|Chapter Number||BOOK IV XVI|
|Chapter Title||FIFTEEN HOURS.|
|Newspaper Title||The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866 - 1939)|
|Trove Title||His Natural Life|
His Natural Life.
BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVI. FIFTEEN HOURS.
BY MARCUS CLARKE.
SARAH flew to Rex. "Rouse yourself, John, for Heaven's sake. We have not a moment" John Rex passed his hand over his forehead wearily. "I cannot think. I am broken down.
lam lit My brain seems dead." Nervously watching the prostrate figure on the floor, she hurried on bonnet, cloak, and veil, and in a twinkling had him outside the house and into a cab. *r39, Lombard-street Quick !" "You won't give me up!" said Rex, turning dull eyes upon ner. « Give you up! No, But the police wfll be after us so soon ss that woman can speak, and her brother summon his lawyer. I know what her promise is worth. We have got about fifteen hours." "I cant go far, Sarah," said he ; "I am sleepy and stupid." She repressed the terrible fear that tugged at her heart, and strove to rally him, "You've been drinking too much, John. Now sit still and be good, while I go sod get some money for you." She hurried into the bank, and her name secured her an interview with the manager at once. " That's a rich woman," said one of the darks to his friend. " A widow, too I Chance for you, Tom/* re tamed the other ; and presently from oat the sacred presence came another clerk with a request for " a draft on Sydney for three thousand, less premium," and bearing a qhequo signed M Sarah Carr," for £200, which he " took " in notes, and so returned again. From the bank she was taken to Green's ship ping office. " I want te take a cabin in the first ship for Sydney, please." The shipping clerk looked at a board. M The Highflyer goes in twelve days, madam, and there is one cabin vacant" " I want to go at once—to-morrow. or next day." He smiled «I am afraid that is impossible," said he. Just then one of the partners came out of his private room with a telegram in his hand, and beckoned the shipping clerk. Sarah was about to depart for another office, when the clerk came hastily back. " Just the thing for you, ma'am," said he. " We have got a telegram from a gentle man who has a first cabin in the Dido, to say that his wife has been taken ill, and be must give up his berth." " When does the Dido sail T' " To-morrow morning. She is at Plymouth, waiting for the mails. If you go down to-night by the mail-train which leaves at 9.30, you will be in plenty of time, and we will telegraph." " I will take the cabin. How much T* "One hundred and thirty pounds,madam," said he. She produced her notes, "Pray count it yourself. We have been delayed in the same manner ourselves. My husband is a great invalid, but I was not so fortunate as to get someone to refund us our passage-money." "What name did you say V asked the clerk, counting. " Mr. and Mrs. Carr. Thank you," and he handed her the slip of paper. "Thank you," said Sarah, with a bewitching smile, and swept down to her cab again. John Rex was gnawing his nails in sullsn apathy. She displayed the passage ticket " Yon are asved I By the time Mr. Devine gets his wits together, and his sister recovers her speech, we shall be past pursuit" " To Sydney 1" cries Rex, angrily, looking at the warrant " Why there of all places in God's earth r Sarah surveyed him with aa expression of eon tempt ." Because gout schema has failed. Now this is mine. You have deserted me once, you will do so sgain in any other country. You are a murderer, a villain, and a ooward, but you suit me. I save you, but I mean to keep you. I will bring you to Australia, where the first trooper will arrest you at my bidding as an escaped convict If you don't like to come, stay behind. I don't care. lam rich. I have done no wrong. The law cannot touch me—Do you agree ? Then tell the man to drive to Silver's in Cornhill for your outfit." " Having housed him at last—all gloomy and despondent—in a quiet tavern near the railway station, she tried to get some information as to this last revealed crime. " How came you to kill Lord Bellaais f she asked him quietly. " I had found out from my mother that I was his natural son, and one day riding home from a pigeon match I told him so. He taunted me— and I struck him. I did not mean to kill him, but he was an old man, and in my passion I struck hard. As he fell, I thought I saw a horse man among the trees, and I galloped off. My ill-luck began then, for the same night I Was arrested at the coiners." " But I thought there was robbery," said she. " Not by me. But, for God's sake, talk no more about it I am sick—my brain is going round. I want to sleep." "Be careful, please 1 Lift him gently 1" said Mrs. Carr, as the boat ranged alongside the Dido, Eunt and grim, in the early dawn of a bleak ty morning. " What's the matter f asked the officer of the watch, perceiving the bustle in the boat " Gentleman seems to have had a Stroke," said a boatman. It was so. There was no fear that John Rex would escape again from the woman he had de ceived. The infernal genius of Sarah Purfoy had saved her lover at last—but saved him only that she might nurse him till he died—died ignorant even of her tenderness, a mere animal, lacking the intellect he had in his selfish wickedness jjbused.
