From Jubilee to Jnbilee.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2169, 13 August 1897, Page 3

From Jubilee to Jnbilee.

GHAPTEII 1.-THE QUEEN -AND A SHADOW. "God bless the Queen! Loug may she reign! Hurrah! Here she comes!''; sboutetl the throng of people who lined the route to Westminster Abbey, long before Her Majesty had thought of leaving Buckingham Palace. ' It was 21st June. 18S7. Queen Victoria's Jubilee, and certainly one of the greatest and happiest days that had ever dawned for the British nation, and the people accepted it as such, and rejoiced accordingly. The street decorations, bunting, flags, deviees. flowers, and other eiul>ellisbments. together with the gaily-dressed multitude, the prancing horses of the troopers, and the intense expectation .which thrilled in the air as the people awaited the coming of their Queen, seemed to intoxicate the more youthful of the crowd, who relieved their overcharged feelings in the only way i>ossible. namely, by shouting. Moving even an arm was simply out of the question, by reason of the crush. Among the throng gathered at Waterloo Place, and leaning comfortably against a pillar, stood a tall, heartylooking man. of about thirty-live. His bat far on the back of his head (for the day was warm), disclosed a broad, massive brow, surmounted by a v-ivy crop of brown hair; bright bine eyes, though set a trifle too near together, and a genial expression over all his face, gave him the look of a man in whom a crowd delights, and who, in turu, is delighted by it.

In the gay badinage around, he always saw the joke, and generally had a wore witty, though probably less personal, rejoinder, ready. Altogether, the fifty or so folks crammed into the few square yards immediately around him seemed on very good terms with themselves and each other. One exception alone there was. and he stood in the background, with bis bat pulled well over his face, listening and watching with a supercilious sneer, always keeping well in view the light-hearted friend of the people. At last, about half-past eleven, the excitement became intense, and the shouting and hurrahing grew positively deafening, for the cavalcade turned from Regent street into Waterloo place, and the long-waiting and patient crowd saw the Guards of Honor prance gaily and gaudily by. followed by ten State carriages, with the Royal Princesses and their ladies-in-waiting, and then THE QUEEN. As the State carriage, drawn by its six cream-colored horses, passed along. Her Majesty bowed and acknowledged with some emotion the people's enthusiasm.

The grand, grave, womanly face, with its halo of white hair, its majesty, and its love, which has never failed her subjects, seemed almost too much for the loyal people, who loved her. and many felt the tears rush to their eyes as they remembered the young girl who had taken np the world's most important position i>o years liefore. and fulfilled its onerous duties with so much love and discretion. But the carriage rolled on. watched by countless eyes, till tlie unfamiliar ,white bonnet (donned by Her Majesty for the first time for a quartet of a eentuary) seemed but a tiny si>eck in the distance, as the Queen still bowed her acknowledgments. The crowd stood still till all the procession had passed, and then waited for the bells to ring out, announcing that the Queeu had seated herself on the dais in Westminster Abbey. Then the weary ones turned, and endeavored to push a way through the crowd, though .with infinite la!>or and indifferent success.

Among these was the tall man. who abandoned his pillar and squared his shoulders, determined that his weight should telL As he turned, the man with the shouched hat edged forward, and touched him. ne looked round quickly, and as their eyes met. said hoarsely, "Good God. Dnmeresqne, what are you here for?"

Dumeresqne shrugged his shoulders as be replied briefly in Frenrb, '•Business."

"Is it serious?" asked the other, quietly, though bis lips trembled. ••Well." drawled the Frenchman. "I wight say, very—for youT'

