THE GOLDEN HOPE: A ROMANCE OF THE DEEP.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 7743, 14 May 1887, Page 6

THE GOLDEN HOPE: A ROMANCE OF THE DEEP.

Hotoltet,

now FIRST PUBLISHED.]

BY TP". CLARK RUSSELL,

I lireamt a 'clrcam thai was not all a dream.

AUtllOl 1 Ot "A £)E\ yCF.KN', "THE Wreck of the Gbosvexok," "A Sailor's Siveetheawt," &c. CHAPTER THE LAST.— Hove. It is autumn in England. Past the fringe nf trees which about define the limits of Wyloe in the west, the sun is setting with a Gery wild light that has ft tempestuous appearance, because of the swirling and boiling aspect of the scarlet glowing haze which trembles with ablood- . like ardency through the boughs, aud ftoafs far into the east over the delicate greenish azure of the t.];y. Where the sea' stretches westward the water is as scarlet as the. heavpn. The shingle heaves towards the surf along its margin in billows which resemble surges airested in their career ; every stone and pebble have upon them tho rich purple of expiring light, and so deep is the country silence that even in the heart of Wyloe you may plainly hear the washing of the froth running with a delicate seething sound through the air, the peculiar note of which is distinct above the murmur of the voices around, or even the coarse jolting rattle of some cart on the highway beyond. The eastward facing walls of the old church stand black in the long dark shadow of the building, and cast an early night upon the graves there, but the weathercock on the tower has the glowing sunshine still upon it, aud Btrenks the sky like a beam of deep fed light. Yon could tell without enquiring that there is s sense of expectation in Wyloe this evening. It may be detected in such minute signs as tho head or two which will pop out of open windows and shop doors ttt intervals, always glancing up the street towards the " .Barley Mow" inn where the coach stops that comes from Dover. It is also noticeable when old people chanre to meet; 'a shambling couple, say, who as men or women would he content at any other time to call a greeting to each other in their cracked and feeble pipes as they passed, for the excellent reason that their minds hold nothing to warrant a dead stop, that is, nothing outsidn their half score of threadbare local topics which, to deal with according to custom thoy would need an armchair, a pipe, a cup of tea, or any each excuse. But this evening they : come, to a halt.' Garrulity is strong in the'ndseb which they thrust into each other's face. They strike the pavement with tneir Bticks, and pretend to turn tway as if they indeed meant to part, but tli?ir nofea come together again ; and so for half an hour at a time. At the vicarage the diving-mom windows are open," : for the air is colt and pleasant. A lamp stands upon the table, lighted candles upon. the mantel-piece. A goat bleats '-"tremulously somewhere out in the duck. Thero are four people Id this room. One is the Reverend Alfred Clayton, Vicar of ifyloe, the oilier is his brother, Doctor Joseph Cttyton, the third, nnd fourth are Mrs Clayton nnd her daughter Josephine. The ladies are "seated, the gentlemen are puciugthe carpet like sentries, only the doctor is much more active than the parson, who Gils the upartment with a sound af wheezing us he goes. Iv the factor indeed it is a kind of flitting, but tbe movements of both are full of nervousness and agitation, and presently Mrs Clayton finds this activity rather irritating. "My dear," she says, addressing the Vicar, " I wish you would sit down. 1 3aro say if you were to feel my pulse you would find tliafctfay heart beats faster than yours ; would prove of :oursc, that iny> excitement is greater." •'JTot necessarily," .