** Tho oopyrlght of " Hit Nettuml Life" has boon ptir aixaaad by tha propriaton of The <t***sitmtttr from Mr. Mucus Clarke.
Chums XVIL THS BBOSMHrOS. "That iy my story. Let it plead with you to turn you from your purpose, and to aav* her. The punishment of sin falls not upon the sinner only. A deed ones done live* in its con sequence for ever, and this tragedy of four live*, this traged v of shame aad crime to which my felon* death is a fitting end, is but the out-come of a selfish sin like yours 1" It had grown dark in the prison, and as he ceased a peaking, Rufua Daw** fait a trembling hand seise his own. It waa that of the chap lain. "Let me hold your hand!—Bir Richard Devine did not murder your lather. He wa* murdered by a horseman who riding with him, ?track bim and fled." "Merciful God! How do you know this T " Because I aaw th* murder committed, be* cause—don't let go my hand—l robbed the body." «Tour "In my youth I waa a gambler. Lordßellaai* won money from me, and to par bim I forged two bill* of exchange. Unscrupulous and cruel, he threatened to expose me if I did not jrive him double the sum. Forgery was death in those day*, and I strewed every nerve to buy back the proof* of my folly. I succeeded I waa to meet . Lord Bellasis near his own house at Hempstead on th* night of which you speak, to pay the money and receive the bill*. When I saw him fall I galloped up, but instead of pursuing his murderer, I rifled hit pocket-book of my forgeries. I wa* afraid to give evidence at the trial or I might have saved.you. - Ah I you have let go my hand I" " God forgive you !" said Rufua Daw**, and then waa silent. "Speak I" cried North. "Speak or you will make m* mad. Reproach, me I Spurn me I Spit upon me ! You cannot think worse of m* than Ido myself." " '• But the other, his head buried in hi* hands, did not answer, and with a wild gesture, North staggered out of the cell. Nearly an hour had pasted since the chaplain had placed the rum-flask in his hand, and Gimblett observed, with semi-drunken astonish ment, that it was not yet empty. He had in tended, in the first instance, to have taken but on* rap In payment of his courtesy—for Gim blett was conscious of hi* own weakness in the matter of strong waters—but as he waited and waited, the one sup became two, the two three, and at length more than half the content* of the bottle had moistened hi* gullet, snd maddened him for more. Gimblett was in a quandary. If he didn't finish ths flask, he would be oppressed with an everlasting regret If be did finish it he would be drunk ; aud to be drunk on duty was the one unpardonable sin. He looked across th* darkness of the sea, to where the rising and falling light marked the schooner. The Com mandant was a long way off I A faint breese, which had—according to Blunts prophecy arisen with the night, brought up to him th* voice* of the boat* crew from the jetty below bim. His friend Jack Mannix was coxswain of her. He would give Jack a drink. Leaving th* gate, he advanced to the edge of the embank ment, and, putting bis head over, called out to his friend. The breese, however, which was momentarily freshening, carried his voice away ; and Jack Mannix, hearing nothing, continued his conversation. Gimblett was just drunk enough to be virtuously indignant at this in civility, «hd easting himself on the edge of th* bank, swallowed th* remainder of th* rum at a draught The effect upon hie enforcedly-tempe rate stomach waa very touching. He made one feeble attempt to get upon his legs, cast a re proachful f a \egAw9i the rum-bottle, essayed to arink out of its spirituous emptiness, and then, with a smile of reckless contentment, cursed the island and all it* content* and fell fast asleep. North, coming out of the prison, however, did not notice the absence of the gaoler ; indeed, he was not in a condition to notice anything. Bare heeded, without hi* cloak, with staring eye* and elenohed hands, be rushed trough the gates into the night a* on* who flies headlong from some fearful vision. It seemed that, absorbed in his own thoughts, he took no heed to hi* step*, for instead of taking the path which led to the sea, be kept along th* more familiar one that led to his own cottage on tho hOL " This man a convict I" he cried. "Heis a hero—a martyr! What a life ! Love ? Tes, that is love indeed I Oh, James North, how bass art thou in th* eyes of God beside this despised outcast!" And so muttering, tearing his gray hair, and beating hi* throbbing temples with clenched hands, his reached hia own room, and saw by the light of the new-born moon, the dressing-bag and candle standing on the table as he had left them. They brought again to his mind the recollection of the task that waa before him. He lighted th* candle, and, taking the bag in his hand, cast one last look round the chamber which had witnessed his futile struggle* against that baser part of himself which had at last triumphed. It was so. Fate had condemned him to sin, and he must now fulfil the doom he might once have averted. Already he fancied he could see the speck that was the schooner move slowly away from the prison shore. He must not linger; they would be waiting for him at the ]etty. As he turned, the moonbeams—as yet unobsenred by the rapidly gathering clouds—flung a silver streak across the sea, and across that streak North saw pass a boat Was bis distracted brain playing him false ?