Mara; or, The Earth Trembled.

Evening Star, Issue 7496, 14 April 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Mara; or, The Earth Trembled.

A STOHT OF THE CHAIttKSTON KAHTHQUAKE. [iiv E. P. Rot-.] CHAPTER XL. "GOD." Had Mara's heart been hers to keep or to give when she met Bodiuc, she could easily have learned to love him for his own sake. Mrs Bodine's impression was well founded, that Mara, unlike moat girls, was suited to such an alliance. The trouble was that, before Bodine became friend, then lover, she had given to Clancy what she could not recall, although Bhe strove to do so with a will singularly resolute, and from the strongest convictions of hopeless discord between him and herself. With the purpose to make her father's friend happy was also blended the powerful motive to extricate herself. She had felt that she must tear up by the roots the affection which had been growing for year& before she had recognised it, and at times, as we have seen, thought it was yielding to the unrelenting grasp of her will. Again, discouraged and appalled by its hold upon every fibre of her being, she would recognise how futile had been her efforts. She could not, like many others, divert her thoughts and pre-occupy her mind by various considerations apart from the truth that she had promised to marry a man whom she did not love. Although so warped, her nature was too simple, too concentrated, to permit any weak drifting towards events. She believed that her life had narrowed down to Bodine, and she had decided to become his devoted wife at every cost to herself. How great that cost would bo she was learning sadly, day by day and hour by hour. As wo know, she had permitted Bodine to learn her purpose at a time of excitement and enthusiasm, at a time when his profound distress touched her deepest sympathies. She had also hoped that, when the irrevocable words had been spoken on each side, the calm of fixed purposes and certainty would fall upon her spirit. She had been disappointed. She trembled with strange dread whenever she recalled the moment when Bodino drew her to himself, conscious now of a truth, before unknown, that there was something in her nature not amenable to enthusiasm, spiritual exaltation, or her passion for self-sacrifice, something that would not shrink from death for his sake, yet which did shrink from his kisses upon her lips. Never had she suffered as during the last few days, for Bhe was being taught by the inexorable logic of facts and events. In Ella's crystal nature she 6aw what her own love should be, and might have been. She had witnessed the girl's wild impulse to follow her lover to the depths of the harbor, and her own heart gave swift interpretation. She was alive because a Northern boy, deemed incapable of anything better than reckless love making, had unhesitatingly risked his life to save one who had spurned him. Even Mrs Hunter's prejudice had been compelled to yield, and she to admit the young fellow's nobility, of which she was a living proof. The wretched thought haunted Mara that Owen Clancy, unblinded, had discovered for himself, what had been forced upon her, that there were Northern people with whom he could gladly affiliate. The shadow of death had not been so dark and baleful as the shadow of the past in which she so long had dwelt, for in the former there had been light enough to reveal the folly and injustice of indiscriminating prejudice and enmity. Worse than all these thoughts, piercing like shafts of light the darkness which had obscured her judgment, was the truth, upon which she could not reason, that she shrunk with an ever-in-creasing dread from words and acts of love unpromoted by her heart. Like a rock, however, amid all this chaos —this breaking up of the old which left nothing stable in its place—remained her purpose to go forward. On this evening, which was to witness a wilder chaos than that of her long-repressed yet passionate heart, she said sternly "My word has been passed, my honor is involved, and he shall never learn that I have trembled and faltered." Mrs Hunter had retired, overcome by the heat; and, believing that she could endure the sultriness better in the little parlor, Mara had turned down thi gas, and was sitting by an open window. The city seemed singularly quiet. The street on which she dwelt contained a large population, yet the steps on the pavement wore comparatively few. Her own languor was general, and people sought refuge in the seclusion and the undress permitted in their own homes. In a vague, half-conscious way she wondered that a large city should be so still at that hour. " Like myself," she murmured, " it is half shrouded in gloom and gives but slight hint of much that is hidden, that ever must be hidden. I wonder where he is to-night. Oh, I've no right to think of him at all. Why can't I say ' stop ' and end it ? this miserable