THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY
 
 STELLA
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER STORIES 
 
 By Agnes Littlejohn 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE DAUGHTER. OF A SOLDIER," 
 Etc., Etc. 
 
 SYDNEY : 
 
 J A. PACKER, PRINTKK AND PUBLISHER, 
 
 Castlereagh Street 
 
 1909
 
 PR 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY (Parti) .. .. 9 
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY (Part II) . . . . 50 
 
 REPORTED KILLED . . . . . . . . 149 
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE . . . . . . . . 169 
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY .. 197 
 
 WASTED YEARS . 213 
 
 1592118
 
 Part I.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "What is wrong?" the young man asked hur- 
 riedly, putting his head out of the carriage window 
 as the conveyance came suddenly to a standstill. 
 
 The driver had pulled his steaming horses al- 
 most on their flanks, and then sat listening with 
 close attention to some distant sound. The evening 
 was advanced, and they had been driving rapidly 
 along the lonely high-road in the hope of reaching 
 their destination ere it got late. For a moment 
 there was no reply, and he impatiently repeated his 
 enquiry. The man responded slowly in the French 
 dialect, as spoken by the people in the South of 
 France. 
 
 "A carriage was travelling ahead of us some 
 time ago, Monsieur. I hear no more the sound of
 
 10 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 distant wheels. I stopped because I heard a cry. 
 And I desired to listen." 
 
 "Drive on!" said Herbert Lisle, with undimin- 
 ished impatience. ."If anything is wrong, we will 
 find it out the sooner by being on the spot." 
 
 Jacques drove on along the dusky road, and 
 soon they came in sight of a confused mass of dark 
 objects struggling on the ground. A carriage had 
 been upset, and the horses were entangled in the 
 reins and traces. A light moved hither and thither 
 like a will-o'-the-wisp. 
 
 Descending from the vehicle, Lisle advanced 
 with hasty steps. He heard a voice crying faintly 
 for help, and went over to the door of the upset con- 
 veyance. Opening it with some difficulty, he found 
 inside a woman, and another apparently lifeless 
 form. 
 
 "Help me!" a girl's voice cried in English, in 
 accents of alarm. "My grandfather is hurt he 
 does not move or speak!" 
 
 "Do not worry!" Lisle responded cheerily. 
 "We will do all we can for you." 
 
 As he spoke he helped her out. With Jacques' 
 help he got the unconscious man out of the broken 
 carriage, and laid him on the turf. They care- 
 fully examined him by the light of a carriage
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 11 
 
 lamp. As the uncertain light fell flickeringly on his 
 face the girl made a quick movement forward. 
 Kneeling by him, she bent over him with deep an- 
 xiety, and Lisle produced his brandy flask and hand- 
 ed it to her. At length the old man unclosed his 
 eyes with a deep sigh, a look of terror, and of in- 
 tense pain. 
 
 "Where are you hurt?" Lisle questioned an- 
 xiously. "Tell me, that I may try to ease your suf- 
 ferings." 
 
 For a moment the old man tried in vain to 
 speak. At last, with supreme effort, he uttered 
 brokenly a few disjointed murmured syllables. But 
 they could only catch the few words : 
 
 ' ' Papers packet business to-night ' ' 
 
 The harsh strange voice trailed off in broken 
 murmurs, and his meaning passed them by. He 
 saw that he was not understood. With an imploring 
 look upward at the girl, one last vain and anguished 
 effort to articulate, he gave a painful gasp for 
 breath, and relapsed once more into a merciful ob- 
 livion; though there were signs that he was still 
 alive. 
 
 The girl turned up her face appealingly to Lisle, 
 with unconcealed anxiety depicted in her look.
 
 12 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "I will take you on with me," he said quickly, 
 answering her look. "There is still a mile or so to 
 go before we can reach the nearest house." 
 
 "Oh, please make haste!" she answered ner- 
 vously, with a hard effort to control herself. 
 
 Lisle called to Jacques, who had been helping 
 the coachman with his horses, and they lifted the old 
 man into the carriage as gently as might be. Then 
 they went on as fast as possible. 
 
 There was much stir and bustle at the house, 
 where they at length arrived. Word went quickly 
 round from mouth to mouth of an accident on the 
 road. A room was soon made ready, and a doctor 
 called in to attend the sufferer. Meantime Lisle took 
 the girl apart. 
 
 ( As he was returning to rejoin the doctor, that 
 gentleman came forth from the sick-room, gently 
 closing the door behind him. He beckoned Lisle 
 aside in the ill-lighted passage. 
 
 " 'Mon Dieu!' It is not much I can do for him. 
 It is a question of time. But one must not lose 
 hope." 
 
 "As long as there is life, there is hope!" said 
 Lisle. "Is he badly injured?" 
 
 "But yes. He probably received some shock 
 in the break-down."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 13 
 
 'Can you say how he is hurt?" 
 
 "He has no external injury. At his age, this 
 must have long been hanging over him. 'Mon Dieu!' 
 The wonder is it had held off so long. ' ' 
 
 ' ' What is the nature of his injury ? ' ' 
 
 " 'Mon ami,' he was old, and very frail. Too 
 old and feeble to withstand the shock. The old 
 man's heart is very very weak." 
 
 "How long before " 
 
 Lisle hesitated painfully, unable to finish the 
 sentence on his lips. 
 
 " 'Mon ami,' it is impossible to say. His heart, 
 it is worn out. A few weeks or days. Perhaps but 
 a few hours. What would you? The latter were 
 more merciful." 
 
 "Is anyone attending him?" 
 
 "Yes. I have left a nurse with him. Keep the 
 young girl away from him to-night. I will see the 
 patient later. But one must be reasonable. It is 
 little I can do." 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, 
 and turned hurriedly to go. Lisle returned to the 
 dimly-lighted room, where the girl sat anxiously 
 awaiting him. 
 
 "We can do nothing more to-night," he said. 
 "A room has been prepared for you."
 
 14 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "Oh, I cannot sleep," she answered drearily. 
 "I must be with my grandfather." 
 
 "The doctor has forbidden it. He has a nurse. 
 It is late; they have all gone to bed." 
 
 She looked at him with quivering lips, without 
 reply. 
 
 "I will do all I can, rely on me. My name is 
 Herbert Lisle. May I ask yours?" 
 
 ' ' My name is Stella Verne. ' ' 
 
 The young man thought it suited her refined, 
 well-bred appearance. Her slightly-foreign accent 
 gave her speech a touch of charm. 
 
 "Mr. Lisle, there is a favour I must ask of you," 
 Miss Verne said urgently. "Will you secure my 
 grandfather's private papers?" 
 
 "I have already seen to that. I will give them 
 to you first thing in the morning." 
 
 "Thank you!" Miss Verne said gratefully, with 
 a shy glance of gratitude from soft dark eyes that 
 matched with her pretty hair. 
 
 She turned to follow the woman who had come 
 to fetch her to her room. 
 
 Early next day Lisle met the doctor leaving, 
 and learnt from him that Mr. Verne was still in the 
 same state. Miss Verne was with him now.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 15 
 
 ' ' Take her out in the fresh air, ' ' the doctor said. 
 "She can do no good in there. I have already said 
 it. The old man is too ill to speak. He does not 
 rightly know her." 
 
 At Lisle 's request Miss Verne soon joined him 
 in a private room. She looked pale and spiritless. 
 Drawing a chair up to a table for her, he brought 
 forth her grandfather's papers, silently placing them 
 before her on the table. She pushed them from her 
 with an impatient gesture. 
 
 "This, then, was the terror that was hanging 
 over him," she said unsteadily. "He hinted at it 
 to me on our way. He visited a doctor in the city, 
 just before we left." 
 
 She paused, with much emotion. 
 
 "There was some urgent private business my 
 grandfather meant to execute," Miss Verne went 
 on, ' ' when he insisted on hurrying on at night ; and 
 meeting with this accident on the road, he got the 
 shock which caused, or hastened on, his illness." 
 
 ' ' May I ask where you were going ? ' ' 
 "I do not know myself. Grandfather did not 
 tell me. I think he had directions to find out some 
 stranger here on a matter of business." 
 
 "What are your grounds for this belief?" 
 "Some talk that passed between us on our jour-
 
 16 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 ney. I begged him not to hurry he was looking 
 ill. I entreated him to rest. 'No,' he said, impa- 
 tiently, 'I must go on to-night. You do not know 
 the importance of my business, my poor Stella. Do 
 not try to stay me. I must not lose time it may be all 
 too short at best,' he added with repressed, but 
 strangely-impotent yearning in his trembling tones 
 and in his face. 'It would only make a difference of 
 a few hours,' I said. 'There is a man whom I must 
 see to-night, ' was his reply. ' Stella ! there is a terror 
 hanging over me each moment brings it nearer I 
 must see this man before it falls on me.' " 
 
 Miss Verne turned to the papers now. Lisle 
 waited patiently whilst she examined them. After 
 a careful, long inspection of them, she looked up at 
 him with a deeply-perplexed, surprised expression 
 on her face. 
 
 "There are seemingly no signs," she said, "by 
 which I can learn this urgent business." 
 
 Lisle sat hesitating, drumming on the table with 
 his fingers. 
 
 "If I might offer you my help," he said at 
 last. 
 
 She turned to him at once, and, without remark, 
 returned the papers to him. 
 
 "Am I to look at these?" he questioned quietly.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 17 
 
 She inclined her head assentingly. "I can 
 trust you, Mr. Lisle." 
 
 Lisle felt real pleasure at her tone of implied 
 confidence in him. It made his task, self -undertaken 
 as it was, so much the easier for both of them, he 
 thought. He proceeded to examine the documents. 
 
 Mr. Verne has about one hundred pounds in 
 bank-notes here. But apparently no -personal let- 
 ters, or anything to guide us no address of any 
 kind to give us a possible clue." 
 
 ' ' My grandfather had a habit, ' ' said Miss Verne 
 perplexedly, "of destroying all the letters he re- 
 ceived, when he had answered them though, in- 
 deed, they were but few. And I do not know his 
 business in this, or any other, country. Or even his 
 intentions with regard to me." 
 
 Lisle sat silent, pondering. Then he turned to 
 her again. 
 
 "May I take the liberty of asking you some 
 questions ? ' ' 
 
 "Ask me anything you wish," she returned des- 
 pairingly; "for you are my only friend." 
 
 "Then tell me all you can about yourself and 
 Mr. Verne." 
 
 "I have not much to tell," she answered, with 
 a dreary little sigh. "I know next to
 
 18 A -LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 nothing of myself. I was brought up in 
 England in a quiet country-house, educated 
 by the cultured lady in whose charge I 
 was. Our home was isolated; we lived a retired 
 life ; I made no friends. Of my parents I know no- 
 thing. It was a topic which my grandfather would 
 not at any time discuss with me. He lived on the 
 Continent till Mrs. Thorburn died, when he came to 
 take me back with him. We spent our time in trav- 
 elling from place to place. Grandfather was ex- 
 tremely quiet and taciturn with me. He had been 
 so accustomed to an independent, solitary life, that 
 he never seemed to get quite used to me as his com- 
 panion. ' ' 
 
 "He kept you, then, in ignorance of your own 
 life affairs?" 
 
 "In complete ignorance." 
 
 "Incomprehensible and strange, it seems to me. 
 This bulky, heavily-sealed packet might perhaps con- 
 tain the clue to the mystery." 
 
 "It is addressed to someone, seemingly," Miss 
 Verne objected. "We have no right to open that." 
 
 "It is merely marked 'Mr. C.,' ' said Lisle. 
 1 ' That, I think, is merely a note for your grandfather 
 himself. And it does not assist us." 
 
 He paused, frowning thoughtfully. He was re-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 19 
 
 fleeting to himself with deep dissatisfaction as he 
 turned the packet over in his hands. 
 
 "As it is so heavily sealed, no doubt it contains 
 some treasure of great value." 
 
 As Lisle spoke, by chance he turned his head 
 towards the open window. To his astonishment, he 
 gazed straight into the eyes belonging to the pale 
 and evil-looking face of a man who had apparently 
 been for some time closely watching them from with- 
 out; half-concealed by the flowering creeper grow- 
 ing there. With a quick and greedy glance at the 
 packet in Lisle 's hands, the man's face disappeared, 
 just as Miss Verne, who sat with her back to the 
 window, turned, surprised, to see what Lisle was so 
 intently gazing at. 
 
 "Some inquisitive serving-man," he said care- 
 lessly; and thought no more of it. 
 
 He became immersed in speculative thought. 
 His faint hope had grown fainter with each answer, 
 and at last it died away. He could only grasp the 
 fact that Miss Verne was friendless, and, so far as 
 he could see, not specially fitted to cope alone with 
 the world. He now began to feel uneasy for her 
 near future, and to think he was in some measure re- 
 sponsible for helping her. But he had time to 
 spare, and determined to remain until he had seen 
 her safely through her troubles.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "Monsieur Verne does not improve in health," 
 the doctor said one day to Lisle. " 'Eh bien,' it is 
 understood. He is beyond my skill. I entertain 
 the gravest doubts of his recovery. Also, of his 
 chance of living long." 
 
 "I have made all possible inquiries in the neigh- 
 bourhood," Lisle responded anxiously, "to discover 
 if he was expected by any person here. But I can 
 learn nothing further. Mr. Verne is apparently 
 unknown to any of- the people here. Doctor ! I am 
 perplexed as to what course we can pursue to help 
 Miss Verne, if he should die." 
 
 The old doctor turned and looked at him with a 
 perplexed expression. 
 
 "Is it possible that Monsieur does not know? 
 Already have the people been busy with their 
 tongues. You have been much with Mademoiselle. 
 If Monsieur Verne should die " 
 
 He paused here meaningly. Lisle started, and 
 looked at him with surprised concern.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 21 
 
 "You are already interested in Mademoiselle?" 
 the doctor suggested shrewdly, with a slight smile. 
 
 Then, after a pause, during which his eyes were 
 not unkindly fixed upon Lisle 's brooding face, he 
 added with slow emphasis 
 
 " 'Mon ami,' why not marry? Me, I would 
 solve the problem thus. And for the benefit of 
 Mademoiselle. It is of fortune good you should be 
 here. She will not be alone is it not? 'Mon ami,' 
 you hesitate. It is of compliment the highest. And 
 it now is necessary. You are a man of honour. You 
 will silence the busy tongues. Me, I would not hesi- 
 tate in such a case." 
 
 Lisle still looked disturbed as the possibility was 
 thus pressed on him. 
 
 "Ah! you English people you are slow. You 
 have the British phlegm," the little doctor said re- 
 signedly. "I should go into a rapture. Mademoi- 
 selle is of appearance charming. 'Dieu,' what eyes 
 and hair. And of complexion perfect. One should 
 appreciate. Monsieur permits that I advise him in 
 the matter? But yes, it would certainly be best 
 to make the marriage, for the sake of Mademoiselle !". 
 
 Lisle continued to look thoughtfully at his ani- 
 mated face, but still without reply. 
 
 "It is well it were done soon," said the fussy
 
 22 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 little doctor finally, as he went off. "The suffering 
 old man will not last long. No. My skill can do no 
 more for him." 
 
 Lisle suggested later to Miss Verne that they 
 should take a stroll in the fresh air. It was a lovely 
 morning for a walk. As they came out together, 
 flocks of cooing pigeons and white doves preened 
 their plumage on the roofs, or were flying gaily 
 about in the warm golden sunshine, and fluttering 
 round the gables. A saddled horse was leisurely 
 drinking at a wooden trough by the roadside, with a 
 boy upon its back, and a dog or two lay blinking 
 lazily near by in the warm sun. 
 
 The youngster turned his head to gaze at them, 
 a look of curiosity in his round eyes. Two women 
 standing at an open door across the road were whis- 
 pering together, glancing at them as they passed. 
 Stella passed on unconscious of their meaning looks, 
 but the colour rose hotly to Lisle 's brown cheek. 
 He turned his burning face away from his com- 
 panion. 
 
 They had gone some way before he broke the 
 silence 
 
 "Miss Verne, I asked you to come out with me 
 that I might talk with you quite free from interrup- 
 tion." After pausing a moment in embarrassment, 
 he added, ' ' Stella, will you marry me ? ' '
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMOltST. 23 
 
 The girl started, much astonished, flushing 
 vividly, and looking at him in bewilderment. The 
 idea of what lay in his mind had not occurred to her. 
 He answered her wondering look by taking her hand 
 in his. . His own embarrassment had left him now 
 at sight of hers. 
 
 "I must speak plainly to you, Stella. Forgive 
 me if I seem cruel or abrupt. Your grandfather can- 
 not recover he is actually dying now. The doctor 
 tells me that there is no hope for him. I ask for 
 the right to protect you. I wish to marry you, and 
 take you to my home. ' ' 
 
 She did not answer him. She had not with- 
 drawn her hand from his clasp, however, and Lisle 
 was glad of that. 
 
 ' ' Do I hurry you unduly ? " he asked pleadingly. 
 "There is no other way. Here, you have no friend 
 but me." 
 
 "I do not love you; and you cannot care for 
 me," objected Stella, flushing, her eyes bent on the 
 ground. "You have not known me long." 
 
 "But you like me, and I like you. We will 
 soon learn to care for one another. The fact is, 
 Stella, the people here are talking I have it from 
 the doctor we must stop the busy tongues. For 
 my sake, as well as yours, I ask this thing of you. 
 On all accounts it is best for us to marry now."
 
 24 A LAPSE OF MEMORY 
 
 "What about your friends?" she faltered 
 doubtfully, an ever-deepening colour in her fresh 
 cheeks. 
 
 "You have none," he answered quietly, "either 
 to approve or interfere no more have I." 
 
 " I do not know where to turn, ' ' she said un- 
 easily, "or where to go. I have no claim on any- 
 one." 
 
 "You have a claim on me! Can you trust me 
 with your life and happiness?" 
 
 "I think I can," said Stella, shyly. 
 
 At this Lisle smiled, well pleased. He felt the 
 protective instinct stirring in his breast. 
 
 "You must give me unquestioning trust," he ex- 
 claimed, with a masterfulness that was as sweet as 
 it was strange and new to him. 
 
 He impetuously possessed himself of both her 
 hands, and drew her nearer to him. 
 
 "Promise always to have faith in me," he ex- 
 claimed, with a faint touch of pre- vision in his soul 
 that perhaps in the unknown future, a time might 
 chance to come when he would be glad to claim of 
 her the fulfilment of this promise. 
 
 "I promise," she responded timidly. 
 
 "Thank you, Stella."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 25 
 
 lisle vowed in his soul that she should have good 
 cause to trust him ever. 
 
 Their wedding-day was shadowed. Even as 
 they were returning to the house, a messenger met 
 them hurriedly, to tell them that a sudden change 
 for the worse had taken place whilst they were ab- 
 sent from the house, and Mr. Verne was dying. 
 They pressed on as fast as possible, and hurried in. 
 They were too late, however. Mr. Verne had passed 
 away as they were entering. 
 
 A few days later Mr. and Mrs. Lisle were on 
 their way to the town, whence they intended start- 
 ing for their home. 
 
 The distance thither seemed greater than they 
 had surmised, or else the driver had made some mis- 
 calculation of the time required for travelling. The 
 evening was coming on apace, and they had long 
 since passed the last available resting-place, when 
 Jacques stopped suddenly. 
 
 "A portion of the harness has given way, Mon- 
 sieur," he said anxiously in French, as he got down 
 and examined it with a puzzled shake of his head. 
 "It has been cut. The constant strain on it has 
 done the rest." 
 
 He paused to look at it again. Once more he 
 slowly shook his head.
 
 26 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "It is past the comprehension. It was unin- 
 jured when I put it on the horse. Monsieur sees 
 the harness has not been much worn." 
 
 "Did you attend to it yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur. One of the men approached 
 when I mounted to the box. He tightened a strap 
 or two. He said a buckle was undone. I am not 
 apt to slur my work ! ' ' 
 
 Jacques' nimble fingers, as he spoke, were work- 
 ing busily. He repaired the injured harness in a 
 rough and ready fashion, but it was not well secured, 
 and necessitated driving cautiously. Moreover, 
 they had met with a fresh misfortune now. The 
 horse had fallen lame. Since sundown, too, it had 
 turned out an unexpectedly chilly evening, with a 
 decided tendency to drizzle. 
 
 The driver stopped again, and got down stiffly, 
 with slow tardiness, to light the lamps. He came 
 in fresh dismay, to the near side of the carriage, to 
 consult with Lisle. 
 
 "Monsieur, we must rest. The horse is lame. 
 Monsieur sees he cannot make the pace. The har- 
 ness is uncertain. Me, I can repair it. But I must 
 have time and light. And I must take it off. Then 
 the horse. Some trouble ails his shoe. It retards 
 the progress. He stumbles at each step."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 27 
 
 "How far distant is the nearest house?" Lisle 
 questioned wearily. 
 
 ""We could arrive at one. But no. It is late 
 to make the demand for a night 's rest. ' ' 
 
 "Let us go there. Why do you hesitate? 
 > Drive on!" Lisle exclaimed impatiently. 
 
 "Monsieur would think of nothing, know no- 
 thing ! And this so dark night. But ah, the place. 
 It is deserted. One must have the knowledge. To 
 go there is not best." 
 
 He glanced uneasily across his shoulder, as he 
 crossed himself, ere adding in a lower tone 
 
 "It has the evil name, Monsieur!" 
 
 "Nonsense!" Lisle exclaimed impatiently, with 
 growing annoyance, as he thought of the uncomplain- 
 ing weariness of his young wife. "It will at least 
 be warmer there than here, ' ' he said to Stella, ' ' and 
 we shall be under shelter for the night." 
 
 "No slight consideration, when there is a storm 
 at hand," said Stella. "Anything is better than 
 standing still in this increasing chilly drizzle." 
 
 "Yes," Lisle agreed; "it cannot be more com- 
 fortless than this." 
 
 Jacques still hesitated; shrugged his shoulders; 
 rubbed his chin in a perplexed, vexed way.
 
 28 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "If Monsieur would permit the advice from 
 me. Monsieur, you will. Is it not?" 
 
 "Come, Jacques, drive on! We cannot stay 
 fooling here all night. The horse is shivering with 
 cold. You say, yourself, there is nowhere else to 
 go." 
 
 Shrugging his shoulders as he muttered to him- 
 self, with increasing tardiness of movement, the un- 
 willing man went to his horse 's head to lead him. 
 
 "Monsieur has his way. He will repent. 
 'Dieu,' what a night!" 
 
 Meantime, Lisle and Stella had alighted from 
 the carriage. After walking a short distance, stum- 
 bling in the dusk, they turned aside into a neglected 
 road that was evidently little used. Just as they 
 began to fear that they had missed their way, a dark 
 mass of trees and building loomed before them in the 
 dusky silence of the night. Jacques stopped his 
 wearied horse and went unwillingly to open the old 
 crazy gate that led into the drive. The rotten fas- 
 tenings gave way before his touch, and he led the 
 tired horse through to the house-front, and halted 
 there. 
 
 It was closed up and dark, and appeared inhos- 
 pitable and forbidding. Some of the windows were 
 partially grown over with creeper, or were in dense
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 29 
 
 shadow from the close and heavy growth of an old 
 tree. Lisle knocked gently at a door, but no re- 
 sponse was made. After a long interval of waiting, 
 during which he continued to knock more loudly 
 and repeatedly from time to time, he was on the 
 point of abandoning all hope that any inmate could 
 be within this dreary and apparently deserted build- 
 ing. 
 
 "Monsieur permits that I attempt?" Jacques 
 asked wearily at last. 
 
 "What could you do?" demanded Lisle. 
 
 "But yes, Monsieur. Me, I will force a door or 
 window for the entrance." 
 
 "Wait a little yet. I think someone is stirring 
 now." 
 
 Lisle stepped back as he spoke, .and looking up 
 at the desolate and silent house, discerned a faint 
 light at a window above. Soon the light was slowly 
 moved from room to room, and from one landing to 
 another. The faint glimmering appeared now at 
 one window, now at another; now clearer, and now 
 fainter, and by degrees it so descended to the lower 
 floor. Then came the sound of a light footfall just 
 within. And presently the heavy clanking of a 
 rusty chain. Soon the door swung open slowly, and 
 it seemed reluctantly, to disclose the unexpected 
 figure of an old woman standing on the threshold.
 
 30 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 By the brief glance Lisle got, hie noticed that her 
 face wore an inscrutable expression. She carried 
 in her hand a dim and smoking lamp, which she 
 raised up so that its light fell full upon his face, but 
 left 'her own in shadow. 
 
 "Can we remain here for the night?" Lisle 
 asked in French. "We have been belated, and will 
 pay you well, if we may have food and shelter for 
 the night." 
 
 " 'Entrez, Monsieur,' We live here alone, my 
 son and I. If little will content, we can afford you 
 the night's shelter." 
 
 In answer to enquiry as to accommodation for 
 the tired horse, she stepped outside the door and 
 pointed in the direction of the stables, at some dis- 
 tance from the house itself. Thither Jacques took 
 round the vehicle without delay. 
 
 They entered the old house and passed into a 
 room. It was close and musty, as though it had 
 been long shut up, and it was furnished with quaint, 
 dingy, and worm-eaten furniture. A faded, heavy 
 curtain hung before the door, perhaps to keep out 
 draught. 
 
 Stella gave an irrepressible and nervous little 
 shudder, as though the silent loneliness of this 
 strange place had already had effect upon her wear- 
 ied nerves.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 31 
 
 The old woman placed the smoking lamp upon 
 the table, uttering a few disjointed words in French, 
 regarding food and firing, and then left the room. 
 She re-entered presently with fuel. A fire was 
 lighted and was soon burning cheerfully on the 
 roomy, open hearth. She received Lisle 's request 
 that she would supply Jacques' wants, and retired 
 with a few words indicating, her intention of provid- 
 ing them with some refreshment. 
 
 The old woman soon returned, bringing food, 
 and a jug of hot and steaming coffee. As she 
 turned to leave the room again she hesitated, with 
 her eyes fixed on Lisle 's face as though she fain 
 would speak. Then she seemed to shrink within 
 herself, and a look of terror came upon her wrinkled 
 face. In another instant it was gone again, and 
 Lisle thought it was perhaps but some slight flicker- 
 ing movement of the firelight across her face. Even 
 as he looked at her in doubt, she turned and left the 
 room. 9 
 
 He and Stella now sat down together to partake 
 of their belated supper. The fire was cheerful, and 
 the hot coffee would have been acceptable to the 
 cold and weary travellers, but for a strange, slightly 
 unpleasant flavour. After a slight repast they 
 drew up their seats beside the brightly-burning fire.
 
 32 A LAPSE OP MEMORY. 
 
 It threw strange shadows in the gloomy corners of 
 the room. 
 
 "The coffee had a strange taste, Stella," Lisle 
 said presently. 
 
 "I have scarcely touched it," Stella said. 
 
 There was a long silence, during which they fol- 
 lowed each their own reflections. 
 
 "I wonder," she said musingly, at last, "if we 
 will succeed in finding out the person for whom my 
 poor grandfather's sealed packet was intended? I 
 have been thinking constantly about it. Perhaps 
 we may yet have to open it." 
 
 As Stella spoke she turned her head towards 
 the door. 
 
 "What is the matter, Stella?" Lisle inquired a 
 moment later, observing her abstracted manner. He 
 had drawn the packet from his inner pocket, and 
 was thoughtfully handling it. 
 
 She did not reply. Yawning wearily, he 
 leant back in his seat. He felt a strange, 
 unwonted drowsiness gradually stealing over him, 
 and he vainly tried to shake it off. It steadily in- 
 creased its heavy hold. He fell presently into a 
 dreamy state, and then into a doze. 
 
 Stella roused him suddenly by catching at his 
 arm, with a subdued but startled exclamation. He
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 33 
 
 started, turning to her, for the moment almost shak- 
 ing off the heavy slumber stealing over him. 
 
 ' ' Did you hear anything ? ' ' she whispered, awed. 
 "I heard a slight noise near, as though there were 
 some unseen presence in the heavy shadow of the 
 curtain at the door. Then I cried out to you." 
 
 "A mere fancy," Lisle responded carelessly, as 
 he replaced the packet in his inner pocket. "There 
 is no one there. You are tired and nervous, and 
 imagined it," he added, rising heavily from his seat. 
 
 He went first to the door, and then looked round 
 the room. 
 
 "The fire throws strange flickering shadows 
 here. It is beginning to die out, and we shall have 
 no fuel to replenish it when I have put on this last 
 log. I feel strangely drowsy I must sleep it off!" 
 
 As Lisle spoke he made a vain attempt to throw 
 the window open. The creeper just outside it had 
 overgrown the casement, and made it impracticable. 
 In his efforts to open it, he broke a pane of glass, 
 and the cold night air, smelling of freshly-fallen 
 rain, rushed in. For the moment, it almost dispelled 
 the stupor that was stealing over him and deadening 
 his senses. 
 
 By this time the lamp was burning low, and 
 before he turned it out, Lisle made Stella a couch
 
 34 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 i 
 as best he could, on an old settle, with the help of a 
 
 travelling cloak. He tried to secure the door, but 
 found the lock was broken, and the catch unusable. 
 Tired out himself, he drew his seat close to the dying 
 fire, and, leaning his arms heavily on the table, laid 
 his weary head on them. 
 
 "I must rest awhile." he murmured drowsily, 
 and fell asleep at once.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Stella could not sleep. She lay listening and 
 thinking in the dark and silent watches of the night. 
 The fire had burnt out, and only a few hot cinders 
 lay upon the hearth. But Lisle was sleeping heavily, 
 leaning forward on the table in unconscious stupor. 
 There was no sound throughout the silent and mys- 
 terious house, beyond his heavy breathing in the 
 room. 
 
 Meantime the first fine drizzling of the rain had 
 become a cutting, sharper shower; the sharper 
 shower became first a steady and monotonous patter- 
 ing, and then a heavy downpour. A soughing wind 
 sprang up and wailed around the desolate old house 
 like some unhappy, miserable spirit. It soon in- 
 creased in fury, in short, violent gusts, and the rain 
 descended heavily in unremitting torrents. The 
 monotonous chanting of the wind soon became a 
 shrieking shrill. A raging thunderstorm had been 
 slowly gathering, and now had broken over them 
 with a violent burst of wind. 
 
 The thunder peals grew louder, nearer, every
 
 36 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 moment; the vivid lightning flashes more intense. 
 The wind howled on, with mighty blasts at times 
 that seemed to shake the solid, stone-built house. 
 Now sinking into moaning, murmuring sound, and 
 for the moment almost dying away. 
 
 The wind was howling still, with occasional lulls 
 of this low, dull murmuring. The rain still beat 
 down heavily, and the vivid flashes of lightning 
 ceased not, save for a brief interval. The thunder 
 rolled and crashed incessantly, or growled itself 
 away into far-distant regions, as the fitful lightning- 
 flashes lighted up from time to time, now brightly, 
 and now dimly, the apartment, through the heavily- 
 creepered window. 
 