—in the stern sat, wrapped in a cloak, the figure of a man t A fierce gust of wind drove the sea-rack over the moon, and the boat dis appeared, as though swallowed up by the gather ing storm. North staggered back as the truth struck him. He remembered how he had said, " I will re deem him, if I redeem him with my own blood I" Was it possible that a just heaven hod thus decided to allow the man whom a coward had condemned, to escape, and to punish the coward who remained f Oh, this man deserved free dom ; he was honest, noble, truthful I How different from himself—a hateful self-lover, an unchaste priest, a drunkard. The, looking-glass, in which the saintly face of MeeUn was soon to be reflected, stood upon the table, and North,
peering into it, with out hand marhaiically thrust Into tha bag, started io insane ng* at toe pale Hot) and bloodshot eyea he mm there. What a hateful wretch he had become t The lait fatal impulse of the inaanity which aeeka relief from ita own hideoua self came upon him, and hie fingers oloeed oonvulsively upon the object they had been seeking. " It ia better co," he mattered, addnHuue, with fixed eye*, hia own detected image. "I hare examined you long enough. I have read your heart, and written out your aect-etal Ton are but a shell—the shell that holds a corrupted, and ainful heart He shall live; you ahall die !" The rapid motion of hia arm overturned the candle, and all waa dark. Rufua Dawes, overpowered by the revelation co suddenly made to him, had remained for a few moments motionless in his cell, expecting to hear tbe heavy clang of the outer door, which should announce to him the" departure of the chaplain. Bnt he did not hear H, and it seemed to him that the air in the ceU had grown suddenly cooler. He went to the door, and looked into the narrow corridor, expecting to see the scowl ing coontenanee of Gimblett. To bis astonish ment the door of the prison waa wide open, and net a soul in sight. His first thought was of North. Had the story he had told, counledwith the entreaties he had lavished, sufficed to turn him from his purpose ? He looked around. The night was falling sul lenly ; the wind waa mounting; from beyond the bar came the hoarse murmur of an angry sea. If the schooner was to sail that night, the had beet get out into deep waters. Where was the chaplain t Pray heaven the delay had been suffi cient, a°d they had sailed without him. Yet they would be euro to meet He advanced a few steps nearer, and looked about him. Waa it possible that, in his madness, tbe chaplain had been about to commit some violence which had drawn the trusty Gimblett from his*post! " Gr-r-r-r I Ouph I" The trusty Gimblett waa lyingat hia feet—dead drunk t "Hil hohol Hillo there!" roars somebody from the jetty below. "He that you, Muster Noarth t We ain't too much tiam, aur 1" From the uncurtained windows of the chaplain's hones on the hill beamed the newly-lighted candle. They in the boat did not ace it, bnt it brought to the prisoner a wild hope that made his heart bound. He ran back to bis cell, dapped on North's wideawake, and flinging the cloak hastily about him, came quickly down the steps. If the moon should shine out now I "Jump in, sir," says unsospeoting Mannix, thinking only of the flogging he had been threatened with. "It'll be a dirty night this night I Put this over your knees, air. Shove her off! Give way!" And they were afloat But one .glimpse of moonlight fell upon the slouched hat and cloaked figure, and the boat's crew, encaged in tbe dangerous task of navi gating the reef in the teeth of the rising gale, paid no attention to the chaplain. "By George, lads, we're but just in time!" cries Mannix; and they laid alongside the schooner, black in blackness. MUp ye go, yer honor, quick " The wind had shifted, and was now off the shore. Blunt, who had begun to repent of his obstinacy, but would not confess it, thought the next beet thing to riding out the gale was to get out to open see. " D the parson," he had said in all heartiness; "we can't wait all night for him. Heave ahead, Mr. Johnson!" And so the anchor was a-trip as Rufua Dawes ran up the aide. The Commandant, already pulling off in his own boat, roared a eoareo farewell. " Good-bye, North I It waa