LORLIE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVII, Issue 8414, 15 November 1890, Page 3 (Supplement)

LORLIE.

BY MRS. CHARLOTTE MAY KINGSLRY Author of " Lady Oalirielle's fortune," " A Dread, ful Secret," "Lost for Love," "An Awful Secret,' "Kathleen O'Connor," etc., etc. CHAPTER XIII. "whistle AND I'LL COM to YE, MY LAD." To say that Miss Dysart was shocked by this unexpected proceeding would be to put it mildly. As a matter of fact she was simply speechless with astonishment and chagrin, and for two wholo minutes after Sir Lionel had left her and gone below, she sat there in tho moonlight and blankly stared at the saloon companionway as though she really wasn't quite certain but what that, too,

might disappear in the same utterly unexpected fashion and leave her without any visible means of quitting the deck where,

in the spaco of two short hours, she had tasted the sweets of certain success and been treated to the bitters of other things.

For a moment an awful suspicion of the baronet's sanity crossed her bewildered mind, only, however, to be displaced presently by one not a whit moro complimentary to that fascinating but changeable young man— i.e., that he had been fortifying his courage with so much champagne, the wine had acted as a sort, of boomerang and knocked every speck of it out of him ; or, in other words, that, in endeavouring to overcome the weakness of the soul, he had simply succeeded in demonstrating that of the head, and had retired to his stateroom in quest of balm in the shape of slumber and seltzer water.

"Perhaps it was that or porhaps, like me, he is at last succumbing to the fearful nausea produced by the rolling of the ship," she feebly murmured, preferring, by the way, to accept with delight, cither of these unpleasant contingencies, rather than to believe it possible that any change, however slight, had come over the spirit of his dreams—and hers—in that brief interval since last they met. "Oh, it must be so!"' she told herself. " There can be no other explanation possible. Champagne or seasickness—one or the other— is accountable for this my sterious change in his bearing toward me, for what else could produce it, especially here, and in so brief a time ?

"It took him so long—and he was so very awkward, too—in reaching the point that, after my own wretched attack of seasickness, at the very moment he was about to propose to me, he either sought to fortify his courage for a second attempt and imbibed more wine that is good for him, or he is about to become seasick himself and

doesn't care to run tho risk of repeating that miserable experience, and being forced to fly from me as 1 was forced to fly from him two hours ago. Oh, that vretehed attack—that dismal, deplorable attack— why did I fall a victim to it just then, of all times in tho world ? Couldn't it have been deferred for just twenty minutes?—or, at least, until he had actually asked mo to be his wife and I had been able to accept him and had sealed our betrothal then and there? Ah, if 1 had only been able to withstand that horrible nausea for just a little longer—ah, if I only had !"

Yes, there was the rub. If she had been able to do so matters would have taken a decidedly different turn, but she hadn't, you see, and there was an end to it. No, not an end, either—say, rather, a beginning, for out of it grew the complete alteration of her whole destiny, and it was fated that she should regret that inopportune attack to the very last hour of her life. l'erhaps .some taint presentment of that fact weighed upon her heart now, for, strive as she might to assure herself that the change in Sir Lionel's deportment toward her was due to nothing more than one or the other of the two unpleasant circumstances 1 have mentioned, she could not wholly banish from her mind that vague shadowy something which oppressed and made her feel less certain of success than she had been ten minutes ago, when—weak, white, wofully seasick still — she had dragged herself hack to the dock to meet