 About midnight Stella started from a fitful doze 
 into which she had sunk from sheer fatigue, in spite of 
 the wild tumult of the warring elements. And dur- 
 ing one of these brief flashes she was startled to ob- 
 serve a dark form standing by her husband, bending 
 over him. Instantly on the alert, she started up, 
 with the one thought of saving him from danger. 
 "With one swift movement she reached his side as he 
 stirred restlessly. And as he moved, the intruder 
 raised a hand and arm to strike. Stella caught the 
 downward stroke on her own arm. 
 
 Roused by her sudden cry of pain and warning, 
 mingling strangely with the storm, Lisle started up
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 37 
 
 in time to see, by a lightning-flash, a pale and evil- 
 looking face as it turned fiercely on his wife. 
 
 His thoughts flew swiftly to the time when he 
 had seen it last, as it looked in at him from an open 
 window, half-concealed by a gay flowering creeper. 
 Then he thought of the cut harness on the road, and 
 the lamed horse. "Was robbery the object? Was it 
 possible their misadventure on the road had been 
 contrived and timed, that they might be forced to 
 seek this lonely lair for their night's shelter? 
 
 With the speed of the lightning-flash itself these 
 thoughts flashed through his mind in a connected 
 train. 
 
 The intruder had wheeled round as Lisle sprang 
 up, and, flying from the room, Lisle and his young 
 wife were left alone together in the close grim dark- 
 ness, awaiting the next tardy lightning-flash. 
 
 "How heavily I have slept," Lisle murmured, 
 with a misty, half-awakened recollection of the even- 
 ing's occurrences; as, refreshed by sleep, he shook 
 off his remaining touch of drowsiness. "I could al- 
 most think the coffee was drugged, ' ' he reflected un- 
 easily. 
 
 He drew his matches from his pocket, and put 
 the half-charred sticks together on the hearth, and, 
 kneeling, lighted them. Now thoroughly roused,
 
 38 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 his first act was hastily to draw a heavy piece of 
 furniture against the door, to guard against a fresh 
 surprise. Then he turned to Stella, who was sitting 
 on the* settle, white and faint, and waiting patient- 
 ly, her arm bleeding freely from an ugly wound on 
 it. Lisle uttered an exclamation, of distressed con- 
 cern. On careful examination, to his intense relief, 
 he found it was apparently not dangerous, though 
 painful ; and the scar of it, when healed, would pro- 
 bably remain to her dying day. 
 
 He checked the bleeding, and bound, up the 
 wound with careful tenderness. Making her lie 
 down again, he sat beside her, now prepared to 
 watch for the remainder of the night. 
 
 The sounds of the storm had grown much 
 fainter now, and it was dying away. The thunder 
 peals were lulling; the lightning flashes had become 
 less frequent, less intense, and gradually ceased. 
 The beating of the rain became less violent, grew 
 once again into a monotonous gentle patter- 
 ing, a soothing lullaby. The storm had passed on 
 and away, or had dropped, worn out; for it died 
 away at last into complete unbroken silence. 
 
 Stella had sunk meantime into light and fitful 
 sleep. Lisle was greatly touched, stirred to his in- 
 most depths. He watched her slumbers by the flick-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 39 
 
 ering firelight, very tenderly ; and bending over her 
 he gently pressed his lips on the pretty rounded arm 
 hurt in his own defence. 
 
 The fire died out again, and he watched for the 
 first faint light of dawn. As the day at last began 
 to break (a change of cool, grey light that he could 
 only just discern within this creeper-darkened 
 room), he approached the broken window, and 
 hearkened eagerly for the sound of coming wheels 
 without. But as yet he could hear nothing. 
 
 Stella now awoke, and he came quickly to her 
 side. 
 
 "Then it was not all a dream?" she exclaimed 
 in a low voice, gazing around her wonderingly. "I 
 almost fancied that it was, Bertie! What a strange 
 night we have had ! And what a dreadful storm ! ' ' 
 
 Lisle knelt beside her, gathering her close to 
 him, with an impulsive movement. 
 
 "Stella! Do you realise you have been hurt for 
 me perhaps have saved my life?" 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad so glad I was in time!" 
 
 The girl half raised herself. Lisle imperiously 
 took her back again in his embrace. 
 
 "You are doubly mine now, Stella," he said, 
 masterfully. "Do not turn your face away from 
 me!"
 
 40 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 He bent his head; his warm lips sought her 
 cheek. 
 
 "I could almost think there was a put-up plan 
 to rob us," he said presently. "I think the old 
 woman was half inclined to warn us of some evil 
 when she seemed about to speak. You were pro- 
 bably not mistaken, after all, when you thought 
 that some one was watching us last night." 
 
 "What shall we do? Shall we leave quietly 
 when Jacques comes round for us?" 
 
 "Why, yes; I told him to come round at day- 
 break. It would be useless to seek any knowledge 
 of this house. Though the night's occurrences have 
 been unusual, to say the least. But this is an un- 
 usual place." 
 
 As Lisle spoke he heard at last the welcome 
 sound of wheels passing along the weedy drive, and 
 stopping just outside. The house was still and silent. 
 They could only hear the restless stamping of the 
 horse's hoofs outside. All below was as it had been 
 on the previous evening. The fire had long ago died 
 out again, and the charred wood and ashes lay in 
 dusty heaps on the cold and cheerless hearth. The 
 remains of their scanty, uninviting supper lay be- 
 fore them on the table. Lisle placed money there to 
 defray the cost of their night's lodging; with a
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 41 
 
 slight smile on his lips at the grim irony of it, dis- 
 turbed and broken as their rest had been. Unfasten- 
 ing the clanking, rusty chain, with an involuntary 
 shudder at the harsh noise it made, grating on his 
 nerves after his disturbed night, he opened the 
 heavy door. It grated dismally on its hinges, awak- 
 ening the echoes of the house, breaking the prevail- 
 ing mysterious silence brooding over it. 
 
 Lisle took Stella out, and placed her in the car- 
 riage. Ere getting in himself, he stood gazing round 
 him, in the misty morning light. The air out here, 
 though raw and chill, was free and healthy after the 
 unwholesome closeness of the house. The house 
 looked desolate in the gray morning light. No signs 
 of life were here. No smoke issued from the old, 
 blackened chimneys. An over-grown, neglected or- 
 chard stretched away on one side. Some broken 
 branches lay strewn about, tossed there in its cruel 
 sport by the storm the night before. A tree had 
 been uprooted and thrown down. 
 
 Lisle got into the carriage, drawing a long 
 breath of intense relief. 
 
 "Now for the next portion of our journey 
 home," he exclaimed with a glad look, as he press- 
 ed Stella's hand, and drew the wraps about her 
 carofully. 
 
 They set forward for the town whence they 
 would make their start.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On the evening of a dull, gray day, Lisle and his 
 young wife arrived together at their home in Devon- 
 shire. 
 
 As their carriage stopped before the handsome 
 country house, standing amidst ample and well-kept 
 grounds, the front door was opened by a middle- 
 aged man, whose naturally solemn countenance wore 
 a look of sedate joy. He descended the flight of 
 steps to open the carriage door. 
 
 "Ah, John I am glad to see you; glad to be at 
 home once more!" cried Lisle. 
 
 "The house is ready for you, sir. We worked 
 hard to get things ready when we got your tele- 
 gram." 
 
 An old woman, neatly, even handsomely and 
 becomingly attired in black, appeared on the thres- 
 hold of the door. Lisle, ascending the flight of 
 steps with Stella on his arm, approached her smil- 
 ing, and shook hands with her affectionately. Then 
 he presented Stella.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 43 
 
 "Well, Grayson! here we are. You see we have 
 arrived all safe and sound. This is your new mis- 
 tress. Stella, this is Mrs. Grayson, my old house- 
 keeper. My warm, true friend, and my most ardent 
 admirer since my schoolboy days." 
 
 Lisle spoke gaily, laughing happily. Mrs. 
 Grayson, who had cast an astonished, startled look 
 at the strange young woman who was thus suddenly 
 presented to her notice, observed her at first with 
 ill-concealed dismay. One close glance at Stella's 
 winsome face disarmed her uneasiness. A smile 
 broke forth like sunshine on her wrinkled counten 
 ance. Re-assured, she respectfully advanced to take 
 the trembling little hand held forth to her. A sorl 
 of motherly compassion came into her face as she 
 felt the nervous fluttering of Stella's fingers. The 
 old woman longed to stoop and kiss the little hand, 
 and bid her mistress welcome. 
 
 But Stella had observed the momentary shadow 
 on the old woman's brow, and a sudden tinge of 
 pride and pain shot through her heart as she began 
 to realise her strange position here. 
 
 "Mr. Herbert, I am glad and thankful you 
 have come!" said Mrs. Grayson, beaming with de- 
 light.
 
 44 A LAPSE OF MEMORY, 
 
 "Yet you will not let me enter my own house!" 
 laughed Lisle. 
 
 She moved aside at once, and led the way. Lisle 
 turned lightly to his wife to lead her in. 
 
 "Enter, Stella! Let me introduce you to your 
 home! Come into the library, my favourite room. 
 I know we shall find a good fire burning there!" 
 
 They entered the room, and he helped the ner- 
 vous, trembling girl to remove her wraps. Then he 
 drew her closely to him, with a gravely-tender face. 
 
 "Your own home, Stella yours and mine!" he 
 said. "Why, how you tremble, dear!" 
 
 He bent his head and gently kissed her lips. 
 
 "What is the matter? Why, how cold you 
 are! I fear you must be tired out, travelling." 
 
 So pre-occupied was Lisle with his own thoughts 
 that no idea of the truth occurred to him. That 
 Stella could feel in any way amiss had never crossed 
 his mind. For was she not his wife, and mistress 
 of his home? 
 
 "To-morrow," Lisle said, happily, "we will 
 view the house and grounds together. You shall 
 have all arranged to your own taste. How happy 
 we shall be!" 
 
 But the girl made no response; and, chilled by 
 her seeming coldness, and not understanding it,
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 45 
 
 Lisle released her somewhat from his hold, with a 
 hurt feeling at his heart. 
 
 Stella glanced hastily at him, and the colour for 
 a moment left her face. But the early, stinging 
 smart recurred to her, and still her heart was quiver- 
 ing and aching with the pain. Fearing to show it, 
 she put her husband gently from her, and walked 
 over to the fireplace. The young husband quickly 
 followed her, with a reproachful, almost a resentful 
 look. 
 
 "Stella, how cold you are to me! You do not 
 care, as I already care for you. Else this would 
 come more naturally to you now." 
 
 She gave him a quick look of mingled shyness 
 and compunction. 
 
 "Do not be vexed with me," she said. "Bertie, 
 it is still new to me. And I feel very strange." 
 
 "Can I be angry with you, Stella? Though I 
 think that I am hurt. But I must not be impatient 
 you will learn. We are married now, remember. 
 These things should come more naturally to you by 
 my side. You will soon find it easy. You are tired 
 out travelling." 
 
 Stella did not answer. Lisle observed her for 
 an instant with some new uneasy feeling in his mind 
 that he could not have put into words. It had sud-
 
 46 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 dcnly occurred to him how little he knew women. 
 
 In an altered tone he said: 
 
 "Will you go to your own room with Mrs. 
 Grayson whilst I speak to John before we dine ? I 
 will ring for her." 
 
 As Stella turned to leave him, a sudden sense 
 of loneliness came over her. She felt her need of 
 him. She turned quickly back to him again. With 
 an impulsive gesture she put her arms about him, 
 and clung gently to him. In an instant Lisle had 
 caught her to his breast. 
 
 "Stella! Stella! do you begin to care?" 
 She made no reply, and he gently raised her 
 face to look at it. It was all flushed and quivering, 
 and her eyes were full of tears. The young hus- 
 band was both puzzled and concerned. He bent his 
 head to hers, and kissed the tears away. 
 
 "Dear! what troubles you?" he whispered 
 tenderly. 
 
 "Bertie, it swept over me with one wild, over- 
 whelming rush, that I am but an unknown stranger 
 in your home. I have no friends no rights and 
 then " 
 
 She stopped short, battling to keep back a sud 
 den rush of tears.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 47 
 
 The old housekeeper's first uneasy look of a 
 great astonishment, the wondering surprise depicted 
 on the stolid face of the serving-man when he open- 
 ed the carriage-door, came freshly back to her. 
 
 "But then, my home is yours! Is it not enough 
 to be v with me?" Lisle murmured tenderly, and half 
 reproachfully. "Stella, we will talk of this again 
 together. We must prepare for dinner now. And 
 I must speak with John." 
 
 He patted her shoulder, smiling cheerfully, and 
 dismissed her to her room. 
 
 As they finished dinner, John approached his 
 master with a letter. 
 
 "What is this?" ejaculated Lisle. "I have 
 barely time to arrive most unexpectedly at home 
 after a long absence, and, behold! a letter has al- 
 ready come for me." 
 
 He opened and read it with evident annoyance. 
 
 "It is from Mr. Weston, Stella, my solicitor. It 
 seems he saw our carriage passing from the station, 
 and knows I have arrived. He will call to-night. I 
 had looked forward to a quiet evening alone with 
 you. Our first evening at home ! I have so much to 
 say to you." 
 
 They retired together to the library. Lisle 's 
 face was full of thought.
 
 48 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "Stella, will you spend half an hour with Mrs. 
 Grayson when he comes? I have important private 
 business to transact with him. And I would like to 
 introduce you afterwards. Return to the library in 
 half an hour's time." 
 
 A sharp peal rang at the front-door bell. 
 
 "That is Mr. Weston's summons," Lisle said, 
 half pleased and half reluctant, as he prepared to 
 receive his friend. 
 
 Leading Stella to the staircase, he dismissed 
 her there, and stood looking after her slight figure 
 till it vanished from his view. 
 
 What followed later, after the immediate de- 
 parture of the unwished-for visitor, was only known 
 to Lisle himself and his young wife. 
 
 And it was rather late that night when Lisle 
 prepared to ascend the staircase on his way to bed. 
 Ligh{ in hand, he entered the spacious and luxuri- 
 ously-fitted room that had been prepared for them. 
 The bed-curtains were drawn, and setting down his 
 light, he went softly, eagerly across to see if Stella 
 were awake. His whole soul was yearning for a 
 thorough explanation before he slept that night. 
 
 Drawing aside the curtains, he bent over ten- 
 derly. He started suddenly, and gave a quick and 
 apprehensive glance around the room. The bed pos-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 49 
 
 sessed no tenant! It had not been touched. And 
 the room itself was empty and unoccupied, save for 
 himself. 
 
 He caught up the light again, and held it high. 
 As he did so, a letter lying on the dressing-table 
 caught his eye. Lisle seized on it with shaking 
 hands, a cruel fear gripping at his heart; and tore 
 it open. 
 
 His young face grew white as he glanced over 
 it. With one furious, despairing gesture, he tore it 
 across, and flung the pieces from him on the ground. 
 
 "My wife has abandoned me!" he cried, and 
 his voice was hoarse with bitterness and pain. 
 ' ' And I know not whither she has gone ! ' '
 
 Part II.
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "No friend to welcome me at any port," Lisle 
 muttered with a sigh, as he stood leaning against 
 the railing of the steamer's upper deck. 
 
 She had been steaming towards the entrance of 
 the harbour of Colombo, and the beautiful palm- 
 fringed shore was now in view. As she dropped an- 
 chor, she was surrounded by some boats, many of 
 them bringing native merchants laden with Oriental 
 treasures, some with dusky Tamils who sang to the 
 plash of their oars, plying for the hire of their boats 
 to take passengers ashore; and others yet, contain- 
 ing friends of the passengers. Lisle had watched 
 their eager greetings with this exclamation, a sad 
 feeling at his heart. His eyes grew dreamy as he 
 watched the busy scene, and he fell into sad train 
 of thought, from which he presently roused himself 
 with a determined shake of his broad shoulders.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 51 
 
 "I will go below," he said, "and get my traps 
 together. It is time I went ashore. No use in lin- 
 gering here!" 
 
 He was about to turn away when a friendly 
 hand was laid on his shoulder, as a once well-known 
 voice said heartily, 
 
 "A warm welcome to Colombo, Lisle! So we 
 meet again at last!" 
 
 Lisle turned hastily towards the man who had 
 thus accosted him. 
 
 "Mainwaring, is it you? How came you here? 
 And how did you know I was on board this ship?" 
 
 "No thanks to you, my friend, with your cool 
 neglect of me. Knowing what a traveller" you are, 
 I kept my eye on the shipping-lists, and came upon 
 your name at last. I felt sure it was you, and came 
 to give you welcome." 
 
 Lisle gave him a look of gratitude, and grasped 
 his hand again. 
 
 "I am so glad to see you, Norman! How has the 
 world been using you?" 
 
 "Oh, my world wags on much as usual any- 
 where," returned the other lightly. 
 
 "You have not told me yet why you are here?" 
 "I was over-worked in business, and was sent
 
 52 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 out awhile for a holiday, that I might recuperate. 
 My mother came with me. I feel much better now. 
 But, Lisle, you have a melancholy air you did not 
 have before!" 
 
 For a moment the two men stood silently re- 
 garding one another with anxious interest. Main- 
 waring marked, with pained surprise, the subtle 
 changes that had come in Lisle 's well-remembered 
 countenance. 
 
 His face was that of a man who had endured 
 some bitter disappointment, some keen grief or 
 sharp anxieties. His fine, dark eyes had a weary 
 and listless look, and the curves about his firm and 
 finely-moulded mouth betokened habitual sadness. 
 His dark hair was already slightly tinged with gray. 
 
 With a sudden kindly impulse, Mainwaring put 
 his hand affectionately on his friend's shoulder. 
 
 "Well, Lisle, I have come to take you home with 
 me. We have a charming little bungalow. I will 
 take no denial, and my mother is already expecting 
 you. I suppose there is nothing to keep you here ? 
 Then we had better get ashore without delay. I 
 have a boat." 
 
 They were soon seated in the boat, rowed by a 
 dusky Tamil, and approaching the palm-fringed 
 shore.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 5, 
 
 "I will give directions about my baggage later 
 on. I am in doubt where to stay," said Lisle. 
 
 "Stay at Galle Face," suggested Mainwaring. 
 "The Carruthers, friends of mine, are staying there. 
 And the scenery is delightful." 
 
 As they came ashore, Lisle saw Indian hurnped- 
 bulls drawing curious palm-thatched carts; dusky 
 Tamil and Singhalese coolies with their busy ton- 
 gues; and parties of Europeans in their large sun- 
 topees, and travellers from the liners in the harbour, 
 coming and going in carriages and 'rickshaws. 
 
 A young Englishman, who had jusit landed, 
 came up to him. 
 
 "Mr. Lisle, I am glad of this chance to say 
 'Good-bye' to you. I looked for you just after you 
 had left the ship." 
 
 With a warm shake of Lisle 's hand, he went 
 upon his way. 
 
 "That is Arthur Russell, a fellow-passenger, 
 who shared my cabin with me. He is going to a 
 Tea Estate up on the hills," said Lisle. "He told me 
 he was on his way to marry a girl out here." 
 
 "I wonder if he is the man who is engaged to 
 marry Martin's sister," Mainwaring said. 
 
 "He did not mention names. He merely touch-
 
 54 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 ed on the matter incidentally in conversation," said 
 his friend. 
 
 The two young men were soon seated in a car- 
 riage, and driving beneath the beautiful Suriya and 
 other shade-trees, towards Mainwaring's bungalow 
 in the Cinnamon Gardens. It was embowered in 
 foliage; all kinds of feathery palms, gorgeous cro- 
 tons and rosy oleanders with their colour and frag- 
 rance, making charming Mainwaring's comfortable 
 quarters. The verandahs, supported by rows of 
 white pillars, occupied as much space as the rest of 
 the bungalow, and were furnished with luxurious 
 lounges. 
 
 "We use the verandahs more than the rooms," 
 said Mainwaring, as they stood together on the wide 
 verandah, looking out upon the garden. "They 
 possess the advantages of outdoor life, and yet we 
 are completely protected from the heat of the tro- 
 pical sun." 
 
 "You are just the same as ever, Norman, " Lisle 
 said affectionately, turning to his friend. "I was 
 thinking rather sadly that I had no friend to wel- 
 come me, when you appeared so unexpectedly. As 
 with the rolling stone that has no time to gather 
 moss, so it must be, I think, with perpetual travel- 
 lers regarding friends. There has been no moss for 
 such a rolling stone as I."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 55 
 
 "I never forget old times, or friends," said 
 Mainwaring, soberly. "Why did you never write 
 me in these last three years? Surely you received 
 my letters, Lisle? What have you been doing all 
 this time?" 
 
 "Travelling," the other answered, somewhat 
 shortly, with a recurrence of the pained and weary 
 look. 
 
 Mainwaring gave him one quick glance, and in- 
 stinctively dropped the subject. 
 
 "My mother is late," he said, referring to his 
 watch, as a servant brought the tea. "Ah! here 
 she comes at last." 
 
 A handsome, stately lady was approaching as 
 he spoke, and both advanced to meet her. 
 
 "Mother, this is Herbert Lisle," said Mainwar- 
 ing, presenting him. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring held out her hand to greet 
 him, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 "My son has often spoken of you, Mr. Lisle. I 
 am so glad to know you. ' ' 
 
 "The pleasure is not wanting on my side, I as- 
 sure you, Mrs. Mainwaring. It was so good of you 
 to ask me here." 
 
 "We are glad to have you. Norman is devoted 
 to you Now, let me give you tea," she added, ad-
 
 56 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 vancing to the table, and taking the chair her son 
 had placed for her. 
 
 Mainwaring stood beside her, watching her, as 
 she poured out the tea. 
 
 "You were a little late in coming, mother?" 
 
 "Yes ; I was detained. I was driving with Clare 
 Carruthers this afternoon. Will you give Mr. Lisle 
 his tea and hand him those hot cakes. I under- 
 stand that you have just arrived here after a long 
 trip around the world?" 
 
 "Oh, Bertie is a great traveller," observed her 
 son. "We made our first acquaintance travelling. 
 We were together first on board the same ship when 
 I was going to England. He was on his way then 
 to the Continent." 
 
 "You must be tired of travel," said Mrs. Main- 
 waring. "Norman tells me that your home is in 
 Devonshire. Shall you not settle down in England 
 now?" 
 
 "I do not know yet," said Bertie restlessly, 
 the dawn of a doubtful and harassed look appearing 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "We must try to keep him at Colombo, mother, 
 whilst I am here. Meantime, he must remain with 
 us for a few days." 
 
 "You are very kind," said Lisle. "Do I un- 
 derstand you are not staying here long yourself?"
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 57 
 
 "I may return to England, possibly, at any 
 time," said Mainwaring. "And you?" 
 
 "I was on my way home," said Lisle. "Some 
 freak made me decide to land. I know now it was 
 fate, for you were here." 
 
 "We shall return to England when Mr. Car- 
 ruthers and his daughter go. Bertie, why not wait 
 awhile, and go with us? It would make a pleasant 
 travelling-party for us all." 
 
 "By the way," said Mrs. Mainwaring, "they 
 dine with us to-night. They are great friends of 
 ours. We must introduce you, Mr. Lisle." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Mainwaring." 
 
 Lisle 's attention was now claimed by Mainwar- 
 ing, who took him off with him to his own room.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 That evening Lisle waited abstractedly for the 
 arrival of the expected guests, as he sat with Mrs. 
 Mainwaring and her son in the drawing-room, with 
 its polished floors and Oriental mats, capacious 
 lounges, and open windows, through which came 
 the balmy evening air laden with wafts of perfume 
 from the garden. 
 
 He scarcely heard their conversation as he 
 waited, and gave absent answers when he was ad- 
 dressed, for his thoughts were far away, lost in the 
 past. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers and his daughter were an- 
 nounced. Lisle looked abstractedly towards the 
 door as they were ushered in. Then he started up, 
 and went impetuously forward, holding out his 
 hands impulsively towards the girl who was just 
 entering the room, as though he would have grasp- 
 ed her hands in his. 
 
 "Stella!" he exclaimed, his voice thrilling with 
 a sudden recognition and a sudden intense joy. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring and her son both turned to-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 59 
 
 wards him in astonishment.. The girl herself stood 
 looking at him with such blank surprise and wonder 
 that it recalled him to himself. Mr. Carruthers, 
 too, was gazing at him in a way he could not un- 
 derstand. He had started violently when he first 
 heard Bertie's exclamation, and he had wheeled 
 sharply round to look at him. He had now appar- 
 ently recovered from his first astonishment. He 
 turned towards his daughter, but still kept his keen 
 and penetrating eyes fixed observantly on Lisle 's 
 face. And he put his hand, with a caressing ges- 
 ture, lightly on her shoulder as he stood beside 
 her, allowing it to rest there for an instant. 
 
 Miss Carruthers involuntarily glanced again at 
 Lisle, and Bertie almost fancied, as he met her look, 
 that a half-defined expression of uneasy wonder, al- 
 most of confusion, crept into her face. Her eyes 
 fell again before he could be certain he was right, 
 and the colour slowly deepened in her cheeks as she 
 turned away. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers, who had watched her closely 
 from beneath his heavy eyebrows, had caught his 
 daughter's look. He turned again to Lisle. 
 
 "It appears you have found some chance re- 
 semblance in my daughter to some friend of yours?" 
 he said interrogatively.
 
 60 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "Yes. An accidental likeness," Lisle replied 
 confusedly, with some distress. ' ' Pray pardon me ! ' ? 
 
 As he spoke he turned away. 
 
 "It was but a wild fancy, based upon a chance 
 resemblance," he reflected, smiling somewhat sadly 
 at his folly. 
 
 This young woman, with the clear-cut features 
 and soft, dark eyes, was strangely like the girl who 
 had been constantly before him in his thoughts 
 these past three years. Though there was certainly 
 something in her look or was it something want- 
 ing? which somehow made her seem quite differ- 
 ent, after all, on looking at her now. 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Carruthers had fallen into heavy 
 reverie, from which, with an effort, he roused him- 
 self at last. 
 
 Dinner was announced, and they were soon 
 seated at table in the small but well-appointed din- 
 ing-room. 
 
 "Shall you be glad to return to England, 
 dear?" Mrs. Mainwaring said later on to Miss Car- 
 ruthers. 
 
 " I love Ceylon, have much enjoyed my trip, 
 and feel the better for it. Yet, for some reasons, I 
 prefer my own home life and settled occupations. 
 Colombo is more for a happy holiday."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 61 
 
 "By the way," said Mr. Carruthers to Main- 
 waring, "I am leaving the hotel, and taking over 
 Mrs. Dawson's bungalow for the remainder of our 
 stay. The strong sea-air at Galle Face does not 
 quite suit Clare, and we are seeking the milder at- 
 mosphere of Cinnamon Gardens." 
 
 "I am surprised Mrs. Dawson has made up her 
 mind to part with her charming bungalow," said 
 Mainwaring. ' ' She "was so attached to it. She took 
 such pride and pleasure in her garden there." 
 
 "They are leaving Colombo soon," his mother 
 said. "She and her husband are soon going to In- 
 dia. I saw her yesterday. She told me Mr. Daw- 
 son has a good appointment there." 
 
 "Indeed! They are going to India? "Well, I 
 had not heard of their intention. It is news to me." 
 
 "I am looking forward to the driving here," 
 said Lisle. "The carriage roads are excellent. They 
 are uncommon in the wild luxuriance of beautiful 
 vegetation all around." 
 
 "I had a delightful drive to-day with Mrs. 
 Mainwaring," said Miss Carruthers. "The brown 
 thatched huts and groups of gaily-clad natives give 
 life to a charming scene of which I never tire!" 
 
 "You will see creepers festooned from tree to 
 tree," said Mainwaring, "and banyans stretching
 
 62 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 in natural archways over the roads. Here and there 
 is a perfect blaze of flame-coloured gloriosa, and 
 orange and lemon trees covered with fragrant 
 bloom." 
 
 "The red roads are so restful to the eye," said 
 Mrs. Mainwaring. "They are in charming contrast 
 to the surrounding monotonous green. An evening 
 drive through this part of Colombo is entrancing." 
 
 "You may wander under the shade of the 
 palms," said Mainwaring, "or rest beneath graceful 
 bamboos." 
 
 "The atmosphere is an exquisite natural frag- 
 rance from surrounding blooms," added Miss Car- 
 ruthers. "All these pleasures are in store for you." 
 
 "I hear you are to take up quarters at Galle 
 Face," Mr. Carruthers said to Lisle. "Meantime, 
 will you lunch there with me to-morrow?" 
 
 "I shall be most happy, Mr. Carruthers." 
 
 A servant entered at this moment, and ap- 
 proaching Mainwaring, gave him some message in 
 an undertone, receiving some order from his master 
 in return. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring rose, and took Miss Car- 
 ruthers away with her. 
 
 "What do you think of Numo?" Mainwaring 
 inquired of Lisle, as his servant left the room again.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 63 
 
 He had observed Lisle 's eyes fixed on him curi- 
 ously, as he served the coffee. 
 
 "He seems to remind me of someone I hav^ 
 known, ' ' said Lisle. ' ' That odd brown face seems 
 sitrangely like, and yet unlike, one I have some- 
 where seen before. My memory is playing me 
 some trick." 
 
 "There" is something in his face," said Mr. Car- 
 ruthers, thoughtfully, ' ' that gives one the impression 
 he has led a miserable, hunted kind of life." 
 
 "There is probably not one of us," Lisle said, 
 suddenly, with a deep undercurrent of gravity in 
 his tones, "who can live according to his heart-felt 
 wishes. All life is a compromise between what we 
 want, and what we can get; what we aspire to do 
 and what we can achieve." 
 
 He spoke bitterly, and the two men looked at 
 him with surprise as he turned hastily aside. 
 
 "Well, I think most of us get on very well on 
 the whole!" Mr. Carruthers said, good-humouredly. 
 
 They rose with one accord to join the women 
 on the wide verandah just outside the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 "You are early!" said Mrs. Mainwaring, smil- 
 ingly, as they approached her through the open 
 door. "We scarcely expected to see you yet 
 awhile."
 
 4 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "We do not care to smoke to-night/' said Mr. 
 Camithers, with an answering smile, as he took the 
 seat beside her. 
 
 "We have come to beg for music," added Main- 
 waring, "if Miss Carruthers will favour us pre- 
 sently." 
 
 As Mrs. Mainwaring became engaged with Mr. 
 Carruthers and her son, Miss Carruthers turned to 
 Lisle, who had come over to her side. They walked 
 a little way together on the wide verandah in the 
 cool delicious evening air, and stood leaning against 
 the pillars as they inhaled the perfume from the 
 sleeping garden, and watched the fireflies dance in 
 the dark foliage of the palms. 
 
 "Have you been long in Colombo, Miss Car- 
 ruthers?" questioned Lisle. 
 
 "Not very long. We took the sea-trip for my 
 health, and, on stopping here, were so enchanted 
 with the place that we thought we would like to 
 live on the spot awhile. The climate is delightful, 
 suits us perfectly, and the island is extremely inter- 
 esting to us all." 
 