- interrupted the JoOtMT/,"' ' '•' ". .. .' ' •''. •"^at," continued Mrs Clayton, "I 'an repress my feelings and behave, at ill events; as ill were composed." "I can't 9it,&}jyn," said Mr Clayton. ■" Nor I,"«xolAi!U£d the.ductor. "Only consider/.', tljse Vicar continued, :omirt£J to a stand opposite his wife, and alking' asthmatically, " for raontha and nouths we have been in ignorance of o»r lear .i^ajba'a fate. For months and nontliß wb have been convinced that STo'rteicue is l.he victim of a distressing lelusion, and <<twt he is vnyagiug on a juest merely to peftiah by the way or return with a heart bro,k*o by disappointnuont. Instead'of wbiah.q'uiy yc§terday norning I get a letter from &im saying that he is alive, that he has . Ag'a^a with him, that they are both well, ifcat they have arrived off Deal in the Golden Sope, that they are lingering to mafco lome purchases at Seal, and expect to ;p here this evening >af seven o'clock." Sfi pulled out his 'watch.' " How can I fit ,4opn," he added. "Emtement! JVhy, |l|tre is a miracle — a miracle." "1 qnly ,mean," said Mrs Clayton, '• thatiit increases one's on n nervousness svhon other people are restless." "Hnah-!". cried tJja doctor, hollowing hitf hands round his ear ajfc the window, and fhrnsting his head out, Aftbr ». little, asthma, conquered »nd the Jlor. Alfred Clayton sat down. Qfce doctor was naturally of a dark Boriipletion, with tho Indian's dusky Bye, but |b.e now showed himself burnt to the color <ot ground ooffeo. Indeed Ltd he acted as a sbjp's 'fisure-head in a voyage ronnd the v/otld, his skin conld liarflly have been more unsparingly tanned. "Curse <he moths!" he Buddenijr crier], as a,grcat fellow, bi? as a butterfly, faded tin through the window, and went slipping ehotib the ceiling with a noiaaliue the toeing of a sailor in a jig. •■We shan't be able to iuaar anything for itbJai: creature's wings." , -"'jffoe more ono thinks of it." pf claimed |the Vicar, " the more absolutely .ncredible *nd marvellous it fir erne, A .fna«i is in |lov.ci ivilh a girl. She sails for ■India ', the ship ia burnt, and the people iiake to the boats, lover dreams of ibi< loss of (he ship, seea an island in a vision withthinj>wcHthea.;r.,v{)6n it, finds imifc-w'here the island is, sell" a «ojjip]e of thoufttdrt pounds worth cf Becariti^, baya a Jif*le ship, and steers for this «pot of land somewhere* in the Indian Ocean,. Whi," he exclaimed, "it must bi, since Iva has beif with him, that ho -found ber oe tho /s.'and, and tbnt every .circumstance of the voyage corroborated Shis dream." • "It is a great pity," ws Josephine. *'«i!flt Mr Fortescue should not have *M'i6 in his letter. To be kept alltltis itime vcjondoring ■! If ho really foun4 her •on the island tho whole thing will be &ltriOßt too awful." " Why?- allied Mrs Clayton. •" Well, if it happened to me, I mean nf I were to dream as Mr Fortnpeuo did, >and it came true, it would make mo ■feel as if it was unnatural and belonged •to .the period of th« Old Testament, end yhad heen selected." -"HeEays Agatha h well," says Dr tOlaylon, " but how about that lung of Ihera, I wonder. This and her general OieaVth ihad greatly inproved even bofors •we got to the Cape ; of that there is no •doubt." " Dear me," said Mrs Clayton with *Tiervou3 twitch in her chair, "I wish th«y would ooine." Bat they had to wait, and then Dr Clayton bringing his head from the window and crying out, " I hear the coach ! " ran without his hat out of the house, Ipaving the others moving about thp room in the lapt stage of restlessnessj anxiety, and consuming expectfttiflnj _ ,

I Another five minutes ; the sound of I eager voices outside. Mrs. Clayton and ! Josephine run into the hall, the Vicar goes puffing after them ; the door ia wide open ; the figure of a girl bounds up the steps, and in a breath the hall is ftijl of people, kissing, crying, shaking bands, and the like. Nor does this complete the picture, for there ore some scores of parishioners who had got to hear that i their curate was coming back with the shipwrecked sweetheart he had gone in senrch of, und who, on seeing Mr. Forteseue and Agatha alight from the coach, follow them and the doctor into the vicarage grounds, where they stand like « wall, waiting until the embracing is over to chenr. The opportunity arrived ; a perfect yell cf welcome like a hurricane sweeps out of those hearty seaside lungs of leather ; the shout is again repeated, Rnd no ono could have imagined for how long a time these excellent people would ; have stayed, if the vicar had not stood upon the step, thankpd thpm in the name of his