CHAPTER II.

Clutha Leader, Volume I, Issue 8, 27 August 1874, Page 4

CHAPTER 11.

ON BOARD THE CYNTHIA. The good ship Cynthia, a fine East Indiaman, had emerged from the tropics on her voyage to London, and was scudding before a 'stiff breeze towards the colder European latitudes. It was a bright bracing afternoon, and though the ship was rolling a little on the waves, which were growing larger under the increasing force of the wind, the motion

was not so violent ' as to disturb the equanimity even of the least experienced voyagers on board.- It was highlyexhilarating, after the breathless warmth of the African coast, to feel the cheeks fanned and the hair blown' about* hear the wind whistling through the ri gg in g> and blowing out the great bellowing sails, and to be borne up arid down by the dancing motion of the vessel. Accordingly, an hour before sunset, a few passengers had left their cabins 1 to enjoy the pleasure of the scene on deck, and were seated here and there, luxuriating in the pleasurable sensations. These passengers were, as we have laid, few in number— perchance a nabob or two returning yellow and rich with the spoils of a long residence in india, to end his days in luxury at home ; two or three officers coming to Europe on a two years' furlough ; and boys and girls sent home to friends to receive their education. The Cynthia was more a merchant vessel than a passenger ship, and contained in her capacious hold a xich freight of miscellaneous India produce of great bulk and value. Under an awning on the stern part of the deck, and at a considerable distance from all else, sat two young ladies in deep mourning. Their dres3 was precisely the same, and so seemed their age, which might be about twenty, but there was a marked difference in their appearance — the one being tall and dark, the other shorter in stature, though not undersized, and fairer in complexion. Not pale, of course, for the warm sun of India had tinged the whiteness of her delicate skin, and deepened the blue of her fine expressive eyes j but she was fair in comparison with the swarthy hue of her companion, whose face almost approached to copper colour, whose hair was jet, and whose black eyes flashed brightly in the rays of the setting sun. The expression of the two girls was equally distinct, and gave indication of totally different characters. While the dark girl had a bold, unconstrained, and unabashed look, the aspect of the other was soft and shy, but very sweet withal, her features being, if not beautiful,, yet singularly engaging. Purity, innocence tenderness, with their accompanying shrinking sensitiveness, were pictured on her delicately-chiselled countenance, where also could be traced the presence and power of a recent grief. She had a slender figure,but its outline was singularly symmetrical, and a natural grace manifested itself in her every motion. These two girls were Olive Moredant and her cousin Julia Hardinage, the latter being the one we first described. Any keen and appreciative observer of j the human exterior would have had no difficulty in forming an opinion, and a pretty correct opinion, too, of the different peculiarities and temperaments of the pair. Julia he would at once set down as masculine, firm, decisive, and self-reliantj strong of will, and determined in purpose j well able to take care of herself, and apt to study and work for her own interest. On the other hand, he would have concluded that Olive was timid and selfdistrustful, by nature modest andretiring yet capable of more patient endurance than the other, and where principle was involved, firmer and more steadfast; also, that she was generous and sincere, possessing also a heart capable of deep affection, and faithful constancy to the objects of her regard. The girls were both enjoying much the beauty and exhilarating influence of the scene which their elevated position on the deck commanded. On every side stretched the illimitable sea, over the blue swelling waves of which the vsssel danced in glee, as if feeling it a joy to bound in freedom over the main towards the dear but still distant shores of England, Far, far away the horizon bent about them like a mighty engirdling circle, of which they were the solitary centre, for no ship appeared in sight, and no speck of land broke the continuity of water. Overhead hung the grand and ample canopy of the sky, cold and grey in the east, but flashing like burnished gold in the west, where was revealed a glory and a splendour not to be adequately discribed in words or painted on canvas. The full-orbed sun was sinking down into the west, from the open gates of which a company of clouds had come forth to welcome home the king of day, and form a retinue to attend him to his regal couch. And the monarch they had thus come to meet and attend had guilded and glorified them, till now they surrounded him like images of flashing splendour dipt in the hues of heaven. Olive was sittingsilently contemplating the gorgeous spectacle, when Julia, to whom long silence and inaction were not congenial, gaily observed— •" If this breeze continue, Olive, we shall soon be in England and see London of which we have heard so much. But of course, you won't care about staying long there, being too impatient to reach Beechwood to behold the form and make the acquaintance of your future husband. Confess now, dear, that you are longing to see what manner of man he is, and hoping that he is handsome, good natured, and agreeable. Ah, by these blushes which have come into your cheeks the confession is made." "If I blush it is with pain rather than pleasure," answered Olive,- in a low tone. remark has recalled a subject which was not at present in my thoughts, but which, I admit, does often occupy my mind."