 "Did Mrs. Mainwaring arrive with you by the 
 same ship?" 
 
 "She had arrived already with her son. We 
 became acquainted on the spot."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 65 
 
 "I understand you will return to England 
 soon?" 
 
 "Not yet awhile. You heard my father speak- 
 ing of a bungalow he wished to take." 
 
 "My own home is in Devonshire," said Lisle, 
 reflectively. "But I have not seen it for the last 
 three years." 
 
 "Why so?" asked Miss Carruthers, with some 
 interest. 
 
 "I cannot settle there.. and I have been trav- 
 elling." 
 
 "Why are you, so restless?" she asked gently. 
 
 Her dark eyes rested on his face with a sympa- 
 thetic look in the soft light. 
 
 "Clare! Will you play to us?" called Mrs. 
 Mainwaring's voice, before Lisle could reply. 
 
 Miss Carruthers turned at once, and went in to 
 the drawing-room to the piano. She played remark- 
 ably well from memory. The calm and quiet, un- 
 moved expression, the want of ordinary animation 
 that her face wore usually, now had disappeared. 
 Her countenance was full of animated feeling; now 
 pale and grave, now flushed and keen, according to 
 the movement of the music. It seemed as though 
 her soul were in the sounds.
 
 66 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 The music seemed to speak to them as well as 
 to herself, and they all listened to her, spell-bound. 
 
 At times there was a strange impression as of 
 sighs of dumb and anguished yearning, a longing 
 for expression; as of a soul that beat itself againsc 
 its prison bars in a vain effort to escape and wing 
 its way out into realms of space, and light, and air. 
 Then suddenly the music pulsed and throbbed, in- 
 stinct with life and light. The fainting soul seemed 
 to revive, expand, escape. To mount into the realms 
 of life and light, and to reach peace and rest. 
 
 Lisle hung over the instrument, his whole soul 
 in according sympathy. 
 
 "Your music is exquisite! You are a true musi- 
 cian," he said feelingly, when at last she ceased. 
 "And you have been well trained." 
 
 "Oh, I love music dearly! And I had good 
 teaching in my early life." 
 
 "It seems to me that it excites your feelings 
 very much even to a touch of pain, perhaps?" 
 
 "It is true that it affects my feelings but it is 
 quite a different thing from pain. I cannot explain 
 it to you, Mr. Lisle. It stimulates, relieves, and 
 soothes my mind. Forms an outlet for otherwise 
 inexpressible and painful feeling. And at times 
 there is even a promise of some future ecstacy of 
 happiness."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 67 
 
 Lisle now regarded her with fresh interest. 
 Glancing up, she caught his eyes fixed with marked 
 attention on her face. A sudden puzzled look as of 
 a strange, half-recognition of him, slowly widened 
 her dark eyes, then passed away again. With a 
 deep blush she turned away her head, her fingers 
 trifling on the keys once more in some soft, inter- 
 mittant plaintive melody. 
 
 Before he knew, Lisle had bent down to her. 
 
 "Do you know me? Have we met before?" 
 He breathed low in her ear. 
 
 Clare looked quickly up again, with the old, 
 blank look of wonder, and shook her head. She 
 rose and stood before him. She suddenly put out 
 her hand and lightly touched his arm. 
 
 "Mr. Lisle," she said, impulsively, "when I 
 came in to-night, why did you. think that we had 
 met before?" 
 
 "Excuse me, that is a question I cannot an- 
 swer," he said hurriedly, and with some agitation 
 in his tones. 
 
 Lisle was relieved when Mrs. Mainwaring came 
 in to them, and the talk became general. He felt 
 vaguely troubled. He longed to be alone. He 
 wanted time and solitude to think. 
 
 He was silent and distrait for the rest of the
 
 68 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 evening. It came to an end at last, and the invited 
 guests took their departure. 
 
 When Mr. Carruthers and his daughter had 
 gone back to their hotel, Lisle sat smoking on the 
 verandah with Mainwaring. He had gratefully ac- 
 cepted his invitation to remain with him for a few 
 days. 
 
 Mainwaring, who was silent and abstracted, 
 sat leaning back in his chair, looking straight in 
 front of him with unseeing eyes. 
 
 The hour was somewhat late, and the servants 
 had long since gone to bed. The bungalow was 
 hushed and still, and they had stayed out here for 
 a last cigar before retiring to their rooms. 
 
 For a short time they both sat smoking silently, 
 each lost in his own thoughts. But, at length, 
 Norman Mainwaring glanced up, and turned to- 
 wards his friend with a look of interest on his keen 
 brown face. 
 
 "You appeared to recognise Miss Carruthers 
 this evening, Lisle?" he observed interrogatively, 
 as he quietly shook the ash from his cigar. 
 
 Lisle pushed his chair back, beyond the range of 
 soft light streaming forth from the open drawing 
 room window, mingling with the moonlight falling 
 on his face. He had been half -expecting, and half-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 69 
 
 dreading, any reference on his friend's part to the 
 occurrence. 
 
 "I only fancied that I recognised in her re- 
 semblance to a girl whom I knew several years 
 ago/' he said with some constraint. "It appears, 
 however, I was mistaken, misled by some mere ac- 
 cidental trick of likeness." 
 
 "Will you explain this to your old friend, 
 Bertie?" 
 
 "I cannot, Norman. Please do not touch on 
 this again. It is an inexpressively painful subject 
 to me." 
 
 Mainwaring regarded his friend thoughtfully. 
 
 "You are certain, then, that you and Miss Car- 
 ruthers have never met before?" he asked, after a 
 slight pause. 
 
 Lisle also paused ere he replied. An old awak- 
 ened memory, lying deep within his heart, had 
 stirred that heart to pain. 
 
 "Quite sure," he answered finally, though even 
 is he spoke, the old doubt rose again unbidden in 
 his mind, to be crushed resolutely down once more. 
 
 Mainwaring rose abruptly from his seat, and 
 grasped warmly his friend's hand. He felt some 
 intuition in his soul that Lisle was somehow suffer-
 
 70 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 ing; and he longed to share his pain with him if 
 he might comfort him. 
 
 "I see you have finished your cigar," he said, 
 tossing his own half-smoked one out amongst some 
 hybiscus shrubs. "It is getting late let us go into 
 bed."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Next day Lisle drove with Mainwaring to 
 Oalle Face to lunch with Mr. Carruthers. and to 
 secure a room at the hotel. He delighted in the 
 pleasant drive along the road that overlooked the 
 bright blue sea. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers met them under the tall portico 
 near the moulded balustrade, where they could hear 
 the sound of the surf outside, falling on the shore. 
 The grounds of the hotel extended to the margin of 
 the sea. Palms fringed the yellow beach and shaded 
 the large garden. Through these the air blew 
 gently in on them. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers led them into the cool and 
 spacious entrance-hall, which was fitted in luxurious 
 Oriental style. After lunch they returned to the 
 verandah, and sat smoking in lounge cane chairs in 
 the pleasant breeze. 
 
 "Mainwaring has asked me to join you in your 
 coming trip to Kandy," Mr. Carruthers said to 
 Lisle. "I am really sorry I cannot come, as I shall 
 be engaged in moving into my new bungalow."
 
 72 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "I am sorry, too," said Lisle. "What is the 
 climate like at Kandy?" 
 
 "Surprisingly temperate. You will be glad of 
 a blanket there at night, though here it is never re- 
 quired." 
 
 "I expected it would be extremely hot." 
 
 "The days are hot and glaring, but the early 
 mornings and evenings are refreshing and cool,"" 
 said Mainwaring. 
 
 "The weather seems to me quite strangely 
 settled in Ceylon." 
 
 "We have an occasional thunder-storm, how- 
 ever. In Allagalla unsettled weather is extremely 
 frequent. 
 
 "You should take Mr. Lisle on a sporting ex- 
 pedition to Nuwarda Eliya, ' ' Mr. Carruthers said ta 
 Main waring. 
 
 "I intend to do it," answered Mainwaring. 
 "At one time, Lisle was a capital shot, and I must 
 see if his hand and eye have kept their pristine skill 
 and cunning. Have you your favourite old rifle 
 with you, Lisle?" 
 
 "Yes, I brought it with me, Norman. I have 
 done a little shooting at odd times." 
 
 "Well, you must try your hand on the ele- 
 phants, and secure a tusk or two. We will start.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 73 
 
 next week, and I shall take Numo with me. He is 
 a fair shot now." 
 
 "I want, to go into the Pettah to the native 
 shops," said Lisle, as they were leaving the hotel. 
 
 "I will accompany you there," said Mainwar- 
 mg. "I want to buy some native curiosities to take 
 to England." 
 
 They soon dismissed their carriage, and ordered 
 a couple of 'rickshaws to ride into the Pettah. 
 
 "Do you recollect that tale," asked Mainwar- 
 ing, "of the man who refused to ride in a rickshaw, 
 on the ground that it was wrong to make a fellow- 
 creature run between shafts like an animal? But. 
 when overcome with the heat of the tropical sun, 
 and meeting a friend riding comfortably under the 
 cool shelter of the awning of his rickshaw, he was 
 quite converted to their use for evermore." 
 
 "Colombo is unique. What strange variety of 
 costume is worn by each race," Lisle said reflec- 
 tively, "in accordance with caste, or their social 
 position." 
 
 "This question of caste is of unceasing inter- 
 est to me." 
 
 "It seems curious," said Lisle, when their men 
 had run some way, "to see the natives carrying on 
 their everyday pursuits thus in the open street."
 
 74 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "This is our chance to see the customs of Oriental 
 life. The women are unveiled, the houses and stalls 
 are open everywhere you can see the interiors." 
 
 "This mixed crowd of people seem to live their 
 life almost entirely in the open air, ' ' said Lisle, with 
 interest. "See the children playing amongst the 
 traffic over there!" 
 
 "Well, all this falls in with the conditions of 
 climate and the disposition of the people!" 
 
 "Yes, closed-up dwellings would be insupport- 
 able in this tropical heat." 
 
 They made their purchases, and with their rick- 
 shaws full of them, returned home in the best of 
 life and spirits. 
 
 A week later the two young men were on their 
 way to Kandy. The scenery on the way right into 
 the heart of mountain country, enchanted Lisle. 
 Scenes of quaint husbandry; glimpses of villages 
 embosomed in palms and beautiful groups of tropi- 
 cal trees. Occasionally a glimpse of a young Tea 
 Estate amidst palm groves and rice fields. They 
 remained at Kandy for a few days. They had ar- 
 ranged to make up a shooting party on arriving at 
 Nuwara Eliya, at the comfortable rest-house where 
 they were to stay. 
 
 On arrival there they found a man who had ar- 
 rived before them, sitting smoking on the verandah.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 75 
 
 As Mainwaring approached, he greeted him as an 
 acquaintance, and rose to welcome him. He was 
 a Tea-planter whom Mainwaring had met some time 
 before, when Ned Martin was at Colombo on busi- 
 ness. 
 
 They exchanged a few words together; then 
 Mainwaring presented Lisle. 
 
 "Mr. Lisle, I am quite pleased to meet you," 
 Martin said, as he shook hands with him. , 
 
 "The last time I met you, Ned," said Main- 
 waring to Martin, "you told me you were expecting 
 to lose your sister, as she was to leave your Tea 
 Estate for England, to be married there. I heard 
 afterwards that Arthur Russell had come out for 
 her." 
 
 "Yes," responded Martin, genially. "He is 
 now my brother-in-law. They were married dir- 
 ectly on his arrival, and Evelyn has returned with 
 him to England. I am on my way home, after see- 
 ing them off. I hoped to see you at Colombo, but 
 heard you had gone to Kandy." 
 
 They spent the time together pleasantly, and 
 sat smoking on the verandah in the moonlight, in 
 the cool and balmy air of evening, before they 
 sought their couches for the night. 
 
 "You must come and stay at my new bunga-
 
 76 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 low," said Martin, heartily, "any time you can find 
 your way so far up on the hills. ' ' 
 
 "We will!" said Mainwaring. "Why are you 
 giving up your old plantation for another one? I 
 am surprised to hear you have exchanged estates 
 with William Burton." 
 
 Martin threw back his head against his com- 
 fortable lounging-chair, blowing a cloud of tobacco- 
 smoke into the air ere he replied. 
 
 "Thereby hangs a tale," said he at last. 
 
 Lisle and Mainwaring unanimously expressed 
 their wish to hear his tale, for his tones were full 
 of mystery. And after a moment's silence he be- 
 gan.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "You know," said Ned, "how I delighted in 
 my life and work on my old Tea Estate; and busi- 
 ness was going on well with me. 
 
 "Soon after I came out to Ceylon my father 
 died, and my sister Evelyn joined me here, and till 
 I married, Evelyn was the mistress of my bunga- 
 low. 
 
 "Two young fellows settled on the next estate, 
 adjoining mine, and we became intimate with them. 
 They were partners, James Smith and Robert Lee; 
 and both fell in love with my pretty sister. She 
 was one of the few English girls about, and the two 
 young men were bitterly jealous of each other, 
 creating much uneasiness in my own mind as to 
 what might happen if she encouraged one of them; 
 for the elder, James, was passionate and violent in 
 temper. 
 
 "At last, they had to go together to Colombo on 
 business, leaving an overseer in charge whilst they 
 were gone. After some time had passed, the elder 
 partner returned alone to us, representing that
 
 78 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 Robert had resolved to quit Ceylon, as he was sick 
 of planting tea. After his return, James Smith was 
 often at our bungalow visiting my sister. But she 
 was now expecting soon to marry Russell, and a 
 change in the man became apparent to us all. He 
 contracted gloomy, brooding fits, and began to 
 neglect his estate, to our surprise, for he had been 
 so keen and eager a short time back. He also ab- 
 sented himself from home for days together, re- 
 turning with his jaded horse, and a strange wild 
 look that disturbed me very much. 
 
 "At length Evelyn married Russell, and, as she 
 was to return with him to England, I resolved to 
 accompany them to Colombo, to see them aboard the 
 steamer there that was to take my sister to her new 
 home. 
 
 "There had been strange rumours of an un- 
 known man who mysteriously appeared to travellers 
 on the way, and then mysteriously vanished from 
 their view. One evening, when we stopped at a 
 resting-place, a stranger came in from the opposite 
 direction and requested a night's lodging; and I 
 think these tales were floating in my mind as I 
 looked at him. He wore a slouching hat which con- 
 cealed his face, and appeared to be suffering from 
 great distress of mind and nervous trepidation ; and 
 we did not like the look of him. However, we could
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 79 
 
 not turn him out, so consented to his remaining, 
 and arranged amongst ourselves that we would 
 watch him all night. 
 
 "Our resting-place was on the edge of a valley. 
 The track along which our route would lie on the 
 morrow wound down the side of the valley and up 
 the other side, and we could just discern it through 
 the palms and trees. Just at dusk my sister, who 
 was standing at the edge of this valley, suddenly 
 gave a frightened cry, and called out, 'A man is 
 running along the track, as though he were pur- 
 sued!' We all started up, thinking that some un- 
 wonted danger was upon us, but nothing was in 
 sight. Evelyn, on being questioned, still in a state 
 of great excitement, said that a man had suddenly 
 run past her, turned a white face with widely-open- 
 ed eyes towards her, and had run along the track 
 and up the opposite side of the valley. Of course, 
 we were inclined to deride this story, and pretended 
 to laugh at it ; but she was so positive as to what she 
 had seen that we began to feel that there might be 
 some sort of danger ahead. The stranger, who, of 
 course, heard all that passed, remained sullenly 
 smoking apart, with averted face, and took no part 
 in the discussion. 
 
 "It was my turn to be first on watch, and my 
 watch was to be from eight o'clock to midnight.
 
 80 A LAPSE OP MEMORY. 
 
 With my rifle loaded and lying across my arm ready 
 for instant use, I paced slowly the verandah. The 
 great jungle lay all around; its silence only broken 
 by the occasional distant howl of a jackal; and the 
 moon was shedding floods of light upon everything. 
 About midnight, just as my term of duty was ex- 
 piring, I stood on the spot where my sister had 
 stood, on the edge of the valley, when suddenly 
 there appeared at a short distance from me the faint 
 shadowy figure of a man, who turned towards me 
 a pale face filled with a look of pain, but with 
 sightless, widely-opened eyes; quickly he ran past 
 me, down the valley, and up the track amongst the 
 palms on the other side. Filled with a nameless 
 feeling of dread, I went and roused my companions 
 to tell them what I had seen, and impressed them 
 with the reality of the appearance, which tallied ex- 
 actly with what my sister had described. There 
 was little more sleep for us that night; as for the 
 stranger, he never slept the whole night, but sat 
 smoking sullenly. 
 
 "Next morning the stranger approached me 
 where I stood with Evelyn and her husband, and ob- 
 serving us clearly for the first time, he gave a sud- 
 den and fearful cry, and his hat falling off, I recog- 
 nised with horror and astonishment the strangely 
 altered countenance of James Smith.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 81 
 
 " 'I will confess ray sin!' he cried, 'for God and 
 man are both against me now. I killed Robert Lee, 
 and he lies half a mile away across the valley. We 
 were returnng together from Colombo, when he 
 boasted to me that he had Evelyn's favour, and I 
 killed him in a fit of jealousy. But I have had no 
 peace since that awful hour. Day and night I have 
 suffered anguish, and have constantly returned to 
 watch beside the spot where he lies buried, lest it 
 might be discovered, or he might rise again. ' 
 
 "He turned his ghastly face towards my sister, 
 and fixed his hollow, burning eyes on hers, as she 
 shrank away from him in fear and horror. 'It was 
 for her I killed him, and I was cruelly punished 
 when she married the Englishman and made my sin 
 in vain.' 
 
 "He turned away, and pulling his hat down over 
 his eyes, he left the spot, moaning out, 'There is no 
 rest no rest for me in all the world!' Whilst we 
 all stood round in dead silence, and never raised 
 a hand to check his way. 
 
 "As soon as possible we proceeded on our 
 journey. We crossed the valley, and after travel- 
 ling about half a mile on the other side, we sought 
 poor Robert's grave, though I had still a lingering 
 hope of some illusion of my sight, and of mere de- 
 lusion on James Smith's part."
 
 82 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "And what," asked Mainwaring, as Marti a 
 paused a moment, "did you find? you found his 
 grave?" 
 
 "We found a grave," returned Ned slowly, in 
 a tone of suffering. 
 
 He rubbed his chin in a distracted kind of way. 
 
 "We found a grave," he repeated, with slow 
 emphasis. "And though I am not a superstitious 
 man," concluded he, "yet I affirm I saw that 
 shadowy figure in the moonlight as plainly as I 
 can see my hand and, moreover, since his disap- 
 pearance there has been no news of Robert Lee ! ' ' 
 
 A cloud passed over the moon, and a deep 
 shadow fell on them. Martin rose, shuddering,, and 
 without another word, passed hurriedly into the 
 bungalow, and they saw him no more that night.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Next day, accompanied by Numo, the three men 
 set out together on a shooting jaunt. They inspect- 
 ed the wilder scenery with much interest, going to 
 a considerable distance to seek big game. For 
 about two hours they followed the tracks of ele- 
 phants to no purpose. At last they were startled un- 
 expectedly by the shrill trumpet of an elephant in 
 the jungle. They crept cautiously along the out- 
 skirts of the jungle, and after a long tramp, suddenly 
 turning round some thickly-growing trees, they saw 
 a couple of elephants, which instantly disappeared 
 from view. So dense was the jungle that they could 
 see nothing. They could not hear the faintest sound. 
 With a tremendous crash the herd dashed suddenly 
 through the jungle, escaping beyond pursuit. Main- 
 waring rushed forward, catching sight of three 
 stray elephants leading across his path. He attempt 
 ed to get a shot. At the same moment the elephants 
 charged, two of them dashing on ahead and follow- 
 ing their companions. The third one stopped sharp
 
 34 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 round and charged direct on the affrighted Numo 
 with a scream of rage. 
 
 Rushing to one side, Numo suddenly caught his 
 foot and fell, as the elephant charged furiously down 
 on him. Lisle and Martin, who had been somewhat 
 in advance, were startled by Numo's sudden agon- 
 ised shrill cry of terror. They turned round hastily, 
 and saw him as he had fallen helpless on the ground 
 before the infuriated elephant. Lisle stood quietly, 
 quite cool and steady, his rifle raised to his shoulder, 
 and his finger on the trigger. He wore a confident 
 and almost careless air. 
 
 "Keep still!" he called out calmly, in low, 
 clear tones. 
 
 He had been waiting for a closer shot, and fired 
 instantly, when the elephant was within about six 
 yards of him. It collapsed instantly to a shot in the 
 centre of the forehead. The ground trembled with 
 the heavy shock as it fell dead near its intended 
 \ictim. Lisle had been just in time . 
 
 Ere the echo of the sound of the report had died 
 away, ere the hazy smoke had cleared, Numo scram- 
 bled hurriedly to his feet. His sun-burnt face had 
 become in a moment ashy-grey with terror, and his 
 eyes looking strained and fixed as he gazed on the 
 huge, unwieldy animal lying within a couple of 
 yards of him.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 85 
 
 The rescued man started forward to Lisle 's 
 side, and, falling on his knees beside his rescuer, he 
 caught his hand in both his own. 
 
 "You have saved my life I swear there is 
 fate in this!" he cried fervently. "Let me be your 
 faithful servant now I will serve no other master ! ' ' 
 
 "Where have I seen a face like this before?" 
 mused Lisle. "It somehow seems familiar to me 
 yet I can find no clue in my memory." 
 
 Lisle spent hours in thought upon the theme, 
 long after they got home to their resting-house that 
 night. 
 
 On their return to Colombo a few weeks later 
 on, Lisle dined with Mainwaring one evening at his 
 bungalow, and the two men went out alone for an 
 after-dinner stroll by the lake. 
 
 "Norman," his friend said, after a long, deep 
 silence, "may I have Numo as my servant? 
 The poor fellow has become attached to me because 
 I saved him from the elephant. And he swears he 
 will not leave me now!" 
 
 "I am relieved and glad to let him go. I am 
 not -particularly keen on having him myself, if I am 
 obliging you. Numo is a queer fellow," Mainwar- 
 ing added thoughtfully," and I cannot make him 
 out."
 
 86 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "What is his nationality?" 
 
 "That is more than anyone can tell. He can 
 speak several languages, seems at home anywhere. 
 He appears to be a strange mixture of Frenchman 
 and of native, with an odd and unexpected dash of 
 Englishman thrown in. Though a queer, secretive 
 sort of man, he makes an excellent servant on the 
 whole. 
 
 Norman Mainwaring returned to England with 
 his mother before the time specified for taking his 
 departure from Ceylon ; recalled by unforeseen exig- 
 encies in his own business. And Numo became 
 Lisle 's servant.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 At this time, Lisle was often visiting at Mr. 
 Carruthers' bungalow. Scarcely a day passed now 
 when he did not see Miss Carruthers. The old 
 gentleman seemed to like him very much, and en- 
 couraged his visits there. 
 
 "Clare will not dine with us this evening," he 
 said on one occasion, soon after the Mainwarings had 
 left Ceylon. 
 
 "I missed her presence in the drawing-room 
 when I came in." 
 
 "She is keeping quietly in her own room to- 
 night." 
 
 "I hope she is not ill," said Lisle, with some 
 concern. 
 
 "She has been unusually excited lately since 
 your advent here, in fact and she gets prostrated 
 afterwards from the re-action. She has not been 
 so well to-day, and to-night seems rather spent and 
 languid. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear this."
 
 88 A LAPSE OP MEMORY. 
 
 "It is indispensable that Clare should be kept 
 free, as far as possible, from all undue excitement," 
 said Mr. Carruthers gravely. "It is apt to make 
 her ill." 
 
 "Why so?" asked Lisle, with some surprise. 
 "She seems well enough, I think. She is surely 
 health personified." 
 
 "Oh, I do not mean any regular kind of ill- 
 ness, Lisle. A touch of nerves, you know. A cer- 
 tain amount of quiet is of essential benefit to her, if 
 not entirely necessary for her nerves. So far as 
 mere appearance goes, as you say, Clare is most 
 certainly the picture of good health and a charm- 
 ing picture, too!" he added affectionately. 
 
 "I do not understand," said Lisle. 
 
 "She has a slight affection of the nerves. There 
 was a complication of a most unusual kind that I 
 cannot explain to you. I confess I do not altogether 
 understand the case myself." 
 
 "Is it serious in its nature?" 
 
 "Oh, it may right itself at any time, and we are 
 very hopeful, on the whole. Still, her eventual re- 
 covery greatly depends, the doctor said, upon our 
 care of her." 
 
 "I suppose," Lisle said, thoughtfully, "that 
 this affection of the nerves of which you speak, is
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 89> 
 
 the cause of the apparent difference in her from 
 other young women of her age?" 
 
 Mr. Carruthers suddenly wheeled sharply round 
 on him, and looked full in his face with a searching- 
 and unsparing scrutiny. 
 
 "Ah! You feel a difference in her? And in. 
 what way?" 
 
 But Lisle 's face was filled with strong per- 
 plexity and pain. The old gentleman perceiving 
 this, for some reason of his own, forbore to press- 
 the question home and to demand an answer. 
 
 Some little time passed by. Mr. Carruthers and 
 his daughter were still in Colombo, and Lisle was 
 staying on at the Galle Face Hotel. He was still 
 uncertain as to his own movements; whether he 
 would go a-travelling again, or settle down on his 
 estate in Devonshire. The cause of his apparent 
 distaste for returning to his home, and the reason 
 for his restless wanderings about the world, and 
 of his obvious uncertainty as to his movements, was 
 hidden deep in his own mind. 
 
 Lisle dined quietly one evening at Mr. Car- 
 ruthers' bungalow. He and Clare were left alone 
 in the drawing-room afterwards, Mr. Carruthers 
 having gone off to his study to answer an important 
 letter.
 
 90 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 Lisle had been giving Clare some sketch of his 
 own travels. 
 
 "Have you ever visited the Continent?" he 
 asked her presently. 
 
 She suddenly raised her head and looked at him 
 with a strange expression, as of being half -awak- 
 ened. 
 
 "I was once on the Continent before " 
 
 She paused suddenly, broke off confused, with 
 much distress; then finished hurriedly, and with 
 a changed and altered, paling face, 
 
 " before I lost my grandfather," she said. 
 
 Lisle started violently as he met her troubled 
 eyes. Then Clare's next words poured forth with 
 sudden passion. 
 
 "I cannot understand. I sometimes fancy we 
 have met before and yet it is impossible. How 
 could it be true? My mind seems full of strange 
 and fleeting visions that pass and fade away ere I 
 can grasp their purport. And I feel then there is 
 something wanting in me, that at these times almost 
 detracts from my intelligence. A veil seems to de- 
 scend upon me then. I somehow seem to be the vic- 
 tim of a double want of knowledge. Why should 
 I feel thus ? Till I met you, I was content and happy 
 with my lot."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 91 
 
 Lisle stood silently regarding her. He was lost 
 in wonder of this mystery. 
 
 "Do you believe in the theory of a complete 
 change in anyone, in every seven years?" asked 
 Clare. 
 
 ''Why not?" responded Lisle. "Though I think 
 we are perpetually changing in one way or another, 
 perhaps unconsciously. Outgrowing things, for 
 instance, or growing into things. There might well 
 be the evolution and development of some gift, or 
 some defect. But it takes time to evolve, develop 
 anything. Perhaps we might only become aware of 
 change in others or in ourselves in seven years' 
 time." 
 
 "Do you believe in re-incarnation?" Clare went 
 
 on, still eagerly pursuing the train of thought 
 aroused in her. "Do you believe that we can come 
 to life again after hundreds of years' oblivion? 
 Perhaps we might then meet and recognise a kin- 
 dred soul we had known and loved already in that 
 
 other former life of ours, in the time of long ago. 
 
 Yet possibly to seek it in the dark, and never find 
 
 it!" 
 
 Clare shuddered slightly, and looked straight 
 before her with a faint weary longing. Lisle drew
 
 92 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 nearer to her, now much agitated. But he could not 
 speak. 
 
 During the whole evening he had observed her 
 closely and had seen in her at moments, something 
 that perplexed and troubled him almost as a want of 
 intelligent understanding might have done; some- 
 thing that he could not fathom. A want, perhaps, 
 of some undercurrent of reflective power. These 
 phases in her generally followed closely on the occa- 
 sional glances which she cast at him, the purport of 
 which he could not define. 
 
 Clare presently resumed expression of her 
 thoughts. 
 
 "I sometimes feel sure I have known you in some 
 old forgotten time, I cannot force my memory any 
 further to look back into the past. I fancy it must 
 be a fragment of some former life of ours, lived, 
 doubtless, many hundrds of years ago ! You recog- 
 nised me first! Think of that first evening at Mrs. 
 Mainwaring 's bungalow ! ' ' 
 
 Lisle sat silent, deeply pondering, his eyes bent 
 on the ground. A sudden enormous wave of strong 
 deep feeling that had long been gathering its 
 forces, overwhelmed him now, and he was striving 
 to control himself. 
 
 He had known there was warm friendship on
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 93 
 
 both sides. Had known they found an interest, 
 and even pleasure, in each other's companionship. 
 He could not but feel he had been dangerously 
 happy when with Clare. And he felt, too, in a flash, 
 that he unwittingly had gained Clare's love. Yes! 
 that must surely be the subtle meaning of these 
 dreams of hers. Their souls were drawn together 
 it was love! 
 
 Clare went on meditating: "These lines express 
 my thoughts: 
 
 "There was a door to which I found no key, 
 There was a veil past which I might not see, 
 Some little talk awhile of me and thee 
 There Beemed, and then no more of thee and me!" 
 
 Lisle had intently watched the speaking coun- 
 tenance as he rapturously listened to her clear, 
 sweet tones, so full of feeling now, until she ceased. 
 Again that strong, deep wave swept over him. This 
 time it carried all before it irresistibly with its re- 
 lentless might. For the moment, then, he had for- 
 gotten all. He was only conscious of his love for 
 Clare. 
 
 "He bent forward suddenly and caught her 
 hands in his. 
 
 "I love you, Clare love you with my whole 
 strength!" 
 
 Clare sat with downcast eyes and fluttering
 
 94 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 breath. As Lisle drew her nearer she swayed sud- 
 denly towards him, and he gathered her in his arms, 
 close to his heart. An irresistible longing and a 
 strong determination came upon him now. His lips 
 were almost on her lips. He felt her fluttering breath 
 upon his cheek as he bent over her. But that kiss 
 was never given. A soft girlish face, so like her 
 own! still came between them. Its memory recall- 
 ed Lisle to himself. He had no right to love Clare, 
 or to tell her so. At the eleventh hour, in honour 
 he must go, the words now burning on his lips for 
 their relief of utterance, unspoken; and leave her 
 to forget, if possible, before it was too late. His 
 sense of honour conquered his desire. He drew 
 back his burning face again, as though he had been 
 stung, and released her from his hold. 
 