touch and go with ye t" adding, " Corse tbe fellow, he's too proud to answer." The chaplain indeed spoke to no one, and plunging down the hatchway, made for the stern cabins. " Close ehave, your reverence !" said a respectful somebody, opening a door. It was ; bnt the clergyman did not say so. He double locked the door, and hardly realising the danger he had escaped, filing himself on the bunk, pant ing. Over bis heed he heard tbe rapid tramp of feet and the cheery • To kl-oh I aad a raatbalow! of tbe men at the capstan. He could smell the see, and through the open window of the cabin could distinguish the light in the chaplain's house on the hill. The trampling ceased, the vessel began to move swiftly—the Commandant's boat appeared below bim for an instant, making her way back—the Lady Franklin had set sail. With his eves fixed on the titfy light, he strove to think what waa beet to be done. It was hope less to think tbat he could maintain the im posture which, favored by the darkness and con fusion, he bad hitherto successfully attempted. He was certain to be detected at Hubert Town, even if he could lie concealed during his long and tedious voyage. That mattered little, how ever. He had saved Sylvia, for North had been left behind. Poor North ! As the thought of pity came to him, the light he looked at waa suddenly extinguished, and Rufua Dawes, com pelled thereto as by an irresistible power, fell upon his knees and prayed for the pardon and happiness of the man who had redeemed him. • » • » • " That's a gun from the shore," says Partridge, the mate, " and they're burning a red light There's a prisoner escaped. Shall we lie-to T" " Lie-to!" cries old Blunt, with a tremendous oath. "We'll have authin else to do. Look there!" The sky to the northward was streaked with a belt of livid green color, above which rose a mighty black cloud, whose shape was ever changing.
Chaptxr XVIII. THE CTCLONE. Blunt, recognising the motoric heralds of danger, begun to regret hia obstinacy. He saw that a hurricane waa approaching. Along the south coast of the Australian con tinent, though the usual westerly winds and gales of the highest latitudes prevail during the greater portion of the year, hurricanes are not unfrequent Gales commence at N.W. with a low barometer, increasing at W. and S.W., and gradually veering to the south. True cyclones occur at New Zealand. Tbe log of the Adelaide for February 29, 1870, describes one which travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour, and had all the veerings, calm centre, Ac., of a true
tropical hurricane. Now,a oyelotM oocuniagoaT the west coast of New Zealand weald travel from the New Hebrides, where such storme art hideously frequent, and envelope Norfolk Island-, passing directly across the track of vessel* coming from South America to Bydney. It vat one of these rotatory storms, an escaped taai-isrt of the tropics, which threatened tbe Lady Franklin. The ominous calm which had brooded over tb* island during tbe day bad given place te a ssssit breese from th* noitb-eeVt, and though tb* aehooner had been sheltered at her anohersfs under tbe le* of the island (the M harbor" looked nearly dv* south), when one* fairly ont to see* Blunt saw it would be impossible to pat beck iff the teeth of tbe gale. Haply, however, tb* full fury of the storm would not overtake tbssn, until they had gained sea-room. Rufus Dawes, exhausted witb the axeitcaesat through which be had passed, bad slept foraoptn two or three hours, when be was awakened by . the motion of th* vessel going on the other task. He rose to hie feet, and found himeelf in cose* plete darkness. Overhead was the noiee 9$ trampling feet, and he ooold distinguish tb* hoarse tones of Blunt bellowing orders. Astsa iebed at the absence of the moonlight which had co lately silvered the ss*, he flung open the eabim window and looked out As w* have said, tb* cabin allotted to North was one of the two stara* cabins, and from ittbeeonviet had a full view of , the approaching storm. The sight was one of wild grandeur. Tb*v. huge black cloud which .hung, in the borison had changed its shape. Instead of * curtain it we* ? an arch. Beneath this va*t and magnifies*! .. portal, shone a dull phosphorio light Acre** this livid space pale flashes of aheet-Ughtainc passed noiselessly. Behind it was * dull ana , threatening murmur, made up of the grumblhm of thunder, the falling of ram, and the roar qf ? contending wind and water. Tbe lights of tfc* ; prison-island had disappeared, so rapid had bee*. the progrees of the schooner under the stand* , breese, aud the ocean stretched around, Mack/, and desolate. Gating upon this gloomy ,ars>, ponse, Rufus Dawea observed a strange pheno^' menon—lightning appeared to burst apwftraf from the sullen bosom of tb* ss*. At intervals* darkly rolling