LITERATURE.

Bush Advocate, Volume VII, Issue 476, 2 June 1891, Page 4

LITERATURE.

CHEISTIK&S -TROUBLES. Chapter IV — (Continued.) , . Which- was . her bitterest sorrow she could hardly tell. When she : thought of- one she thought of concealment j when she thought of the otheV^lbf Launce— she thought, of, . shejprayed /for death. .",...". - . ' W: .&ne, 'remembered how she blamed cruel she had c&lled— his sileneo ! How she had endeavoured -•to steeb her heart, and say hard : things.*>f his selfishncss-^his ' mer7ceriary:love,' and at that. very time \ hfs.body ; had been floating- floating in'tliat restless : unrest in the ocean's r Quivering bosom, and his spirit pro-£-bably-regardirig ; her, sad and sorrowing, from its Heavenly home. .. *- : Launce was dead! . c She could not : believe it. That she should never see him again— never,! When calm came through the very exhaustion ■ of grief, that knowledge, would flash back upon her -w Launce is dead ! ~ and her grief would be renewed. ■ Over and oyer again she. wished rather that he had been f 4ls.e ; than that lie should have gone for ever. But which was to be was not in Christine's hands. -He was dead j and died,brave]y f doing his duty— or rather in an'-aci of heroism. 7..,e^;ship..had been struck by a violent tempest.. It was thought, = being a Government, ship,, she could never weathet it. Hope was almost abandoned. Spars, had gone, and # ihe Jjraiiirig wreckage but increased. =! iheir-periL >, ■- •-. y- Some of that wreckage had to be : Cleared, and Launce was the One to risk hifc life for His fellows and do it. He had succeeded, and was return-; ing to ; better security, when the ship gave, a fearful lurch; The deck was .^efftf'-by; a.. gigantic wave," and wfienJthe/yoliiHU) of water.: passed, T^aunce had bpen swept away, with it. - ; ■' -■ - ..-' •'• .. : To have endeavoured to save him would have been impossible. . It would have 'madness. Tho fierce waters rushed and churned themselves- into mountains of foamy; exultation, shaking their ' huge crested head, as with laughter, ond : drovs quivering . shir> ; onward. iut as if appeased by .this, one humaii sacrifice, in about half afc fj^fturthe. tempest, began to abate. : i R 7;lWh^p ifcha*- dawn broke, sending; 'its first -grey bands •of light, then, -those of crimson, ' violet,,- and gold: across; the ; oc.cap, . it was eompaf a-; 'tiySIJp B ' califl, orily heaving in long ;r^sp.i'rations as „it wore,' as some xhestafter a fierce fight. : 7 fern point :to point the horizon haddbeen eagerly swept by glasses ; ! but hot a sign; not a speck, even of -wreckage, broke the glassy surface. ;!*, fhe ship haWjiteamed on, sorrowing, 4 ' 'yeti rejoicing. " It had ; come .through & fearful. struggle, and only one man's life gone 1 't 'Oniy/one man's life ? What was that Ato Christine J As' "'the very; f bi*eSctii of- lier own. •" ..Perhaps her grief : made ;lier sensitive j but she began to feel a great p|ty for. the discarded, son,; Eugene Margrave. It was^-not she who ought 7 to feel ashamed at 'the alliance;'- Hd : was her stcjp-brother, ■iand had sought her o,ut7 ;. Ho. was; lier; <?niy.. relation iv the,' world, unless he repudiated, her. He ; might proclaim her disgrace aloud j y^t he had refrained, i --for a moment "-she' reflected that. the income she had was justly his, .until she remembcreff.it had ■been- l al gift from the creditors, personally,^ herself out of pity to her geix : :.ftnd youth, .-.Nevertheless, she felt it%er:duty to assist her father's .Eugene Margrave had left her an Mdrcls, aiid irithe geuerous openncs,s,pf!,her nature, directly she had sufffciehtly recovered from the shock of Launce's death, she wrote, saying the enquiries she had made had, ; a3 ie,dfeclaared they would, confirmed his'statemehts. : yfQav father is dead,' she wrotei 'Of his acts I will say nothing, but a«>far as I can. l. will. be a sister to you. - You have been generous in keeping secret the story of my dis : grace. T'praiy you to do so atill Whiit good could it do to either V '"': they were natural words from one"; sp innocent of the world's ways. Aware of her own upright disposition, she wave a mantle of it and clothed with it tho good-look-ing, seedy vagabond who had claimed her for kin. 7Kugene.Hargravc had answered the letter with one to move her to deeper compassion. Ho made no demand for money, no request, but simply recited his poverty— the brave fight he wa% making to gain even bread and cheese to live, but how starvation stared him in the face. 'All yesterday,'' so ran his letter, '- 1 walked and walked, hopeful of finding somo employment thafc was honest— l. can no .longer say respectable—my shabby clothes preclude that. My coat is in holes, liiy boots soleless. But failure met me on every side. I am heart-broken; still j I shall try to-morrow again, an ; d to think that I, starving, with the workhouse before me as a final home was theson of such a man as Harmon Margrave. It's enough to make a fellow bitter.' •Christine owned it was/ and drawing three pounds from her little store' sent it him. Just a thrill was at her heart that she had someone to care for — a brother. .-.So the daj's went by, and her sorrow ; for TLaunce waned, though there was a sadness in the eye 3 never to be banished, a deep scar in hor heart i^vor to be chTacQcl,