The other moistened his lips, and looked for a moment steadily at the disreputable figure before him. "Yes." slid he then, in French, "I thought it would come soiue time. We must have an interview. Meet me at a quarter past eight, at .TO Grosvenor street. Go straight up the stairs (.there is no door) To the third Hat—the door facing yon is my office. Don't forger. 8.15 sharp- Meanwhile, we had each better go our own way." "Yea." agreed the Frenchman. "But. If you've a few shilliugs handy I'd be glad of them. I've not had a square meal for a week.*' "By all means." said the other, bandlog bim a sovereign. "I'm sorry you're down on your luck. But never mind. well soon make it all right." aud nodding genially, he turned away. CHAPTER lI.—MURDER AND A FRIEM). That evening, just as the clocks struck the half hour after eight, a young man turned into tlrosveuor street, aud walked briskly along, glancing with eager, interested eyes at the wonderful illuminations which began to blaze forth. Frank Russell might not lie called strictly handsome. periiai>s. but his merry eyes aud smile, and frank, open face won him friends without number. He was just twenty-two, and had already made a fair start as an engineer of much promise. He was not by any means rich. L2OO a year being all he could reckon on outside his earnings. i>ot he was content, aud beginning to make a very good income, much to his joy. for he had Ix'en engaged for the last six months to "the dearewl girl in the world." as he repeatedly told himself. And though he was happy in being engaged, he ardently longed for the time to come when he could many. For Constance Stanghton was rich, that was the trouble, and if only she bail beeu poor, they might have been married now. but that thought was almost too delightful to tie dwelt on. He hurried aloug. his light, springy step ami unaffected interest in all around showLag a mind young aud healthy enough to appreciate and enjoy life to the full. As he reached the dingy, narrow passage of Xo. ."in. he stood a moment in the entrance, well out of the way of the fast gathering crowd, and glanced at (the brilliant spectacle before him. The street had been decorated with very good taste ami uniformity, outside many of the windows hum; tablets InscrilK-d with short sentences, dotted cut of tiny electric lights, and forming appropriate salutations. "Victoria-All Nations Hfllutc Thee. The British Isles. JTue Indian Empire. Your Colonies, in America, in Australasia, in Africa, in Oceania. All Salute Thee." These interspersed with the more usual crowns. ttrclcs and other devices, made the night brilliant. Frank looked and admired and felt a thrill of pride to think that he was one of that Imperial people, then turned and 3T6

wont gaily np stairs, three steps at a time.

He opened the door facing the stairs, feeling in his pocket for some matches] and groped in the dark towards the gas! As he walked slowly across the room, carefully picking his way, he stumbled in the dark and fell over some unfamiliar object lyiug on the floor. As he went down, one of his hands came in contact with a warm, soft substance, which felt reinarkablv like a human face. He started up. a chilly sensation of dread creeping over him. ' What there was in that touch he could not define, but it unnerved him. and the deep silence of the room oppressed him strangely. Almost he was tempted to hurry away without investigating auy further, but some force stronger than himself compelled him to light the gas. Then lie turned his gaze on the floor.

His forebodings were ouly too well grounded. A man—a dead man—lay with his glassy eyaa turned upward and i>is teeth fiercely clenched. It was murder, evidently, but there had been no struggle, nothing was upset, everything in order, and only that still form and the long. deep, thick stream oozing slowly from the side of the head, to tell its own tale.

Frank gazed with horror-stricken eyes a moment, then rang the bell violently for the old woman who lived in an underground room, and acted as caretaker.

He crossed the room, and repressing a shiver of repulsion, knelt down and placed his band on the man's heart. though he knew by the wide, staring eyes, and the deep stillness of the body, that life must be extinct.

It was quite warm, but no beat of the heart, or throb of the pulse was there. As he knelt his eyt» wandered over the floor, tracing the dark stain, and suddenly he caught sight of a small pistol lyiug a few feet off. He sprang up aud tore open the drawer of a small writing-desk standing by the wall. It was empty. Then he took up the weapon and examined it closely.

Yes! it was certainly bis. Frank pushed his hair back from his forehead ,nnd dimly wondered if this was all a frightful nightmare. Surely it must be. Why should a man whom he had never seen before come to his private room on a public holiday like this? Could it be suicide:

But no, that wound could not have been self-inflicted.

Then, no one except himself had any Idea that he had a load<*l pistol here. True, he had once shown it to Harold Staughton. but he was Constance's brother, and Frank himself was just as likelyu to have killed the man as Harold.

He examined the pistol again. Yes, one chamber had been fired lately. A horrified shriek rang through the room, and Frank saw the old caretaker turn away and scuttle down stairs, still shrieking at the top of her voice. He flew after her. telling her in mi gentle tones to ".shut np that noise." Bui it was extremely doubtful whether she heard, and. certainly, she took no heed, for she presently returned, escorted by two policemen and a few hundred people, endeavoring to crush up the narrow staircase.

Foremost in the crowd came Harold Staughton. his bluff, hearty face pale with concern as lie saw his friend's awful predicament, for the old woman solemnly declared sin- had seen Frank shoot the man.