stealing away of my thoughts until will, like a gaoler, pursues and drags them back. Why should a presentiment of danger to him weigh down my spirit tonight ? What other peril can he be exposed to except that of marrying a beauty and an heiress? Ah! peril enough, if his heart shrinks like mino. Here, now, quit!" and the word came sharply and angrily in her self-condemnation. Then in the silence began that distant groan of Nature. It was so distinct, so unlike anything she had ever heard in its horrible suggestion of all physical evil that she shrank from the window overwhelmed by a nameless dread. Instinctively she turned up the gas that she might not faco the terror in darkness. As she did so she thought of the rush and roar of last year's cyclone, but in the next breath learned that this was something infinitely worse—what, she was too tenified and confused to imagine. Then she was thrown to the floor. Raising herself partially on a chair she witnessed an event which paralysed her with horror. The wall toward the street, with its mirrors, pictures, windows, and all pertaining to it, fell outward with a crash. For a second all was still, as she looked into the darkness which had swallowed up the front and sheltering Bide of her home. Then immediately about her began a wail of human anguish, which grew in agonised intensity, gathering volume far and near until it became like the death-cry of a great city. Unconsciously she was joining in it—that involuntary "oh-h," that crescendo tidal wave of sound sweeping upward from despairing humanity. Then this mighty and bitter cry seemed to become articulate in the word "God." With an instinct swift, inevitable, and irresistible as the power that had shaken the city, the thought of God as the only other power able to cope with the mysterious destroyer entered into all hearts and found expression. Clouds of stifling, whitish-looking dust now came pouring into the unprotected apartment, obscuring the street and rendering dim even the familiar objects near the terrified girl. For a few moments the nervous shook was so great that Mara felt as if paralysed. She remained lying on the floor, half supporting herself by the chair, -waiting in breathless expectation for she knew not what. The malign power had been so vast, and its work so swift, that even her fearless spirit was overwhelmed. The shrieks, groans, and prayers, the hurrying steps in the dust-clouded street, at last forced upon her atteution the fact that all were seeking to escape from the buildings. With difficulty she regained her feet and tottered to Mrs Hunter's room, but found, to hsr dismay, that she could not open the door. She called and even shrieked, but there was no answer. A scene of utter desolation and helplessness overpowered her. Who could come to her aid ? Bodine could not. At such a time he would be almost helpless himself, and there were women in his charge. With a bitterness almost akin to the death which she momentarily expected, she knew that her thoughts had flown to Clancy and to no other human boing at that hour. She was learning what all others discovered in the stress of the earthquake, that everything not absolutely essential to life and soul was swept away and almost forgotten. To go into the street and get help seemed her only resource, and she made her way down the stairs to where bad been the doorway. In vain she appealed to the flying forms. Her cries were unheard in the awful din of shrieks, prayers, groans, and calls of 1 the separated to their friends, The impres-

sion made was of a wild panic in which the frenzied thought of flight, escape, predominated. She was about to return iri something like despair, feeling that she could not leave her aunt, when she saw a tall form rushing toward her. A second later she recognised Owen Clancy leaping over the ruius of her homo. With a cry she fell into his outstretched arms, faint, trembling, yet with a sense of refuge, a thrill of exquisite joy before unknown in all her life. "Mara, dear Mara, you are not hurt?" he asked breathlessly. " No ; oh, thank God, you have come !'' And there was the same ominous growl, deep in the earth, which once heard could never be mistaken, never forgotten. Lifting her up, Clancy carried her swiftly from beneath the shattered buildings to the middle of tho street. She clung to him almost convulsively as the earth again swayed and trembled beneath them, and the awful moan of Nature swelled, then died, away in the distance. There was an instant of agonised, breathless suspense, end then t'.ie wail of the stricken city rose again with a deeper accent of terror, a mere passionate appeal to Heaven, and the effort to escape to the wider spaces was renewed in a more headlong flight. "Mara," said Clancy, "at this hour, when everything may be swept away in a moment, there is nothing left for me but you and God. Will