waves flashed, flee, and streams of flame shot upwards. The wind inercaeedia vio* lance, and the arch of light wss fringed wit&iaia, A dull red glow bung around like the reflestis* of • conflagration. Suddenly * treaaendous peal of thunder, accompanied by • terriflo downfall of rain, rattled along the sky. Ths arch of light disappeared, as though sqms invisible hand bad abut ths slide of a giant lantern. A great wall of water rushed, roaring, ovsr the level plain ef the sea, and, with aa indssctibsbls msdley -of sounds, in which tones of horror, triumph, sad torture were blended, ths eyeloa* swooped opts, them. Rufus Dawes comprehended tbat th* elements had come to save or destroy hlm. In that fwfol instant the natural powers of the man rose equal to the occasion. In a few hours his fate would - be decided, and it was necessary that hs should take all precautions. One of two events sssmod inevitable—he would either be drowned wbere he lay, or, should the vessel weather the stores, he would be forced upon deck, and tbe desperate ~ imposture he had attempted be discovered. For a moment despair oTerwnelmedhim, aad he con templated the raging aea as though he would cast himself into it, and thus end hie troubles. The tones of a woman's voice recalled him to himeelf. Cautiously unlocking the cabin door-, he peered out The cuddy waa lighted by a i swinging lamp, which revealed Sylvia guostlo* , ing one of the women concerning ths storm. As Rufus'Da wee looked, he saw her glance, with aa . air half of hope, half of fear, towards th* doer behind which he lurked, and he understood that ah* expected to ccc tbe chaplain appear to com fort her. Tbe thought gave bim an ids*. Leek* ing the door he proceeded hastily to dress him* * self in North's olothee. He would watt until bis aid was absolutely required, and then rushoo^, „-. In the darkness, Sylvia would mistake bim for the priest He could oonvey he* to the boat i if reoourse to tbe boats should be rendered neoos- , sary—-*nd then take the hasard of bis fortune. While she was in danger, hia place waa near bar. From the deck of the vessel tbe scene was appalling. Ths clouds had closed in. The arch of light had disappeared, and all was a dull windy blackness. Gigantic seas eeemed to mount in the horison and sweep towards and upon them. It was as though tbe chip lay in tbe vortex of • whirlpool, so high on each side of her were piled tbe rough pyramidal masses of sea. Mighty guste arose—clape of wind which seemed like strokes of thunder. A sail- which had loosened from its tackling was torn away and blown ont - to sea, disappearing like a shred of white paper to leeward. The mercury in the barometer marked 29*50. Blunt, who had been at tbe rum bottle, swore great oaths that ao soul on board would see another aun; and when Partridge rebuked him for blasphemy at such a moment, wept spirituous tears. Ths howling of the wind was benumbing ; the very fury of sound enfeebled while it terrified. The sailors, horror-stricken, crawled about tb* deck, clinging to anything they thought most secure. It waa impossible to raise the heed to look to windward. The eyelids were driven together, and the face stung by the swift and biting spray. Men breathed this atmosphere of salt and wind and became sickened. Partridge felt that orders were useless—the man at his elbow could not have heard them. The vessel lay almost on her beam-ends, with her helm up, stripped even of. the sails which had been furled upon the yards. Mortal hands could do nothing for her. By five o'clock in the morning the gale had reached its height The heavens showered out rain and lightnings ; rain which the wind blew away before it reached the ocean, light nings which the ravenous and . mountain ous waves swallowed before they could pierce the gloom. The ship lay over on her side, held there by the madly rushing wind, which seemed to flatten down the sea, cutting off the tops of the waves, and breaking them into fine white spray, which covered the ocean, like a thick cloud, as high as the topmast heads. Eaeb gust seemed unsurpassable in intensity, but was succeeded, after a pause, that was not a lull bat