 Almost with pain he felt that Clare had not re- 
 pulsed him. She had not striven to withdraw her 
 hands from his strong grasp. She had not shrunk 
 away from his embrace. She had rested for a mo- 
 ment in his arms, against his heart, almost returned 
 his clasp. She had made no effort to avoid the 
 coming kiss. She had slightly drawn away from 
 him, and raised her eyes to his with one swift, shy 
 look of rapturous happiness. No help for him was 
 here! Yes, he loved Clare, and knew she cared for
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 95 
 
 him. What else could matter to them now! And 
 Stella had left him of her own free will. She might 
 possibly be dead. It was impossible she could be liv- 
 ing, else he would have heard of her, or found her 
 now. Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday, why 
 fret about them if To-day be sweet ! 
 
 But the temptation passed with one swift, wild 
 rush. In his innate loyalty to both of them, against 
 himself, he felt a passionate reproach and burning 
 anger in his heart. 
 
 "I can never ask you to forgive me! I have 
 no right to love you!" he said bitterly to Clare, 
 And his face was suddenly wrung as though with 
 mortal pain. With a groan of self-reproach he 
 turned away. 
 
 Whilst he was still struggling with his conflict- 
 ing feelings, all at variance with one another as 
 they were, Mr. Carruthers returned to the drawing, 
 room. 
 
 "I have finished my business at last," he said, 
 advancing to a comfortable chair and throwing 
 himself into it with a sigh of genuine relief. 
 
 As he spoke he cast a keen uneasy glance first 
 at his daughter, then at Lisle; but otherwise he 
 seemed to take .no further notice of the change in 
 them.
 
 96 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "Lisle. I propose to return to England soon. I 
 suppose you will make arrangements at the same 
 time, to take the trip with us?" 
 
 "No; I shall remain here, after all. I find I 
 cannot return with you as I had promised. ' ' 
 
 Miss Carruthers looked up in pained surprise. 
 A cutting pain shot through Lisle 's aching heart as 
 he met that pleading, puzzled look. Mr. Carruth- 
 ers still observed them closely from beneath his 
 heavy eye-brows, but said nothing further ; only sat 
 apart in silence and deliberating thought. 
 
 On Lisle 's taking leave that evening, his host 
 took the opportunity, when he was shaking hands 
 with him, to speak to him apart. 
 
 "Will you call on me to-morrow morning, Mr. 
 Lisle? I should consider it as a great favour if you 
 would. Thank you; then I will expect you at 
 eleven."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Bertie Lisle 's appointment with Mr. Carruthers 
 was duly kept. He was shewn at once into his priv- 
 ate study, where the old gentleman was restlessly 
 pacing up and down, awaiting his arrival. He came 
 forward hurriedly to meet him when he was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Lisle. I have 
 anxiously looked forward to this interview, for I 
 had a special reason for inviting you to come. You 
 think of withdrawing yourself from us why should 
 you do so, Herbert?" 
 
 Mr. Carruthers looked very kindly at the young 
 man as he spoke. 
 
 "What do you mean?" faltered Lisle in great 
 surprise. 
 
 "I have seen your attachment to my daughter r 
 and her love for you." 
 
 "You think Clare cares for me?" asked Ber- 
 tie, in painful agitation, and with changing colour.
 
 98 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "I am certain of it. Why do you desire to part 
 from us?" 
 
 "Because I have no other choice, consistently 
 with honour," Bertie cried, with sudden passion in 
 his tones. "Mr. Carruthers, you do not know the 
 facts!" 
 
 There was a long pause here, Mr. Carruthers 
 cogitating deeply. Then with a sudden animated 
 movement, he turned eagerly to Lisle, and laid a 
 
 kindly hand on his arm. 
 
 ' ' Believe it is no idle curiosity of mine, and from 
 no mere wish to pry into your private personal af- 
 fairs, that I earnestly invite some portion of your 
 confidence. I beg you to tell me whom you took 
 Clare for, on that first occasion at the Mainwar- 
 ings?" 
 
 "I will be frank with you," responded Lisle, 
 after a momentary hesitation and some thought. 
 
 He paused again, as though collecting his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Mr. Carruthers, I had better tell you the plain 
 facts as they occurred. Three years ago, then, I 
 was travelling at nightfall in the South of France. 
 A carriage which was travelling ahead of us was 
 upset, and coming up behind it at the time, I found 
 it contained a girl and an old man who appeared to
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 99 
 
 be unconscious. I took them on with me to the 
 nearest house. A room was hastily prepared for 
 the old man, a doctor summoned." 
 
 "He was not dead?" asked Mr. Carruthers, 
 with much interest, as Lisle paused here. 
 
 "Not dead, though very near it. He had re- 
 ceived some shock in the break-down, and died soon 
 afterwards. Stella Verne would have been left 
 friendless and alone, but I had married her on the 
 day her grandmother died." 
 
 "Verne!" exclaimed Lisle 's hearer suddenly. 
 "I knew that name of old," he said more quietly. 
 
 He leant forward in his chair with increased 
 attention. 
 
 "Mr. Verne," continued Lisle, "had left no per- 
 sonal letters, no address of any kind to give us any 
 clue to Stella's friends. On questioning Stella, I had 
 found her strangely ignorant of their life affairs. A 
 heavily- sealed packet was the only thing that might 
 contain the key to the mystery. It was merely 
 marked 'Mr. C./ but Stella objected to opening it." 
 
 Mr. Carruthers, whose attention for the last 
 few minutes had been intense, now started suddenly. 
 He bent forward, with some visible excitement in 
 his manner. Lisle paused to glance at him with 
 some surprise, but without comment.
 
 100 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "What became of the packet?" asked Mr. Car- 
 ruthers earnestly, as Lisle sat meditating, with an 
 air of hesitation, as though lost in doubt as to the 
 finish of his story. 
 
 "You shall hear presently." 
 
 "I begin to see some glimmering of light 
 
 I think I understand in part," said the old gentle- 
 man, displaying the livliest interest. "I long to 
 hear the sequel to your tale. I should like to know 
 the details concerning your young wife and her 
 grandfather. ' ' 
 
 "First hear me out," said Lisle. "It is neces- 
 sary that my story should unfold itself. At some 
 future time I may tell you the whole detailed tale 
 from the beginning. It would be extremely difficult 
 for me to judge where to begin. For each part 
 seems to have some bearing on another. It is a 
 tedious story, and would tax your patience. Mean- 
 time, then, my wife and I arrived together at my 
 home." 
 
 "Lisle!" interrupted Mr. Carruthers urgently, 
 pray tell me whom you took Clare for when you first 
 met her at the Mainwarings?" 
 
 "I thought I saw in her a close resemblance to 
 my wife, whom I had lost."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 101 
 
 Mr. Carruthers heard him eagerly ,with deeply 
 fixed attention; but apparently, and strangely, as it 
 seemed to Lisle, without astonishment. 
 
 ''How did you lose her? Not by death, how- 
 ever, I infer?" 
 
 "No not by death, indeed. Though I have 
 sometimes thought, in my sad bitterness of spirit, 
 that it had been best, perhaps." 
 
 "How long ago?" 
 
 "Soon after we were married. But let me tell 
 the facts as they took place. In the course of our 
 first evening at home Stella asked me for the 
 packet. This was the first time either of us had 
 thought of it since leaving France. To my dismay 
 I could not find it now. I was called away to see 
 a messenger. When I returned to the library where 
 we were sitting, I found that Stella had apparently 
 retired to bed, tired out. I had important papers 
 to look over, for I wished to make a proper settle- 
 ment on my wife without delay. And I worked 
 hard that night. When I went upstairs at a late 
 hour, I found her bed untouched, a letter addressed 
 to me lying on the table, together with her wedding- 
 ring and our certificate of marriage, but there were 
 no other traces of my wife. She had quite disap- 
 peared. Since that night I have had no news of
 
 102 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 Stella, though I have been searching for her ever 
 since." 
 
 "You did not set the detective force at work?" 
 
 "I made all possible inquiries in a private way, 
 but in dread of publicity and fearing her resent- 
 ment, I preferred to search for her myself." 
 
 "Why," said Mr. Carruthers, seriously, "did 
 your wife leave you thus ? ' ' 
 
 "That," replied Lisle, deeply colouring, with a 
 look of intense pain, "I cannot disclose to you. The 
 reason must be locked in my own heart." 
 
 "I must again refer to your supposed recogni- 
 tion of Clare when you first met her at the Main- 
 warings. I have dwelt much upon it in my 
 thoughts." 
 
 "Why should you do thatt" 
 
 "I attach much consequence to it." 
 
 "What consequence could a chance resemblance 
 have?" asked Bertie hurriedly. 
 
 "I have surmised quite enough for my own sat- 
 isfaction, Lisle. I have long believed it to be more 
 than a mere accidental likeness that attracted your 
 attention to her then." 
 
 Lisle did not reply at once. He seemed much 
 agitated at the turn the talk had taken. 
 
 "I do not understand your tone at all. What
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 103 
 
 could I and Miss Carruthers have in common till we 
 met here, for the first time?" 
 
 There was a long, still pause, Mr. Carruthers 
 cogitating deeply. 
 
 I am going to repose a confidence in you," he 
 said at last. "I will return your confidence with 
 mine. It may result in benefit to both. About three 
 years ago, my sister and I were on our way to Lon- 
 don from the country. It was late in the evening 
 when the train stopped for some minutes at a sta- 
 tion to let the Express go by, and I got out to walk 
 about. As I was in the act of turning to re-enter 
 our compartment, I noticed a girl hurrying along 
 the platform." 
 
 "Tell me what station, please?" interposed 
 Lisle, suddenly. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers named it, and resumed 
 
 "As she passed a lamp, the glaring light fell 
 brightly on her face, and I was struck by the re- 
 semblance which she bore to my own daughter. I 
 took notice of the compartment which she entered, 
 and watched to see at what station she might 
 alight." 
 
 "Did she go far down the line?" 
 "She did not leave the train till we arrived at
 
 104 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 London. When I got out with my sister, I still con- 
 trived to keep my eye upon the girl." 
 "Did you lose sight of her at last?" 
 "No. We had just got outside the station where 
 our carriage awaited us, when I saw her trying to 
 cross the road. She was looking around her in be- 
 wilderment, and seemed unaccustomed to the glar- 
 ing city lights, and crowded streets at night." 
 "In what direction did she go?" 
 
 "She hesitated painfully, as though in doubt, 
 and in endeavouring to make her way across the 
 street, she was knocked down by a passing vehicle." 
 
 "She was not hurt not killed?" 
 
 "In an instant I had dashed across to rescue her. 
 and I raised her up. Finding her insensible, T 
 conveyed her to my carriage, in order to secure my 
 sister's help. We drove straight home and sent for 
 a physician." 
 
 "Did she recover was she badly hurt?" 
 "Under the doctor's skilful treatment she recov- 
 ered consciousness, and we found she was uninjured, 
 save for general shock and a rather violent blow 
 upon the head. My sister also had been struck by 
 the strong resemblance which she bore my daughter. 
 She was much interested. We nursed her carefully,
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 105 
 
 and she grew stronger day by day, and appeared to 
 
 have recovered." 
 
 "Why how appeared?" said Lisle. "Was she 
 
 not really better?" 
 
 "Well, when we questioned her, it seemed that 
 
 her memory was much impaired." 
 
 "I do not understand how this could be." 
 "She could tell us part of her early life, and up 
 
 to a certain point but not connectedly a portion 
 
 of the rest. There it fell short." 
 
 "At what point did her memory fail?" 
 
 "She could not remember where she had been 
 
 going, or what she had been doing at the last." 
 
 "Kindly tell me all she could remember and 
 her name." 
 
 "She was confused about her name. She told 
 us that she had been travelling with her grand- 
 father; but she seemed cruelly confused about her 
 facts, and we could gather nothing satisfactory. 
 She wondered vaguely where her grandfather could 
 be, and how they had been separated." 
 
 "This was positively all she could tell you of 
 her past?" 
 
 "Her memory appeared to be in part, a con- 
 fused and hopeless mixture of events; and, in part,
 
 106 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 a hopeless blank. And as she was a stranger, we 
 could not discriminate." 
 
 "What opinion did the doctor give?" 
 
 "The doctor hoped it might return in course of 
 time. He attributed the partial loss of it to the 
 severity of the blow she had received upon the 
 head." 
 
 "In what manner did he think it might re- 
 turn?" 
 
 "Her memory might come suddenly, he said, 
 with some new shock. Or it might perhaps return 
 to her gradually, bit by bit. For this reason, I did 
 not take more decided steps for the discovery of her 
 friends. ' ' 
 
 "Tell me what became of her? What course 
 did you pursue?" 
 
 "I adopted her as my daughter, because my 
 heart warmed to her for her resemblance to my only 
 child, who died some time ago." 
 
 "Why, Miss Carruthers, then " 
 
 "Is not in any way related to me. She is only 
 my adopted daughter." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Lisle 's exclamation was intense. It was suc- 
 ceeded by a long, deep silence.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 107 
 
 Lisle had grown very pale. The blood rushed 
 back to his heart with painful shock. Once more 
 he feared lest he might make a terrible mistake. 
 He felt his powers of reasoning were warring with 
 his heart. Yet he asked himself in a blind, un- 
 reasoning way if she could be another woman? Was 
 it possible that she was merely playing a part. 
 Could Clare Carruthers be indeed the Stella Verne 
 whom he had married? Was there some mystery 
 nere he could not understand? Yet, though his an- 
 guish and his bitter anger had returned to him that 
 he had endured when he had found her gone, his 
 old faith in Stella rose unflinchingly, and as strong 
 as ever. If it were truly she, he thought, Stella 
 would not trifle with him now. There must indeed 
 be strange coincidence, some strange mistake. 
 
 "I believe that you have found your wife in 
 my adopted daughter. I could also think that the 
 first sight of you partially aroused her sleeping 
 memory," the old man went on reflectively. "She 
 has been strangely restless since your advent here, 
 and she loves you without rightly knowing who 
 you are." 
 
 "If I dare but be certain," Lisle said slowly, 
 his own heart thirsting passionately to be con- 
 vinced. "What real proof have I that it is she?
 
 108 * A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 why should I be forgotten? Yet it would seem 
 your story has indeed filled up the hiatus! If her 
 memory will but return to her!" he cried impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "For the rest we must hope for the best, and 
 trust to time. Time is kind and merciful upon the 
 whole." 
 
 Lisle said no more, but warmly shaking hands 
 with Mr. Carruthers, he took leave hurriedly. He 
 appeared to have fresh weight upon his mind, and 
 to wish to be alone.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 On his return to his hotel, Lisle found Numo 
 awaiting him. 
 
 "Master," he said, with eager anxiety, "I have 
 important news for you." 
 
 "Come to me when I ring," said Lisle, impa- 
 tiently, as he went to his room. 
 
 By-and-bye he rang his bell. An Instant later 
 Numo entered. He advanced and stood before his 
 master, at a short distance from him. 
 
 "You wished to speak with me?" said Lisle. 
 "Have you any special news for me?" 
 
 "It bears on special matters my desire is to 
 speak with you," responded Numo slowly. He 
 had a nervous, hesitating air. 
 
 "Speak in your own way," said Lisle, observ- 
 ing this. "I will allow you time to collect your- 
 self." 
 
 Numo placed his trembling hands on the back 
 of a chair near, and remained standing with his
 
 110 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 heavy brooding eyes fixed on the ground. He said 
 suddenly to Lisle : 
 
 "Look closely at me have you any recollection 
 of seeing me before?" 
 
 As he spoke he raised his bronzed and bearded 
 face to regard Lisle steadily. 
 
 "There is something in your face that seems 
 familiar to me; what it is, I really cannot say. I 
 am not sure." 
 
 But his thoughts flew swiftly the next instant to 
 a certain phase in his own past. To an open win- 
 dow, where, half concealed by a gay flowering 
 creeper, a pale and evil-looking face gazed in on 
 him. To that face seen once again, for the last time 
 by a brief flash of lightning in a violent storm. 
 
 "Think," said Numo, "of an old deserted house 
 in France; a storm; a night attack ; a stolen packet." 
 
 Lisle uttered a sharp exclamation. 
 
 "Then you ?" 
 
 "I am the perpetrator of the accidents that be- 
 fell you travelling. I have come now to confess, to 
 restore you the packet that I stole that night." 
 
 "What has led you to pursue this course," 
 Lisle asked, surprised, "after this long interval of 
 time? What influence can have been Drought to 
 bear on you?"
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. Ill 
 
 "You saved my life I bear you deepest grati- 
 tude on that score." 
 
 "What was your object in stealing the packet 
 from me, Numo?" 
 
 "I overheard you speaking with the lady. I be- 
 lieved it to contain some treasure of great value. I 
 set the trap for you that night when you were travel- 
 ling. I had passed a miserable life," he added bit- 
 terly, "had sunk low in the social scale, and 
 suffered bitter shame and poverty. I had been 
 made the scape-goat for the sins of others. I 
 thought my chance had come to rise again; to be 
 revenged upon society for that which I had suf- 
 fered. But there were only papers in the packet, of 
 no value to me. A miniature that was amongst 
 them is still safely there the gems that were its 
 setting I wrenched out and sold some time ago." 
 
 "You are greatly altered," Lisle said, thought- 
 fully. "Small wonder I did not remember you 
 again." 
 
 "I had had an illness at the time," said Numo, 
 with strangely-bitter recollection of some past ex- 
 perience. "Since then the tropical suns have 
 bronzed my face. And I have grown my beard." 
 
 "That night in the deserted house you had a 
 weapon in your hand," Lisle said sternly, "and with
 
 112 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 it you attacked a sleeping man. My young wife was 
 seriously injured by the blow she turned aside from 
 me." 
 
 "I swear that was accidental," the man cried 
 fervently. "I was excited and unstrung I had no 
 thought beyond the stealing of the packet. I raised 
 my hand instinctively when I was startled by your 
 sudden, unexpected movement." 
 
 "Is the packet intact, saving for the abstraction 
 of the gems?" 
 
 "Yes. I am in your hands. Punish me as you 
 deem fit." 
 
 "I have no wish to punish you," returned Lisle 
 gravely. "I am contented to receive the stolen 
 packet safely again. Numo when you have made 
 this restitution, you are free to go." 
 
 He took the packet that the man was offering. 
 They parted in grave silence, with only one last look, 
 that uttered volumes. 
 
 Lisle at once began examining the rifled packet. 
 The miniature with its wrenched setting, first caught 
 his eye, and he took it up eagerly. It bore a close 
 resemblance to his wife. Stella's own soft eyes 
 smiled at him from the painted ivory. There was 
 aome mystery here! 
 
 A letter caught his eye, addressed, to his aston-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 113 
 
 ishment, to Mr. Carruthers, at some place in London. 
 He instantly put up again the scattered papers and 
 the miniature, and hurried to his friend, whom he 
 gave a brief outline of the story of the loss and re- 
 storation of the packet. Mr. Carruthers opened it in 
 solemn silence, with much deliberation, Lisle look- 
 ing on with supreme eagerness. 
 
 "They are chiefly letters, and they are all ap- 
 parently intended for my eye," said Mr. Carruthers 
 slowly, as he leant back in his chair, and proceeded 
 to open one. He looked thoughtfully at Lisle. 
 "Why for mine?" he added in perplexity. "I can- 
 not understand!" 
 
 "Read!" Lisle exclaimed impatiently, "that we 
 may understand. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Carruthers read the letters one by one, with 
 obvious new agitated interest. 
 
 "These letters prove your wife to be my grand- 
 daughter, beyond doubt!" he presently exclaimed, 
 with deep emotion. "Lisle, I never knew that my 
 daughter had left a little child!" 
 
 "I know nothing of your family history." 
 
 "Then I must tell you that my only daughter 
 married against my will. Gerald Verne was well- 
 bred, but very poor, and I resented the connection. 
 He died two years after they were married, and my
 
 114 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 poor girl did not survive him long. In my unyield- 
 ing anger, I had been extremely harsh with her. She 
 had written to me once, but I had taken no notice of 
 her letter. And she, inheriting her father's pride, 
 had not repeated it." 
 
 "And you never saw, or heard from her 
 
 again?" 
 
 i 
 
 "No. I had never realised how badly off she 
 was. I believed it to be her husband's doing that 
 she wrote to me. But I always meant to forgive my 
 darling in the end," the old man said remorsefully. 
 "Her death was therefore a hard blow to me. I 
 have never been able to forgive myself for my harsh 
 and unjust treatment of my only child whose only 
 sin was that she loved her husband better than her 
 father. I grieved that my poor Clare had left no 
 child whom I could take home to my heart and 
 hearth to love for her dear sake. Now, Lisle, 
 amongst these papers is a letter to me from old Mr. 
 Verne. It appears that he took Stella at her 
 mother's death, when she was quite an infant, to a 
 quiet country-place in England, where she was care- 
 fully brought up. This fact accounts for my not 
 knowing that I had a grandchild." 
 
 ' ' It seems strange Mr. Verne never let you know 
 of it."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 115 
 
 "I have no right to resent that, Lisle, in face of 
 all the past. Feeling out of health, and fearing lest 
 he might die suddenly and leave her friendless in a 
 foreign land, he wrote me this letter, placing it with 
 these undeniable proofs of her identity, together 
 with Clare's portrait. He intended getting the 
 packet forwarded to me by a man living near a 
 quiet town in the South of France, where he was 
 travelling; and to whom he was directed, as know- 
 ing my latest address through business connections. 
 The letter," Mr. Carruthers said, "concludes with a 
 most touching, strong appeal that I would receive 
 and cherish my grandchild for her mother's sake." 
 
 He turned the papers over and took up the min- 
 iature. 
 
 ''This is the true Clare's portrait," he said 
 softly, as he handed it to Lisle. 
 
 The setting had been cruelly wrenched, to get 
 out the gems, but the gentle, charming countenance 
 that met Lisle 's view had that strange look of Stella, 
 and' he regarded it again with interest. 
 
 "You had already done, in ignorance, all that 
 the old man asks, for the sake of this supposed 
 mere accidental likeness." 
 
 "If the poor old man could but have known how 
 I would take Stella to my inmost heart, not even
 
 116 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 knowing our relationship, on merely seeing her like- 
 ness to her mother! If he could but know that 
 Stella long ago accompanied me to her mother's 
 home, to bear her mother's name, as my adopted 
 daughter." 
 
 "Well, you have made full amends for what is 
 past," said Lisle, with sympathetic understanding. 
 
 "I was unjustly harsh once, with my darling 
 let me make atonement to the child, for my severity 
 towards the mother ! ' ' 
 
 "If she indeed be Stella, if I remind her of our 
 journey, it may assist her to remember all her past." 
 
 "Do not strive to force her memory, or you may 
 defeat your cherished purpose and do her harm!" 
 Mr. Carruthers said this feelingly. 
 
 "She must, then, still remain as Clare Carruthers 
 to me?" 
 
 "For the present, therefore, she must still be 
 Clare Carruthers to you. Though I feel convinced 
 that she is truly Stella Lisle ! Do not think me un- 
 feeling for not allowing you to hurry on. I am cer- 
 tain it is best to let her memory come naturally, and 
 to give her time."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 f 
 
 Lisle had been staying awhile at Mr. Carruthers ' 
 bungalow. But though he knew Clare cared for 
 him, he seemed to come no nearer to her in her 
 memory. There were times, indeed, when he almost 
 despaired of ever doing so. Yet often he observed 
 her watching him in a perplexed and doubtful way, 
 as though she strove to grasp some new idea of him. 
 He waited patiently, in silent hope. 
 
 "Have you said anything to your adopted 
 daughter of our discoveries through the papers in 
 the packet?" he asked Mr. Carruthers one evening. 
 
 "No, I have not. It is enough for me to feel 
 sure she is my grandcihld. I dare not risk telling 
 her at present, for fear of agitating her." 
 
 "Do you not think, if it be so, that it might helj) 
 her now ? I would not leave a stone unturned to as- 
 sist her memory. I think we ought to try." 
 
 "No, Herbert, no!" Mr. Carruthers spoke de- 
 cidedly. "I shall wait still, in hope that Stella's 
 memory may return quite naturally. Remember
 
 118 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 that I will not have it forced. Act as though your 
 recent meeting with her were the first. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Carruthers put his hand kindly on Lisle 's 
 shoulder as he spoke. 
 
 "I still hope for the best. Be patient, Herbert, 
 yet awhile. You will be rewarded soon, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Lisle said no more to him. He still felt uncon- 
 vinced that silence was the best. In his deep, lov- 
 ing understanding of Clare's feelings, he longed to 
 aid her slumbering memory. He saw with anxious 
 pain the futile struggles that it made to wake. He 
 realized to the full the strain it must be on her. But 
 there was ever present in his heart the dread that it 
 might be a mere coincidence, because she did not 
 know him. He scarcely dared to hope for his own 
 happiness. As for her dreams, he thought they 
 might come of her own mystical responding love. It 
 would be fatal to take any immediate step, lest there 
 should be a mistake. 
 
 Lisle was troubled now by her constant change 
 of attitude towards himself. At times she instinc- 
 tively was drawn to him; at other times she shrank 
 away, avoiding him. 
 
 "She sometimes seems to shrink away from me 
 in doubt and pain," he thought. "At times, again.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 119 
 
 seems simply happy and contented in my company. 
 At times she seems as though almost on the point of 
 recollecting me. If I dared but believe!" 
 
 Carried away once by his own overwhelming 
 feelings, he spoke to her again of his affection for 
 her. She heard him in a state of agitated doubt. 
 
 "I do not know yet who I am, nor whence I 
 came. Till I met you my loss of memory did not 
 much trouble me. But now I long to recollect what 
 went before we met. I would fain know my own 
 past, fill up the aching void, and bridge the gap be- 
 tween my past and present. Until I can do this, 
 what can my future be to me ? I seem to have awak- 
 ened partly since we talked of this before." 
 
 After a long pause, she added timidly 
 
 "What was your meaning, when you told me 
 that you had no right to love me? Yet now you 
 speak to me again, of love." 
 
 "I cannot answer yet," said Lisle in agitation: 
 ' ' one day I will tell you all, the truth and you shall 
 be my judge!"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Ned Martin, coming to Colombo from the hills 
 on business connected with his Tea Estate, met Lisle 
 again by chance, to his delight ; and, reminding him 
 of his promise to visit him, persuaded him to return 
 with him to the hills on a visit to his plantation. 
 The Carruthers being included in his cordial invita- 
 tion, the whole party made the return journey with 
 him to the hills. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was delighted at their arrival at her 
 home, where she saw few visitors, and she welcomed 
 them with fervour. They spent some days in view- 
 ing the estate, and took great interest in the produc- 
 tion of the tea, which Martin was at some pains to 
 explain to them. 
 
 They enjoyed their visit much, but Lisle 's long- 
 suffering patience was being hardly tried. As he 
 felt sure the end was drawing near, he could scarcely 
 keep from risking speaking, and telling Clare the 
 truth. One afternoon he came upon her sitting on 
 the verandah with Mrs. Martin's pretty children
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 121 
 
 round her. She had the youngest baby in her 
 arms. 
 
 "Mr. Lisle, this is my accidental namesake," she 
 said happily, turning to him where he stood musing 
 in the sunshine. "Is not she a perfect little picture? 
 She has the loveliest grey eyes do look at them ! ' ' 
 
 Lisle quickly turned his head, and looked in- 
 stead at her own bright eyes and smiling mouth, and 
 delicately flushed and beaming face-. He stood gaz- 
 ing silently at the happy little group. A sudden 
 strong emotion checked his utterance when he would 
 have answered her. He turned hastily aside and 
 walked away, leaving her standing there amidst the 
 laughing, chattering, children, with the baby nestling 
 in her arms, the others gathered closely round her. 
 How sweet and motherly she looked, lie thought, the 
 pretty baby holding round her neck with its plump 
 little hands and arms, its small, fair face pressed 
 lovingly against her darker one. The picture lin- 
 gered still within his mind long after they had gone 
 off with the ayah. 
 
 Clare was left alone with him on the verandah. 
 She feared she had unwittingly vexed him, and was 
 troubled. She had cast anxious glances at him as 
 the children went away. But Lisle looked straight 
 before him, never glancing at her. He felt he could
 
 122 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 not trust himself to speak. He stood gazing out 
 upon the blooming garden with intent and medita- 
 tive eyes. She went straight up to him, and ad- 
 dressed him timidly. 
 
 1 'What is the matter, Mr. Lisle?" 
 
 "I was thinking of the years of happiness that 
 I have missed," he responded, suddenly turning 
 round to her; "the years that might, that should 
 have been, but never have been mine. It struck me 
 with fresh force this afternoon!" 
 
 "I do not understand," she answered timidly. 
 
 Bertie suddenly took her pleading face in both 
 his hands, and looked deep in her troubled eyes. 
 
 "Do not worry, darling! You will understand 
 when you remember not till then. My dearest, you 
 must first remember your own past!" 
 
 Bertie bent his head and kissed her hands, and 
 went hurriedly away alone into the garden. And 
 he left her standing there looking intently after 
 him in wondering reflection, as he disappeared from 
 view amongst the fragrant orange trees. 
 
 That evening Lisle entered the drawing-room, 
 to find Clare sitting there alone, working at some 
 delicate embroidery. With a sudden restless move- 
 ment she rose hurriedly in silence, going toward* 
 the conservatory opening off the drawing-room.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 123 
 
 Lisle followed her with a fast-beating heart, and 
 stood watching her anxiously. She did not seem 
 to observe his presence there, but almost uncon- 
 sciously began to pick the rich blooms from a plant 
 in a flower-pot, seemingly absorbed in deepest 
 thought. A large wire-basket with some rough 
 kind of trailing sprays hung near. 
 
 "Take care!" Lisle said, suddenly. 
 
 He was too late. The fragile sleeve of her dainty 
 evening dress had caught in a trailing spray, and 
 was almost torn off to the shoulder as, startled, she 
 hastily turned round to him. And on her white and 
 beautifully-moulded arm, he saw the strange and 
 unaccountable disfigurement of an old and ugly 
 scar, that set his heart to beating fast and wildly, 
 till it seemed as though he could not bear the pain 
 of it. 
 
 "Stella!" he cried then, as he had cried before, 
 on his first meeting with her. And this time there 
 was a strain of vivid, sure and joyous recognition 
 in his agitated tones. 
 
 He stepped quickly to her side; and Stella's 
 eyes met his. But now she did not turn away from 
 him. Not thus, indeed, had she regarded him before. 
 And the rich colour deepened in her clear cheeks as 
 her eyes sank before his ardent, searching look.
 
 124 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "How did you get this scar?" demanded Ber- 
 tie, breathlessly, and almost roughly; though his 
 hand was gentle as he lightly touched her arm. 
 
 "I do not know," she faltered. "It seems to 
 me I have had it always. I cannot remember when, 
 or how, I hurt myself." 
 