liini again and have tho matter decided ■without further delay. "It is sheer nonsense for me to feel dispirited," she petulantly said, making a desperate effort to rally and throw off that vague sense of uneasiness. " Whatever the cause of this odd changc in him, one thing is certain : it is only a passing, not a permanent one, and his proposal lias merely been postponed, not abandoned utterly. Of course not—how could it be? What possible change could have come over his sentiments 111 so brief a time? And out here in mid-ocean, too. It is absurd of me to even dream of such a thing, and— Oh, dear, I do feel so wretched and bad, I—l'm afraid I am going to be sick again, and I think—oh, dear, I'm sure I had better get back to my stateroom as fast as possible. This horrid vessel does roll so dreadfully that I—I—" The sentence remained forever unfinished. Once more bodily sufferings ovorcame all her mental ills ; once more she sprung to her feet and bolted for the staircase, and once unoro she went into retirement. " 1 won't be sick—l. won't ! I won't 1" she desperately cried, as she reeled into her stateroom and threw herself upon her narrow couch. " 1 have too much at stake to lose through any such miserable weakness as this, and to-morrow I must be myself again, to-morrow I must manage to bo with him, manage to look my best, and to lure him back to the point ho reached to-night." Oh, " to-morrow"—Fools' Paradise, in very truth—what a delusive thing thou art! As she ceased speaking, Miss Dysart clutched her pillow and buried her face in in it, and that was to-night; when tomorrow came she was still clutching it and still lying there, with no desire now save to bo let alone, and so miserably dispirited that she wouldn t have cared a straw if life and love and all tho rest of it came to an end with the very next lurch of tho vessel. To-morrow she had said she would manage to look her best, but if she kept her word there certainly is no existing record, for neither that to-morrow, nor the next, nor tho next again were the eyes of any mortal man gladdened by a sight of Miss Ignatia Dysart—whether at her best or at her worst —and it was not until the Cambria had been five days at sea that tho door of her stateroom again opened, and the " great Californian heiress" once more set foot across its luckless threshold. The saloon was crowded ; it was quite midday, and an impromptu concert was in full blast; but vainly did sho glance down its sparkling length for a sight of any face she knew. Lady Falkland was still busy with her "diary" in the seclusion of her own stateroom ; Mrs. Dysart was still occupying hers, and Sir Lionel was—where ? Not a sign of him gladdened Ignatia's anxious eyes, look where Bho would, and

nervously beckoning a stewardess, she eagerly asked if the baronet was able to be about as yet. "Oh, yes, Miss Dysart," was the comforting response. " Lady Falkland has been wretchedly ill, and is still, for the matter of that, but Sir Lionel has not Missed even one meal since we left Glasgow, so it is fair to suppose he hasn't been sick at all. I beg your pardon ! What; were you saying ? Is ho in the saloon ? Oh, no ! on deck, I believe. He doesn't seem to care for the merriment below hero ; indeed, I haven't seen him speak to iv solitary soul aboard. He takes his meals and then goes up on deck, and one never sees him in tho saloon again until the next meal is ready." Ignatia'a heart guvo one great throb of happiness, and her face became positively radiant.

" Thank you," she sweetly said. " Will you fetch mo a ht' -"nd a wrap from my stateroom? It is h glorious day, and I feel 80 well, tha ik I will go on deck for a little \* .u... I shall have so little time now in which to enjoy the beauties of the ocean, that I wish to make the most of it. Tho voyage will come to an end to-morrow, will it not ?" "Yes, Miss Dysart; if nothing unforeseen occurs, wo shall catch sight of Fire Island Light about two o'clock in the morning," responded the stewardess, as she closed her lingers over the crisp bank note which Miss iJysart slid into her willing palm, and then bustled away to procure the hat and wrapand to inspect the denomination of the greenback. "lie loves me dreamily murmured Ignatia, as she donned the garments and turned eagerly in the direction of the staircase, in a faint voice of ecstasy ; " I have been worrying over nothing—he loves me, misses me, and, in his loneliness, has no heart for the gaieties of the saloon, no wisli to mingle with the merrymakers here, but spends all his time dawdling about the deck, and doubtless sighing for the hour when 1 shall again join him ! My darling ! my darling ! ah, you shall sigh no more, Lionel, for that hour lias come at last, my beloved— that hour has come at last !"

Then she foil to picturing in her mind's eye, a* she slowly ascended the staircase, the gloomy look his face would wear when she beheld him pacing the deck, the joy which, like a sunburst, would illumine his countenance when she came gliding toward him through the midday sunshine and he awoke to the realisation that his term of loneliness was over and she was his again, to love and woo and win.

In the midst of this sweet reverie she reached the deck, glanced forward, glanced aft, then to the starboard, then to the port, and—saw him not !

No sighing swain, no gloomy, lonesome, love-lorn baronet was waiting there to welcome her with joy or greet her with that "sunburst" smile her happy soul anticipated—men there were, and many of them, on the deck, but the man was conspicuous by his absence. She paused a moment, a trifle shocked by this surprise, then, concluding that he was lounging in some comfortable nook, loitered idly about in the hope of coming upon him.

Hut three or four turns up and down the full length of the deck failed to discover any sign of Sir Lionel Falkland or any man who resembled him.

"Where can he be? What can have become of him ?' she murmured, in a troubled voice. "It is very odd—very, odd, indeed. But there ! perhaps the stewardess was mistaken and he didn't come on deck after luncheon this time. Perhaps ho with her ladyship, or perhaps in his own stateroom, and if i wait awhile I shall see him !"