"Of course it does," returned, her cousin; "and very naturally too. I know if it were me I should be thinking of it every day and all day long j nay, I should dream of him. It is so funny to be going to marry a man whom you have never seen — quite, a romantic adventure, I declare. I'm sure I should havefanciesi conjectures, and imaginings without end. i really envy you, Olive, to be the heroine of such a romance."

" I stand more in need of your pity than your envy," answered Olive. "It is the most disagreeable position ever a young girl was placed in." " Disagreeable ! Why, what an extraordinary creature you are. 1 can fancy nothing more pleasant and exciting. Whs?t can you find disagreeable in

lt It's very nature is disagreeable," was the reply.

" Disagreeable to have the -prospect of being married !" cried Julia. " Why, doesn't every young girl consider that the highest felicity ? Upon my word, Olive, if you pretend anything else I shall look upon you either as a hypocrite, or a wonderful extraordinary, and unnatural exception to our sex. To which do you plead guilty,- miss ?" "To neither. I have no aversion to marriage in the abstract. On the contrary, I think it the best and happiest state of human existence. But in order that it should be so there are certain conditions attending it ; and when these are violated marriage brings only evil and misery." " Oh, well, yes," replied Julia, laughing. "If the married parties lead a cat-and-dog life together it must be miserable enough ; but then they have themselves to blame for that, and are great fools for doing it. If they find their tempers don't agree, let them keep out of each other's way as much as possible." "But should they not discover the fact before hand, and refrain from marrying ?" asked Olive. " Refrain !" echoed Julia. " Circumstances may not allow of that. There are cases in which prudence of that kind cannot be exercised."

" Such as—" questioned her cousin. "Why, such as your own for example, You have never seen Walter Moredant • he has never seen you. Yet you are to wed. We shall fervently hope that you will agree well together ; but you must admit there is a possibility of your tastes and tempers being different." " There is, indeed," sighed Olive. "Then, in that case, the prudence you speak of cannot be exercised, but i the policy I advocate may j and ■as man and wife who cannot agree you and Walter can make things tolerable by keeping out of each other's way. " Shall we not do that most effectively by not being married at all?" asked Olive, with grave significance. " But you can't help yourselves. You are bound to marry by your father's will." " No— not bound. The will cannot physically or morally force us." " Practically it does ; for if either of you refuse you lose the fortune. If you refuse to marry Walter Moredant, you are left with a paltry pittance of fifty pounds a year ; if Walter Moredant refuse to marry you, he forfeits Beechwood and all the wealth." " Yes — yes, I know — J know," said Olive, with a look of impatient vexation. "Then, of course," went on Julia, neither of you would for a moment think of making such a sacrifice as that." " I would," answered Olive, turning her large blue eyes on her cousin, and looking her full in the face with a steady gaze, which indicated the perfect sincerity and truthfulness of her words." " You would relinquish fortune and position rather than marry Victor Moredant ! " exclaimed Julia, in amazement. " If I disliked him — if I found I could not love him — yes, I certainly should." " My dear Olive, how preposterously ridiculous to prefer poverty to — to -" " To misery," suggested Olive, "Nonsense. Why misery? As I said, if you cannot agree, or if you violently disagree, avoid each other." •' And does that not mean misery ?" rejoined Olive. " Married life ought to be sacred to the joys of home and domestic bliss, yielding a sanctuary to the heart, peace and contentment to the spirit, food to the mind, and nourishment to every faculty and capacity of the souL If it gives not these things, there is nothing on this earth productive of greater misery and wretchedness." That is just as people view it," returned her cousin. " For my part I hold more common sense notions on the point, and cherish no such high-strained ideas of happiness. It is foolish to adopt romantic views like these, Olive —very foolish, for they may possibly bring you the misery which the imagination of them creates." " Hardly," smiled the other, "if I take care, not to place myself in the position that involves them." " By sacrificing wealth and accepting a pittance little above a pauper's !" cried Julia, with something like impatient scorn. "That Would be the. most unmitigated folly ever human being perpetrated. But of course you will never feel the temptation to commit it, for you will find Victor : Moredant all that you could wish. Your father assured you so." (To be continued.)