 She seemed perplexed anew, and the old clouded 
 troubled look that now Lisle knew so well, crept 
 to her face once more. She seemed to make an ef- 
 fort to cast back her memory in some old past for- 
 gotten channel. She appeared white and strained aa 
 she stood leaning against the lintel of the conser- 
 vatory door, looking straight in front of her with 
 dreamy and unseeing eyes. 
 
 "Can you trust me, Stella?" Lisle asked with 
 infinite tenderness, as he gently took her hand. 
 
 She gave a sudden start, and gazed at him in 
 perplexity. 
 
 "Trust you? Ah! I seemed for an instant to 
 grasp a memory a fleeting glimpse of recollection 
 came to me that you asked that of me once before 
 in some old and long-forgotten period. I once pro- 
 mised in some dream that I would trust you, 
 Bertie!" 
 
 Lisle marvelled in himself that she did not seem 
 aware how readily his name came to her lips. And
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 125 
 
 she took it naturally and unthinkingly that he 
 should call her Stella. 
 
 "You did not keep your promise to me in that 
 dream will you keep it now? It will be doubly 
 precious to me if you trust me now whilst you walk 
 in the dark, dear. It will make full amends for all 
 your lack of faith before. Trust me, Stella, rest 
 on me; leave all to me!" 
 
 "If I do so, Bertie, I must do it blindly, as you 
 say. You tell me that I failed you once before. 
 Have you aught to tell that could recall my wan- 
 dering remembrance?" 
 
 Lisle was silent here. He felt too much to 
 speak. Stella looked at him appealingly. Her 
 usually intelligent bright mind refused to aid her 
 to nil up the blank. That she in a measure certainly 
 remembered now, was evident. But the strange 
 hiatus was still unfilled, unbridged. 
 
 "Do not worry, dearest," Lisle said, tenderly. 
 "Day by day it is still coming nearer to you. Even 
 now it is on its way to you. Let your truant mem- 
 ory wing its way back to you in its own time." 
 
 Stella drooped towards her unknown husband 
 as he drew her nearer, resting on his love, nestling 
 in his close embrace, wholly trustful, wholly com- 
 forted. And there was the dawn of awakening re- 
 membrance in her face.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On the day following, the little party rode on 
 horseback in the direction of a beautiful lake that 
 was within the distance of a pleasant ride. Near 
 it was a ruined bungalow with some romantic his- 
 tory attached to it. It nestled in a paradise of palms 
 and flowering shrubs of infinite variety; gorgeous 
 crotons, and innumerable creepers overgrowing 
 roofs and broken pillars, and climbing the neigh- 
 bouring trees, which they bespangled with their 
 lovely blossoms. After investigating the old bun- 
 galow, they went further to view the lake. Calm 
 and beautiful it was amidst the smiling scenery 
 around. The clear cool water glistened in the sun- 
 beams, filtering through the network of some inter- 
 lacing foliage near which they stood; for above the 
 water, shade was cast by a cool, delicious screen of 
 over-hanging boughs. Birds twittered amidst the 
 foliage, where there was many a nest. The grass 
 around was fresh and green, strewn with the plen- 
 tiful sweet flowers that nature scattered freely over 
 with a liberal and loving hand.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 127 
 
 They stood here wrapt in meditative thought. 
 For all was restful peace, where they could almost 
 have thought their foot was first to tread the green, 
 undesecrated turf. 
 
 On their way back Mr. Carruthers went on in 
 advance with his companions, leaving Lisle to fol- 
 low with his wife. Neither of the two behind had 
 observed the gathering storm-clouds, nor the rapid 
 disappearance of their companions, as they rode on 
 together side by side, wrapped up in their own 
 thoughts. Stella was the first to awake from her 
 abstraction. 
 
 "Where are the others?" she asked suddenly, 
 looking hurriedly around her as she spoke. 
 
 Lisle started from his reverie. 
 
 "They have doubtless ridden forward. We 
 shall overtake them soon." 
 
 "I fear a storm is gathering," said Stella, as 
 a heavy drop of rain splashed on her cheek, fol- 
 lowed by a smart shower. 
 
 She involuntarily quickened her horse's lagging 
 pace, and Lisle glanced upwards. 
 
 "It is just about to break on us in its worst 
 fury." he exclaimed in great dismay, as he thought 
 of his companion.
 
 128 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "The others are evidently far ahead of us, and 
 must be nearly home I" 
 
 "We cannot catch up with them before it breaks 
 on us. See, here is temporary shelter close at hand. 
 This deserted bungalow will at least protect us 
 from the violence of the storm. Let me help you 
 quickly to dismount." 
 
 She acquiesced silently, and they approached 
 the ruins, where Lisle secured the horses lest they 
 might be frightened and seek escape. They had not 
 long to wait before the storm had burst in all its 
 violence. With downcast eyes Stella sat on a por- 
 tion of a broken column that had once supported the 
 verandah, as she hearkened to the warring of the 
 elements without. And Lisle stood by her, fixedly 
 regarding her as he observed that the connection of 
 events the present agitation of the storm, and their 
 past adventures, years ago appeared to excite some 
 serious approaching change in his wife's mind. 
 
 The storm without redoubled in its fury, the 
 frightened neighing of the horses mingled with its 
 fierce discordant raging. As a louder peal of thun- 
 der rent the startled air, vibrating hoarsely, Stella 
 started to her feet with an involuntary exclamation, 
 as a stone fell by her with a crash, from the ruined 
 wall. Bertie sprang towards her in alarm, and
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 129 
 
 threw his arm about her. She quickly turned to 
 him, and their eyes met. 
 
 The moment held her spell-bound in a sort of 
 fascination. She was as one who heard a half-for- 
 gotten melody ring in her ears once more as one to 
 whom the faint, sweet, subtle scent of long-departed 
 violets came back again with some forgotten dream. 
 And an ecstatic sweetness that was yet keen pain, 
 filled her whole soul and mastered all her being. 
 
 Then, with a quick movement, she drew herself 
 away, and gazed inquiringly at him. The question- 
 ing look in the depths of her dark eyes became an 
 expression half of expectancy and half of fear. Her 
 breath came quicker from her parted lips; her deli- 
 cate rose-colour came and went; her bosom heaved, 
 as with some strong and painfully-suppressed emo- 
 tion. She released her hands from his, then sighed, 
 and awakened slowly from the spell. The look of 
 expectancy was still within her eyes; the fluctuat- 
 ing colour came into her cheek once more, and then 
 left it paler than its wont; her manner grew con- 
 strained and calm. 
 
 Her manner had recalled Lisle to himself. A 
 heavy shadow fell across his face. He had suffered 
 much and deeply in the past. And yet, he thought, 
 the presence of his wife the fact alone that he in
 
 130 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 truth had found her should surely seem sufficient 
 for the time to heal his old aching wound and set 
 his heart at rest. 
 
 Stella passed her hand across her brow, looking 
 straight before her in a dazed and half-awakened 
 way. A new and ardent questioning had now ap- 
 parently begun within her woman's soul. An inde- 
 finable knowledge came to her, and yet seemed to 
 elude her eager mental grasp. There was a curious 
 hesitation in her air; a strained, intense and an- 
 xious look was in her eyes, as though she feared to 
 trust her own impressions. 
 
 Lisle had observed her closely, with a tender, 
 strong and pitiful compassion for her struggling 
 recollection. Did she indeed remember him at last? 
 
 His expression as he gazed at her, appeared al- 
 most to alarm and startle Stella. She turned away 
 from him, and resumed her seat on the fallen 
 column. 
 
 The furious raging of the tempest was subsid- 
 ing; the thunder and the lightning-flashes now had 
 nearly ceased. 
 
 She suddenly turned back to him again, in agi- 
 tation, speaking breathlessly. 
 
 "We have met before in real life in some time
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 131 
 
 of trouble, even danger we were friends. Tell me 
 if I am right, for I distrust myself!" 
 
 Lisle came closer to her side, with a fast-beat- 
 ing heart. The time so ardently desired by him, 
 so watched and waited for, had come at last. 
 
 The noise was over now, beyond the steady 
 beating of the rain. 
 
 He bent towards her, resting his hand gently on 
 her shoulder, and speaking in low, clear tones, that 
 he might not startle her. 
 
 "Let me tell you a story, Stella," he said ten- 
 derly. "It may assist your memory." 
 
 She glanced at his quiet face, and, meeting his 
 look as quietly, she bent her gaze on the ground and 
 waited for him to proceed. 
 
 "Stella, I had a wife, who was very dear to 
 me." 
 
 His hearer glanced up startled, with a kind of 
 terror. Lisle caught the look and hurriedly went 
 on. 
 
 "She has been missing for the past three 
 years." 
 
 Stella caught her breath, as though in pain, 
 and awaited his next words with closely-strained at- 
 tention. 
 
 "I met her first when travelling in France."
 
 132 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 Stella made a sudden gesture that perhaps 
 might mean remembrance. Her face and attitude 
 expressed a keen and vivid interest and fixed atten- 
 tion that were not lost on the observant man. He 
 resumed his story: 
 
 "There was a break down on the road; the 
 carriage in which she and her grandfather were 
 travelling was upset; and coming up behind them 
 at the time, I took them on with me to the nearest 
 stopping-place." 
 
 Stella looked up breathlessly as Bertie paused, 
 and made an impatient gesture that he should pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 "On our arrival there, her grandfather was dis- 
 covered to be seriously ill. It was not very long 
 before he died." 
 
 Bertie Lisle glanced tenderly ,with never-failing 
 and absorbent interest at the wistful, closely-atten- 
 tive face of his listener. Her cheek was flushed, her 
 breath came quicker from her parted lips. Had his 
 tale as yet conveyed the facts to her own mind? 
 
 He quietly resumed: 
 
 "I had married Stella Verne before he died. 
 On the evening of a dull grey day we arrived to- 
 gether at our English country home. I had brought 
 my young wife directly there, none of my few ac-
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 133 
 
 quaintances knowing as yet of her existence, or of 
 my return. We were received by Mrs. Grayson, my 
 old housekeeper." 
 
 Stella made a sudden hasty movement, but she 
 did not speak. 
 
 "Later on that evening, James Weston called 
 on me. He was my solicitor, and my dead father's 
 old and valued friend. Stella at the time was ab- 
 sent from the library where we were sitting. On 
 returning to the room a little later, and unnoticed 
 by us both, apparently she overheard a few hasty 
 words from Weston 's lips, and my own hasty an- 
 swer to my friend." 
 
 Lisle 's hearer threw her head a little back. 
 Her cheek had crimsoned with a sudden vivid flush, 
 perhaps of indignation. And a sudden fire was in 
 the sparkling eyes she raised to his. 
 
 "You were speaking, then, of her, when she 
 was absent from the room?" 
 
 Lisle glanced at her, and reddened, as he bit his 
 lips, and nodded. He went on hurriedly, with new 
 agitation in his hitherto calm tones. 
 
 " 'A girl whom you met travelling, both friend- 
 less and unknown!' my solicitor was saying, with 
 undeniable vehemence, as she entered. 'O Lisle, 
 what have you done ? You have simply irrevocably
 
 134 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 ruined your own life and prospects, in order, in your 
 quixotic generosity, to help an unknown girl; who 
 is most probably, some scheming and designing ad- 
 venturess ! You may live yet to repent the step you 
 took." 
 
 Lisle 's face flushed deeply here and he paused 
 for an uncomfortable second as he glanced at Stella's 
 now averted head. He drew himself together with 
 an effort, and went on: 
 
 " 'How could I act otherwise than as I did?' I 
 questioned in reply, with answering heat. 'She was 
 quite alone. I was her only friend in a strange place. 
 And, being obliged to consider her position there, I 
 was so circumstanced that I had to act at once. 
 Otherwise, of course ' ' 
 
 Lisle paused again; and when he next resumed, 
 his voice was agitated, even pleading in its tones, 
 as though he prayed his listener to hear him pa- 
 tiently. 
 
 * ' Had I but had time to finish the uncompleted sen- 
 tence on my lips, all would have ended differently. 
 For my wife would certainly have grasped my mean- 
 ing then. But at that moment we both saw her 
 standing in the doorway, holding back the heavy 
 crimson portiere with a nervous, trembling little 
 hand and I at once stopped short."
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 135 
 
 Stella now had turned to him again, and she 
 was listening with new and trembling eagerness, 
 with quickened, panting breath, and feverishly- 
 parted lips. Lisle noted this, and his voice be- 
 came more passionately pleading than before; as 
 though he prayed for her patience and attention to 
 the end. 
 
 "Weston, seeing Stella now for the first time, 
 was greatly struck with her appearance. I could 
 see that he regretted his own hastily-expressed 
 opinion. We glanced hurriedly at one another, 
 changing countenance, and both of us uncertain as 
 to whether she had overheard or not. But she 
 came forward quietly. Though pale, and reticent 
 in manner, she was apparently so indifferent and un- 
 moved that he, at least, was reassured; and he 
 took his leave of us soon afterwards.' 
 
 A new, deep note crept into the man's voice, as 
 though he prayed now for her trust, and her belief 
 in him. He drew a step nearer to his hearer, and 
 fixed his earnest gaze directly on her face. 
 
 "After his departure a deep uncomfortable si- 
 lence fell upon us, left alone together a silence 
 that was broken first by my young wife." 
 
 Stella once more made a sudden movement, half 
 rising to her feet. But she sat down again, her gaze 
 held fast by his.
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "She had risen to her feet," said Lisle, "and 
 now stood opposite, at a little distance from me, at 
 the side of the wide hearth. One hand rested on 
 the chimney-piece, nervously playing with some 
 trifle there ; but when she spoke her tones were clear 
 and even, though subdued. The girl seemed to 
 have become a woman all at once. 
 
 " 'I overheard Mr. Weston,' she began, 'as I 
 came in. It was a revelation to me when I over- 
 heard his words. I havp been dreaming, Bertie, 
 only dreaming, after all a bright and happy dream ! 
 I have awakened now. Mr. Weston was right in 
 what he said. You should not have married me. 
 You were too impulsive far too generous and noble- 
 minded. ' 
 
 "I started to my feet," said Lisle, "and went 
 to her. 'Stella!' I cried vehemently, 'what do you 
 mean?' With gentle peremptoriness she raised her 
 hand to silence me, and then went on: 
 
 " 'Only your solicitor and Mrs. Grayson know 
 the truth as yet, and your old faithful servants. 
 They will be silent for your sake. It seems to me 
 that the rash act can be undone so easily. I have 
 but to leave you I can earn my own living, far 
 away and the law will help you. I need never 
 trouble you again!' "
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 137 
 
 Lisle broke off far an instant, almost overcome 
 with his emotion. 
 
 'Was she right?" he questioned gently, when 
 once more he felt that he could speak. 
 
 "I cannot answer yet," said Stella, in a low 
 and trembling voice. 
 
 " 'Stella, you are speaking like a foolish child.' 
 I responded very gravely," Lisle went on. " 'You 
 must know that what you propose is quite impos- 
 sible. And what if I, your husband, Stella, do not 
 sanction it ? You are my wife, remember have you 
 considered me, or my wishes, in the matter? Hear 
 me, Stella! Let me reason with you!' 
 
 "She responded very sadly 'What is there, in- 
 deed, that you can find to say? Are you seeking- 
 plausibly to cover your regret ? ' ' My regret ! ' I ex- 
 claimed impatiently, 'Have I ever said one word to 
 you, ever shown by word or act, or even look, that 
 I regretted it ? I can scarcely understand your atti- 
 tude to me. Can you recollect your promise to have 
 unquestioning faith in me? What have I done, that 
 you should doubt me now?' ' 
 
 "Ah, Bertie," Stella interrupted hurriedly, 
 "she should indeed have trusted you with, or with- 
 out a promise!" 
 
 "Do you say so, Stella?" Lisle asked gravely.
 
 138 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "You have given me a promise will you keep it 
 now?" 
 
 "Bertie, tell me more!" she answered low. 
 
 "A momentary hesitation came upon her as I 
 gently took her hand in mine," said Lisle. "But 
 the recollection of my own unfinished answer to 
 James Weston was still rankling in her sensitive, 
 proud mind. She withdrew her hand with cold- 
 ness even indignation as she answered 
 
 " 'The case is slightly altered now, I think.' ' 
 
 "Ah, Bertie, she was wrong! She should have 
 trusted you," Stella said again, in deeply-shaken 
 tones. 
 
 "Do you pass judgment on her? Well, the 
 time is not far distant now, I know, when she will 
 trust me, Stella!" 
 
 Stella looked up earnestly in his face. 
 
 "You have not told me all." 
 
 "Her face flushed deeply," Lisle responded 
 slowly, "and she turned it from me, trembling, 
 shrinking from me a little, as I placed my hand 
 gently on her shoulder. Another instant, and the 
 barrier of the poor child's pride might have broken 
 down, and a thorough and happy understanding 
 might have come between us." 
 
 "And it did not come?"
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 139 
 
 ''No. She asked me for a certain packet that 
 had been in my charge, and I was telling her I 
 could not find it that I feared it had been lost, or 
 stolen^as indeed it proved to be. For on our 
 journey to the town, in France, on our way home, 
 we had met with an adventure at an old deserted 
 house, where we stopped for the night ; Stella being 
 wounded by a blow that she had bravely warded 
 off from me. Just then, as we were discussing it, 
 a hasty knocking came at the library door. Re- 
 leasing my wife's hands, which I had taken closely 
 in my own, I turned impatiently to see who might 
 be there." 
 
 "Ah! if only that interruption had not come!" 
 said Stella. 
 
 "It was from Mrs. Grayson, with a verbal mes- 
 sage for me 'Mr. Weston's messenger has come,' 
 she said, 'and he brings some important documents, 
 which Mr .Weston would like you to look over im 
 mediately. He will detain you but a short time, 
 sir. He wants to make some arrangement with you 
 for his master.' 
 
 " 'Stella, will you wait here for me?' I asked 
 her pleadingly, as I reluctantly obeyed the unwel- 
 come summons. 'I will hurry back to you.' 
 
 "I was detained, however, for some time; and 
 my young wife had ample time for sad reflection
 
 140 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 sitting there alone. From what followed after 
 wards, I believe she went upstairs and dressed her- 
 self for walking, after penning a few last hasty 
 >vords to the husband whom she had made up her 
 mistaken mind to leave. She said something in her 
 note, poor child, of having done me a great wrong, 
 and of wishing it undone. She was young and in- 
 experienced," said Lisle, with wistful tenderness, 
 and did not seem to understand she might be doing 
 me a greater wrong in thus leaving me without my 
 knowledge and my full consent." 
 
 "Did you get her letter soon?" 
 
 "I found it late that night. When I returned 
 to the library, I thought she had got tired of wait- 
 ing for me, and had gone up to her room. I longed 
 to follow her at once, but had my papers to look 
 over first, and I thought they would not take me 
 long. It was late, however, when I went up to bed. 
 And I found her gone ! ' ' 
 
 "And that was the last you knew of her?" 
 
 "The very last. She must have passed out by 
 a side door that led into the grounds, whilst I was 
 returning to the house, after accompanying my in- 
 opportune and unwished-for visitor to the gate, for 
 a few last words with him. I can fancy that I see 
 her drawing back from the pathway, and pressing
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 141 
 
 closely up against some sheltering bushes in the 
 dark shadow of a well-grown tree. For I remem- 
 ber hearing a rustling sound as I approached. The 
 moonlight fell full on my face as I passed by. I 
 have often thought how Stella may have looked her 
 last on me, ere, springing forward when I had gone 
 by, she hurried forth on her own desolate, and 
 henceforth, solitary way. This," said Lisle, con- 
 cluding sadly, "is the story of my life! I have 
 been vainly seeking for my lost wife ever since that 
 night. I have continued my search for her in 
 spite of disappointment and perpetual failure. I 
 have dared to hope that I have found her now!" 
 
 He spoke the last words very softly, very lov- 
 ingly, and remained then silently observing her, 
 with mingled hope, and love, and sadness. Stella 
 slowly turned away her head, bent thoughtfully. 
 Then, starting to her feet, she threw back her head 
 as one would do who was shaking off some heavy, 
 clinging dream. 
 
 ' ' Bertie ! You have told me my own story ! ' ' 
 
 She met his eyes with her own clear, unclouded 
 ones, the occasional melancholy, brooding look gone 
 for ever now. 
 
 "Dearest Stella, tell me all that followed your 
 departure," Lisle said eagerly, as he impetuously 
 grasped her hands.
 
 142 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 "I went straight to the railway station that we 
 had so lately left together. How I got there, I do 
 not know but I walked all the way. I passed un- 
 noticed, and was only just in time to board a train 
 that was leaving there for London." 
 
 "You had money with you? I feared so des- 
 perately for you, darling, without funds." 
 
 "I had a little money, very little; but enough to 
 pay my way." 
 
 "What happened next? Did Mr. Carruthers 
 find you? Stay I am forgetting your accident, 
 and loss of memory the hiatus is still in part un- 
 bridged for you." 
 
 "Then," she said, "there were the busy 
 throngs of people at the terminus, and the dense, 
 crowded streets. The unceasing sound like that of 
 the murmuring sea; the blinding, flashing lights. 
 
 Then came a dreadful shock, and after that a 
 
 blank! It has all come back to me." 
 
 "And what of Mr. Carruthers, dear, and your 
 new life?" 
 
 "I just woke up, and found myself in my new 
 life, with the old one swept away." 
 
 "You were happy and contented, Stella? Had 
 you no dreams of me?" 
 
 "I was contented, Bertie, till I met you at the
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 143 
 
 Mainwarings. I accepted the position as I found 
 it, and was merely glad to rest!" , 
 
 "There is more to tell you, dearest, that you 
 do not know. But I must leave that part to your 
 adopted father. It is only fair to him." 
 
 "Now tell me of yourself," she answered, 
 clinging to him, as he held her fondly in his arms. 
 
 Bertie put her from him for a moment, holding 
 her gently by the arms, as he regarded her happy 
 face. 
 
 "Why did you leave me, Stella?" he said pas- 
 sionately. "For over three long weary years I have 
 been seeking you. How could you inflict such cruel 
 suffering on me?" 
 
 His tones betrayed the living pain that still 
 touched his heart. 
 
 "I feared you did not truly care for me," said 
 Stella softly. "That you had acted only out of 
 pity from a sense of honour that now you might 
 come to regret your rash act at no distant time. T 
 dreaded what your friends might say of me re- 
 member Mr. Weston had already termed me schem- 
 ing and designing a possible adventuress! Could 
 I endure that, Bertie? No, I wished you to be free. 
 I was inexperienced, remember, when we first were 
 married ; afterwards my eyes were opened to the
 
 144 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 facts, and it made a woman of me in one moment! 
 It was for your own sake I left you, Bertie, though, 
 indeed, I know I was mistaken, now!" 
 
 With a deeply sorrowful and pleading look, she 
 silently besought his pardon. Taking his hand in 
 both of hers, Stella bent her head, and gently raised 
 it to her lips. 
 
 The man glanced quickly at her. The colour 
 flickered softly in her cheeks, and a half-shy, half- 
 happy, exquisitely-tender smile played on her lips. 
 The full knowledge of the truth had come home to 
 her heart indeed. Her eyes flashed with full recog- 
 nition of him, and her face flushed deeply as, with- 
 out a word, he caught her rapturously to his heart. 
 
 "We have loved each other from the first," 
 said Lisle at last, each not knowing who the other 
 really was. And, after all, you unknowingly re- 
 deemed your early promise to have faith in me. 
 Stella, how is this?" 
 
 "Before, I did not love you as I love you now!" 
 
 "Ah, yes I understand," Lisle answered 
 thoughtfully. "With perfect love comes perfect 
 faith. And our love is perfect now! When I saw 
 the scar upon your arm, my own heart told me 
 passionately that I might believe at last, that it was 
 you!"
 
 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 145 
 
 "It still seems like a fleeting dream to me,'* 
 said Stella, "but for this ugly scar upon my arm 
 to prove its truth ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' A scar I dearly love ! ' ' said Lisle ; and pushing 
 up her sleeve he kissed it tenderly. "It will con- 
 stantly remind me, darling, that in all probability 
 you saved my life at your own risk that night." 
 
 They sat down together on the fallen column, 
 side by side, hand clasped in hand. The storm had 
 lulled long since, but they still sat there, all uncon- 
 scious of the time. 
 
 "See, the storm is over!" Lisle exclaimed at 
 last, as, putting his arm about his wife, he drew 
 her gently out on the verandah of the ruined bun- 
 galow. 
 
 "We must go home," she answered softly, 
 clinging lovingly to him. "They will be anxious, 
 dear, if we delay too long." 
 
 Lisle got the horses out and putting his wife on 
 hers, he stood beside her for a moment, with her 
 hands both clasped in his, and his face upturned to 
 her. 
 
 "The storm is over, Stella," Lisle repeated 
 with a happy smile, as she returned his earnest gaze 
 with a tender, trustful one.
 
 146 A LAPSE OF MEMORY. 
 
 The raindrops sparkled like bright diamonds 
 amidst the foliage, and the sun came out and smiled 
 on them as the storm-clouds slowly sailed away.
 
 REPORTED KILLED
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 "I am grieved to learn you are returning shortly 
 to South Africa," said Mr. Ward to Major Ross, 
 when, over the dessert, the conversation had become 
 more personal. 
 
 "Yes," the Major answered slowly, "my leave 
 of absence has almost expired now." 
 
 "I shall be disappointed of my hope of having 
 you pay us a visit in our home, ' ' said the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 "I often wish that Geoffrey would think now 
 of marriage, and leave the Army to settle down near 
 me in town," Mrs. Ross said plaintively. 
 
 "Oh, there's plenty of time for that yet, little 
 mother," her son said hastily, with a slight change 
 of countenance. 
 
 "When do you leave Sydney?" questioned Mr. 
 Ward. 
 
 Major Ross did not reply. His attention had 
 now wandered, and he dad not notice that he was
 
 150 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 addressed. He was gazing straight across the table 
 at Phyllis Ward, who sat beside Jim Sturrock, his 
 chosen friend; as though he would fain read in her 
 countenance how she had taken the news of his pro- 
 jected departure for South Africa. But apparently 
 the girl had taken little heed of what was passing. 
 
 At the end of the evening the Major told his 
 mother that he wished to walk home quietly with 
 Jim Sturrock, and smoke a last cigar. He gave her 
 his arm to lead her out, and put her carefully in her 
 cab; then turned to Sturrock, who was waiting for 
 him on the pavement near. A certain amount of 
 suppressed excitement was in Jim's manner as they 
 started to walk home together. 
 
 "Geoffrey, what do you think of Phyllis 
 Ward?" he asked at once, in a breathless kind of 
 way. 
 
 "Why should you ask?" returned the Major 
 lightly, yet with soine intention underlying his 
 light manner. 
 
 "The fact is, Geoffrey, that I take a special in-, 
 terest in her. She is the most charming girl I have 
 ever met!" 
 
 Sturrock 's earnestness was by no means lost on 
 Geoffrey Ross. 
 
 "You care for her?" he asked impulsively, with 
 a white face and a pang at his own heart.
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 151 
 
 "I love her, Geoff! I want her for my wife," 
 the other answered simply. Then he added, in in- 
 tense, low tones: "Were I lucky enough to gain her 
 love, I should be the happiest man on this wide 
 earth!" 
 
 ' ' Then you do not know, as yet, if she cares for 
 you?" asked the Major soberly. 
 
 "I do not," the other answered gravely. "But 
 of course I shall take my chance, as others have to 
 do! Geoffrey," he added slowly, "have you ever 
 been in love?" 
 
 The Major drew a long, deep breath, but did not 
 answer him. 
 
 "You do care for a woman, Geoffrey," Sturrock 
 said impulsively. "Have you no hope?" 
 
 "I have no hope she is not for me," said the 
 Major. 
 
 "Have you spoken to her? Have you failed?" 
 
 There was a long pause here, and he repeated 
 his inquiry anxiously. 
 
 "I had to take my chance, as all men have to 
 do," the Major answered enigmatically. "It is 
 my destiny." 
 
 "What hurry, Geoffrey? Take a little time. 
 It may make all the difference." 
 
 "Time, in this case, can make no difference."
 
 152 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 "Do you believe love is spontaneous that it 
 cannot be won?" 
 
 "I believe love is spontaneous, and scarcely 
 to be won. My theory is that souls are made for 
 one another ; although sometimes they may not meet, 
 but seek each other through this life in vain." 
 
 "Geoffrey, what do you mean to do?" 
 
 "I shall go back to Africa," he answered sadly. 
 "My sick-leave, which has already been extended, 
 is nearly over now. I meant to sell out of the army 
 altogether if I married, and to settle down on my 
 own property." 
 
 "Your mother will be grieved she will miss 
 you when you go. I know she quite adores you." 
 
 "My mother? Dear old lady! I will return to 
 her one day perhaps, when time has healed my 
 
 wound." 
 
 * * # * 
 
 Phyllis Ward next day was wandering 
 alone in the garden of her suburban home, 
 amidst a perfect blaze of flowers. It was 
 a fresh, clear morning, bright and sunny, 
 and the small, winged insects fluttered round 
 in happy, unconscious irresponsibility, alighting oc- 
 casionally on the fragrant blooms. So Geoffrey 
 found her when he called.
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 153 
 
 "Miss Ward," he said, advancing gravely, "I 
 have come to say good-bye. You know I'm going 
 back to Africa," he added sadly. 
 
 Phyllis started, and drew in her breath with a 
 fluttering little sigh. 
 
 "Give me a rose as a remembrance, Phyllis," 
 said the Major presently, "for we have been friends, 
 I think, and this may chance to be our last fare- 
 well." 
 
 He spoke with suffering that somehow passed 
 her by, and made him blind to the expression of 
 unmistakeable pain upon her face. Phyllis plucked 
 a sweet, red rose, and raised it to her lips; then 
 silently held it forth to him. Geoffrey took with 
 it the gentle hand that held it forth, which he re- 
 tained lingeringly in his clasp for one brief instant, 
 with a sudden rush of tender pity for the girl. He 
 felt some intuition in his soul that Phyllis somehow 
 shared his pain with him. 
 
 "Do not grieve for it will all come right," he 
 uttered softly, with a grave and wistful smile. 
 
 The girl glanced quickly at him, then she fixed 
 her sad gaze on the ground. 
 
 He dropped her hand, and turned silently away ; 
 and left her standing there alone in the perfumed 
 garden, in the midst of blooming flowers. And so
 
 154 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 Geoffrey passed out of her life, as he thought, for 
 ever. 
 
 Sturrock met him on the street as he was hurry- 
 ing home, and for an instant the Major tried to pass 
 him by. Sturrock detained him for a moment. A 
 sudden partial understanding came to him. 
 
 "Geoffrey," he faltered, "do you wish to be 
 alone?" 
 
 "Yes I must be alone for a short time. Come 
 
 to see me in the afternoon but leave me now." 
 
 He pressed his friend's hand hurriedly, and went 
 upon his way. 
 
 Sturrock, calling on him in the afternoon, was 
 shown at once to Geoffrey's room. He was sur- 
 prised to find him busily engaged in packing, his 
 possessions strewn around him. Ross, having re- 
 covered now, in looks at least, his former self- 
 possession, came forward quickly. 
 