you trust me, and let me do my very beat to save you ?" "Oh, Owen, Owen, God forgive me !" She uttered the words like a despairing cry, then buried her face upon his breast. With a dread greater than that inspired by the earthquake he thought: "Is it toelate ? Can she have married Bodino ?" The anguish in her tone, combined with her action, had revealed both her love and its hopelessness. He said gently, yet firmly : "Wo must act now and quckly. Where is Mrs Hunter ?" Mara had apparently become speechless from grief. Without a word she turned swiftly, and, taking his hand, led him toward the ruined building. "No ; stay here, It will not be safe for you to enter," and, pushing her gently back, he ran up the exposed stairway, into the parlor, noticing with dismay the general wreck and the danger Mara had run. He found that Mara had followed him. "Oh, why will you come?" he exclaimed, in deep anxiety. " Where is she ? We must get away from all this ?" The sobbing girl could only point to Mrs Hunter's door. Clancy tried it, but found it jammed, as were so many others that night, adding to the terror of imprisoned inmates. With strength doubled by excitement he put his shoulder against the barrier and burst it open. A ghastly spectacle met their eyes. Mrs Hunter lay senseless on her bed in her night-robe, which was stained with blood. She had evidently risen to a sitting posture on the first alarm, and then had been stunned and hurt by the hurling of some heavy object against her head and neck, the shattered mantel-clock on the bed beside her showing how the injury had been done. Mara's overwhelming distress ceased its expression at this new horror, as she gasped : " Can she be dead ?" " This is no place to discover," Clancy replied, rolling the poor woman's form in a blanket. "Mara, dear, we must get away from this house. It may come down any moment. Snatch up wraps, clothing, all you can lay your hands upon, and come." Already he was staggering away with Mrs Hunter in his arms. In a moment Mara did hiß bidding and followed. Slowly and with difficulty he made his way down the tottering, broken stairway ; then across tho prostrate wall to the centre of the street, now almost deserted. He looked anxiously around, calculating that no building, if it fell, could reach them at this point, then laid his heavy burden down, and stood panting and recovering from his exertion. " I think we shall be as safe here as anywhere until wo can reach one of the squares. Put your hand, Mara, over Mrs Hunter's heart, and see if it is beating." " Yes, faintly." "Have you stimulants in the house? Can you tell me where to find them ?'' "You shall not go back there; I will go." And, as if endowed with sudden access of strength, she sprang away. Putting his coat under Mrs Hunter's head for a pillow, he followed instantly. "Now, why do you come ?" she protested. "Because I would rather die with you, Mara, than live safely without you." " Oh, for God's sake,- don't Bpcak that way !" she replied with a sob. " Here, I have it. Come away, quick." As she hastily sought to cross the ruins in the street she missed her footing, and would have fallen had not his ready arm encircled her and borne her to Mrs Hunter's side. " Would to God I had heeded your warning, Owen," she moaned, as she sought to give her aunt some of the brandy, while he chafed tho poor woman's wrists. "You are not married to Bodine?" he asked, springing to his feot. " No, but lam pledged to him. I cannot break faith and live. You must be my protector in a double sense, protecting me against myself. As you are a Southern gentleman, help and shield me." " You ask what is next to impossible, Mara. I can only do my best for you." "Oh, how I have wronged you ! " " Not so greatly as I have wronged myself. I will tell you all some other time." " No, Owen, no. We must keep apart. We must, we must, indeed. Oh, oh, it would have been better that I had died ! You must harden your heart and face against me—that is the only way to help me now." "Never shall I harden my heart against you. Whatever comes I shall be your loyal friend." " Oh, the cruelty of my fate—to wrong two such men !" " Bresa de Lawd ! I'se fown you " ; and Ann' Sheba stood before them, panting and abounding in grateful ejaculations. " Aun' Sheba," cried Mara, throwing herself in the arms of her old nurse. "To think that you should come to me through all these dangers !" " Wot else I do, honey lam ? " You tink you kin be in trouble an' I ain't dar? Marse Clancy, my 'specs. Once I tinks you a far-wedder frien', but 1 takes it back. Lawd, Lawd ! is de 010 missus dun gone?" " No, Aun' Sheba," said Clancy. " Help us revive her, and then help me carry her to a place of greater safety. You come like an angel of light." " I'se rudder hebby an' brack fer'n an angel; but like de angels, we'se all got ter do a heap ob totin' ter-night."

