‘ Nora, 1 shall look up from my loom and see your little wheel standing still—and where the spinner ? I shall sit down to my solitary meals and see your vacant chair—and where my companion ? I shall wake in the dark night and stretch out ray arms to your empty place beside me—and where my warm, loving sister ? In the grave ! in the cold, dark, still grave! * Oh, Heaven ! Heaven ! how can I bear it ?—I, all day in the lonely house ! all night in the lonely bed ! all my life in the lonely world ! the black, freezing, desolate world ! and she in her grave ! I cannot bear it! Oh, no, I cannot bear it! Angels in Heaven, you know that I cannot! Speak to the Lord and ask Him to take me !

1 Lord, Lord, please to bake me along with my child. We are bub two; two orphan sisters ! I have grown grey in taking care of her! She oannotdo without me, norl without her! We were but two! Why should one be taken and the other left? It is nob fair, Lord ! I say it is nob fair !’ raved the mourner, in that blind and passionate abandonment of grief which is sure at its climax to reach frenzy, and break into open rebellion against . Omnipotent Power. And it is well for us that the Father is more merciful than our tanderest thoughts, for He pardons the rebel and heals his wounds.

The sorrow of the young man, deepened by remorse, was too profound for such outward vent. He leaned against the bedpost, seemingly* colder, paler and more lifeless than the dead body before him. At length the tempest of Hannah’s grief raged itself into temporary rest. She arose, composed the lorm of her sister, and turned and laid her hand upon the shoulder of Herman, saying, calmly : *lt is all over. Go, young gentleman, and wrestle with your sorrow and your remorse, as you may. Such wrestlings will be the only punishment your rashness will receive in this world ! Be free of dread from me. She left you her forgiveness as a legacy, and you are sacred from my pursuit. Go, and leave me with my dead.’ Herman dropped upon his knees beside the bed of death, took the cold hand of Nora between his own, and bowed his head upon it for a little while in penetenbial homage, and then arose and silently left the hut.

After he had gone, Hannah remained for a few minutes standing where he had left her, gazing in silent anguish upon the dark eyes of Nora, now glazed in death, and then, with reverential tenderness, she pressed down the white lids, closing them until the light of the resurrection morning should open them again. While engaged in this holy duty, Hannah was interrupted by the l’e-enbrarce of Hermau.

He came in tottering, as if under the influence of intoxication ; but we all know that excessive sorrow bakes away the strength and senses as intoxication does. There is such a state as being drunken with grief when we have drained the bitter cup dry ! ‘Hannah,’ he faltered, ‘there are some things which should be remembered even in this awful hour.’

The sorrowing woman, her fingers still softly pressing down her sister’s eyelids, looked up in mute inquiry. ‘ Your necessities and—Nora’s child must be provided for. Will you give me some writing materials ?’ And the speaker dropped, as if totally prostrated, into a chair by the table. With some difficulty Hannah sought and found an old inkstand/a stumpy pen and a scrap of paper. It was the best she could do. Stationery was scarce in the poor hub. She laid them on the table belore Herman. And with a trembling hand he wrote out a

cheque upon the local bank and put it into her hand, saying : ‘ This sum will provide for the boy, and set you and Grey up in some little business. You had better marry and go to the West, taking the child with you. Be a mother to the orphan, Hannah, for he will never know another parent. And now shake hands and say good-bye, for we shall never meet again in this world.’

Too thoroughly bewildered with grief to comprehend the purport of his words and acts, Hannah mechanically received the chequeand returned the pressure of the hand with which it was given. And the next instant the miserable young man was gone indeed. (To be continued.)