 "Jim, I am leaving here at noon to-morrow. I 
 have secured a berth in a steamer just leaving Syd- 
 ney. I am going back to the Cape without delay." 
 
 Jim regarded him with sympathetic understand- 
 ing. "Geoffrey, may I go with you as far as Al- 
 bany, and so be with you till you really leave Aus- 
 tralia?" 
 
 The Major hesitated for an instant. "No," 
 he said at last. "I would much rather go alone."
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 155 
 
 "You will wait until your leave expires, how- 
 ever? Perhaps you may yet care to have me, later 
 on?" 
 
 "I am returning to the Cape without waiting 
 for the expiration of my term of leave. I feel it is 
 the best thing for me, in my present state of mind. 
 I want to get away. But not a word of this to my 
 mother, Jim. It would cause her infinite and un- 
 availing pain." 
 
 "At least you will let me stay with you until 
 you start; and see you off afterwards?" 
 
 Ross did not reply at once. He looked long 
 and earnestly on Sturrock's face. "Yes, Jim," he 
 said gently, "stay with me, and let me see the last 
 I can of you. We may never meet again on earth ! ' f 
 
 So, later on, the two men stood together on the 
 deck of the ship that Geoffrey was to sail in. She 
 was about to start, and most of the people who had 
 come on board to bid their friends farewell, had 
 already gone ashore. The two men stood awhile in 
 silence, watching the last of the shore-going people 
 leave the ship. Then Geoffrey, at the last, turned 
 round to Jim, and warmly grasped his hands. 
 
 "God bless you, Jim! May you be very happy 
 with your chosen wife. This is probably our last 
 good-bye!"
 
 156 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 "Not for ever, Geoffrey! You will return to 
 us one day, I trust and hope ! ' ' 
 
 The Major paused awhile before he answered 
 him. His gaze was fixed across the distant sea. 
 Then, slowly, with a far-away expression in his eyes, 
 as though he saw far-distant scenes beyond the view 
 of his companion: "Yes one day I will return to 
 you unless I am killed out there!" he said. 
 
 A week had passed since Major Ross had gone, 
 when Sturrock called on Phyllis, whom, to his con- 
 tent, he found alone. 
 
 "Miss Ward," he said nervously, "I came here 
 to-day to seek an interview will you hear me 
 patiently? I love you, Phyllis, with all my heart 
 and soul. Is it possible that you could learn to 
 care enough for me to be my wife?" 
 
 Reluctantly she raised her downcast eyes, and 
 looked at him. And a kind of horror and repulsion 
 crept slowly into them. Sturrock suddenly stopped 
 short, regarding her with an intent and searching 
 gaze. He felt some kind of change was taking place 
 in her. He could not understand the meaning of 
 it, and it cut him to the heart. 
 
 Almost violently she withdrew her hand from 
 his appealing clasp. "I cannot listen to you," she 
 exclaimed excitedly. 
 
 It struck Sturrock now, and with a cruel pang,
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 157 
 
 that this change had come in her since Geoffrey '$ 
 departure from the scene. Was it possible that she 
 had cared for Ross, and that his own chance with 
 her was now quite spoilt ? For the moment his new 
 feeling towards his friend had clashed with friend- 
 ship, and was almost turned to a blind, unreasoning 
 anger, and the bitterness of jealousy. 
 
 ' 'Why am I become repulsive to you ? " he asked 
 bitterly. "You have always seemed to like me 
 hitherto!" 
 
 "You are not repulsive, Mr. Sturroek." said 
 Phyllis penitently. 
 
 "But you cannot care for me. Is it quite im- 
 possible ? ' ' 
 
 "Impossible! Oh, quite impossible. I am sorry 
 oh, so sorry, and I am grateful to you, Mr. Stur- 
 rock. But indeed I cannot care for you." 
 
 "Would time make any difference, perhaps?" 
 he asked half-heartedly, and with imploring gentle- 
 ness. ' ' Dear ! I would not hurry you. I would wait 
 patiently. Can you not give me hope?" Oh, the 
 intensity of pain, the hopelessness in the man's 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, no; do not press me, please! My answer 
 must be final ! ' ' 
 
 "Do you care for any other man?" he faltered 
 hesitatingly.
 
 158 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 Phyllis started, regarding him with wonder. 
 "You have no right to ask me that!" 
 
 "I have a right the right of loving you." 
 
 "There is no one else how could there be any- 
 one?" she answered presently, after a long, painful, 
 doubting kind of pause. 
 
 "Ah, Phyllis, if you would only marry me!" 
 
 "Forgive me, Mr. Sturroek. I am so grieved 
 to bring this pain on you. For I like you very 
 much ; have liked you from the first. We have been 
 friends since we have known each other. We must 
 be friends still." She offered him her hand, with 
 a grieved, contrite expression. It was the nearest 
 expression of real feeling he had ever seen since he 
 had known her. And though he did not take the 
 hand she offered him, he watched her earnestly, and 
 even with a little new-born hope. But his new- 
 born, wavering hope was cruelly dashed to earth 
 again. 
 
 "Never speak to me of this again," she said 
 imploringly. 
 
 "You are sure quite sure there is no hope for 
 me. either now, or in the future ? ' ' 
 
 "No. I am sure quite sure. Oh, why spoil 
 our friendship thus?" she cried excitedly, with a 
 touch of passionate reproach. "You are still my 
 valued friend, if you will have it so."
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 159 
 
 Sturrock grew very pale, and his gaze dropped 
 to the ground. "Friendship can never satisfy the 
 heart that starves for love ! " he muttered sullenly. 
 Tken, after a long pause, in intense, low tones, he 
 added: "Yet still I am your friend for ever, 
 Phyllis!" 
 
 Major Ross had long since returned to Africa, 
 and Sturrock often thought with sad, foreboding re- 
 trospection of bis friend, when he recalled their part- 
 ing. Coming down one day to breakfast, he took up 
 the morning paper carelessly, and idly scanned the 
 news. A startled exclamation suddenly escaped his 
 lips. The colour left his cheek, his very lips grew 
 white, and he scanned the page he held with strained 
 attention now. 
 
 It contained the startling news of an engage- 
 ment in South Africa ; news of a victory won by the 
 British at great cost ; a glowing account of bravery, 
 and of the chivalrous and noble courage and devo- 
 tion of one Major Ross especially. It was followed 
 by a list of killed and wounded. No ! There could 
 be no possible mistake. It was Geoffrey Ross whose 
 name was painted in such rich and glowing colours ; 
 Ross whose name was foremost, with all honour, in 
 the list of killed..
 
 160 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 Sturrock crushed the fatal paper in his hands 
 with a sharp pang of poignant anguish. "I must 
 go at once to Mrs. Ross. I must keep back the pa- 
 per from her till the fatal news is broken to her 
 gently. Good heaven! it will kill her if she sees it 
 suddenly, without first being prepared?" 
 
 He threw the paper down, went to the outer 
 hall, and seized his hat, to hurry to her house with- 
 out delay. A. servant had just finished cleaning the 
 brass-work, as he approached the door. A maid was 
 crossing the hall. He entered without ceremony, 
 scarcely noticing her surprised looks. 
 
 "Has your mistress seen this morning's paper?" 
 he asked breathlessly. 
 
 "No, sir, it is still there. It has not been opened 
 yet." She pointed to the hall table, where it still 
 l,ay, folded. 
 
 "Your mistress must not see it if she asks for 
 it, you must find some excuse for withholding it 
 from her. Is Mrs. Ross up yet?" 
 
 "She generally breakfasts dn her bedroom, sir. 
 But I think she will rise this morning earlier than 
 usual. She has had a restless night." 
 
 "Well, keep the paper back from her till I can 
 see her." 
 
 "She usually has it taken to her with her break- 
 fast-tray."
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 161 
 
 Sturrock stood hesitating. He scarcely saw his 
 way to asking for an interview so early. He feared 
 to alarm Mrs. Ross. He tried to find some good ex- 
 cuse to offer. But he was saved the trouble. Mrs. 
 Ross having heard someone was there, now rang her 
 hell. The maid answered it at once. She soon came 
 Tback again. 
 
 "My mistress asked me who was there? I told 
 her Mr. Sturrock. Then she said: 'I will go down 
 to him. He will remain with me for breakfast?' 
 And, please sir, will you kindly step into the draw- 
 ing-room whilst you wait?" , 
 
 He went in at once, and walked restlessly about 
 the room. Mrs. Ross soon entered. Her white face 
 was pathetic, and it wore a strange expres- 
 sion. She came straight up to him, and 
 held out both her hands as though with mute appeal 
 for sympathy. Sturrock took them tenderly and 
 reverently in his own. 
 
 "You have come to tell me something, Mr. Stur- 
 rock?" 
 
 He tried to speak, but a lump rose in his throat 
 and choked his utterance, 
 
 "Shall I tell you what you have come to say? 
 You bring the news to me of Geoffrey's death!"
 
 ]62 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 Sturrock started violently, looking at her in as- 
 tonishment. "Why, how is this you have not seen 
 the papers yet?" he faltered painfully. 
 
 Mrs. Ross continued slowly: "Here is my son's 
 latest letter to me it was written on the eve of 
 battle. It tells of a perilous engagement they ex- 
 pected would take place. And now that you have 
 come to me, I know my son is killed ! ' ' 
 
 Sturrock could not answer. With trembling 
 fingers he took from her hand the letter that she of- 
 fered him, but his eyes were dim, and he could not 
 read; the words swam before his distressed gaze, 
 and they seemed dim and hazy. 
 
 "Geoffrey died as he desired to die," he said 
 brokenly at last. "Died gloriously and bravely on 
 a victorious battle-field, and, as became a noble- 
 hearted gentleman and loyal soldier. By all he is 
 accounted a most brave and honourable man. He 
 lived and died in honour beloved, revered by all." 
 
 "That is my comfort now," Mrs. Ross' said 
 eagerly, with pride and triumph, infinitely more 
 touching to the man's heart than tears. "His 
 memory will be revered by all. Yes, he died nobly, 
 on the victorious battle-field!"
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 163 
 
 The room-door opened now, and Phyllis stood 
 before them on the threshold of the door. Her face 
 was full of pain and tender sympathy. And yet 
 there was a brightness in it, strange to see ! 
 
 "Dearest Mrs. Ross, I came at once to you!" 
 
 Phyllis ran to the old lady's side, and putting 
 her arms about her lovingly, pressed her warm lips 
 against her cold white cheeks. The glow of spurious 
 excitement, pride, and triumph, began slowly now to 
 leave the bereaved mother; it flickered faintly for 
 a moment more, and then went out. She broke 
 down suddenly at last. 
 
 ' "Ah, my dear," she faltered through her tears,. 
 "I hoped for a long time to have had you for my 
 daughter. Though he said nothing to me, I once 
 thought that Geoffrey cared for you. I had hoped 
 to see him happy, and his children round my knees 
 before I died. My dear, I hoped that you would 
 marry him, and keep him safe for me!" 
 
 Sturrock had uttered a sharp exclamation as 
 she spoke, like one on whom some sudden painful 
 light had burst; and Phyllis drew a letter from the 
 bosom of her dress. 
 
 "Geoffrey sent me this!" she uttered softly;
 
 164 REPORTED KILLED. 
 
 still with strange brightness on her face and in her 
 eyes. 
 
 The short note was indeed in the Major's hand, 
 scribbled hurriedly, as though in stress. 
 
 "Phyllis," he had written, "the chances are I 
 may be killed in this engagement, and so it can be 
 no disloyalty to Jim, to tell the truth. I loved you 
 dearly when I came away. My heart can tell the 
 bitter pain it cost me not to speak ! My blessing on 
 you, and on one who is perhaps your wedded hus- 
 band now!" 
 
 As Sturrock would have turned to Phyllis, there 
 came a sudden interruption of their interview. A 
 sound of hasty ringing at the front door bell, the 
 sound of hasty feet approaching the room door ; and 
 Mrs. Ross's maid rushed in with a cablegram for 
 Sturrock, which he opened with shaking fingers, 
 fearing dire tidings. His face cleared suddenly. 
 Then he held it forth to Phyllis, forgetting, in his re- 
 lief, the risk of shock to her and Geoffrey's mother. 
 
 "Reported killed " he murmured; "a mis- 
 take made by the officers Geoffrey has fought 
 
 gloriously, and he was badly wounded ; but he is still 
 alive, and on recovery from his wounds he will be 
 drafted home again to Mrs. Ross and you!"
 
 REPORTED KILLED. 165 
 
 "So Geoffrey loved me, after all," said Phyllis 
 softly; the underlying brightness now appearing as 
 the sun shines forth from clouds, as she smiled 
 through her tears, "and it is my happiness to know 
 it now, by his dear hand!"
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE.
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 The cabman had put down the last of the Glad- 
 stone bags on the ground, outside the crowded 
 wharf, and Molly paid his fare. He touched his 
 hat to her, and instantly drove off again, to pick 
 up another passenger. 
 
 "Why is there not somebody here to attend to 
 us?" said Mrs. Charlton, with some astonishment. 
 "Captain Ross promised me solemnly to be on the 
 lookout. Which is our vessel, Molly?" 
 
 Molly looked round the shipping in bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "Aunt Susan, are you certain the cabman has 
 put us down at the right wharf? I wish I had gone 
 with you when you took our passage." 
 
 "Molly, these places look so much alike! If 
 you don't see the 'Albatross' then the man has 
 made a mistake about the wharf!" 
 
 "I certainly don't see the 'Albatross.' "
 
 170 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 "It's too bad," said Mrs. Charlton, helplessly. 
 "Well, Molly, what are we to do?" 
 
 Her niece looked round the crowded wharf 
 again, where busy men were too much engaged with 
 the shipping to notice them. She stepped forward 
 to stop a man who was passing from a crowd, and 
 questioned him eagerly. He removed his cap, and 
 scratched his touzled head in doubt. 
 
 "You're a-wanting to go aboard the 'Alba- 
 tross?' Well, that wessel don't belong here, any- 
 way. You'll likely find her round on another 
 wharf." 
 
 He pointed vaguely over his shoulder in the 
 distance, with a dirty thumb, and hurried off. 
 
 "Will you call a cab, please?" ventured Molly, 
 attempting to detain him. But he was already out 
 of hearing. 
 
 Mrs. Charlton, suddenly collapsing, sat down on 
 her tin bonnet-box. 
 
 "Molly! How can you laugh? It's no laugh- 
 ing matter, surely!" 
 
 What good would it do to cry? Now Aunt, 
 don't fret and fume. We must just make the best 
 of the situation. If you'll stay here with the lug- 
 gage, I'll try to find a cab." 
 
 "There's that young man again!" said Mrs. 
 Charlton suddenly, with apparent irrelevance.
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 171 
 
 Molly turned her pretty head to look. A 
 young man was slowly sauntering by. She remem- 
 bered now that he had slowly sauntered by already 
 several times, within the last few minutes, whilst 
 she was speaking to the other man. Womanlike, 
 she took in his whole appearance with one swift, 
 searching glance. She decided that he was a sea- 
 man, in his well-worn, shore-going clothes, come for 
 a holiday ashore. A pair of frank grey eyes met 
 hers. He coloured; hesitated, went off hurriedly a 
 few steps, and then returned again as suddenly. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said in some confusion, re- 
 moving his straw hat with his toil-roughened hand, 
 and displaying his curly brown hair, "can I assist 
 you, ladies? You seem to be in some kind of diffi- 
 culty, surely?" 
 
 Molly now decided that he appeared to be re- 
 spectable, and even educated, though undoubtedly 
 belonging to the working-class. She decided, also 
 that he could be trusted. 
 
 "And what a nice voice he has!" she thought. 
 
 He had glanced at the small pile of luggage as 
 he spoke, and at Mrs. Charlton's portly form seated 
 despondently on the bonnet-box, and he was appar- 
 ently taking account of the busy, crowded wharf, 
 and their seeming lack of personal attendance.
 
 172 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 "We're going aboard the 'Albatross,' " said 
 Molly, frankly explaining the situation to this new 
 coadjutor. "We are going on a trip to Japan, there 
 and back, for Auntie's health. And we have come 
 to the wrong wharf." 
 
 "Couldn't you go over to the 'Albatross,' young 
 man, and tell Captain Ross to come for us at once ? ' ' 
 demanded Mrs. Charlton, a sudden ray of hope il- 
 luminating the dark night of her mind. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I get a cab, and see you safely 
 aboard myself?" the young man smiled. 
 
 "Oh! if you only would!" cried Mrs. Charlton, 
 clasping her tightly-gloved plump hands together on 
 her ample bosom, in an ecstasy of rapturous eager- 
 ness. 
 
 He left them on the wharf, and after a short de- 
 lay returned in the four-wheeler he had captured. 
 In a few minutes their unknown benefactor had put 
 the ladies and their luggage into it, and was climb- 
 ing to the box. They soon arrived at the right 
 wharf, and the young man helped out the passen- 
 gers, and hastily paid and dismissed the driver, with 
 a covert glance at pretty Molly. 
 
 As they approached the schooner, a couple of 
 rough heads were presently thrust over her side, 
 and were immediately joined by others, one of them
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 173 
 
 the Captain's, an expression of unqualified surprise 
 depicted on his red and weather-beaten visage. 
 
 ' ' Losh bless us ! It 's the passengers ! " a seaman 
 cried. 
 
 "Hullo, Mrs. Charlton!" cried the Captain of 
 the "Albatross." "Why, we didn't expect you 
 ladies here for a full hour to come ! ' ' 
 
 "We left home too soon," called Molly, "and 
 perhaps it was as well, as we went to the wrong 
 wharf ! Can we come aboard now, Captain Ross. ' ' 
 
 "Bless your heart, of course you can, Miss 
 Charlton. Your luggage came all right, and is be- 
 low in your own cabin. Here, Sam and Tom, just 
 get the ladies and their baggage up!" 
 
 "Now, mind that bonnet-box!" cried Mrs. 
 Charlton anxiously, as an over-willing seaman seized 
 on it to hoist it aboard. "You'll drop my best bon- 
 net in the water, if you're not more careful! Ah! 
 now you've got it upside down." 
 
 Mrs. Charlton was got up on deck with diffi- 
 culty, uttering little shrieks and yelps of fright, ow- 
 ing to her state of nervous terror over the rather 
 primitive and narrow gangway. 
 
 Molly paused before she followed Mrs. Charl- 
 ton. Her purse held in her hands, she turned to 
 the young man. To her dismayed astonishment,
 
 ]74 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 she met with a look of fiery reproach as she fumbled 
 for a coin, and she glanced at him inquiringly. 
 
 "Oh, please!" he exclaimed in a low voice, and 
 with a gesture that bade her put by her purse again. 
 
 "But we owe you for the cab, at least," per- 
 sisted Molly, as she held out a coin to him. "You 
 paid the driver." 
 
 "You owe me nothing it was my whim to 
 bring you over," he returned, with slow delibera- 
 tion. 
 
 The girl drew back her hand in consternation. 
 The look that came in his eyes now, made her feel 
 as though she were detected in some crime, and she 
 blushed to the very roots of her pretty and daintily- 
 dressed hair. Her hand dropped to her side with a 
 sudden feeling of helplessness. 
 
 The young man seemed suddenly to recollect 
 himself. He now held out his hand for the coin he 
 had at first rejected. He looked at it in an odd 
 way as it lay on his palm. 
 
 "You'll let me thank you for your kind assist- 
 ance?" said Molly, rather timidly. 
 
 "Ah! that's another thing," he smiled. 
 
 Molly turned to get on deck, for they were wait- 
 ing for her up above. The young man suddenly 
 swung himself up after her. A little group was
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 175 
 
 standing on the deck. The new-comer cast one 
 quick look around, and then, deliberately advanced 
 towards the captain of the schooner. 
 
 "Captain! Is there room aboard for another 
 passenger ? ' ' 
 
 "Young man, there's not. I guess we're pretty 
 full!" 
 
 A slight pause here. 
 
 "Well couldn't you take on another hand?" 
 
 "I couldn't do it, Sonny," said the Captain r 
 winking, with a facetious shake of his grey head. 
 
 The young fellow disconsolately went off again, 
 and reluctantly prepared to walk away from the 
 ship's side. He appeared to be cogitating deeply. 
 Shortly afterwards there seemed to be a sort of 
 scuffle on the vessel's deck, the cause of which he 
 could neither see nor divine, though he heard faintly 
 a distant murmuring as of excited voices. He won- 
 dered what could be amiss, as he walked slowly 
 on. 
 
 He was suddenly hailed with a loud shout. 
 
 "Mate ahoy! Stop!" cried the Captain, after 
 his retreating figure. 
 
 He instantly stopped walking, and looked back. 
 "I must send one of my men ashore," the Cap- 
 tain called to him. "Will you take a man to the 
 Hospital, that's just been injured here?"
 
 176 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 The young man instantly returned, and was 
 soon standing on the vessel's deck again. A sea- 
 man was lying there in a huddled heap, surrounded 
 by a little group of perplexed and concerned-looking 
 shipmates. 
 
 "There's been an accident," the Captain said, 
 "and my second officer's been hurt. I can't take 
 disabled hands with me this trip." 
 
 He added gruffly, in a grumbling tone "Now 
 I suppose I must needs go ashore to find another 
 mate to take his place. Dear, dear! We shall be 
 sailing after time a thing we 've never done before ! 
 Are you still in the same mind you were in a while 
 ago?" he added suddenly. "You know we're going 
 a trip to Japan." 
 
 "Wait!" cried the young man eagerly. "I'll 
 give you proof that I'm competent!" 
 
 He and the Captain walked aside for a few min- 
 utes, talking earnestly together. They soon came 
 back again. 
 
 "Yes, I'll take you in his place, Mr. Brown," 
 said Captain Ross. You'll do. We'll see about the 
 papers. Will it take you long to get your outfit?" 
 
 "I'll be as quick as possible," the other said. 
 "You'll only have to delay the ship a day or two." 
 
 A cab was called, and Captain Ross then bade 
 the injured man farewell, with a kindly look that
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 177 
 
 belied his former seeming hardness, as he slipped 
 something into his hand. 
 
 "Mind you're well by the time I come again," 
 he said. 
 
 Two days later Mr. Robert Brown reappeared 
 on board the "Albatross" as second officer. There 
 was a look of suppressed triumphant eagerness in 
 his face as he went jubilantly off to the performance 
 of his duties. 
 
 A few days after they set sail, Mrs. Charlton and 
 her niece sat up on deck together in their comfort- 
 able deck chairs, in the fresh and bracing breeze, en- 
 joying the fine weather. Molly was reading, and 
 her aunt sat with her everlasting knitting, that ac- 
 companied her everywhere, on her ample lap, as she 
 lay back in her chair. She had a vague idea that 
 she was helping missionaries by making red woollen 
 comforters for the unclothed heathen, who resided 
 in warm climes. 
 
 "There's that young man again!" said Mrs. 
 Charlton languidly. 
 
 Molly raised her dark-fringed eyes at the sound 
 of the passing step, as the second officer passed by. 
 She coloured, and looked down again upon her book. 
 Presently he passed again. Once more he met her 
 eyes. She shifted in her seat impatiently, and
 
 178 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 frowned. The sailor caught the pettish movement 
 and the frown, and bit his lip as he passed on. 
 
 "Whatever makes that young man pass by so 
 often?" Mrs. Charlton said reflectively. "My dear 
 I hope I've made no impression on the poor young 
 fellow's mind!" 
 
 "Come for a walk with me, Miss Molly," said 
 the Captain, coming briskly up to them. "Cheer 
 up, Mrs. Charlton, you'll soon get your sea-legs now. 
 But it 's going to freshen a bit soon, I think ! ' ' 
 
 "It's fresh enough already!" said that stout 
 lady plaintively. "It won't blow any harder, will 
 it, Captain Ross?" 
 
 "Oh! only a capful of wind," Captain 
 Ross said cheerily. "Keep up your heart, ma'am 
 you'll soon get used to it!" 
 
 "I don't want to get used to it!" said Mrs. 
 Charlton, faintly. "Molly, don't leave me here 
 alone. Help me down to my cabin, dear." 
 
 Captain Ross assisted the poor lady tenderly 
 below. 
 
 "Who is the new mate, Captain Ross?" asked 
 Molly hesitatingly, a little later, as she kept pace at 
 his side on the ship's deck. 
 
 "On my word, I don't know, my dear. It's 
 enough for me that his papers are all right ; and that
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 179 
 
 he understands his work ; and glad enough was I to 
 get him at short notice in poor Adam's place. So 
 far as I can see," he added, with a shrewd twinkle 
 in his eye, ' ' you brought him aboard yourself ! ' ' 
 
 Captain Ross was called away just then by his 
 first officer, and Molly, blushing deeply still, leant 
 meditatively against the railing, watching the sea- 
 gulls flying and dipping in the waves. 
 
 "Pardon me, Miss Molly," a low voice said be- 
 side her, "but you've dropped your book, and I have 
 brought it to you." 
 
 Molly turned round hastily, to see Mr. Brown. 
 His hand touched hers as he gave up the book. She 
 snatched back her hand as though she had been 
 stung. The book fell to the deck between them T 
 and they both stood looking at it. Then his grey 
 eyes met the brown ones for a moment, in a steady 
 gaze. The sailor drew a long, deep breath. He 
 looked at Molly in a way she could scarce under- 
 stand. They were alone together, in a retired part 
 of the deck. 
 
 "Your shoe-lace is undone," he said, suddenly 
 and softly. "Let me tie it for you!" 
 
 Without waiting for permission, he knelt near 
 the shapely little foot, and tied the lace. He was 
 rather a long time in doing so, and his strong brown 
 hands were trembling as he fumbled at it clumsily.
 
 180 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 Then, still kneeling at her feet, he looked up at her, 
 a look of pleading adoration in his eyes. Molly 
 read the look, and, brushing past him, she turned 
 hastily away, and went below. 
 
 They had been for some time at sea, when, one 
 evening, she stood alone on deck in a retired nook, 
 in the cool night breeze, gazing across the sea in the 
 dim light. 
 
 "Miss Molly, Mrs. Charlton bade me bring you 
 up this wrap," said Bob Brown's voice, breaking in 
 on her reverie. "She was on her way to you she 
 could not find you, and she feared you might take 
 cold!" 
 
 Molly turned sharply round on him in sudden 
 anger. "You're always watching me, and following 
 me about ! ' ' she flashed at him. 
 
 Robert Brown stood gazing at her quietly in the 
 dim light, apparently without surprise, without pro- 
 test. 
 
 "It's true that I followed you 'board ship," 
 he said. "When the luck came in my way I seized 
 on it. It was my only chance!" 
 
 ' ' Your only chance of what ? ' ' Molly regretted 
 the words the instant they were spoken. 
 
 "My only chance of winning you!" the sailor 
 answered boldly. 
 
 Molly answered nothing, but stood, breathing
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 181 
 
 fast, as though she had been running. Bob put his 
 fingers lightly on her shoulder, with an appealing 
 touch. 
 
 "I love you, Molly and you know I do!" he 
 said. 
 
 Still Molly answered nothing. 
 "I loved you from the first I followed you 
 aboard!" said Bob. 
 
 With an involuntary gesture the girl half 
 turned to him, but, stung by some sudden thought, 
 she drew quickly back again. 
 
 "You're only a common sailor!" she cried an- 
 grily. "How dare you tell me so?" 
 
 "My father was a sailor, but he was an honest 
 man. Thank God, I've no cause to be ashamed of 
 him!" 
 
 Molly suddenly burst into tears. 
 
 "Don't cry, Molly!" Bob said, with pleading 
 pathos, as he took her hand. 
 
 For a moment the trembling little hand lay un- 
 resistingly within his own. Then she snatched it 
 away from him. 
 
 "Oh, go away!" she sobbed; "don't speak to 
 me. Never speak to me of this again!" 
 
 "You don't mean it, Molly?"
 
 182 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 "I do!" She stamped her shapely little foot in 
 her impotent wrath, and rushed away to the safe re- 
 fuge of her berth. 
 
 "Hullo, Miss Molly!" said the Captain, meeting 
 her on the way down, "where are you going to in 
 such a hurry!" 
 
 "For the next few days she carefully avoided 
 Bob, who, on his part, made no further attempt to 
 speak to her, though he occasionally crossed her path 
 in the performance of his daily duties. His usual 
 bright cheeriness was gone, and he appeared pre 
 occupied and serious as the days wore on, and the 
 time drew near at hand when the end of the trip 
 must come. 
 
 So far, the voyage had been unusually calm and 
 prosperous. They were near the end, when a gale 
 came on, which hourly increased in force and fury, 
 beating down upon the "Albatross" with cruel, ter- 
 rific power. The hatches were all battened down, 
 and the two women placed for safety in their cabin, 
 whilst all hands worked hard above. They were 
 obliged to cut away a good part of their sailing gear 
 in order to save the ship; and, when a great shout 
 arose that she had sprung a leak, the stoutest hearts 
 amongst them trembled for their safety. The Cap- 
 tain's order to man the pumps was instantly obeyed, 
 and all hands worked with might and main to save
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 183 
 
 the "Albatross," and their own lives. Captain Ross 
 stood at the almost useless helm, until he saw the 
 necessity of going to supervise his men, when he 
 called Bob to take his place, that he might hurry 
 down below, and find out how far the leak had 
 spread. 
 
 The weary, creaking vessel plunged on in the 
 foaming sea, each deep dip below the waves seeming 
 as though it would be her last. Yet still she rose 
 again and struggled on. The first officer was return- 
 ing from below to join Bob at the helm, when the 
 doomed vessel gave a terrible lurch over on to her 
 side, and the waves dashed over her, overwhelming 
 Bob with a cloud of blinding spray, and, rushing in a 
 violent flood upon her decks, apparently swept all 
 upon them into the foaming sea. When she righted 
 again the hapless mate was seen no more. 
 
 How Bob lived through that night, he never 
 knew. He had lashed himself fast to the helm, and 
 bravely tried to do his duty; but the helm was ut- 
 terly useless now, for the vessel no longer obeyed its 
 guidance, and he knew not whither they were driv- 
 ing before the storm. In the black darkness of that 
 dreadful night, he felt that she was rushing madly 
 onward. Then came a fearful shock, and the "Al- 
 batross" stood motionless, the wild waves beating 
 over her. He could only conjecture that they had
 
 184 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 struck upon the coast, or on a rock, and wait as 
 patiently as he could for the tardy morning light to 
 come. And, as he stood there in the utter darkness, 
 clinging to his frail support, the warring elements 
 around still beating on him mercilessly, through it 
 all fresh thoughts, new fears, were roused in his 
 mind, for Molly's safety. 
 
 Ere long Bob became aware that the gale was 
 going down considerably. Exhausted, he sank down, 
 and fell into a slumber. The dreary hours passed 
 slowly by, and at length the faint grey light of dawn 
 began to come. Waking later, by its steadily- 
 increasing light he saw a woeful scene. The dis- 
 masted, broken vessel, with her decks swept bare, 
 was driven fast on some half -sunken rocks. For 
 the time she was safe from further harm, but there 
 were signs that told his practised eye that she might 
 break up in another gale. 
 
