YVONNE: A STEAMER ROMANCE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1982, 21 March 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

YVONNE: A STEAMER ROMANCE.

By the Author or " Ahonais, Q. 0.," IN tite Anf.os\."

111. A stouii on the open sea, and the steamer ia out in it. The great waves are flying from side to side, roaring, seething, running, rushing ; throwing up pillars of swirling whiteness into the air. Darting, plunging, turning in one instant from brown to purple, from dingy yellow to emerald green ; everywhere force, everywhere power ; miles and miles of a mad, dancing, scrambling movement ; hurrying lights and shadows ; the wind shrieking ; the black clouds tearing. At the far off shore, whero the mighty waves bomb against the rocks, and the fishermen cluster together, holding on their hats and shaking their heads, even there it is nothing to this, upon the open sea. The steamer is out in it. It staggers and plunges; it stands vibrating ; darts wildly on, then stands again; the engines thundering madly ; the black smoke gasping. A long, htho looking steamer it is ; but will it stand this, out on the open sea ? Down in the long crimson-carpeted saloon a little woman sits with her head bent over the table, an open book before her, her large eyes staring into vacancy. The wind howls and the vessel rocks, but she never even leeds it, only clasping the sido of the table mechanically to keep herßelf from falling— and she is dreaming. No one could tell what is the nature of these dreams, her face is so still and changeless; except, that she ia dreaming not so much of Bomtthing as of someone ; and that as no smiles come to relieve the fixed look of eyes and brow, they can hardly be very brilliant in their happiness. It is a strange thing to be day-dreaming with only a thin plank betwixt her and eternity, and with eternity, so as to speak, announcing itself in the voice of every wave crashing against the vessel. One of the side cabin-doors opens softly. Ah, could she but see; could she only but see I but she goes on dreaming, all unconscious. A man — a brown-faced, handsome-fea-tured man, stands irresolute, and then comes slowly forward ; his brows knit, his lips quivering. Ob, Yvonne, Yvonne, turn and look at the man. She will not look ; she only gazes fixedly at the swinging lamp above her head ; until all at once her name is called in a tone in which it was surely never called before. She turnß her head rapidly, and gasps, her face as white as death : " Paul 1 " He holds oat both his hands ; she puts her own mechanically into them, still staring wildly ; and then with a fierce movement, snatches them away again. " What are you doing here ? why are you here ? They told me I wat the only passenger on board." Then with a sudden burst : " Oh, Paul, Paul ; is it really you 1 " The ship rolls ; he drops into the seat beiide her, and smiles. •• Yvonne, why do you ask me what I am doing here ? You know lam only keeping my promise." A flush of anger covers her pale face, and ■he attempts to rise; but he pushes her gently down, and repeats hiß question. " Yvonne, sweet Yvonne, why do you ask me? " Captain Jocellyn 1 " •• Nay — Paul." A thought of some Btrange nature seemed to strike her ; for her faoe became deadly white and dazed again. Then all of a sudden, with a stifled ory, she laid her head on the table, aod wept as if her heart would break. "Oh, Paul, I am so sorry ; and yet — oh, I cannot tell whether lam glad or sorry. She is dead ? " lie bent his head slowly, turning bis gaze to the far end of the cabin. The storm raged wilder than ever. The dark narrow space at the end heaved up and down ; the heavy redcushioned seats around it rose and fell, like speotrea in the darkness. He watched them dreamily out of his blue, burning eyes. " Yvonne," he said, " listen to the wind." She turned round upon him again, her features quivering." Paul, when did she die?" A mighty wave thundered against the shivering wood. He clasps his hands tightly over hers. " Listen to the storm, Yvonne. But it is already passing." She pulled her hands away from him, and covered her faoe again. " And to think that she is dead ! " He took hold of them once more, with a passionate movement ; and spoke as though his soul was in his lips. " Yvonne— listen. I am not going to ask you to forgive my folly, because you did forgive it long ago. "Ah, yes, Yvonne, I have not forgotten. I said it would be something for me to carry through life ; and I will never forget. Yes, Bhe is dead, Yvonne ; but listen to me ; all thcyatt it dead. Look, here we are back upon the steamer again; with sunshine, and the blue water, and the the littlo white olouda. Ah, Yvonne, sweet Yvonne, do you remember ? " The wind howled ; the waves beat; the vessel tossed ; a cold drifting snow mingled with the departing storm, and eight bells rang. What have imperfeotions to do with love? What has a storm to do with peace ? To this woman it seemed as if the toaaing steamer had turned to gold ; and the ruging waters, add howling wiud, to a fairy dream of some fabulous enchantment ; and life itself to one long sunbeam ; the name of life and the name of the sunbeam— Paul. To this man the past was a nightmare ; and the present the awakening from the nightmare ; and the future % fair landscape, and a smiling, everlasting summer's day 1 TUB END.

Hominy Fritters. — Two teacupfuls of cold boiled hominy ; stir in one teacupful of sweet milk and * little salt, four tablespoonfula of bifted Hour and one egg. Beat tbe white separately and add last. Have over the tire a pan of hut lard ; drop the batter in by spoonfuls, and fry a nioe brown. This is especially designed for a breakfast side dish, and noo 10 good, used in place of the hominy. Fkikd X^tatoes. — Boil potatoes in skina ; when cold, peel and cut in slices ort«4ourth inch thick, try in butter, or beef dripping, a nioe dolioate brown. When done, tuko out, drain grease from them, and serve ; or they may be (shopped up small, Beaconed with pepper and salt, and fried lightly in butter, turning them several timtt, that the;- may bQ nicely browned.