Vain hope ! Midday passed to afternoon— still no sign of him ; afternoon deepened and drew on towaid evening, and still she paced the deck in fruitless anticipation. The sun went down across the sea, and twilight began to fall, the saloon gong announced to all concerned that, the hour for dinner had at last arrived, and presently—she stopped short with a. little cry of amazement as she made the astonishing discovery—presently a voice—his voice—spoke a laughing word of parting, and as she glanced up she saw him step over the rope of the steerage deck—heavens ! the steerage I—and come striding along whistling a rollicking lilting air and looking the very picture of handsome, healthy, well-satisfied manhood. He never saw her until they were almost abreast of each other, and then —why, then, she fancied that a shade of annoyance crossed his faco and that he looked more troubled than happy as he bowed before her. "On deck again, Miss Dysart?" ho calmly said. " Pleased to see you able to be about again. You're a deal more fortunate in that respect than my mother or even yours, for they are still on the sick li it, I am told." " And you have not been on it at all, I hear, Sir Lionel," she sweetly said. " How tiresome and dull you must have found the voyage, to bo sure 1"

"1? Oli, dear, no — not a bit of it! That is, 1 have been so busy with my pad and pencil that I haven't had time to think of anything elso, I assure you. Never knew time to fly so quickly before, 'pun honour ! I've found such a splendid subject for a new painting, Miss Dysart." She looked at him for a moment, a faint pallor creeping over her face and a faint ridge gathering between her brows. "What! in the steerage, Sir Lionel?" she said. " I saw you come from that direction, did I not ?"

"Eh? You saw— Why, yes, certainly !" —colouring slightly. "In the steerage, of course. Awfully jolly place the steerage no end of queer characters there, and the chap I've run across— Beg pardon, but wasn't that the gong ? Let's go to dinner. I'm awfully anxious to get back to my sitter, so you won't mind if I eat and run ?" CHAPmfxiV. "FORTUNE brings IN' SOME BOATS that AUK NOT STKKKKD." And, while matters were thus shaping themselves for certain of those highlyfavoured individuals, the saloon passengers, what had they been doing for those humbler creatures who occupied the steerago ? Follow me back, my reader, to that memorable night when " Air. Arthur Burleigh" ceased to be a memory and first bocame a real factor of Lorlie Douglass' existence, and together let us learn. " How good lie is ! how kind ! how noble ! and how very handsome !" sho softly murmured, as she parted from him and hastened back to the spot where poor Bridget McLoughlin sat, or, rather, lay, in the steamer chair, with " Jamesie" moaning at her feet, and Mary Ellen howling on her bosom like a diminutive savage with a mil-grown pair of lungs. " And to think I should meet him again in this strange way—in this strange place ! And so he is an artist—a landscape painter —and his name is Burleigh, like the young lord in tho iioem ! Arthur Burleigh ! I think I like tho name, and I know that I like him !

" He is such a gentleman in every respect —so kind, so tender, so good to us ! .1 am glad that he liked my voice and didn't like tho idea of my trusting to that for a living, and if—"

Hero alio stopped, for the ear-splitting yells of Miss Mary Ellen McLoughlin had reached a point where they could no longer be disregarded, and, quickening her steps, she hastened to the relief of that irrepressible young lady and her suffering mamma. " Praise be that I've clapped me two oyes on yo agin, alanna!" gasped Bridget, feebly, "fur its doyin' 1 am no less an' lavin' the childer to the mercy av a sthepmother perhaps, fur phat wid the b'ilin' av me sthummick an' the howlin' av Mary Ellen, it's not another hour I can live widout expoirin' this minute, Larlie, aroon !" " Oh, no, you're not in any dangerous condition, Bridget, dear," smiled Lorlie, as she bent and took the screaming infant in her arms and hushed its cries against her bosom. " It is only seasickness, and I don't think I ever heard of anyone dying of that. In a day or two you will be all right, dear, and as soon as you become accustomed to die heaving of the sea—" She never finished the sentence. With a cry of wordless horror, Bridget sprung to her feet, grabbed her with both hands and transfixed her with a glare. "The h'avin' iv the say !" she shrieked, appalled. " Mu.-iha, God knows an' have I to h'ave that too. Oh, wirra—wirra—wirra ! Phat's to become av me, I dunno ! Faith an' it's not tin minutes ago that some blaggard barled out to h'ave the lead ! An' divil an ounce av lead have I shvvalled, God knows! But h'avin av the say ! Oh, melia musha, I've h'aved mesilf impty, but I'll kill the blaggard as tries to foorce a dhrop of say watber becbuoe mo two lips 1"