 He undid his lashings, and called aloud, but no 
 voice answered him. He made his way below, and 
 searched about, and called again. A weak voice an- 
 swered him, and he found the Captain, lying with a 
 broken arm, upon the planks. Bob set the broken 
 arm for him with rough and ready skill, and helped 
 him to an easier resting-place. 
 
 "Captain Ross! I feared you had been swept
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 185 
 
 into the sea with poor Richards, in last night's 
 storm!" 
 
 "I was saved by a miracle. I was carried the 
 length of the deck by the wave that swept over us. 
 Half drowned I was, but I escaped with bruises and 
 this broken arm. See to the women, Bob," the Cap- 
 tain added, anxiously. I was on my way to seek 
 them, when I got that fall. I must have lain un- 
 conscious for some time." 
 
 Bob hurried to their cabin without delay. Hear- 
 ing a faint cry within, he set his shoulder to the 
 cabin door, and forced it open. A pathetic little 
 figure rushed at him. 
 
 "Molly! Mrs. Charlton! Oh, thank God, 
 you're safe !" said Bob. 
 
 "Bob, dear Bob! I thought you had deserted 
 us!" cried Molly. 
 
 Mrs. Charlton pounced on him with frantic 
 haste, and held him forcibly in a desperate embrace, 
 lest he might escape again, and leave her to her fate. 
 Soothing her wild fears. Bob quickly disengaged 
 himself from her detaining hold, and turned to 
 Molly. In an instant her hands were closely folded 
 in his own. 
 
 "Could you find it in your heart to think that 
 of me, Molly?" he asked reproachfully. But a
 
 186 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 tender smile was on his lips, for the "dear Bob" 
 that had unwittingly escaped her lips. 
 
 "Where's Captain Ross?" 
 
 "He's safe, but has been hurt. I fear the 
 other men are gone. Poor Richards was swept in- 
 to the sea. Let us go to the Captain now." 
 
 Bob's anxiety for their general safety was re- 
 newed, for he knew not how long the ship might 
 hold together in a fresh, rough sea. Mrs. Charlton 
 was too subdued by the terror of the awful night 
 she had passed through to utter plaints, and she 
 limply clung to him. Molly was looking very white, 
 and seemed exhausted, but was calm and quiet. 
 Food and hope restored them. Bob got the Cap- 
 tain and the women up on deck without delay. He 
 had searched throughout the ship, but could find no 
 traces of the other men. The hold was full of water, 
 but the firm wedging of the ship when she was 
 driven on the rocks, had stopped the leak. 
 
 The haze had lifted suddenly as the sun came 
 out, and he could see that they had struck on some 
 lonely, rocky island. The heaving bosom of the sea 
 still rose and fell in the restless 1 agitation that 
 storms ever leave behind them, and he watched it 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Depends now on the weather, I should think," 
 the Captain said, in a low voice, so that the women
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 187 
 
 might not overhear ; with a keen look of perfect un- 
 derstanding of the situation in his brooding eyes. 
 
 "One boat's safe," said Bob, in answer, 
 "though she has been injured by the storm. I can 
 repair her with a small outlay of trouble. The 
 others have been swept away, apparently." 
 
 "I'll get the ship's books, Bob," said the Cap- 
 tain soberly; "and tell the women they'd better 
 put a few things together, in case we have to leave 
 the ship. And we must see about the stores." 
 
 Bob set to work at once to repair the injured 
 boat. The women sat near, watching in unbroken 
 silence, which was only interrupted by the swish 
 and lapping of the water against the doomed ship's 
 side. 
 
 "I don't quite understand the situation here," 
 Bob cogitated, as he worked. "Why should this 
 one boat be left in safety, and the other gone?" 
 
 "The seamen may have taken it," returned the 
 Captain slowly; "though I can't believe that any 
 of my men would desert, and leave us to our fate, 
 when they could save themselves!" 
 
 ' ' They may have left the ship between the dark- 
 ness and the early dawn," said Bob, "thinking that 
 the rest of us had perished in the storm." 
 
 "But they'd have shouted for the possible sur- 
 vivors, ere they left!"
 
 188 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 Bob shook his head, as he worked on. 
 
 "We might not have heard them, if they did. 
 You were in an unconscious state; the women were 
 too far below; and I was then in my exhausted 
 sleep. ' ' 
 
 "Molly!" said Mrs. Charlton, suddenly, "how 
 little did I think what we were coming to, when we 
 first set foot on the deck of the 'Albatross.' 
 How long are we to stay here, in this dreary place ? ' ' 
 
 "Dear Aunt, we should be full of gratitude 
 that we are saved. And we have food supplies. 
 Remember poor Mr. Richards, who was swept into 
 the sea. Think how it may be with the poor sailors, 
 who are now adrift, or drowned!" 
 
 "We must make the best we can of it, till a 
 vessel comes this way," Bob added cheerfully. 
 "Mrs. Charlton, don't lose heart like this!" Mrs. 
 Charlton shuddered. 
 
 "How long will it be before a ship comes hero 
 to take us off?" she asked, distractedly. 
 
 "How can I tell? A few hours, maybe. A 
 few days, or weeks, perhaps. Any day it's not im- 
 possible that a ship may approach near enough to 
 sight us, if we signal her. We must keep a sharp 
 look-out!" 
 
 Early the next day, Bob descried a ship ap- 
 proaching slowly in the distance. Even as he sig-
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 189 
 
 nailed her, in great excitement, he could see that 
 her course was already set for them. He eagerly 
 called his companions to the ship's side. She came 
 near, and nearer yet, and then dropped anchor at 
 some little distance from the wreck. Then a boat 
 with two men in it put off from her. A well-known 
 face looked up at them from the stern as she drew 
 near. It was high tide, and the boat got pretty 
 close. One of its occupants caught the rope thrown 
 to him, and the man soon climbed aboard the wreck, 
 and grasped the Captain's proffered hand in both 
 his own. 
 
 "Sam!" the Captain cried, "what does this 
 mean?" 
 
 ' ' Captain Ross ! Thank God ! ' ' cried Sam, with 
 strong emotion, continuing to grasp his hand as 
 though he could never let it go again. "We feared 
 as you was washed overboard is this a miracle?." 
 
 "It seems like one, indeed," said Captain Ross. 
 "I was unconscious when you left the ship. Though 
 I was not washed overboard, I had come near to it. 
 I've been knocked about, and a bit injured, as you 
 see. You rascal!" he exclaimed good-humouredly, 
 "so, after all, you hadn't deserted us? You must 
 needs explain the situation to me, Sam!" 
 
 The sailor approached the subject in a shame- 
 faced way, half nervous, half jubilant.
 
 190 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 "Captain, it's little I thought to see you again! 
 Two of us was swept overboard, the cook and 
 steward; and we believed as all t'other souls aboard 
 'ad surely perished in th ' storm, when the few of us 
 as was left took to the boat in first grey light o' 
 dawn. "We shouted first, but none answered us, an' 
 we daren't delay, for we feared th' 'Albatross' 
 might break up shortly, in another heavy sea. We 
 'ad sent a man below to look for th' ladies, but he 
 told us there was no signs o' them. Leaving of the 
 vessel at our risk, we got into the course the ships 
 would take, an' th' 'Norseman' picked us up some 
 way at sea. The Captain o' th' 'Norseman,' at our 
 pleading, turned out o' his course to see if any soul 
 were haply left alive upon th ' wreck, though we 'ad 
 but little hope o' sich a chance." 
 
 The excited Mrs. Charlton was laughing and 
 crying all at once, in her intense relief and joy at 
 being rescued from the wreck. Her fears of being 
 forever stranded on that lonely spot had been most 
 real to her. They made preparation now to leave 
 the wreck, and board the "Norseman." With un- 
 precedented difficulty the poor unnerved lady was 
 got down into the rocking boat, and placed in 
 timorous security on her unsteady seat. As Molly 
 descended after her, Bob caught her in his arms. 
 For an instant the girl seemed to nestle there,
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 191 
 
 against his heart; then she shrank away from him, 
 drawing coldly off as he released his hold and placed 
 her on a seat. 
 
 "Poor old 'Albatross!' " sighed Captain Ross, 
 with dim and troubled eyes, as the boat swung over 
 the water to the "Norseman." 
 
 They were received most kindly by the jovial 
 Captain there, and with all signs of joy by the 
 other men of the "Albatross" who had been saved. 
 
 Bob was reserved with Molly when he came 
 aboard the "Norseman." He had meditated on 
 the girl's constraint and coldness. He resolved to 
 withdraw himself completely from her now. 
 
 "Wait a bit," he said, detaining her as she was 
 going below. "I've something to say to you, Miss 
 Charlton, and it may as well be said now." 
 
 Drawing her aside to a quiet nook, he added 
 seriously 
 
 "I want you to forget what I said to you 
 aboard the 'Albatross,' before the storm." 
 
 "You mean," asked Molly, "that you take back 
 what you said?" 
 
 "Do you take back what you said to me?" 
 asked Bob, with slow deliberation. 
 
 Molly coloured deeply, but did not reply. For 
 a moment she looked fully at him, with a gleam of 
 anger in her eyes.
 
 192 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 "I mean," said Bob, "that I want you to con- 
 sider it as not being said; and to part friends with 
 me. Miss Charlton, is it a bargain?" 
 
 Smiling, he held out his hand to her, and Molly 
 put hers into it, silently. He held it so a moment. 
 Then, turning on her heel, as he released it, the girl 
 walked hurriedly away. But he had caught a gleam 
 of something in her eyes that looked like tears. 
 There was a subtle shade of something in her man- 
 ner that did not escape the observant, lynx-eyed 
 Bob ; if he read it aright, he thought, it was not al- 
 together unallied to disappointment. He watched 
 her out of sight with infinite tenderness and hope. 
 
 The "Norseman" was on her way back to the 
 port that the "Albatross" had lately started from. 
 
 Time passed on, the end of the voyage had 
 nearly come, and Molly felt, with infinite dismay, 
 that it would soon be time for them to part. There 
 were but a few hours left. She timidly drew near 
 to Bob one evening, where he stood looking medi- 
 tatively over the crested waves and out to sea. 
 
 "The 'Norseman' will soon sight land," she 
 said, striving hard to speak with unconcern, though 
 her heart was beating fast. 
 
 "In an hour or two, at most," Bob returned 
 indifferently. 
 
 '"I suppose," she added, with an uncertain
 
 ON OCEAN WAVE. 193 
 
 little smile, "that, when we land, we shall each go 
 our own way, and probably never meet again." 
 
 Bob did not reply, nor did he look at her. But 
 he was listening. 
 
 "Bob you remember what you said to me on 
 board the 'Albatross!' You asked me if I took 
 back what I said " 
 
 "I asked you to forget," he answered slowly, 
 still looking straight in front of him with steady 
 stare. 
 
 "Are we to part?" asked Molly, helplessly. 
 Then she suddenly broke down. 
 
 Bob turned at last, and caught her to him. 
 pressing his face to her wet cheek. 
 
 "Molly!" he breathed, "are you really crying, 
 dear, because we are to part? Think well before 
 you answer do not trifle with me! What you say 
 now, I will hold you to forever ! ' ' 
 
 Molly, clinging to him, answered softly in his 
 ear. 
 
 "And you don't mind, darling, that my father 
 was a working-man, and that I am myself a toiler of 
 the sea? I'm not a poor man, Molly; I can keep 
 my wife in comfort, if not luxury." 
 
 "Oh, I don't care for that and it's nothing to 
 me, now, if you're a working-man. Oh! can't you
 
 194 ON OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 understand I loved you very dearly all the time 
 it was my foolish pride. Dear Bob! I was only 
 angry with myself, for loving you!"
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY.
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 
 
 "Your daughter comes!" said Saddanath 
 Mookerjee, in unctuous tones to a tall, thin man, 
 whose irresolute, weak face had a worn and harassed 
 look this afternoon. 
 
 They sat together on the long verandah of Mr. 
 Morton's bungalow, with its whitewashed stucco 
 pillars. 
 
 Saddanath was a short and self-indulgent look- 
 ing man, whose sleek, complacent countenance, de- 
 spite his affecting English dress and English custom, 
 bore, nevertheless, strong traces of the native. 
 
 A fair, slight girl approached them from the 
 garden, her hands filled with fragrant blooms. As 
 her blue eyes fell on her father's friend she flushed 
 up suddenly, then her eyelids fell, and her face grew 
 pale and sad. 
 
 ' ' Come, Julie, ' ' said her father, listlessly, ' ' come 
 here and speak to Mr. Mookerjee, who has been
 
 198 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 
 
 waiting here to see you this half-hour. I was on 
 the point of sending Ramo to seek you in the gar- 
 den." 
 
 "The girl came up to them with evident 
 reluctance, as Saddanath Mookerjee rose to his feet 
 and bowed to her in his best English fashion. 
 
 " Wellcome!" said Saddanath. 
 
 With an appealing glance at her father, she un- 
 willingly suffered him to take her inert hand in his 
 distasteful grasp. A sprig of orange-blossom fell 
 from her loose bouquet on the ground. Saddanath 
 stooped for it, and held it in his thick fingers. 
 
 "I ask this favour, Missie Julie. I shall trea- 
 sure itt. And itt iss my wish to*please you. I take 
 itt as a sign, an omen off the future!" 
 
 He spoke pompously, and bowed again, his fat 
 hand holding the orange blossom to his heart. 
 
 Julie glanced at Mookerjee, still with that dis- 
 tasteful, shrinking look on her pale face; but, de- 
 spite her deep distress, her lips twitched with an ir- 
 resistible, and hardly-suppressed, desire to laugh. 
 
 "I must go in to Ramo," she said hastily, to her 
 father. "I will rejoin you later." 
 
 As her graceful figure moved away, the gaze of 
 both men followed her until she disappeared from
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 199 
 
 view. The father's face expressed dissatisfaction. 
 But Saddanath's beady eyes glistened with 
 gratification. 
 
 "This iss important business," he said. "I 
 will relieve you off embarrassments the day I cele- 
 brate my marriage. Then you may ask me for the 
 documents. Eferry thing will then be easy for you. 
 Thatt will be the last off your responsibilities. Oh. 
 yess, certainlee, the verrie last. I shall loose much 
 money by itt. But your daughter will be happy 
 with me, take my word!" 
 
 He gave his usual unctuous, irresponsible 
 laugh. 
 
 The older man seemed stung. He made a re- 
 pugnant, hopeless kind of gesture, as though he 
 brushed something off, and then sat sunk in a dull, 
 irresponsive silence, his weakly-brooding gaze bent 
 on the ground, his inert hand, with the half -smoked 
 cigar between the fingers, hanging listlessly at his 
 side. 
 
 ''You will approach your daughter with the 
 matter," Mookerjee said finally, as he was taking 
 his leave. "You should be gratefull for itt. Be- 
 fore I come again, I shall expect itt off you." 
 
 As his stout figure vanished in the distance, Mr. 
 Morton rose, his face convulsed as by a sudden,
 
 200 SADDANATH 'S LEGACY. 
 
 feeble, and impotent wrath, and he tossed his cigar 
 away from him amongst the hibiscus bushes. It 
 was as though he tossed the thought of Mookerjee 
 away with it. 
 
 Mr. Morton did approach his daughter, never- 
 theless, on the matter, that same evening. 
 
 "Julie, you have guessed that Saddanath Moo- 
 kerjee desires to marry you. You know our cir- 
 cumstances. He is immensely rich. And his one 
 thought is of you. I think you would be happy 
 with him, child." 
 
 The man's weak lips were faltering over the lie. 
 His shamed eyes fell before his daughter's steady, 
 seaching gaze. She heard him, scarce surprised, 
 yet freshly shocked and shaken. 
 
 ' ' And Frank ? Oh, father ! father ! ' ' 
 
 Julie said no more, but went silently away. 
 
 Saddanath came next day with a packet in his 
 hands, containing strings of rare and priceless 
 pearls. He cast his moist, appreciative eye on the 
 girl's white, shapely neck. 
 
 "These pearls, they will become yon, Missie 
 Julie! You shall have diamonds allso. I am not 
 poor man."
 
 SADDANATH 'S LEGACY. 201 
 
 The girl shrank away from him as he laid his 
 plump hand on her shoulder, with the air of a posses^ 
 sor. Saddanath saw and resented the coldness of 
 her manner. He had already been displeased with 
 her reception of him in the light of an aspiring 
 suitor, one encouraged by her father. 
 
 "That iss not right!" he said, half angrily. 
 *"And you must wear the niklass. You will soon 
 be my wife." 
 
 Julie stole away as soon as possible to her own 
 room. She tore the pearls from her fair neck, and 
 Ijade the ayah put them safely by. 
 
 ' ' Ramo ! Has Juddoo brought me answer from 
 the Sahib Frank?" 
 
 "Memsahib, Juddoo has not come." 
 
 "Watch for him, and bring him to me when he 
 comes." 
 
 Meantime, Saddanath Mookerjee was holding 
 serious converse with the erstwhile master of the 
 bungalow. 
 
 "I have knowledge off the matter. Itt is 
 sirrious. And you saw her coldness to me. I de- 
 plored to feel itt. Itt iss a pity thatt this should be 
 so. There iss another thing. We must oblige him 
 to resign his hope."
 
 202 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 
 
 "What can we do?" asked Mr. Morton help- 
 lessly. 
 
 ' ' I mean well by Missie Julie. My intention, itt 
 iss good. But all my friends have been already spik- 
 king off itt. I have heard other people spikking off 
 itt allso. Itt iss generally known. There iss no 
 help for thatt. I shall prohibitt him. I shall pro- 
 tect my rights. The right iss still remaining with 
 me." 
 
 Before he left the bungalow Saddanath spoke 
 with Bhungi, Morton's servant, as the ayah stealthily 
 passed by. 
 
 "Look thou, worthy one, if that 'buzat' 1 Jud- 
 doo, servant off the Sahib Thurston, comes to gain 
 admittance to the 'mem,' do thou refuse him en- 
 trance. And, moreover, take no 'chit' 2 from him, 
 nor suffer itt to pass. Neither suffer Ramo to have 
 speech with him. 'Sumja!' 3 Juddoo, son of jackals,, 
 has not been here in my absence?" 
 
 "Juddoo, thatt son of mud, has not been here," 
 said Bhungi, salaaming. 
 
 Ramo returned to her young mistress with a 
 mysterious expression on her dark face. 
 
 "Has Juddoo come?" asked Julie anxiously. 
 
 "He not see Memsahib. Juddoo will destroy 
 
 1, worthless creature; 2, letter; 3, Do you understand?
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 203 
 
 the Sahib's 'chit,' lest itt fall into Saddanath's 
 hands. Juddoo cannot spik with me, for he is 
 watched by spies." 
 
 "Can'st thou find another messenger? Say I 
 will give good present if he takes my message safely 
 to the Sahib, and brings me a reply!" 
 
 "I will find thee messenger!" 
 
 And Ramo took the note and crept away. 
 
 Julie waited with feverish impatience until next 
 evening. But, after a difficult and distasteful inter- 
 view with Saddanath Mookerjee, who pressed her 
 very hard, on his departure from the bungalow she 
 hurried to her room, where the ayah awaited her 
 with sympathy in her breast, but an impassive face ; 
 the burning anger in her bosom drying up the tears 
 of fear and shame on her white cheek. 
 
 "Oh, Ramo, worthy one! Hast sent my letter 
 safely to the Sahib Frank? Ayah, if thou lovest 
 me, oh hasten, hasten ! ' ' 
 
 The ayah, coming nearer, crouched down at her 
 feet. 
 
 "Missie Julie, itt iss gone now by safe messen- 
 ger. I sent itt by isspeshial messenger!" 
 
 "Was it Bhungi? Then bring Bhungi to me 
 when he comes again ! ' ' 
 
 "Certingly! Certingly! Right away, Mem- 
 sahib."
 
 204 SADDANATH 'S LEGACY. 
 
 The ayah's silver anklets jingled as she went 
 away upon her errand. 
 
 "Thou hast done well. Now keep thou watch 
 on that crow's daughter, Ramo," said Saddanath 
 Mookerjee to Bhungi, who was speaking with him, 
 at this very moment. 
 
 Bhungi took the rupee that Saddanath gave, 
 and salaamed solemnly, with an impassive face, but 
 anger in his heart, for Ramo was his sweetheart. 
 
 "Thy commands shall be obeyed!" he said. 
 
 Nevertheless, when Saddanath had departed, 
 Ramo came privily to bring him before the "mem." 
 
 Said Bhungi : ' ' Are they made entirely of wood, 
 these Engleesh? Do they not feel disgrace? Yett 
 the old Sahib's face wears many wrinkles now!" 
 
 "Peace, pig! Peace!" said Ramo. "Whatt 
 does itt matter to this slave ? ' ' 
 Then he had speech of Julie. 
 Bhungi entered her presence salaaming. 
 
 "Prissint! Memsahib! This slave has done 
 thy bidding. Thou hast promised me iss small pris- 
 sint ! I carried thy 'chit' to the Sahib. Vary well." 
 
 "I will not give thee an anna, unless thou hast 
 brought me back an answer." 
 
 "Certingly, Memsahib, certingly."
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 205 
 
 Bhungi held forth a letter in his hand, and took 
 the rupee that she offered him. 
 
 "Behold the Sahib's 'chit.' " 
 
 "Thou gavest my 'chit' into the Sahib's hand? 
 How looked the Sahib when he had opened it?" 
 
 "As though he laughed, Memsahib. Yett was 
 there sternness in his laugh. ' ' 
 
 Julie dismissed the man, and read eagerly her 
 missive. 
 
 "Knows Bhungi what the Sahib Frank has 
 planned?" she asked the ayah, after some brief 
 thought. 
 
 "He duss-sant know," said Ramo. "Let Mem- 
 sahib read itt within the 'chit.' Bhungi duss-sant 
 know, Memsahib." 
 
 "Simply, it does not appear. But he will send 
 word again. The Sahib will let me know. Stay 
 what is this?" 
 
 She had found a hasty postscript on the margin 
 of her note. Julie's eyes were sparkling, but she 
 said no more to faithful Ramo, who stood patiently 
 watching her with an impassive face. 
 
 It was a dark and stilly night when a slight, 
 shrinking form stole noiselessly forth into the gar- 
 den, glancing uneasily this way and that, like a wild, 
 hunted thing. When she reached the bottom of the
 
 20o SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 
 
 garden, creeping cautiously from bush to bush, as 
 she came along she inhaled the fragrance of some 
 hidden orange trees, and knew her whereabouts ; and 
 the gentle breeze brought her a faint sound out of 
 the dusky night. Then came a low, clear whistle, 
 followed by a faint whisper from a clump of palms. 
 
 "Julie! Are you there?" 
 
 The heavy fronds waved slightly in the dim 
 light. Julie took an uncertain step toward the 
 clump of palms. Against their dark outline, a 
 man's figure stood in patient waiting. Then she 
 ran up swiftly, and the man came forward and 
 caught her in his arms. 
 
 "Julie! Thank God, I got your urgent message 
 in good time! Your father " 
 
 "Do not reproach him for the situation, dearest 
 Frank! You know my poor father how weak, ir- 
 resolute, he is. And Mookerjee had got him in his 
 power. He has taken up his quarters at our bunga- 
 low. And he would hesitate at nothing, now, to 
 gain his ends. Oh, Frank ! he reminds me of a cobra, 
 with its helpless victim writhing in its deadly coils. 
 Mookerjee is cruel and unscrupulous, relentless and 
 unsparing, beneath that suave exterior. My father 
 now is ruined and penniless. His honour is involved 
 it will perhaps be called in question. I was made
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 207 
 
 the sole condition, and the sacrifice, by Mookerjee. 
 He is bent on marrying an Englishwoman of good 
 family. But I could not have been that horrible 
 man's wife!" said Julie shuddering, as she clung 
 fast to him. 
 
 "Monstrous! Unnatural! Impossible!" cried 
 Frank. 
 
 "God knows I do not blame the poor old man. 
 Oh, my poor father! He did feel it, but he could 
 not find the strength to stand by me. And I was 
 all alone. And, Frank, I feared, for one wild, mis- 
 erable moment, you might fail me too ! ' ' 
 
 But at the words, the man's arms enfolded her 
 more closely, drew her nearer to him. 
 
 "Come away with me to-night! He does not 
 deserve another thought from you. I have two 
 horses here, and Juddoo holding them. Bhungi is 
 keeping watch, for fear Saddanath has his spies 
 about." 
 
 "I cannot desert my father," faltered Julie. 
 Saddanath would punish him for me. Mother left 
 him to me. I fought for him against himself as long 
 as it was posible. But, oh! what could I do?" 
 
 ' ' Present loss will teach him a useful lesson, dar- 
 ling ; teach him to respect and prize his only daugh- 
 ter, and the honour of his name."
 
 208 SADDANATH 'S LEGACY. 
 
 "I cannot leave my father altogether!" 
 
 "I do not ask it of you, though he is not worth 
 it. Juddoo here shall bring him later on, and follow 
 us. We ourselves will hurry forward to Colombo, 
 and be married there directly on arrival. I will 
 then arrange to set your father free of Mookerjee. 
 And by way of compensation for the loss of you, the 
 old bungalow shall be Saddanath's legacy," he added 
 grimly, as he lifted her on her horse. 
 
 He was about to mount his own horse, when a 
 
 
 
 slinking figure suddenly stole up to them. 
 
 "Whatt iss thatt?" said Bhungi, in a hissing 
 whisper. 
 
 ' ' ' Chup-raho ! '1 ' Jao ! ' "2 hastily responded 
 Frank. 
 
 On the gentle stillness of the night there sud- 
 denly rose near them a wild, frantic shouting, as 
 Saddanath and another man rushed out upon them 
 from the shelter of some bushes near. Saddanath 
 was soon stretched upon the turf, whilst Frank, with 
 a knife-thrust in his arm, whipped up Julie's horse, 
 and sprang up on his own saddle. 
 
 A wailing cry of a weak-hearted man's despair- 
 ing voice, of "Julie! Julie!" rose on the night 
 
 1, Be silent! 2, Go!
 
 SADDANATH'S LEGACY. 209 
 
 air, mingled with the foiled and beaten Mookerjee's 
 tierce curses. 
 
 They were answered by Frank Thurston's 
 scornful and triumphant laugh, and the sound of 
 rapidly-retreating horses' hoofs, as they spurned the 
 ground; soon dying away into the distance. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Frank Thurston went to England, 
 taking with them Mr. Morton, now a broken wreck. 
 
 Saddanath Mookerjee did not appreciate his 
 legacy. It had bitter memories for him. He suf- 
 fered the bungalow to be neglected till it went to 
 ruin. He intended some time to make a plantation 
 there, unless he sold the land.
 
 WASTED YEARS
 
 WASTED YEARS 
 
 "Embarrassing, this but it can't be avoided 
 now. There's no time for reply, so he must come, 
 as he wishes it." 
 
 Mr. Wardell shook his head with a doubtful air, 
 lapsing into an uneasy train of thought as he 
 sat in his study, frowning heavily over a letter from 
 his nephew that had come by the morning mail. 
 
 "He may arrive at any time," he said, as he 
 read it through again, and then glanced at his 
 watch. 
 
 His attention was arrested by the sound of the 
 front-door bell. Then he heard footsteps coming 
 towards his study door, which stood ajar, so that 
 every word the two approaching persons spoke fell 
 distinctly on his ear. 
 
 "This way, please," he heard his old servant 
 say, as he walked before the visitor. "The master's 
 in his study; what name shall I tell him, sir?" 
 
 "Why, Andrew, have you quite forgotten me?"
 
 214 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 responded a fresh, manly voice, with a ring of min- 
 gled surprise and pain in it that thrilled the listener 
 in his study to the heart. 
 
 "Mr. Robert, can it be you? Now, heaven be 
 praised!" old Andrew said in trembling tones. "I 
 didn't know as you was expected, sir, and you've 
 grown out of knowledge. It's good to see you 
 home again, though it seems strange-like when 
 you've been away so long!" 
 
 "Then my uncle did not get my letter, Andrew 
 or else I've followed it too soon?" said the frank, 
 bright voice, with a slight fall in its cheerfulness, 
 as the old man threw open the study door. 
 
 Andrew had not time to answer, for Mr. War- 
 dell had risen to his feet, and met his nephew as he 
 entered, his mingled feelings showing themselves 
 strongly, in the unwonted working of his usually 
 passive-looking face. 
 
 "Uncle James!" cried Robert, springing for- 
 Avard eagerly, and grasping the outstretched hand 
 in both his own. "You got my letter, did you not 
 
 *. 
 
 it could not have miscarried?" 
 
 "I got your letter, Robert, an hour ago," said 
 Mr. Wardell, rather heavily, as he released his hand 
 from his nephew's clasp, and turned back to his 
 chair by the study table. 
 
 He re-seated himself, and looked very keenly at
 
 WASTED YEARS. 215 
 
 liim, taking him in at a rapid glance. On seeing 
 him thus suddenly, he could not but feel a natural 
 pride in him ; an unsuspected, latent affection spring- 
 ing up for the bright and winning boy of -whose com- 
 panionship he had so long deprived himself. But 
 he crushed the feeling down again within his 
 breast, allowing the old, vague suspicion and dislike 
 of him to take their place once more. 
 
 "Well, uncle, since I'm here, you'll let me pay 
 you a short visit?" asked the young man playfully, 
 after an awkward silence; but with some hint of 
 deeper feeling in his sportive tones. He went on 
 hurriedly, as though with nervous effort to conceal 
 emotion: "How are Mrs. Hay ward, and Beatrice, 
 our old neighbours yonder? How long it seems 
 since I have seen them!" 
 
 "They are as usual," said Mr. Wardell, with an 
 .air of something like relief at this touching on safer 
 ground. "We may as well step across to see them, 
 Robert, as they have not heard of your return." 
 
 The old man rose, glad to escape the embarrass- 
 ment of a tete-a-tete with his nephew, and led the 
 way through the window opening into the garden. 
 Crossing the sunny lawn, they passed through the 
 gate connecting Mr. Wardell's grounds with Mrs. 
 Hay ward's. As they entered the garden surround- 
 ing the old rambling cottage where she lived, they
 
 216 WASTED YEAKS. 
 
 heard merry, childish voices, and presently a flock 
 of sportive youngsters rushed at them. A bright- 
 faced girl of eighteen came to meet them in un- 
 feigned delight, followed more slowly by Mrs. Hay- 
 ward. 
 
 "Gently, children," laughed Mr. Wardell in- 
 dulgently, as they clung about him. "We'll see 
 what there is in my pockets for you, presently. 
 Come, speak to Robert first!" 
 
 Beatrice was already greeting her old playmate, 
 with a touch of shyness in her manner that puzzled 
 Robert. Mr. Wardell gently took her hand in his, 
 his usually sombre, stern eyes softening as they 
 rested on her dark and brilliant piquant face. 
 