The fact that he was holding the pistol when she saw him was quite sufficient ground for her to go upon. The policemen quickly cleared the room, and calmly waited the arrival of the doctor, for whom they had sent. They, however, allowed Harold Staughton to remain, at Frank's earnest request. Poor boy! never had he felt so utterly lonely and unprotected as then, and Harold, with his brisk way of overcoming difliculties. seemed a very tower of strength. "Have yon any idea how this happened';" asked one of the policemen. glancing keenly at Frank's disturbed face.

•'None whatever." replied Frank dejectedly. "1 am utterly at a loss to account for it."

"Had yon an appoiutmeut here with the man ':"

".Not with him." replied Frank, "but n .j t l,—- Here he caught Staugbton's eve. Was it a sign V Why that imploring look V Frank stopped—hesitated- and then: "So." he said: "I had no api> liniment." The (tolicemaii raised bis eyebrows siguiii.anlly as he glanced at his mate, and Stanghton broke in—

"This is hardly professional. My frieud need make no remarks likely to tell against him. Of course, the inquiry will disclose all. and meanwhile it s the most utterly absurd charge possible. Why. I've known Russell for years, and a more tender-hearted fellow never breathed. Besides, he's engaged to inj sister, and all this will be very distressing to her. That old woman downstairs ought to be strangled—she really ongbt." and Harold thrust his hands into his IHK-kets.iu as nearly a temper as he ever allowed himself to get. "Maybe." returned iiic policeman, drily: "bur theirs a good many of them sort knock in' round as'!! never set their deserts."

Here the doctor arrived, and. after an examination, declared, what ihcy all knew perfectly well before—namely, that the man was quite dead. "Well." said the policeman, turning to Frank, "that being so. I'm afraid I must trouble you to come with me." Frank, reeling quite stunned Hi the dreadful turn affairs had taken, turned to go quietly enough, till, catching sight of Stanghton. he stopped, and his face worked convulsively. "Stanghton." he said, hoarsely, "what will Constance say 7 Will you tell her it is all a dreadful mistake V Make her believe it. If she will only trust me. I " but his voice broke, and lie turned away, feeling too intensely wretched to speak. Stanghton grasped las hand warmly. "Look here, old man.'' he said, earnestly. ••Constance is the right sort. She will believe in you right enough. And. 1 say. Frank, try and keep up. It's a wretched business, goodness knows, but we'll *>on make it all right." and Stanchion left the room, conscious that he had Used the lasi sentence ouce before that day. riiAri hi: Mi.-roXST.\XCK STAUtiHTON. Coustaucc Stanghton sto.ni in the luxurious drawiugriwim of her brother's mausiou in \\y<U- Park Square, impatiently lapping on the window which looked on; o.'i ibe balcony, and gave her a irood view of rbe thousands Hocking iato the more frequented parts or' London to see the illuminations. This was not as enlivening as 'n might have been, for she was wautinc to go. ten. "Really, this is too bad of Frank and Howard." she soliloquised, while ;i lit;lt* pucker of annoyance appeared on her smooth brow. It was ;i charming I'm e. notwithstanding the pucker and tii" poutiug lips. An eminently loving nod lovable face, with glorious deep blue eyes and rippling chestnut hair, and witli a little, square chin, on width sal a provoking, tiny dimple.

"The illuminations will all be over when they come for me." she went on. "It's a quarter-past nine, ami they promised to be here punerualiy half an hour ago. and Harold made that appointment with Frank for half-past eight on purpose, because Frank had to so to Bayswater on business. Perhaps he stayed there. No, I'm sure he wouldn't, though. I expect it's all that Harold's fault, but. all the same. I'll just give it to Frank when I see him."

Suddenly site started and drew back. Good heavens! A man was climbing up the balconv!