curate «nd the lady for their cordial reception, told ihein that Mr. Forteseua was too much affected to address even a sentence to them, and so dismissed them. Half an hour later there was something like composure among the inmates of the vicarage, but until then there bad been little more than explanations, touching illustrations of Agatha's delight in finding her stop-father alive and well, questions from tha Vicar diverted from their purpose by Mrs. Clayton, who doclared that she would not have Agatha and Mr. Fortescue worried until they had sopped and wore rested and fully capable of stating their adventures. But human nature could not stand out. Thero was a limit, and it was arrived at Bhortly nftur they had seated themselves at the cheerful abundant supper table. . " Only one question, Forteacue," rapped out out vicar, " nothing further, I eiveyoumy word, until after Bupper — but— but— did you find Agatha on the island ? " ■ " Yec," responded Fortescue. The lleverend Mr. Clayton rolled up hiseyos totheceiling. Josephincclasped her, hands and looked thrilled. The doctor uttered " Amaziug ! Amazing !" and Mrs. Clayton said, adressing her husband, " Do please go on carving, my dear." However, before the supper was over the doctor had told Ms story, at all events. He had made one of forty people in the long-boat of the Verulatn. It was hot until the dawn broke that he found he was separated from his stepdaughter ; for though tha flames burnt 1 fiercely in thel fore part ot the Verulam, 1 it was impossible for him even by their 1 light to distinguish the facesof the crowd 1 which brmiglit the boat low in the water. ' Their sufferings, however, did not last 1 long, for on the evening of the second 1 day they were sighted by a French brig ' bound to Mauritius, that bore down and 1 took them on board, where, indeed, ow- ' ing to the numerous crew of Frenchmen f aud the smallness of the vessel's 1 accommodation, they werenot very much 1 better off than they had been in tile long- ( boat. Fivo days after, an Indiaman < r-elonging to the fi.-tn that owned the 1 Veiulam overhauled the brig, and the < captain on hearing who were tho people 1 the Frenchman had picked up, f immediately consented to receive the 1 whole of them. In this manner the 1 doctor made his way to England, but * very much against his wishes, for his I destination had bnen Bombay, and ha t naturally concluded, that if tha people <- ia the boat in which Agatha was were 1 rescued, there was much more likelihood 1 of their being conveyed to some adjacent f poit, whence Agatha would be aole to make her way to Bombay, than carried ( to England. But it could not bo helped. 1 The little doctor was brought to London, l and thence proceeded to W yloe. at which 1 place on hearing from his brother of t Forteacue's extraordinpry dream, and the singular quest b<> had embarked on, 9 ho determined to remain until news of s Agatha or Fortwscuo should reach him. s Such «ac the doctor's storj', hut he t related every particular, was excessively i minute, and made much of the loss of c bis luggage and some valuable books in tho Verulam, and of bis sufferings in 1 tho boat, and on the French brig, so that, \ frequently interrupted ati bo was by 0 questions, the termination of his nwa- fc live found the supper cloth removed, t mid the Olnytons, who had heard the 0 doctor's story over and over flgaiD, all c throbbing with anxiety for Fortescue to r begin. r And y pr , though in the curnte's own "5 mind what he had undergone might have a appeared to him to wgrrari,t the furnish- i ing out of a sittiug that should Usp £". r days, when it came to his talking he a found there was little to say. He gave them the story, plainly related one or two t incidents of the passage to the island, 1 Ws misgivings touching Stone's accuraoy i fl^ramra doubts, tho fears which would hau,D,t hitq ,tbi>,fc after all the viaion that ( iiad iraßeJlod ijrjj' ;#ii{fat p^oya as delusive aa dreams ,us,uii|lly are .; hi^ anxiety ' an the hour for the is}and' to he'aye p 1 view approached, the profound conyiction which seized him that the fiqijer .of I Almighty God had pointed the WW, I when the