 "So you remember Robert, eh? although he is 
 so altered." 
 
 "Oh, he's not altered much!" cried Tom, now 
 carefully inspecting him. "Say, Ted! Old Bob's 
 the same as ever, hey? except for his moustache and 
 his long coat." 
 
 "Well, you can chat together of old times, 
 whilst I talk to your mother." 
 
 "Don't do that, Ted!" said his mother sharply, 
 as her son plunged his hand inquisitively in Mr. 
 Wardell's coat-tail pocket, as he turned away. 
 
 "I'm only playing 'Artful Dodger,' mother!"
 
 WASTED YEARS. 217 
 
 "Well, I must get your father to thrash you, if 
 you don't stop!" 
 
 "All right, mother! You've given me my 
 choice," returned the youngster coolly. "I'll get 
 my goodies now, and take the thrashing afterwards, 
 all square!" 
 
 "There!" said Mrs. Hay ward. "What can one 
 do with boys like that? I must send them both to 
 school." 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Tom. "Then we'll get clear 
 from petticoat government!" 
 
 Ted shook himself free from Mr. WardelPs de- 
 taining hold, and they ran off together to form 
 plans. 
 
 "Ah!" sighed Mrs. Hay ward. "They get be- 
 yond my authority at times. I don't know what to 
 do with them! Even Dot becomes unmanageable. 
 Last night I told her that mother knew best what 
 was good for her. Afterwards I added : "Put Dolly 
 away before you go to bed. ' ' This doll is my child, ' 
 said my little daughter sternly; 'and mothers know 
 best!' I assure you, I was crushed!" 
 
 "It's only their high spirits and their native 
 cleverness!" said the old gentleman, laughingly de- 
 fending his sworn allies. "I wouldn't have them 
 different they have affectionate, good hearts!" 
 
 ? 'The older boys are inclined to bully
 
 :218 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 Maurice," said Beatrice. "They were making 
 .such a noise one chilly night that I ran up to see 
 what was the matter. 'We're only using Maurice 
 .as a warming-pan, ' said Tom; 'and the little fool 
 objects.' 'I'm being bullied,' sobbed the warniing- 
 'pan. 'I've warmed their beds for them and now 
 I am too cold to warm my own!' ' 
 
 "Well, send the older boys to school. They are 
 old enough to go." 
 
 Here a sudden squeal rose from the twins, who 
 had brought out a pet parrot in a cage. 
 
 "What is all this about?" asked Robert, step- 
 ping up to them. 
 
 "The parrot's mine," said Dot. 
 
 "No it's mine," said Will excitedly. "Isn't 
 it mine, mother?" 
 
 "Supposing you go halves in it," said Robert 
 soothingly; "and then it will belong to each of you. 
 You're twins, you know." 
 
 "Well, any way, I'll have the part wot talks 
 so, tips eye," said Will hastily. 
 
 "He means the head," said Dot, "and that's 
 not fair. It's not fair, is it, mother? he's only 
 leaving me the tail!" 
 
 And, sitting down on the grass beside the par- 
 rot's cage, she wept bitterly, and would not be 
 comforted, until Robert hastened to explain to them
 
 WASTED YEARS. 219 
 
 his meaning ; when they at length were pacified, and 
 took the parrot off with them, to play amicably. 
 
 Mr. Wardell moved away towards the house 
 with Mrs. Hayward, in earnest talk about his favour- 
 ites. 
 
 "How I've missed you, Beatrice!" said Robert, 
 turning to her as his uncle and Mrs. Hayward dis- 
 appeared within the house. 
 
 He regarded her with the old affection, mingled 
 with surprise. Could this fascinating girl, with the 
 subtle touch of shyness showing beneath ker new- 
 found dignity and self-possession, be the same Bea- 
 trice whom he had known of yore? The merry 
 romp, and sometime lively schoolgirl, with the long 
 plait hanging down her back? Ah! what a change 
 was here ! 
 
 "We find each other altered," Beatrice said at 
 last, with her old merry laugh, reading his thoughts 
 in Robert's expressive face. "We're both grown 
 up, you know; and that is all!" 
 
 "But our old friendship, Beatrice, will remain 
 the same, I hope," said Robert earnestly, as he took 
 her hand in his, with a quick glance at her frank 
 face. 
 
 "Always, Robert," Beatrice answered gravely. 
 
 "You remember what I wrote you of the mys-
 
 220 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 terious veiled woman?" he went on presently. 
 "I've more to tell you of her now." 
 
 "I want to hear," she answered eagerly. "I've 
 been so interested in her, Robert." 
 
 "In my last letter, you remember that I told 
 you how she always sat in the same seat in church 
 each Sunday, and that she often turned her head 
 towards me. And I told you how I longed to see 
 her face unveiled. Well, one day I met her on the 
 street ; she dropped a parcel unawares, and I picked 
 it up. At the first sound of my voice she turned 
 round hastily, and, throwing back her veil, for the 
 first time looked earnestly at me. I found her face 
 to be what I had imagined it. Refined and pure r 
 and with a beauty of its own. I felt strangely 
 drawn to her. Her voice, too, when she thanked 
 me, touched me to the heart, it was so sad and 
 sweet. She dropped her veil again, resumed her 
 interrupted walk, soon passing from my sight. This 
 is the last time I have seen her, Beatrice. Her 
 seat in church is occupied by a stranger. She ap- 
 pears to have gone away." 
 
 "You may meet again, some day," said 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Robert looked in on them next day, to propose 
 an expedition. Tom was holding forth indignantly 
 as he came in.
 
 WASTED YEAES. 221 
 
 ''Bridget's got engaged again," he said. "I 
 don't blame Bridget for getting engaged, because 
 she's a woman who must 'keep company.' But why 
 did she look so awfully broken-hearted when the 
 butcher broke their engagement?" he asked with 
 intense disgust. "I wonder why he broke off the 
 engagement?" Tom added reflectively. 
 
 "I once knew a lady," Robert said, "who 
 basely attempted to rob her own best friend of a 
 first-rate cook. Apropos of ill-gotten gains never 
 prospering, this perfect treasure failed her at the 
 last. She said that her young man had threatened 
 to break off their engagement, as he would lose his 
 tasty little supper if she went so far away. And 
 he had dropped dark hints of transferring his af- 
 fections to a rival cook." 
 
 "Aunt Jane says that folks who break engage- 
 ments, and then get engaged to someone else, offer 
 themselves round like refreshments," said Ted ju- 
 dicially. 
 
 "Then you are like 'refreshments,' " answered 
 Tom. "You always danced with Fanny Smith till 
 Amy came along. Before my birthday party, Bob, 
 Ted looked so miserable that mother was afraid 
 he'd been at the green apples. The pressing offer 
 of some castor-oil brought forth an alternative con- 
 fession. 'I was only thinking what a pretty girl
 
 2-2-2 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 Fanny M be,' said Ted, 'if she had only a nice nose, 
 I'm afraid I'll have to dance with Amy at the party, 
 because she's prettiest but I like Fanny best!' ' 
 
 "What an amount of happiness to depend on a 
 pretty nose!" said Robert, joining in the laugh. 
 "And what of Bridget is she happy now?" 
 
 "First-rate!" said Tom. "She made me a cake 
 all to myself, on the first strength of it!" 
 
 "You were always greedy," said his brother 
 with disgust. "You never told me of that cake, 
 nor offered me a share. I recollect a party we had 
 once, when I went in, and you had been forbidden 
 to appear, for punishment. He'd been prowling 
 in his night raiment round the supper-table, Bob, 
 in the dining-room, and was surprised in his unholy 
 depredations on the refreshments there, by the sud- 
 den and unexpected advent of hungry visitors. He 
 had no time to escape, so plunged beneath the 
 supper-table for a hiding-place. When all were 
 seated at the table. Tom crouched beside my feet, 
 and, getting impatient of the prolonged repast, kept 
 pricking my ankles with a pin, to make me hand 
 him down supplies of cake." 
 
 "I say, Bob," said little Maurice, "Aunt 
 Maria's coming soon, to stop with us." 
 
 "I thought she was nursing her sick brother, at 
 his parsonage."
 
 WASTED YEARS. 223- 
 
 "What a comfort she must have been to him,"' 
 said Tom. "She told us he wanted her so badly 
 that she'd go to stay there for three months but 
 she returned home unexpectedly in about three 
 days, looking very savage. It seems that Uncle 
 Sam complained of her attendance, and he said she^ 
 talked too jolly much!" 
 
 "I don't think they get on too well/' said Ted. 
 "I was in uncle's study once, when she came in. 
 He received her very coolly. 
 
 " 'You seem very busy, brother,' quoth my 
 aunt. 
 
 " 'And you help me!' growled Uncle Sam." 
 
 "Well. I like Aunt Maria," said little Arty. 
 "She gave me half-a-crown once, on my birthday. >r 
 
 "You didn't return the compliment," said Ted. 
 "Arty had a toy squirrel for Aunt Maria's birth- 
 day present, Bob. It had a yard measure cun- 
 ningly concealed beneath its tail. He got so fas- 
 cinated with it, that, when it came to the point, 
 he couldn't part with it not even for Aunt 
 Maria!" 
 
 "Last time that Aunt Maria came to see us, her 
 new hat got soaked with rain," said Tom. with an 
 appreciative grin. "What an awful fuss she made 
 about it and she said the ostrich feathers in it 
 were quite spoilt. I wonder," said Tom pensively,.
 
 WASTED YEAES. 
 
 "how ever the birds manage to keep their feathers 
 from getting spoilt, when they run about in the 
 rain ! : ' 
 
 Robert remained with them for some little time. 
 One day, he was absent at the town, on business, 
 and Beatrice, going over to the house, found the 
 old man sitting in his study near his writing-table, 
 frowning heavily betwixt perplexity and misery. 
 
 "I've lost my pocket-book, containing bank notes 
 of some value," he explained to her. "If I had taken 
 down the numbers, I might have recovered them. I 
 suspect my nephew, Beatrice he's following in his 
 father's footsteps, in spite of all my care. The call 
 of the blood!" he added bitterly; "like father, like 
 *on. History will 'oft repeat itself. I will discard, 
 although I will not punish him. No need of further 
 proof!" 
 
 Then Beatrice knew he had been nursing in a 
 soured heart, a bitter, silent enmity against his 
 nephew, all these years. 
 
 ''Child! how can I tell you the hard truth? 
 That Robert's father was a scoundrel, and Robert 
 is a thief!" 
 
 She was gazing at him with widely-opened 
 eyes, and a look of growing, intense astonishment. 
 Her long silence altogether puzzled him. 
 
 "I left my pocket-book upon this open desk,
 
 WASTED YEARS. 225 
 
 and Robert was alone here in the room. When I 
 returned, I found the desk was closed, and the 
 pocket-book that contained the notes was gone. He 
 was uncommonly keen to go to town to-day no 
 doubt that he might take away his ill-gotten gains ! ' ' 
 
 "There must be some mistake the notes can- 
 not be really gone. You have mislaid the pocket- 
 book. It is not lost you'll find it yet!" 
 
 "I know that you are bound to feel for your 
 old friend and playmate!" 
 
 Beatrice snatched away her hands from his as 
 he would have taken them in pitying compassion to 
 comfort her; and she stood facing him with flushed 
 cheeks and flashing eyes. 
 
 "Have pity on me, Beatrice my lot is already 
 a bitter one. Don't make it harder for me!" 
 
 She turned to him again, with flashing eyes. 
 
 "You were never fair to Robert," she ex- 
 claimed. "I know the reason now! Do you im- 
 agine I could doubt him, even if things appear most 
 black against him? Do you suppose that anything 
 you could say would change my faith in him? Ah r 
 no, a thousand times!" 
 
 She paused to look at him, but he did not re- 
 ply; and Beatrice turned away and left the room. 
 
 Robert called on her that evening.
 
 226 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 "Uncle James has banished me for ever from 
 his home. He tells me that you know the reason 
 why." Then, after a long pause: "You do not 
 doubt me, Beatrice? You do not question me in 
 any way?" he said, with a grave smile, as he in- 
 tently watched her quiet face. 
 
 "Why should I insult you with a doubt?" she 
 answered simply, raising her dark eyes to his with 
 an expression of unwavering faith in him. 
 
 He gave her one quick look, then caught her 
 hands in his exultantly. 
 
 "Now, here's a friend worth having, and worth 
 suffering to prove! Ah, Beatrice, you trust me as 
 I would be trusted as I would trust you unques- 
 tioningly!" he exclaimed, with deep emotion in his 
 tones. "I leave my uncle's house to-night," he 
 added presently. 
 
 "You will write me in your banishment?" 
 
 "Indeed I will, dear," he said earnestly. 
 
 A little later Robert said good-bye, and started 
 on his journey. He was going to a quiet seaside 
 place. After some weeks' silence, Beatrice received 
 a letter from him. Mr. Wardell was presest when 
 Tom handed it to her, and he recognised the writing. 
 He said nothing at the moment, but next day ap- 
 proached the subject, when he met her on the 
 street.
 
 WASTED YEARS. 227 
 
 "You received a letter from Robert, and it 
 Deemed to cost you a great deal of thought and 
 care. ' ' 
 
 The girl gazed at him wonderingly, without re- 
 
 piy. 
 
 "Beatrice," he said anxiously, "has Robert told 
 you anything has he confessed?" 
 
 She shook her head. ' ' Nothing about the notes. 
 What could there be to say?" 
 
 Mr. Wardell was greatly agitated. "I could 
 find it in my heart to forgive him, if he would con- 
 fess. What does it mean?" he muttered to himself, 
 dissatisfied, when Beatrice had left him. "I fear 
 Beatrice has some secret she is keeping from me. 
 After the arrival of this letter, there was suppressed 
 excitement in her face. I do not like this state of 
 matters. I begin to think there is some mystery 
 here!" 
 
 "Beatrice, I have seen the woman again of 
 whom I told you," Robert wrote from his retreat. 
 ' ' I had been here for some few days when a hopeless- 
 looking wreck of a man crossed my path by chance 
 or fate. He was leaning against a wall, appar- 
 ently unable to move without assistance, and evi- 
 dently suffering. A storm was threatening, and I 
 took his arm, offering to see him home. He gave 
 me his address, and we set off together, till we came
 
 228 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 to a small cottage facing the sea. Its solitary in- 
 mate heard the gate click as we entered the small 
 garden, and opened the door for us. Beatrice! I 
 saw before me the woman I had met before. She 
 looked at me with rapt surprise, and something else. 
 I know not what, that drew my heart from me. One 
 quick, apprehensive glance she gave my companion, 
 as I led him in. We placed him on a sofa near 
 the nre. As I turned to depart, he begged me to 
 come again. It was now raining heavily, and the 
 woman followed me to the door, begging me to wait 
 awhile for shelter from the storm. I have often 
 been there since. Their name is Blake, and they 
 stay here for his health, which is precarious. Poor 
 Blake has come to trust, depend on me." 
 
 "I have important tidings," wrote Robert, later 
 on. "One day, as I approached the open door un- 
 noticed, I overheard them talking earnestly to- 
 gether. 
 
 " 'He must not come here any more,' said Mrs. 
 Blake, as I drew near. 
 
 "'You always thwart me!' he said angrily. 
 'His visits are my only happiness, my only consola- 
 tion, Marie, in my miserable life.' 
 
 ' ' I saw her touch his arm reproachfully, and he 
 stopped short, flushing up as though with some con- 
 suming, sudden shame.
 
 WASTED YEARS. 229 
 
 " 'Forgive me, Marie you have been an angel 
 to a broken, miserable man ! ' 
 
 "She gave him a compassionate and sorrow- 
 stricken look, and answered softly: 
 
 " 'It might offend his uncle. And it might in- 
 jure him in life, if he comes here.' 
 
 "What can these people know about me, or my 
 uncle, Beatrice? 
 
 "I slipped quietly away in my embarrassment, 
 unwilling to disturb them, and unwilling to hear 
 more." 
 
 A little later: "Blake has been extremely ill," 
 he wrote, "and has been asking constantly for me. 
 I have overheard them talking in low tones about 
 me, once again. 
 
 " 'Dear," she uttered softly, 'we must forego 
 this happiness, indeed for we have forfeited all 
 right to it.' 
 . " 'You give no reason,' he said fretfully. 
 
 " 'He must not come because he is our son.' 
 
 " 'Our son!' the sick man cried, as though he 
 started up from his reclining posture. 
 
 "She seemed to soothe him, and to lay him 
 back again amongst his pillows. She spoke ear- 
 nestly to him, in murmuring, low tones, words that 
 I did not hear. Once or twice he groaned, as though 
 with deadly pain.
 
 230 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 " 'You are always right,' he said at last, in a 
 heart-broken way. 'The only reparation I can make 
 you, my poor Marie, is to die I wish death would 
 come quicker, for your sake I don't die fast 
 enough. I stand between you and the boy,' he said 
 remorsefully. 
 
 "'Hush!' she answered quickly, as though 
 deeply wounded at his gloomy and despondent 
 mood. 
 
 "I made a slight noise at the door, that Mrs. 
 Blake might know I had arrived. Her husband 
 was alone, and broodiag deeply, as I entered. Mrs. 
 Blake had left the room. When she came back, she 
 told me very gently, very gratefully, I must not 
 come again. I asked no reason, and she offered 
 none. I mentioned, incidentally, that I had left my 
 uncle's home for good, and that I stood alone. When 
 I said, afterwards, that I would come again, she- 
 answered nothing; asked no question, and made no 
 comment. But her head was turned away from me. 
 and I could see that she was quivering from head 
 to foot. 
 
 "It had been a shock, a blow to me, when I 
 heard her call me 'son.' I had so long believed my- 
 self to be the earty-orphaned child of Uncle James's 
 brother. This poor, broken wreck my father? Can this 
 statement be relied on ? Have I made some mistake f
 
 WASTED YEARS. 231 
 
 Yet I am certain that I heard aright, and I believe it. 
 Beatrice I feel it must be true. 
 
 "I feel intensely grieved for Blake. As for 
 Mrs. Blake, I have already learnt to heartily esteem, 
 as I've already loved her, in my heart. For her I 
 feel an infinite tenderness, an infinite compassion, 
 though I know not her story yet." 
 
 This letter of Robert's had not yet reached 
 Beatrice, when, one night, a frail and trembling 
 form crept feebly forth alone into the cottage gar- 
 den. The stars shone up above him, and the cool 
 night air, caressing his fevered cheek, seemed to 
 comfort, calm, and welcome him to the loving arms 
 of Nature, loyal mother of us all; aye, even of the 
 lost, forsaken outcast, when he has no other friend. 
 
 Thus he passed from the life that she, in pitiful 
 compassion and staunch loyalty, had sought to share 
 with him. 
 
 He was soon on the road that led to the railway 
 station. For a time, he walked along it with a 
 feverish, uncertain strength. Partial delirium had 
 given him a momentary power to carry out the fixed 
 idea he had for many hours been brooding on. Then 
 he gradually seemed to lose account of time and
 
 232 WASTED YEAES. 
 
 place, and to fall into a dream ; though still his pur- 
 pose stood before him hazily. 
 
 How long the way seemed now. How tired 
 he was. His brain was not quite clear. His memory 
 seemed gone. He began to wonder vaguely if he 
 could be on the right track. How long he had been 
 walking surely yonder lights should be the distant 
 station lights, in view at last. 
 
 He had somehow lost his bundle. He was 
 sure he had it when he started from the cottage. 
 He had not noticed that he had lost it by the way. 
 He could not turn back again to find it now. 
 
 Where was he now? This could not be the 
 road that he had meant to take. Here was the 
 sea again, near his own home! Had he been wan- 
 dering round upon the track, as lost men do, and 
 so unknowingly retraced his weary and belated 
 steps ? 
 
 A new idea came to him, and took possession 
 of his dreamy mind. This dark water stretching 
 far away before him into distance was surely the 
 River of Death at last his time was come! He 
 looked down upon the cold, dark water without 
 shudder or repugnance; he must cross it, to reach 
 the other side the other side, where the wicked 
 cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest! 
 
 Look yonder! See the faint light on the line
 
 WASTED YEAES. 233 
 
 of the horizon, where the water meets the sky 
 there, surely, is the unknown country from whose 
 bourne no traveller returns! There, surely, is the 
 longed-for haven of his rest! And the friendly 
 stars are shining overhead. 
 
 Every moment, it is growing brighter in the 
 distance. Oh! he must make haste! And Marie? 
 was not this the best and sweetest reparation he 
 could make his wife? 
 
 He stumbled to the edge of the shore, and 
 slowly waded in. How cold and dark the water 
 was! Was this the bitterness, the first sharp taste 
 of death? Slipping suddenly, he lost his footing, 
 and went in beyond his depth. There was a strong 
 outgoing tide, and a deep undercurrent flowing. 
 The tired man scarcely struggled yielded gently 
 to the motion of the water, as it drew him under, 
 and away with it. 
 
 Instinctively, he had held his breath as he fell 
 in. He rose to the surface, and then sank again. 
 This time he tried to breathe, and the water gurgled 
 gently at his lips. He held his breath, and closed 
 them once again. 
 
 He rose again, then sank the water gurgled 
 gently at his lips. A thousand sweet bells were 
 ringing in his ears could these be his and. Marie's 
 wedding bells ? Ah ! how happy he had been. Be-
 
 234 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 fore him, he saw pass in swift review, pass swiftly, 
 though it was as an eternity to him, the early years 
 that they had been together, he and his loyal wife. 
 Marie as a toddling baby, clinging to his hand, and 
 he a sturdy boy; Marie as a bright-faced, winsome 
 girl; Marie as a noble-hearted woman, with his 
 young son in her arms. But never Marie, pale and 
 sad-faced, at the last! All that was faded now; 
 passed away, together with his trouble and his sin. 
 The thousand musical, sweet bells were now no 
 longer ringing in his ears. In his last conscious- 
 ness, he saw the stars shine dimly through the water 
 in the heavens above. He felt the soft and loving 
 arms of the slow-swinging tide, as it drew him 
 home, rock gently gently rocking him to rest. 
 And ever, up above, the stars were shining. 
 
 "All is over, Beatrice," wrote Robert. "Mr. 
 Blake was, as I told you, very ill. We think he 
 wandered out in his delirium, whilst his wife, worn- 
 out with watching, slept at her post beside his bed. 
 And he was apparently drowned in the sea. I have 
 learnt the whole sad story from my mother's lips. 
 She broke down at the last, and, weeping in my 
 arms, confessed the truth to me.
 
 WASTED YEARS. 235 
 
 "M-3 7 father forged a cheque upon her brother 
 for a large sum. and, cashing it. fled to America. 
 My father, repenting, coming home a dying wreck, 
 sought my mother cut. Uncle James had spared 
 him for my mother's sake, but he had banished her 
 from his own life. He offered to educate and pro- 
 vide for me, on the sole condition that she relin- 
 quished all her rights in me. I was to take his 
 name, believe myself an orphan and dependent on 
 himself. She had consented to these terms for my 
 own sake; only seeing me as a stranger, at a dis- 
 tance." 
 
 On the morning of the arrival of Robert's final 
 letter to Beatrice, Mr. Wardell was standing at the 
 wardrobe in his dressing-room, his old, warm 
 morning- jacket in one hand, an old, worn pocket- 
 book, with an elastic band confining bulky notes, 
 held in the other, and an expression of dismay and 
 sorrow in his face. 
 
 Well, at all events, he had had good ground 
 for his distrust of Robert in what had gone before. 
 And how proudly Robert had left him. and how 
 silently! He thought again of the young nephew, 
 whom he had sent to a far-distant school, seldom 
 having him at home in the holidays, and never go- 
 ing to see him; for he could not bear the sight of 
 this reminder of his constant grief. Then Robert
 
 236 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 completed his course of study, and he had begun to 
 consider his profession, and had allowed him ample 
 means, but expressed no wish to see him at his home, 
 till the young man conceived the natural desire to 
 visit him, and followed up the impulse of his own 
 accord. Well, he had done his duty by the boy, 
 though Robert was Blake's son! 
 
 Fie wondered afresh what had become of Blake. 
 He had not heard of him in all these years since 
 Marie left him. Ah! with what strangely-mingled 
 feelings of relief and pain he had heard that she 
 was dead. 
 
 Mr. Wardell left his dressing-room, sighing 
 heavily; old, sad memories and bitter recollections 
 mingling with remorse, and gnawing at his heart, as 
 he went towards the private gate opening into Mrs. 
 Hay ward's garden. He saw Beatrice in the dis- 
 tance, beneath a laden apple tree, the children 
 round her, watching with keen interest as Teddy, 
 on a ladder, shook down the ripe fruit. She 
 turned her face to Mr. Wardell as he drew near, 
 and hurried to his side. Her apronful of apples 
 fell neglected to the ground. The unruly little 
 flock of children instantly pounced upon the fruit, 
 rushing off with screams of joy from possible 
 pursuit.
 
 WASTED YEARS. 23r 
 
 ''Have you heard from Robert?" asked Bea- 
 trice hurriedly, an excited note in her soft voice. 
 
 "I've found the notes, Beatrice." said Mr. "War- 
 dell. 
 
 Her mind was full of her own thoughts, and r 
 though she heard, she scarcely answered him. 
 
 "You've not heard from Robert?" she repeated 
 in an anxious fashion. "If you had, you would not 
 take that tone. There are more serious matters- 
 now afoot, than even the loss or restoration of the 
 notes!" 
 
 "I'm telling you that I have actually found 
 them, Beatrice. The pocket-book fell out this morn- 
 ing from the torn lining of a pocket in my old 
 morning-coat. I had it on that day, and have not 
 worn it since. I must have put it in my pocket 
 hurriedly when I was called away. I was so cer- 
 tain I had left it on my writing-table. Had I but 
 trusted Robert as you did," he said remorsefully,, 
 "despite the seeming proofs of guilt. I regret, too 
 late, the insult and injustice offered to my unoffend- 
 ing nephew." 
 
 "Ah! you had, indeed, no faith in him from 
 earliest times. And when you sent him from you, 
 Robert left you in unbroken silence, for he was tocx 
 proud to palter to your petty jealousy of power, and 
 your unfounded distrust of him."
 
 238 WASTED YEARS. 
 
 "Not unfounded, child be just to me the 
 notes seemed lost, indeed!" 
 
 "I have not forgotten that," said Beatrice. 
 "But there are other matters. I have learnt the 
 truth about the past. Tell me, were you never hard 
 upon your sister?" 
 
 "You've heard of her? How is this possible? 
 But, still, I say again, be just to me! It hurt me 
 most to think that she I loved and trusted most 
 should shield the doer of that deed. Refuse to give 
 him up for me, her brother, and her lifelong friend. 
 I would have given her the money freely, had she 
 asked for it. I had never grudged my sister any 
 help. It was the pain of being robbed behind my 
 back when I was generous that cut me most." 
 
 "I've a letter from your nephew," answered 
 Beatrice. "Robert has found his parents. He is 
 coming home to ask your pardon for his father, for 
 his mother's sake." 
 
 She drew the letter forth, presenting it to him. 
 He tore it open hastily, with a contracted brow. 
 
 "I cannot pardon Blake!" he exclaimed with 
 agitation. "And Marie's dead." 
 
 "Hush you don't know what you say. You'll 
 forgive him now, for he is dead," she added soberly. 
 ' ' Listen to me ; he was very ill ; they think he wan- 
 dered out at night in his delirium, and that he got
 
 WASTED YEAES. 239 
 
 drowned in the sea. Robert is bringing home his 
 mother, whom you thought dead long ago." 
 
 The old man heard her in amaze and suffering. 
 He still held the open letter in his hand, and he now 
 read it through. He was leaning back against the 
 gnarled trunk of an apple tree, his trembling right 
 hand grasping a rugged bough for his support, the 
 other clutching wildly at his heart. His face was 
 troubled and amazed. 
 
 "The wasted years," he muttered brokenly. 
 "The wasted years of bitterness to me. of suffering 
 to Marie, through my cruel neglect of my unhappy 
 sister. And Marie is still living, and is coming 
 back to me! Child, I will indeed forgive the dead, 
 though he has cost me these long years of pain and 
 bitterness; and now a late remorse!" 
 
 He turned away from her, and, leaning both his 
 arms against the gnarled old trunk, he bowed his 
 head on them. Beatrice cast one pitying, tender 
 look at him, and went silently away. 
 
 FINIS
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 The Daughter of a Soldier 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 COMMENTS 
 
 "There is a simple charm of narrative that will attract 
 many readers. There is much pathos and grace in many 
 scenes." The Australian Christian World. 
 
 " The stories are nicely written." -Sydney Mail. 
 
 " These stories are nicely told. The language is simple 
 and suited to the themes there is no extravagance in style 
 or superfluous use of figurative speech. The descriptions 
 are natural and realistic, and the conversations are couched 
 in pleasant colloquial words. The characters are carefully 
 delineated. There is a charm about them (the tales) which 
 carries one on to the end." 
 
 The Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton). 
 
 "This is a bright volume of short stories which will give 
 the reader an hour or two of quiet enjoyment. The writer 
 touches life on many sides. Its humour, pathos, heroism, 
 and ethical aspects are pictured with much skill and vivid- 
 ness. She evidently knows the stuff of which life is made. 
 Their various settings are well laid, and cover much of the 
 high and low levels of everyday existence. The style is easy 
 and flowing and very readable." Queensland Figaro.
 
 "A volume of very readable stories. They are brightly 
 written. All through the volume, as story follows story, 
 there is much variation of scene and circumstance. With 
 much skill the writer weaves her plots." 
 
 Queensland Country Life. 
 
 " Some of these stories make a person laugh, and others 
 make her cry. That means that the root of the matter is in 
 this author. She has, in a way, the dramatic insight, and 
 the dramatic powers of presenting pictures." 
 
 Sydney Morning Herald. 
 
 " They are vivaciously and carefully written, and show 
 considerable variety in subject and treatment." 
 
 Town and Country Journal. 
 
 " Miss Littlejohn shows fertility of imagination in the 
 construction of her plots, and her writing is easy and 
 graceful." -Dally Telegraph. 
 
 " These earnest, picturesque little tales will interest 
 many a reader." World's News. 
 
 " In the main, they indicate a literary ability above the 
 average." Freeman's Journal. 
 
 "The stories are pleasantly told, and should be read 
 with interest." A. A. A. 
 
 "Many of these stories 'find you,' and stir chords of 
 feeling in the heart, and some of the stories reach a con- 
 siderable level of ability. We have enjoyed reading these 
 stories, and we hope their reception will encourage Miss 
 Littlejohn to persevere in her literary efforts." 
 
 The Presbyterian Messenger. 
 
 " They cover the whole gamut of pathos and humour, 
 and touch the springs of life at many points." 
 
 The Watchman. 
 
 " The stories are directly and crisply told, and the dia- 
 logue is also extremely well managed and ' turned.' Literary 
 constructive power is displayed in them. The conversations 
 are natural and easy, and seem to flow without any appear- 
 ance of being forced." The Hon. Bruce Smith, K.C., M.P.
 
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