CHAPTER III..

Tuapeka Times, Volume II, Issue 58, 20 March 1869, Page 5

CHAPTER 111..

' The trembling accents of the tender tale

Of new born love."

French,

Morning service concluded, Mr. Buster accompanied the Deacon to his house, and whatever was the result of his interview it appears satisfactory to him, for his afternoon service was a perfect pasan of exultation. He described the joys of the marriage state in a manner that made his sister fidget in her pew, and caused a rosy blush to cover the face of Miss Fanny Harcus. All, things have an end, and even Mr. Buster's sermon proved no exception, so the congregation were duly dismissed with a benediction, and he and his sister hastened to the manse. In the evening it fell out that they sat alone in the comfortable parlour : she conscientiously plodding through a ponderous exposition on doctrine, he carelessly nursing his leg before the fire. " Jessie," he said at last. " Well, Eobert." " Keeping this house in order must be very troublesome," Baid he.

"I have not complained," she replied, with a little tartness. " No ; but I was thinking — that is, I — in fact, you know it's time you should have a holiday." No reply. " My income ia increasing daily, and with a little capital I might venture on taking a farm." still the sister showed no inclination to help him out.

"If I could only marry a wife with money." This he said rather timidly, for his sister had never quite lost the supremacy she exercised over him as a child.

" Say what you wish to say, Robert, and do not beat about the bush." .

" What do you think of Fanny Harcus."

"An ignorant conceited chit." This with great vigour.

" Well Jessie, I am sorry, for to tell you the truth I am engaged to Miss Harcus."

" "Will you send word to a porter to have my boxes removed tomorrow Eobet t ?

" Pooh j pooh ! Jessie," said Mr. Buster rather uneasily, "you must think over the matter before taking any rash step ; I shall leave you now and listen to your decision to-morrow."

He left the room and she sat looking into the fire thinking. She was one of those women who from constant repressionHn their youth, seem to have lost all traces of emotion, but who in reality feel with an acuteness none blessed with the gift of tears can know. So she sat thinking of the humble cottage where she had worked and stinted herself for the sake of that brother. Where she had rejoiced at his college successes, and planned additions to his scanty wardrobe, she thought of the little communicy where she Lad derived importance from his triumphs, and when she compared these happy days with the present, her heart grew very bitter. But more tender thouglits came. "It was very natural "she pled to herself, " for him to choose a helpmate, and to be desirous of getting up in the world." So she resumed her study of the big book in a melancholy, but not altogether unpleasant frame of mind' To feel a martyr, ia after all a great consolation.