land stood fair before him in the calm tester;, a conformation startling l>y familiarity, since he knew it as a roan might know any piece he bad visjjMj. He told them about hU landing, how bt? had found Agatlis ; hut now a conspiou--OUS reserve marked bis narrative. Ho sjinpiy }fit them suppose that t>n finding Agatiha l^e U$ bpr to the boat. Nothing was Bsid #bo,i,it t;!i,s! loes of her momory. Meanwhile sho saiTjis^enino; to hjin, with eyes that seeropd to (iijor.a liiai, rooted to his faco. He was silent on tjie subiect of the baby, but be told them how they were nearly seutto the bottom by a whale ; " though," said he, ■ " our passage home was utterly uneventful after we took the southeast trades. The Golden Hope i» & wonderful suiler, and our run from the line io the English Channel showed an average of two hundred milea a day. We anchored off Deal, and I induced Agatha to remain on bjoard whilst I went ashore iv search of Boftie npa qualified to make her fit to travel j# Ho lnughed, running his .ey.es /jyor her dress, and taking up her h»acjt and kigsffin; it. " Bow on earth, Agatha flftj'iy'.' ex- . claimed Miaa Clayton, "did you manage on that island ?" "My bedroom was a cave," she assured. ■■'}. »fld(3rsfood you to fa/ that the men Wjjlt her a Biimmer-hou ip, Fortescue," broke ju the doctor. " Agntha slept in a cave/ said FortPßcue, giving the doctor a peculiar look. ' " How long were you on tbo island ?'' asked the vicar. Agatha thought, glanced wistfully at ber lover, and then looked on the floor with a slightly troubled expression, jyhich the doctor's keen eyo noticed. ''IJTo matter, my dearest," said he. "I am urp-tef ill to God to find you so well. Your eyejf are amazingly bright and clear ; yoiir comalej icn is also an it should be." Ho put bis finger jjpon her wrist. " All's well that enJs weli, mv lova," said he soothingly. "I will soijnd your lung to-morrow, but I expect to find it perfectly healthy." "Were tho Ejijors kindon the island?" said Mrs Clayton, This staited the giiri, for memory could help her here. She tod them abcut her sufferings in the boat, about Archer's noble humanity and goodness to her, how tho boat went to pieces in the surf, and how Archer rescued her. She also told them about her island life, the food they had managed to get, the w^rm fresh water springs they had found B£id go forth, but they all noticed the abrupt p.3Uße;# her relation when, whilst j.t was obyiouVto .them jthat only half o the time she had been .upon the island j was accounted for by the incidents sho ]

narrated, ahe stopped ai if the atory ended there. Tho impression was that there was aoomethine behind which both she and Fortescue desired to conceal, because his reserve in its way had not been less suggestive than hor making out that her life on the inland had come to an end, when, in reality, she must have passed many more weeks upon it ere thd arrival of the schooner. Tho doctor looked worried ; yet for an hour longer they went on tatkintr ; on.: question leading to another, till you would have supposed thero was nothing moro to tell. Then Agatha owned she wiib wearied, and would be glad to go Co bed, on which thebeU was rung, servants arrived, and after the usual prayers were read, the vicar knelt, and offered up thanksgiving to God for the preservation of the life of Agatha, for His guidance of Fortuscue, for their huppy return. Much more he said, deeply affected himself, and using such tender, moving angunge, that there was a frequen t sound of sobbing heard whilst lie prayed. The ladies then withdrew, nnd tho little doctor looked about him for his pipe. " Where are you going ? " said the Vicar to Portoscue. "To seek a bed," said he, laughing. " I will run round to my old lodgings whilst the people are still awake." "No.no; a room is i«idy for you here. Sit down my dear friend. How bronzed you are ! Almost as black as my brother. The sea is a brave life. I sometimes wish I'd been a sailor." " Yes, a braro y life to look at througha window," aaid Kortescne, smiling. " Sit down, FoitjHCue," said the doctor: ' f uerei3 a pouch of excellent tobacco. I want yon to tell me about Agatha. Something