The next moment she opened the window and sprang lightly out, her displeasure all forgotten. •'Frank.'' she exclaimed, giving him a little, loving shake, "what in the world are you acrobating round the balcony fur. instead of behaving like a decent member of society V But. never mind; I won't scold you any more if you'll just take me off at once before I miss all the fun. Why don't you kiss me ?" holding up a charming, tempting mouth. Frank took her in his arms, and kissed Iter feverishly, hungrily—kissed her brow. Iter hair, her lips, as though he. could not let her go. "My darling," he said, in a hard, strained voice. "I have not a moment. I hurried here literally at the risk of my life. I have been accused of a cruel, foul murder; but I swear before Heaven that I am as innocent as yourself. You believe me. Coustance V" and he looked at the girl with a world of pleading and entreaty in his despairing young eyes. Constance, with all the playful, happy light fading from her face, looked back at him. She could not control her voice for a moment, but be read her entire belief in her deep, pure eyes. "I won't thank you for your trust." lie said, quietly, "but you can form no idea of the load it lifts from my heart. Bin I must be off. The mob rushed the policemen, and I escaped. If I have any luck. I will go straight to Australia —to Victoria. I think. I'm afraid 1 ought to have stayed and braved it out, but it is too late now. If it is all cleared up. send me word, to Frank Barrett (my mother's name, you knowi. Post Office, Melbourne. If not. you must think no more of me, my darling. Try and forget you ever saw such an unhappy wretch." "But it will l>e cleared up—it must l>e!" cried the girl, eagerly. "I will never, never forget you. Send your address to the Melbourne Tost Office, so I can let you know when it is all right. Oh, Frank, must you go ? Don't. deardon't; 1 can't bear it." "Don't make it harder, darling." pleaded the young man: "and. my deal one. don't let all this spoil your life." "No—no." sobbed the girl; "but I am ouly eighteen, so. even if we wait years and years, we could still have a loug time together. Good-bye good-bye, dearest. Oh. don't forget me." as Frank crushed her in nil arms once more and disappeared.

CHAPTER IV.—THE NEW LAM) AND A NEW LIFE.

Some three months later. Frank Itussell, or Barrett, as he called himself, stood on the steps of Parliament House. and gazed down Bourke street, and. as be looked, he laughed at tlte sinallness of his conceptions regarding Melbourne. Certainly he had thought to find a busy, prosperous city, and was quite well-in-formed concerning the color of the people, their habits, and mode of life generally. But Melbourne, as she was. and Melbourne, as he had thought to find her. was as different as substance to shallow. And, indeed, it would have been hard to find a fairer, happier, more delightful city than the Queen of the South in the time of her glory. Her harbors crowded—her revenue overflowing—her banks rich—her laud daily increasing in value—her buildings stately and. crowded, and her people lighthearted and joyous.

Alas! when the crush canic the contrast was all too bitter, by reason of that very prosperity. But, though fallen from lier high estate, the plucky little city's last thought is of giving in, and already the tide is turning again, and. being taken at the flood, njust lead to victory.

But, al the time Frank stood and wondered, nothing could have seemed more remote than ruin. He had not lauded penniless. On that fatal Jubilee night he had just received his half-yearly •Hi,-.*, aud he had intended locking it in hi<s desk, ready to Iwnk on the next day. bin the tragedy hail wiped every other thought out of his brain, and fortunately it was so. as lie could never have made his escape, which he did by 1 warding a .small sailing vessel bound for New Zealand, from whence he had come to McllKiuruc.

He had had to face the fact that henceforth he was a fugitive, a man over whose head bnng a worse sword than that of Damocles— the sword of ignominy, of direst disgrace. He had seen the English papers, and knew that a verdict of wilful murder kid been brought in against him—name of the victim unknown.

There was absolutely nothing on the body to identify it. His (Frank's) mis take had been in Hying If he had only stayed and taken his chance, all might have been well.

He ground his heel on the pavement, and gnashed iiis teeth, as he realised what his impetuosity had done for him. Hi' stayed on in town some weeks, and during that time received a long loving letter from Constance. She had kept their meeting quite secret, fearing it might somehow leak out at the inquest, and also no one had any idea that she knew anything of her lover's whereabouts.

Harold had beeu most energetic in Frank's interests (Frank smiled grimly —he had his doubts), "and had engaged the cleverest counsel he could gel to watoh the proceedings on his behalf: but. alas, without much avail." "But hope on." she wound up; "I am certain it will all disentangle some day. ami think how happy we shall be the';!"

"l.less her." murmured Frank, as he thrust tlie letter into his breast pocket. He found ir very, very hard to take things quietly at all. ami. as for hoping He loitered almul Melbourne a fewdays longer, and then made his way into the country, lie stayed a short time in the Western District, and noted the rich pasture lands and the wonderful fertility of tin' soil. Then he skirted ahuig the .Murray, working down gradually to the Gotillnirii Valley district.

Frank Russell was intensely interested in agriculture, and all that pertained to it. and all through his engineering course bad kept himself well informed (theoreticallyi on the lutest modes and discoveries.