V/hat"she should have done without Miss Wipstey- she did not know, and yet • at . times mentally she shrank even from her, aware of the secret that she was hiding away. 4lf she would ever find ib out,' she thoughtj again and again, seated in her own room with her sad reflections, 'it would kill me. No> death does not come thus to the wretched; I should have to fly away and hide myself where on one knew me, one could find me.' Before a month, however, things had changed. The pity in Christine's breast had give place to indignation, fear. Her little hoard, put aside for.-, emergencies had dwindled almost to nothing. ;'. Eugehe Margrave's recitals of poverty having., at last failed to extort money she had not to bestow, he had taken to threats. He- made appointments on the heath, in Greenwich Park, and, out of dread exposure; Chirstine had been forced to meet him. . Oh© evining, making the excuse that she had purchases to make in the village, she crossed the heath to a secluded spot where she had been told'he would be' waiting. If; she did not come, tli'pn he ; would^appear at Bypitia House...' „ . 'V'.fjt-muafc endyit shall,', thought Christine, as she went, her eyes ;aglows with indignation, her small hands clenched,' 'Better ... death, better anything ' : -";than, to lead my . ( present life.' 7To 'be , at the beck of. this.V man, my brother j to live in.-, mortal dread that he should speak, I cannot, will not, bear it.' : Then with a convulsive movement of the hands, 'Better anything than disgrace— my , dear mother's memory, dishonoured.' —. She stopped \ for out. of tho gloom a figure came sauntering towards her. It was he. He was rather better dressed, but the scoundrel he was was more apparent in his look and bearing; for he no longer wero a mask; 'So you have come, back, md chhe ?' ho said. - l Are you surprised ?' y'MonDieu/ no,' : and he laughed. ' Your sisterly affection is so strong.' 1 It meets with so honourable, so noble a^ response !', she retorted .scornfully., : 'Really ! lam glad to hear it. But to our little business matters. Have ybti brought any cash T, ; 'No.' 'No! Why.?' ' Because you . have already had all I have.' ' I don't believe it.' , i 'That I cannot help. Truth must be so great a stranger to you, I am not astonished you do not recognise it.' Eugene broke into a laugh. ' That is not bad,' he remarked ; <burfj anyhow, I must have tho money. I want five pounds, It is "necessary— it is imperative.' ' 'I. haven't five pounds, nor a twentieth part of it.' : ,'Thenj. my dear, you must get it. I. must have it.' f Where can I get it V- "■ ' ' ■■'■ 'Of the old lady— Mi6s : Hypatia Borrow it.' ; * I will' not.' :. . 'Will.nob? Wherels the. harm.? Take it out of your next salary,' he said, coolly. . (To.be continued.)