CHAPTER XLL SCENES NEVEK TO BE FORGOTTEN. When George Houghton reached his father's room he heard Jube fairly howling in the darkness, and the old man groaning heavily. , , „ „ "Father," cried the young man, "you are not hurt?" " Oh, George ; thank God you have again escaped ! This is an earthquake; isn't it ?" " It must be, and I must take you out to some open space at once. Jube, shut up, and keep your senses. If you don't help me I'll break your honea." GropiDg about he found a match and lighted a candle. " Oh, Georgo, you are hurt. Your faco is covered with blood !" cried Mr Houghton. " Slight cuts only. Come, father, there may be another shock, and it will not bo safe to dress you here. Let me wrap you in blankets, and then Jube and I will carry you to Marion square. I will come back for your clothes." This they proceeded to do, Mr Houghton meanwhile protesting: "No, George, you shall not come back." Then he asked, a moment or two later: "Why do you take me out at the side door ?" "It will be safer," George replied, not wishing to explain that the pillared and massive portico was in ruins. As they passed the front of the house, however, Jube groaned: "0, Lawd ! de porch dun smashed !" " This is awful, my boy ! ejaculated Mr Houghton. " Oh, this dreadful city ! this dreadful city !" . " Tho worst is over, I think. Brace up, Jube. If you are so anxious to save your life, step lively." . '* Jes heah de people holler,'} cried Jube, trembling so he could scarcely keep his hold, and ho gave a loud, sympathetic yell himself. , " Stop that," said George sternly. " Oh,

Dr Devoe, I am so glad to see you," he added, as tho physician came running up'. " You are a godsend." " I was passing near," explained the physician, "and, being a bachelor, can think of my patients first. Jube, if you yell again I'll cuff you. Be a man now and we'll all i-oSn be safe." They joined the throngs which were gathering on the square, and Mr Houghton was tenderly placed upon the grass. " Doctor, you and Jube will stay with him while I get articles for his comfort;" and before his father could again interpose George was off at full speed. " Ho will come out all vight," said Dr Devoe, soothingly. "Never fear for George." But when the second roll of subterranean thunder was heard, and the cries and lamentations of the people were redoubled, tho I old man wrung his hands and groaned. | " Oh, why did you let him go ?" After the quiver passed he sat up and_ strained his eyes in the direction from which ho hoped again to see his son. The house was not far away, and George soon appeared, staggering under a mattress, with bedding, clothing, and other articles essential to the comfort and safety of his father. Jube, under the doctor's assurances, was beginning to rally from his terror, and between them they speedily made the old man comfortable. As George was arranging the pillows his father said: "God forgive me for being so obdurate, my boy. I know where your thoughts are. Go and help her if you can." With heartfelt, murmured thanks the young man kissed his father and bounded away. Ella Bodine and her father were truly in sore trouble. A few minutes before ten, Mrs Bodine's delicate and enfeebled organisation succumbed to the heat and closeness of the air, and she suddenly swooned. Ella in alarm summoned her father and old Haunah, and all were engaged in applying restorativesjvhen they, too, were appalled by the hideous sound which gave such brief and terrible warning of the disaster. The veteran, who sat by tho bedside chafing his cousin's wrists with spirits, barely had time to get on his crutches when he was thrown violently to the floor, while Ella, with a wild cry, fell across the bed. Then in expectation of instant death, they listened with in awe too great for expression to the infernal uproar, the crash of falling objects, the groaning and grinding of the swaying house, and above all to the voice of the deep, subterranean power which appeared to be rending the earth. Most fortunately the gas was not extinguished, and when it was still again Ella rushed to her father, and exclaimed, as she helped him up: "Oh, papa! what is this ?" " De Jedgmen' Day," Baid a quivering voice. Bodine's face was very white, but his iron i nerves did not give way. " Ella," he said firmly, "you must keep calm and do as I say. It is an earthquake. Since the house stands we may hope to revive Cousin Sophy before taking her to the street. Come, Hannah, get up and do your best." From her sitting posture on the floor the old woman only answered in a low, terrified monotone: "De Jedgmen'Day." "Oh, papa, she's