ails her montally. Ila it her memory f" He fixed Ms black eyes, full of anxious scrutiny, upon the curate. "It is," answered Fortescue, "but thank God it Is not as it was when I found her. Ah ! " he exclaimed, covering his face with his hands, " what I have endured, what I have suffered on the grounds of her memory only, can never bo known, save to my Maker .' " Ho lingered so long with. bi« face hidden that they supposed him to be in prayer, and neither of them spoke. After a little while he looked up, and then in a broken way at first, but gaining ground bb he proceeded, ho told them how, when he had first come across Agatha on the island, tie hnd necn her lying wildly beautiful in her tattered raiment upon the ground of tho little house of boughs, striving to collect in the palm of her hand a pool of sunshine beside her ; she looked at him in a halfwitted manner »s h« diemed, and with absolutely unrecogniaing eyes ; nnd then he found her memory was gone, that she knew him not, had not the faintest recollection of the past. This was confirmed by the brave fellow 4rcher, who afterwards narrated in tbo cabin of the schooner in what dreadful manner it had come about that, recollection was destroyed in her. 'J'ho whole story he told them ; of the baby who had been ( put aboard by the French man-of-war; ° of the girl's extraordinary devotion and " love for the little one ;of it's falling • from her hands into the sea ; her c anguish ; the babe's burial ; thtimiraen- 6 lous restoration of Agatha's memory at n Hnt moment; the equally marvellous * heuumbment, or utter extinction of ' her capacity fur recalling a single cir- s cumstauee from tha time previous to l her struggle witli the spamsu, down to f hor awakening frjm tho swoon that t followed her recognition of her lover. " They listened with amazsmonf, more " particularly the Vicar, who looked as if a he was now certain the age of miracles t had returned. Dr Clayton, puffing his c pipe, said : "Is her memory, ai regnrds t tun interval you speak of, still dead ? " C Yes. Once, very cautiously, about i fortnight ago I touched upon the l subject of the baby, wondering whether t such a reference to emotions bo vital as ' those the poor little infant had excited t in her, would stir her recollection. It ° did not, slip gazed at mo blankly." n "To think," cried the Vicar, clasping I' his hands, '■ thut out of the death rf a I liftle child, the memory, the happiness •' ot one wh/j loyp'l ft sjiould come buck to 8 her! What wondroW jii3ti(jcn.tiojj of I the truth and beauly of that snyine of " 3ur Lord, ' Whosoever shall receive one f of such children in my name, roceiveth l me, and whosoever shall receive me, ° rpceivelh not iup, but him that sent mo.' 8 You took that infant in God's name, »nd tho Spirit of G-ori came to you with a it, and blessed you both." 1 "Yes. I felt that over and over ' Sgajn," said Fortescu. 1 . I] •'But nor'' memory regards her r Dast, down to the moment vyfjen'rccol- I lection ceases, is perfect ?" enquired I the doctor. ' "A3 perfect as cvor it wai," an- v swered the curate. r " All things, 1 ' continued tho doctor 4 , H " which have happened since her recog- I ration oj! yon Bhe can recollect? " b ."^fes— alj. tilings. You may liken her memory (6 'a c"bafn. 'A dark J shadow ljes uppn a few Ijnks. The rest 1 is sunshine. 1 ' 1 It may ba the design qf heaven," aald the vicar, •' that eke should not recol- 1 lect tho dreadful thing that befej her ' upon the island." i fl Aje," exclaimed Forteseue, "and ' I believe it was heaven's will that her 1 memory should leave her that health of ' the body might return. The past was < struck out. Her mind could catch hold l of nothing fo fret over. When I found « hep sj)o resembled some ocean gLddess, I a tof t h'opical bJow jn har checks, an e^cjuisil.o dajiting Jireedora in hej; mpvemenj;, aa csrelp3s a? tbe"br,ecge' aud as Fadiant. Qherp was a far richer health in her beauty than is now visjblej'for ehe fretted inwardly when she pamp to know from me that she had a memory to which she was Wind, and that I, who stood before her was her lover, betro'hefl to her, but unknown ito her." \ Dr Clayton