RIVEN ASUNDER. OR, BERYL GRAYSON'S ORDEAL,

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8381, 15 March 1907, Page 2

RIVEN ASUNDER. OR, BERYL GRAYSON'S ORDEAL,

A UOMAHOE OF THE FAS FRANCISCO UI3ASTER.

By Julia Edwards,, Author of "The Little Mdow" "Sadia, the liosehvd," "Prettiest of AIL" "Stella Sterling," l -l.curr Brai/toi), ' etc.

CHAPTER, XIII. "NEIL, MY H''SiA ,; D! WHERE AKEjstfOLj." | "A boat at midnight tent alon.: J To drift upon the moonless se:'., j A lute, m.oia leading chord is gone, j A. woundtci tind t-hat hath but ono j Imperfect wing to soar upon, ; I Are like what I a u>, without thee ! ' ! Beryl's every motion, fur the timc> . centred upon the one object—aa- j cape from the hateful power of Ber-; dyne. The 6Cho oi" fiis voice rang in her ears, goading her : flying'feet to ewifter pace. The un-; reasoning ir.scinct of fear had laid j hold of her and smothered every thought, every desire, save thac of I escape. She knew not whither her feet were carrying her, but fled on and on, fancying each moment she could hear Berdyr.e behind her. At last she tripped and fell exhausted, unable to rise. j "Faith, miss," cried a stout Irish- j woman, "ye needn't be runnin \ so \ hard. Sure, there's plinty av time j for iverv sow! that's alive to get out j av the "city. Glory be!" she cried,] astonished at the marvellous beauty j revealed when Beryl raised her face, j "It's a purty dear ye are,.and the . city's a bad place for wan with an angel's face like yours." The Irishwoman had a hat-box in one hand and a caged parrot in the oth?r j a bsdi'agsled li ttle bonnet was , on her head, and a coarse shawl hung over her plump shoulders. But there ■was a look of deep commiseration in her flushed face as she stood studying poor Beryl. Evidently a foreboding arcse in her heart which she hesitated to put into words; the only way she gave expression to her thoughts was by a doleful shake of the head. "Too bad, too bad, so it is!" she murmured. "Have ye any people anywhere 1 near, my dear?" That simple question brought realization .to the forlorn little bride, and j her tears began to flow. She remern-; bered Neil and Tonita. i "My husband!" she sobbed; "he is somewhere in this awful city. Oh, take me to him, take me to him. " The Irishwoman set down her load, and sank to her knees beside the distraught girl. "There, there," she said soothingly, "'tis wan av the things we must make the best of. Ye kno\fr, acushla, there's no helpin' the earthquakes, at all, at all. There's a ]i ; . is tremblin' under us now—but ne/er mind. The worst has gone, bu: Heaven knows 'twas bad enough. Look at me, will ye? Me man Mike, the childher, an' meself all scattered to the fower winds, yet I put me trust in the saints, an' I know ■we'll come together ag ! i<; somehow. Where did ye l'ave yer husband?"

"In Pine Street." "What number?" "I don't know the number, 'twas ' at the home of Reverend Mr Bicker-1 dyke." "I don't know the 'gintleman, deary, but take that street beyant, turn to thfe left, an' go five blocks. That'll bring ye to Pine Street, an' roebe ye can find the place. I'd go i. wid ye, but I'm hurryin' to my sister's, out by Golden Gate Park, to see if any av the family are there." The kind-hearted creature took off her shawl, and drew it around Beryl's shoulders, then kissed her in a motherly way, and went out. Beryl tried to call out her thanks, but her voice choked on the words. Rising unsteadily, she looked fearfully around. She saw people, hurrying, some one •wgy and some, another each with a set, determined lace/ I'ut Berdyne, to her intense relief, was nowhere to be seen. Then, as every thought flew back to Neil, her full heart overflowed. She must return to her darling, she must find him, and so stumbled onward with tear-blinded eyes. Following the Irishwoman's instructions, she came finally to Pine Sreet, making sure of the thoroughfare by a corner sign. But the place where she entered the street was unfamiliar to her. In a measure she was blind and deaf to the sights and sounds through which she passed. The trembling earth, the crash upon crash that came from the city's heart 'had no terrors for her. It wa3 her place to find the minister's home,and be with her lover. She knew practically nothing of the great city. Once she had come there with Tonita upon a pleasure excursion, but they had not stayed long enough to familiarize themselves with the streets. She felt that she would know; the minister's house if she saw it, and if it had not been too sadly racked by the earthquake. All she could do was to walk up the middle of the street until she came to the place she was seeking. Plainfully she made her way onward, tripping again and again over the debris that.littered the street, but always picking herself up bmvely and pushing dauntlessly on. She dared not let herself think how grievously Neil might Be hurt; she only, prayed for strength, and struggled forward. , It seemed as though she walked miles and she knew she must have gone far beyond where the house stood. Several times she asked people she passed if they could tell her where the Reverend Mr Bickerdyke's house was, but none of them knew. In an agony of doubt and fear sh2 turned Duck on her path. Perhaps it wa.j well that her brain was numbed and deadened to all fcls.3 save the object of her search. Her tender soul would have sickened at the mighty desolation by which.she was everywhere surrounded. Once, on that weary, backward journey, she , paused beside something that lay sprawled out in the road at he r