just crazed, and we must do everything ourselves," and Ella, with trembling hands and stifled sobs, began to aid her father. "Oh, hear those awful cries in the street," she said after a moment; " don't you think we should try to take cousin out ?" " If I were not so helpless!" Bodine groaned. " Hannah, wake up and help." "De Jedgmen' Day," was the only response. "There is no use to look to her, papa. I'm strong. See, I can lift cousin, she is so light." " No, Ella, it might injure you for life. If we could only partially revive her, and she could help you a little. There may not be another shock." They worked on, growing more assured as the house remained quiet. Hannah was evidently crazed for the time being, for, deaf to all expostulations, she would not move, and kept repeating the terrible refrain. " Oh God !'' said Bodine, in tones of the deepest distress, " to think that I cannot go to Mara !" " Well, papa, you can't help it. Your dutv is hero. May God pity and save us all !" At last the ominous rumble began again in the distance. Ella gave her father a startled look, and saw confirmation of her fear in his face. Old Hannah started up exclaiming : " De Lawd is comin' now, shuah. I'se gwine ter meet Him!" and she rushed away. With another wild cry Ella lifted the form of her cousin in her arms, and, with a strength created by the emergency, staggered down the stairs to the door. Then a man saw and relieved her of her burden. Bodine with difficulty tried to follow, but could not during the brief shock. When all was still again he threw the bedding over his shoulder, went down, and speedily checked Ella's wild cries that he should not delay. The street was comparatively wide; the houses were not high, and they found themselves in the midst of a group of refugees like themselves—mothers sobbing over their babes, meu caring for sick and fainting wives, and children standing by feeble and aged parents, Family servants crouched on the pavement beside their employers, and continually gave utterance to ejaculatory prayers, which found sympathetic eohoes in the stoutest hearts. Many were coming and going. The place seemed a partial refuge, yet the proximity of houses led one group after another to seek the open squares. Iu many instances rare fortitude and calmness were displayed. Here, as elsewhere throughout the city, frail women, more often than strong men, were patient and resigned in their Christian faith. Ella supported Mrs Bodine's head upon her lap, and others now aided to bring back consciousness. Fortunately, however, for the poor lady, she knew not what was passing. Suddenly the group parted to make way for a hatless, coatless man, whose face was terribly disfigured with blood and dust. Nevertheless Ella recognised him with the glad cry—" Mr Houghton !" "Thank Heaven, you are safe?*' he gasped, panting heavily, and he gave his hand to Mr Bodine. "But you are injured," said the Captain, in deep solicitude. " No, nothing worth mentioning ; merely cut and bruised. I came as soon as I had fixed my father safe in the square. I thought you might need help." " Mr Houghton, you are overwhelming us " " Please don't think and talk that way. God knows a man should give help where it is most needed at such a time. This is Mrs Bodine ?" " Yes, she fainted before the first shock. We have been unable to revive her. At the last shock my daughter carried her down." "Miss Bodine !" exclaimed George in surprise and admiration. She gave him a swift glance through her tears, and then, dropping her eyes, resumed her efforts to revive her cousin. " You. may well exclaim," said her father. "How she did it I do not know. Excitement gave strongth, I suppose." " Everything these kind friends and I can do for her seems usoless," Ella faltered. " Let me get my wiud a little," said George, eagerly, "and I will carry her to the square, where my father is. A good physician is with him." At this instant came a third and severer shock than the last, and with it the new terror that sickened the bravest. "Oh God," cried Ella, "will there be no respite?" Then observing for the first time the pillars of light and smoke rising at different points, she cried in still deeper fear: "Oh papa, can those be volcanic fires ?" "No, no, my child." " I saw a fire kindling in a deserted house as I came," George added exoitedly. " Truly, Captain Bodine, this is no place for your family; or"—turning to the groups near—" for you either, friends. All 1 see, there is a'house almost opposite beginning to burn. Come!" And, without further hesitation, he lifted Mrs Bodine and strode away. Not only Ella and her father followed, but also the others; those who were the I strongest supporting the feeble and injured, i They had gone but little way before I Bodine said: " Ella, I must go and see if