rose ami paced the room. He delivered a long medisal opinion upon tho singular mental problem thit Agatha hod, and in a great degree still submitted. He said that tho recovery of her health through the loss pi her memory waa in its way as wonderful ns i»;ij' o£her feiture of tho vojage ar.d rescue j jut fee- conceivable that no s'.u-lent of psjehology could question tho ac;uraey of the theory that attributed recovery to a lona cf all reco'lection of whatever could keep her fretting or deapiirful. He declared himself on the whole at not uneasy" b# tjie scoro of tjic second lapse of memory, and ' said tji^t jn all probability it was for the best that she should not be able to rcoall tho assault that had shocked memory out of her, — at least until her mind had regained tho old vigor. He added ho did not doubt th it in time recollection would fill tho hiatus ; and having thu3 delivered himself, he spoke of other marvels of this strange passage in two human lives, more particularly Fortescutrs pi3>op, aud then tt ? conversation went over liio" whojo ground of; the voyage aguin. As darknf-ss deepens into midnight over Wyloe, and the extinguished lights in the vicaiage leave the house a black Bhadow against the trees wl(ich surround it, tho writer pauses, finding his story told. For the curate's quest is oyor ; ho has brought his loved one buck in safety nnd in health ; and it was but to relate the voyago that this narrative was entered upon. There are, indeed, other scenes beyond : The return of tho curate to his old life and habits, I glimpses «f Agatha, sweet and gentle, 1 winning love on all hands, nnnating again aud again the atory of her ship-

wreck and of her life upon tho island so far as her memory carried her ; Doctor Clayton's discovery, confirmed by tho London physician who had advised the voyage, that her lung was perfectly sound ; her marriage to Fortescue in the December following their arrival, and the return of the doctor to India a month later. Out of all these thiugs another volume could be made, but tha story is long tuough. Yet tho Golden Hope ! That brave schooner that carried the clergyman to the island of his dream ! What of her? And of William Stono and Hiram Weeks, aud old William Bree- | cues, and the rest of the little company of souls? Well, first of the Golden Hope, nnd then a sentence or two for tho men, ere they are dismissed into that shadowy liind out of which the pen of the novelist summoned them. On the arrival of the scluoner at the Bast India Docks, Fortesouo wroto to hia relative, Mr Salt, to nsk him to negotiate the salo of her. He had no further need of liar, he aaid ; ahe h;ui enabled him to accomplish, his mission ; when he thought of ber it was as of n living being, lovely, loyal, and affectionate, and were he a richer man he wonld not part with her for four times the sum she cost him. But he was now about to incur many oxpeuseß, and it waa out of the question that he could preserve the vessel merely as a relic. On the top of this letter Mr Salt came down tn Wyloe, was very handsomely received by the Vicar, introduced to Agatlui, with whom he fell deeply in love, and now hearing from J?ortescuo tho motives and causes which led to his undertaking the voyage, for as we know the clergyman hxd concealed from his relative all about his dream and its startling eorroboratton, he was bo ruucli impressed with the story that he declared the schooner ongbt to be kept in the family; and declining to listen to Fortosoue's entreaties that he would take time to consider tho matter, he wrote him a cheque that included not only the price the Golden Hope had cost the curate, but all tho expenses of her provisioning, wages, and tho like, along witb tho one hundred guineas that was to be Stone's reward for determining the position of the island. For four yours tha old gentleman used the Golden Hope aa a yacht, and talked so much of the marvellous errand his nephew had puther upon, that people looked at her as if she was a curiosity, the remains of something sacred and full of mystery. Mr Salt then finding '. liimself growing too old for ynchting, sold her for a few hundred pounds to a