• nap, by one' of more frantic violence. The 1 barometer stood at 17*88. The ship was a mere kboring, crasy wreck, that might sink at any moment. At half-past three o'clock the baro meter had fallen to 27*62. Save when lighted by occasional flashes of sheet-lightning, which showed to the cowed wretches tbeir awestricken faces, this tragedy of the elements I'~was per formed in a darkness almost palpable. Suddenly the mercury rose to 29*90, and, with ene awful shriek, the wind dropped to a calm. Tb* Lady Franklin had reached the centre of tbe^etclooe. Partridge, glancing to where the grss* body of drunken Blunt rolled helplessly lashed* to ths wheel, felt a strange selfish joy tbiiU liim. If tbe ship survived, the drunken eaptsin would bb dismissed, and he, Partridge the gallant, would reign in bis stead. The schooner, no longer steamed by the wind, was at ths. mercy of every sea. Volumes of water poursd over her. Frssentiy she heeled over, for, with a triumphant scream, ths wind leapt on to her from * fresh quarter. Following its usual eoufss, th* storm returned upon its track. Ths hurriesne was shout to -repeat itself from ths •ortn-west. Th* ses* pouring down through ths burst hatchway, tors the door of ths cuddy from its hi*gss. B-yhri* found herself surrounded by s -* wiwynrarging torrent which threatened to over whelm bar. She shrieked aloud for aid, but her vole* was inaudible even to herself, flinging to this mast which penetrated the little cuddy, she fixed her eyes upon the door, behind which she imagibed wss North, and whispered a last prayer far succor. Ths door opened, snd from out ths cabin came s figure clad in black. She looked up, sad th* light of tbe expiring lamp showed her a face that was not that of tbe man she hoped to see. Then a pair of dark syes beaminc lawfhble love and pity were bent upon her, and * pair of dripping arms held her above tbe brine as ihe bad once been held in the misty mys terious days that were gone. In tbe terror of that moment she felt the clou*} which had so long oppressed her brain jbbss from it. Th* action of ths strange man helot* hpr toespleted snd explained the action of th* convict chained to the Port Arthur coal -s-Aggons, of .ths convict kneeling in the Norfolk blagd torture chamber. She remembered ths terrible experience of Maoquarie Harbor. She recalled tM evening of the boat-building, when, swung: into ths sit; by stalwart arms, she had protftfied she rcceumg prisoner to plead for bim with sw kindred. And regaining her memory thus, all ths sgony snd shame of tbe man's long Hfs of misery became at once apparent to her. Bhs;|md^rstood how her husband bad deceived hsr.'sad with what base injustice snd falsehood hs hod bought her voting love. No question ss to how this doubrV-eondemned prisoner bad eeosped from the hideous isle of punishment she had quitted occurred to her. She asked not even m her. thoughta---h©w it hsd been given to him to Supplant the chaplain in his plaice on board tha vessel She only considered, in her sodden awakening, the story of his wrongs, re membered only ills marvellous fortitude and love, knew only, in this last instant of her pure, ill-fated Ufa, that as he had saved her once from sUrratiob said death, so had he come spun to saveher from sin aim from despair. Whoever has known a deadly peril will remember how swiftly thought then '•travelled again through sososs elssn forgotten, snd will understand how Sylvia's retrospective vision merged tiie past into this actual before her, and how the shock of raoovsrsd memory Subsided in the grateful utter ano* of other days—' 4 Good Mr. Dawes r* Ths ewes of til* man and woman met in on* long will gSae. Sylvia stretched out her white bends sad smilsd, and Richard Devine under stood in his turn the story of the young girl's joyless Ufa, and knew ,how she had been sacri ficed. In ths great crisis of our Hfe when, brought fsss to fees with annihilation we are suspended gssping over tbe great emptiness of death, we become conscious tbat the Belf which we think . we, knew so well has strange and unthougbt of espaoriisa: To describe a tempest of the elements 1 is not easy, but toMeecpbe a tempest of the soul is impossible. Amid tiie fury of such a tempest a thousand memories, each bearingin its breast ths oorpse of some deaa deed whose influence haunts us yet, are driven like feathers before the blast ss unsubstantial and as unregarded. The mists which shroud our self-knowledge become trans j-*reat,*nd we are amitten with sudden light ning-like comprehension of our own misused Kwer over our fate. This much we feel and ow, but who can coldly describe the hurriesne which thus o'erwhelms him. As well ask the drowned mariner to tell of the marvels of mid sea when the great deeps swallowed bim and the darkness of death encompassed bim round about. These, two human beings felt that they had don* with life. Together thus, alone it) the very midst snd presence of death, the distinc tions of tbe world tbey were about to leave dis appeared. Their vision grew clear. They felt as beings whose bodies hsd already-perished, and as they clasped hand-, tbeir freed and naked souls recognising each the loveliness of the other, rushed trembling together. Borne before tiie returning whirlwind, an im mense, wave which glimmered in the darkness, spouted up and towered above the wreck. The wretches who yet clung to the deck looked shuddering up into the bellying greenness snd knew that the .end was come. SKD.OV book nut VOUBTK.