Mara has escaped ; I cannot seek safety myself unless assured that she is safe." * "Oh, papa', it will be almost suicide for you to go through these streets alone." " Ella, there are some things so much worse than death. If you and cousin were alone I would not leave you, but with a strong helper and a physician in prospect I must go. How could I look Mara in the face again if I made no effort in her behalf? Explain to Mr Houghton." He dropped behind, then turned up a side street and Carefully yet quickly halted over and around the impediments stre fro. in the way. Aware of the danger of delay, George went forward with a rapid stride. "Can you keep up ?" he asked. " Yes," Ella replied. "We must get by and beyond these higher buildings. I have the most horrible dread that they may fall on you any moment." " You never seem to think of yourself, Mr Houghton." " I must now," he said after a moment or two. "Here is a corner at which «e can rest, for there arc no" high buildings near;" and he sank on the ground with Mrs Bodine still in his arms. "Oh, you are killing yourself!" she cried in deep distress. " Not at all, only resting, Where is your father ?" Ella explained and revealed her fears. "I will go to his aid and Miss Wallingford's as soon as you and Mrs Bodine are safe." "Mr Houghton, how can I-—" "Bygiving me the privilege of serving you, rtfld not by making me miserable from seeing vou burdened with a sense of obligation," he said quickly* "That is the one thing I have feared—that you would be unhappy because it has been my good fortune—oh, well, you understand." She did, better than he, for his swift coming to her aid had banished all doubt of him. '* Please undei-stand, then, that I gratefully and gladly accept your chivalrous help. Have I not seen it given to the old and feeble before ? Oh, these heart-rending cries ! It seems to me that they will haunt me for ever. " Please support Mrs Bodine a moment. That is a woman's scream just beyond us. She is evidently injured, and probably held fast in the ruins." He ran to the spot, and found that a woman had been prostrated and partially buried by the bricks of a falling chimney. She had been unconscious for a time, but now, reviving, her agonising shrieks rose above the other cries. George spoke soothingly to her as he threw the bricks to right and left. She was evidently Buffering the extremity of pain, for she again screamed and moaned in the most heart-rending way, although George lifted her as carefully as possible. Laying her down beside Mrs Bodine he began in distressed perplexity : " What shall we do now ? We cannot leave her here." At this moment a group of negroes approached. One was carrying a little girl whom Ella immediately recognised as Vilet. Then she saw Sissy, the mother, carrying her youngest, and weeping hysterically, while the other children clung to her skirts. Uncle Sheba brought up the rear, fairly howling in his terror. The man carrying the child was Mr Birdsall, who had called with old Tobe just before the first shock. The gray-woolled negro was walking beside his minister, uttering petitions and selfaccusations. Old Tobe was comparatively alone in the world, without kith or kin. Mr Birdsall, feeling that he owed almost an equal duty to his flock, hrd only stipulated that he Bhould stop at his home for his wife and children. Happily, they were unharmed, and were able to follow unaided; and so, like a good shepherd, he still carried the weakest of his lambs. Ella called to them, and they paused. George, ever prompt in action, saw that old Tobe and Uncle Sheba were able to do more than use their lungs, and he sprung forward to press them into his service. Tobe readily yielded, but Uncle Sheba would do nothing but howl. In his impatience George Btruck him a sharp blow across the mouth, exclaiming "Stop your infernal noise. If you are strong enough to yell that way you ran do something better. Slop, I say, or I'll be worse than two earthquakes ;" and he shook Uncle Sheba's howl into staccato and tremolo notes. " Dere am no use foolin' wid dat niggah," said old Tobe. "Howl, then, if you will, but help you shall;" and taking him by his shoulder George pushed him beside Tobe, made the two form a chair with their hands, and put the womau into it, with her arms about the neck of each. Taking up Mrs Bodine he again went forward. The miserable little procession