feet. It was a human form, terribly inaaded. She gave it one dazed, swift look, and continued on her way unmoved. At any other time she would have shrunk from the signt h horror. Of one fugitive sifter .another sne< continued to inquire for the home o± the minister; and it chancec., in-oi while, that fortune was kind. "You have passed the place," said the last man of whom she inquired. "The minister lives in the r.e^L block west." So, as it turned out, she had passed the house twice without knowing it. And small wonder! The structure had been so twisted, torn, and defaced by the first dread shock that the minister himself migh have passed it by. The dust driven off by falling walls had settled, so that Beryl was able to see quite clearly. Her own emotions, driven back upon themselves, had left her tearless, wideeyed,and like one threading the mazes of some horrible nightmare. She was drawing close to that fateful moment when she shotild leam whether her dearest love r>till lived, or whether the flickering hope she nursed in her bosom was false, and destined to die. Yet, despite her stony fortitude, every sense was now strangely on the alert. She observed how the upper part of the front wall of the minister's dwelling had fallen outward covering the approach to the door with a heap of broken timbers. With critical eye she selected the best path across this mound of debris, and her step quickened with her eagerness to be over the barrier and within the house. Just aa she was on the point of turning from the littered sidewalk her course i was barred by a tube of shining steel. "There is danger in the house, young lady," said a voice. "You must not go farther." Shu turned with a gasp, and beheld a man in reigmental blue, surveying her with firm but kindly eyes. "Ah, do not stop me!" she begged. | "The one I loved best in all the 1 world was in that house when the shock came!" The soldier marvelled at her loveliness, at the marble beauty of her : face.

"There is no one in there now, miss," said he gently. "Or, if there is " He paused, for something deep in her eyes forbade his wounding her with what he was about to k a y- ' j . . She sank to her knees, and caught at one of his hands. "Do not, do not stop me!" she whispered. "If the one I seek is dead, I pray Heaven that the walls may crush me down at his side." The soldier was touched.

"I'm sorry, miss," he returned, "but I am stationed here to keep every one from entering the buildings in this block. The peril is great, ailf ] » He was interrupted by a crash as part of the wall of the next building tumbled over upon the rear part of the minister's ruined house. "You see how it is," he added, with a tightening of the lips. "I care not for danger," she cried, springing up, "but I cannot rest, I will not know a moment's peace, until I learn my darling's fate."

"Your lover?" he asked. "My husband!" she answered, straightening her lithe form. "If you will wait here, miss," said he gallantly, "I will go in there myself. 'Tis hard to deny anything to one so fair."

He turned to set down his rifle, and carry out his\ generous offer, but the moment he turned Beryl bounded past him and over the rugged timbers. "I cannot send you to danger," said she, ? with a hallowed sweetness, pausing a moment at the crest of the

barrier. Another moment, and the startled soldier saw her gain the door and vanish within the ruined edifice. "If >ou do not return in [Ja few minutes," said he, "I shall go after you."

Although the words were called loudly, Beryl did not hear them. She was in.the disordered room which hpd witnessed the happiest and the bitterest moment of her life. The furnitarc was overturned and broken; the floor was heaped with debris and thick with plaster which had fallen from the walls. But Neil was not there--no one was there! "Neil, my husband! Where are you?" Her anguished tones echoed quiveringly through the room. Heedless of every danger, she ran from one apartment to another, then up the stairs to the great, gaping void of the second floor, calling, calling, but recieving no response. (To be Continued).