i [nan who started her afresh iv her old 1 business of carrying cargoes of fruit. '. iix months after this, news reached 1 Fortescue that the Golden Hope had ] aeen in collision in the Bay of Biscay 1 md foundered with tho loss of two of ] ior crotr. | William Stone not only r.caived the 1 lundrpd guineas, but a very handsome 1 rift of money besides, subscribed to by 1 it Clayton, Wrojtliani, Skinner and Co. ( who were greatly pleased with the t :onduct of their old servant), Mr Snj.t ( j .nd J?ortescuo. Archer also n}et with f he liberal treatment tlio poo? fejlow t lobly deserved. Nor was Hiram for- f ;otteu. He was made happy by a gift 3 <t flf ty pounds and a very Sna telescope, J ha inscription on which was coinpli- i nuntary enough to keep the old fellow 1 tniling every time he had occasion to r tse the glnss. Every one of the crctv, i rom old Bill Breeches down to Johnny, r he boy, received acpording tp his ratjng r '. substantial gift of money orcr and c ibovo his wages, so thut ovoti the surly I .ud aupergtitious cook had to admjt I hat now tho astonishing voyage was I iver, he bad every rpuson to be satisfied i hat he had signed articles for the 1; lolden Hope. , But Jack is a fugitive croature, Of d he three principal seamon concerned in ) his tale, the first to entirely disappear ], ras Archer. Ho stayed ashore for some & ime, giving out that he had had enough L f the sea, aud meant to "knock oil;" s nd start in .a little business now that f IB had a triflo of money to call his own. c Ie went down to Wyloe two or three ] : imes, where he was received aa a j restly-prized friend, and talked to y furteacue about the s.ort of business i, ip'migfl't cgnsirjer himsHJt'bfjst qualifjerl l t or, and was evidently iij earnesf. Some? o irae wentby, and 7'oi'teacijß uot hearing c f him, wrote to learn how ho wbu ;etting on, when to tbo groat grief of j; Luatha and himself, there came back s , letter from Mm Archor saying that ] ( Ler husband having grown uneasy at 1 he idta of remaining ashore had deter- v nined to make one moro voyuge. Ho j, lad found a berth as boatswuin on (j |oard a vpase} bound to tha M'oijt 0 ndjes, She l|«d slii'fted h'er'fjargS ju p he English Qhannpl durjflu heavy [ feather, and Archor entering the hold „ 0 lend the men a hand to trim the ituff thut was tumbling about, had „ >een so cruelly ciu^Cl ttlt tZ Uti. Z ihortly after lie had been sent ashore! " t The next to fade out was Hiram, 0 iortescae was never ablo to learn wlmfc f us end' w4?. or wjjat' hal 'become pf i lim, supposing b,e still lived. Qld Wi}liam Stone lingered loug^r t opg pnough tp dance. th.ree of Agatha's + >abies upon his knee, to gut onfc and ■i« little boats for the eldest of them c vhen he was in his -fifth year, to spin * o»g yarns at Poitesoue's table, to f Hvert and even to charm the friends )f the clergyman and his wife with his t irguments, religious notions, his politics { md his singular language. It will thus j »c guessed that he was a frequent visitor at Wyloe. But one day For- j escue received a letter from the owners >f the Verulam saying that poor old ] irVillfom v Stone llad a wfte's: preyionaly nade his last stretp'h ofl; sfiore aud gbne ] ;o rest in a graveyard in the neighbor. s loud of lijs well-beloved dock haunts. t Six months after tho return of For- | ;eßcne and Agatha, there was placed in 1 conspicuous part of tile church at j Wyloe, a memorial I ablet, on which , km inscribed :— ' Sacred to the Memory of f MALCOLM HOPE, < An infant ' Who died nfc sea on board the schooner ' " Golden Hope," On the lHh August, 18— ] "Ho toob » phllil and set Urn h\ the \ " mid.it 0/' t//.cm.'.', ■ ■ I One summer day Malcolm Fortostue ' and hia wifo Agatha enierod the church ' hand in hoi'd. They stood for a few i minutes before this tsblct, A?athi with ' her eyes fixod upon it, Fortescue watching her. ; !' Ob, Malcolm," she exclaimed, in a low thrilling' voice, with'a' look on 'hef fai;e of exquiaito toudoruesß, "I vo'. member ! Yes, it has all come back to me — poor little nameless ono ! " Her eyes filled with tears, and thus wnepiug she knelt, hor husband by hor side, still hand in huud. [the end. I