followed, Uncle Sheba mechanically doing his part, at the same time continuing to make night hideous by the full use of a pair of lungs in which was no rheumatic weakness. Motion caused the wretched woman renewed agony, and her shrieks mingled with his stentorian cries. "Oh, this is horrible!" Ella said at George's side. " It is indeed, Miss Bodine, yet how glad I am that you have not been injured !" "Oh, oh, I fear so greatly that my cousin will not live through this dreadful night; and my father, too, is facing unknown dangers !" " This is an awful ill wind, Miss Bodine, but the fact that I can help you and youro gives me a deeper satisfaction than you can imagine." She could not trust herself to answer, therefore was Bilent, and his thought was, " I must go slower on that tack, and not so close to the wind." The forlorn company eventually reached the square, and made their way to the place where George had left the father. As the old man saw his son, and comprehended his mission of mercy as well as love, he murmured " God forgive me that it should require an earthquake to teach how much better is his spirit than mine," and his heart grew as tender as a mother's toward his boy. Dr Devoe, who was attending another patient not far away, came up hastily aud eased the poor creature out of the negroes' hands to the ground. He gave her some of the wine George had brought for his father, saying as he did so, "Try to be calm now, madam. I am a physician, and will do all I can for you." Mr Houghton promptly sent Jube to the doctor with one of his pillows and part of his bedding, bo the woman was made as comfortable as her position permitted. George laid Mrs Bodine on the grass, and then with the scanty bedding Ella had carried*, aided in making a resting place not far from his father. He next lifted Mrs Bodine's head into the girl's lap, and was about to turn his attention to Uncle Sheba, but was anticipated. Two men had taken him by the shoulders, one of them saying : " If you don't keep still we'll tie you under the nearest building and leave you there," and they began to march him off. At this dire threat Uncle Sheba collapsed and fell to the ground, where he was left. Dr Devoe divided his attention between the fatally injured woman and Mrs Bodine, who under his remedies and the efforts of George and Ella soon revived. Mr Houghton looked wittv -wonder, pity, and some embarrassment at the small, frail form, and the white, thin face of one whom he had characterised as " that terrible old woman." She seemed scarcely a shadow of what she had been on that former night, more terrible even than this one to the then stricken father. Now the son whom he had thought dead had carried her to his side, and was bending over her. " Well, well," he muttered, " the ways of God are above and beyond me. I give up, I give up." Then his eyes rested on Ella. He saw. a face which even the dust of the streets could not so begrime as to hide its sweetness or its tenderness, as, with deep solicitude, she bent over her cousin. A conflagration raging near now began to flame so high that its light flickered on the girl's face, ethercalising its beauty, and turning her fluffy hair to gold. She became like a vision to the old man, angelic, yet human in her natural sympathy. The thought would come: '? I have fought like a demon to keep that face from bending over me in my feebleness and age. Truly God's ways are best." i Ella had only glanced at his pale, rugged face with awe and dread, and then had given all her thoughts to her cousin. , As the latter began to regain consciousness she motioned George away, and with

Dr Devoe sought to complete the work if restoration. To dazed looks and confußed questions she replied merely with soothing words nntil the doctor said kindly, but firmly, "Mrs Bodine, you are now safe, and !as comfortable as we can make you. Do I not try to comprehend" what has happened. There are so many worse off who need attention." '«There, there, doctor," Mrs Bodine interrupted, with a flash of her old spirit, "no matter what has happened. I thaßk you for your attention. Mease give it now to others." " Doctor," said George, " I fear the Ihtle colored girl who came in with us is dying." They went to the spot where Sissy was pillowing Vilet's head against her breast. The physician made a brief examination, and heard how a brick bad fallen on the child as they were getting her out, then said : " I'm sorry I can do nothing bat alleviate her pain a little." Turning away promptly he began: " See here, Houghton, I must go to the nearest) drug store and help myself if no