The wonderful capabilities of the (joulbnrij Valley struck him vm-y I'onilily, and he determined to put into practice what lie knew to be theoretically possible. The first thing was to try and get some position, however humble, on one of the farms around, bur there was more difficulty in doing that than Frank had anticipated. The farmers seemed to have plepty of hands, and moreover, preferred a miln id' muscle to a man of mind, and one glance at Frank showed that he had i ot been used to manual labor. Ai last, lie heard of a crusty old fanner, who wauted a man to do odd jobs about the place, and Frank, rather reluctantly, ii. must lie confessed, applied for the position.

Farmer Jones was a bachelor, and a man of few words, cordially disliked in

the dictrict, on account of his plainspeaking and gruff manner. When he stiw Frank he eyed him up and down with a particularly embarrassing and disparaging air. "What can you do?" he said bluntly. "Anything." answered Frank with great assurance, falling into the old man's humor.

" Humph," said the farmer, evidently not much impressed. "Done anything wrongV" he went on. "No," returned Frank curtly. The old man thought a minute, then he snapped out. "Go and take off that dandy coat and collar and dig up that patch there." pointing to a bit of ground at the side of the farmhouse.

Frank smiled slightly, but did as the old man said, and settled down to his first "hard labor." while Farmer Jones s:tt on the verandah and smoked a long church-warden, keeping a watchful eye on the would-be new man.

Digging is an operation particularly simple and uninteresting to watch, but though not more interesting, it is certainly more difficult to accomplish, aud so Frank found it.

His back ached, his hands blistered, his arms grew stiff, his neck became cricked, and the moisture literally poured from his brow. Once, indeed, he ventured to lean on the spade and rest a moment, but a mocking grunt from the verandah gave his pride and determination a fresh spurt, and he went on. For three hours he dug away, and at the end of that time the farmer called out—■ "Come on in and have a sj>ell now ; I'll take you on for a bit. but at the first sign of loafing, mind, off you go." And so Frank settled down. It was not a very extensive farm ; just about 1500 acres, but for some distance it lay right on the east bank of the Goulbum River. The fertility of the ground was marvellous, and much more could have been done with it. but Farmer Jones jogged on his way quite content with his property as it was. He owned 500 acres further east, but simply let them lie fallow, finding the land he had under cultivation quite enough to manage. The one bane of his life was the wind, and it literally tore over the ground in gusts, doing more damage to the crops in one night than months of hard work could cover. One day Frank said to the old man. "Why don't you plant some olives?" "To improve the scenery?" asked the old man. sarcastically. "No; as a break-wind." said Frank. 'They wouldn't grow." gruuted the farmer. "Yes they would." contradicted Frank.

The old man turned away without auswerlng, but a week Inter they planted 250 olive plants, and some time afterwards the old man remarked Lv"My word, those olives were a grand Wen of mine. Growing famously."

"Yes." agreed Frank, cheerfully, and though Farmer Jones looked at him keenly be saw no sign of chagrin. But Frank's pet scheme was yet to he carried out, and. so far. the prospect seemed hopeless. Irrigation was what the land wanted, and Frank determined if it lay in his power irrigation it would have.

He had argued and illustrated ir unceasingly with the farmer, never letting the matter rest, but the old man w:is obdurate.

"What's the use of spending all that money when we get all the water we want free?" was always his standing point. "F»ut supposing we don't always gel all we want?" urged Frank. "Well, what the dickens has it got to do with you if we don't." snapped the old num. savagely. Frank would shrug his shoulders and desist for a. time.

The relations between the oddly assorted pair bad always been the same; neither hostile nor friendly, though Frank often thought he caught a more kindly gleam in the old man's eye than people would have given him credit for. Frank had been there three; years now. and practically managed the whole farm, receiving a fair salary for so doing, meanness not being Farmer Jones's failing. But though his life was peaceful it was deadly monotonous, and he sometimes felt it almost unendurable, but then, he would reflect, it was safe, and that was everything. He had received one other letter from Constance, and then no more, and perhaps the thought that she had forgotten him enabled him to give himself up more entirely to his present life. One night when he and the old man had been having a little warmer wrangle than usual over the inevitable topicirrigation. Frank for the first time lost his temper, and declared the land might go to ruin as fast as it liked for all he cared. "He wouldn't make any more suggest ions." and. mounted on his high horse, be stalked off to bed. (To be. Continued.)