one's there. [ Will you come with me ? I shall need a lot [ of things, more than I can carry." ! "I can't," George replied, "bat here is the man that will, I think;" and he roused old Tobe, who sat quietly near with hia head buried in his hands. " Sartin, Ido wot I kin while de can'ef hole out to burn," Tobe assented rising. " That's right, my man, and you'll help other candles to hold out." " Doctor, understand me,'' explained George. " I must go and search for Captain Bodine, who is wandering on crutches about the city ;" and he hastened to say a word to his father. Ella saw him kneel by the old man, and then rise after a moment or two with such gladness in his face that even the blood and dust stains could not disguise it. Little wonder, for Mr Honghton had said " I'm conquered, George. I give all up—all my ambitiaus dreams about you. What dreams they how seem ! Th«s awful earthquake has shaken away everything except life and the love which makes life worth anything. I've seen the girl, and I don't blame yon. Go ahead." "Oh, thanks, thanks. You'll never be sorry; but, father, please don't say anything to her about—about— Well, she don't know, and I must woo before I can hope to win." " you needn't worry about m*. I'm old enough to be wary," and the old man could not repress a grim smile. Then he added: " George, for mercy's sake, try to get the blood and dust off your face, and find a coat. You look as if you had been through a prize-fight." George explained the quest he was about to enter upon, aud promised caution. Then he approached Ella. " Miss Bodine," he said, " I will search for your father till I find him." Again the girl could not trust herself to speak, bnt tears came into her eyes as she gave him her hand. He pressed it so hard as to leave a delicious ache, and hastened away. " Good Lor! who was that awful-looking man ?" Mrs Bodine asked Ella. "George Houghton. He carried you from home here." "Lor! Lor! Saved my life as well as yours and Cousin Hugh's ?' "Yes; and now he's going to help papa and Mara." " Well, well, we'll have to forgive him for being born North. Is that old " Ella stopped her month with a kiss, and whispered: " That is his father. Don't let us look at him. In fact, I'm afraid to—at least while he is so ill." " Well," ejaculated Mrs Bodine, "if this earthquake does not cure him of his cussedness, I hope the Lord will take him to Heaven." " He did not prevent George from coming to me, nor his going to papa's aid. He was kind, too, to that poor woman yonder. Oh, I'm so sorry for her, and I wish I could do something." " Perhaps you can. Go and see." "I've nothing to put under your head, cousin." " I'll put patience under it. That, I reckon, is all I have left now. Go, Ella, dear, I can't bear to hear her moan. I'm in no pain, and that wine has quite heartened me," Ella did as she was bidden. That Mr Houghton was observant was quickly proved, tor he said to Jube: "Take this pillow to that lady yonder. If she declines,. say you have your orders, and leave it." Mrs Bodine raised herself on her elbow and protested. "Madam," said Mr Houghton, "do not deny a helpless man the privilege of doing a little for the comfort of others at a time like this." "But you have none left for yourself, sir," Mrs Bodine replied. "Madam, you can understand what a satisfaction that will be to me under the circumstances." Mrs Bodine yielded, and admitted to herself that she was much more comfortable. " I reckon the earthquake is doing him good," she thought, "and that the Lord better keep him here a while longer." " Can't you lift me up a little!" gasped the injured woman to Ella. " Oh, now I suffer—suffer!" Ella Btkt down beside her, and gently shifted the pillow, so that it came under the wounded back, while the weary head rested against her bosom. "Ah !" said the poor creature, "that's easier. I reckon I won't have to suffer much longer." Ella spoke soothingly and gently. Mr Houghton, who could only hear the sweet tenderness of her tones, wiped tears from his eyes as he again murmured: " God forgive me, blind, obstinate old fool that I've been !" The adjacent flames now lit up the entire scene, throwing their baleful light on such an assemblage as had never before gathered in this New World. The convulsions which threatened to raze every home in the city had certainly brought the people down to the same level. Both white and colored citizens were mingled together on the square in a swiftlycreated democracy. Character, the noble qualities of the soul, without regard to color or previous condition, now only gave distinction. (To be continued.)