" You misunderstand mo, dear," returned Lorlie with a laugh. " I mean you will soon become accustomed to tho motion of tho vessel and it will 110 longer affect you. There, sib down again and I will see if I cannot manage to soothe baby to sleep." "Sing to her, alanna, sing to her," murmured Bridget as she sunk feebly back. " Sure the swate voice av ye will quiet her intoirely, me jewel, fur whoile ye wor singin' to the jintlemon beyant— grace to the good heart av himshe lay as p'ueeful a3 a suckin' pig on the parlour iloor. Sing to hor, Larlie, an' it's quiet she'll grow wid the magic av yer voice." Thus admonished, Lorlie, holding the child close her bosom, seated herself upon a pile of rope, and in a soft, low tone began to sing. It was a tender, tuneful Scotch ballad she chose — a ballad which had always been a favourite with her grandfather and tdth dear doad-and-gone Lady Stewart— and gradually as its notes evoked memories of those loved ones, her soul flowed out in song, unconsciously her tones swelled in volume ; she forgot tho time—the place— everything but those tender recollections of her happy past, and her voice went rolling out in all its sweetness and its power over the mighty wilderness of the lonely sea. For ten minutes she let her soul flow out thus in song—unmindful of the fact that the child had nestled closer to her bosom and fallen fast asleep, unconscious that she had any audience save the sea and the sky and this dear friend in adversity who sat beside her, a-.id it was not until the last sweet note died faintly out into stillness, and a masculine voice cried, " Bravo ! bravo !" and the words were accompanied by the brisk clapping of a pair of hands, that she awoke from this delusion.

"Oh!" she uttered in confusion, as she looked up with a start of surprise and beheld in the steerage doorway a weazenfaced, withered old man, whom she recognised as one of her fellow-passengers. " Oh, dear, what have I been doing in my thoughtlessness ?"

" Giving one who appreciates it the best treat he has hart iri many a duy, my dear !" exclaimed tho old fellow as ho came briskly forward, shaking out his long hair and rubbing his dirty hands. "Ah, such a voice — such a divine and magnificent voice. It is superb, fraulein—superb ! Allow me to bow my approval. 1 did not know that I had a sister artiste aboard, and in distress like her professional brother. Oh, art, art! thankless mistress! we work for you, we adore you, we tight for you, and yet you bring us to—the steerage ' Permit mo, fraulein, to introduce myself as a brother professional—l Terr Johann Steinmuller, at your service, late trombone soloist in the band of the Consolidated Transatlantic Novelty Combination of All Star Artistes !"

" Sir, you are mistaken, I—l am not a professional singer !" responded Lorlie, not a little embarrassed by the situation. " I never sung in public in my life."

" Ach, mini dolt! then I have discovered' you, 1 will bring you out, I will lift you forever above the steerage, fraulein, and we will make a fortune—a fortune !" exclaimed

the little old man delightedly, as betook oil' his cap and enthusiastically waved it above his head. " I will no more go to Europe in the saloon and come back in the steerage, and I will no more ask of my hard-hearted brother the money to pay my passatre home. I will go to him as other managers go to him (he is one of the greatest amusement directors and theatrical agents in New Vork, is my brother, fraulein), I will pay him his price to make engagements for my star, and wo will carry the country by storm, fraulein—by storm. I will throw aside my trombone and bocome your manager. Ifuzza !" Then up went his hat again, and around went his spare little body, pivoting rirst oil one toe anil then on the other.

" Alusha, God knows, but the Dutchman's tuck crazy, aroon !" gasped Bridget, as she lay back in the steamer-chair and stared at him. " Shoo him away, alanna, afoor he lays the weight of his linger on Mary Ellen. Look at the oyes av him, look at the hair ! Och, hone ! an' phat's he goin' to h'ave, I dunno ; but God knows, av he comes near me it's hiinsilf as'll be h'aved, an' overboord at that. Gimme the choild, alanna. It's stark mad the Dutchman is."

" No, not. mad, only eccentric, I think, dear," whispered Lorlie. " X-centric is it? Faith, thin, I don't care if it's x-centric or y-centric, it's a thrick 1 don't, like, bad scran to it, phat iver it is ; an' if ye don't shoo him art this minute, it's mesilf as'll have a fit ! Look at him now, look at him now, aroon ! Troth, wid his hair a-floyin', and that long imi.-,tache on th' chin av him, he's the very immidge av Fogarty, the informer, an' it's him as was the pictcr av the divil himself, no less." "Ac//, fraulein! fraulein ! wo will make one triumphant tour of the country and carry the people by storm :' exclaimed the eccentric old fellow, winding up his performance by clicking his heels together and executing an elaborate bow before Lorlie. " I will bo your manager, I will bring you out, in one blaze of glory, and the whole world shall say—Steinmuller is right—it is the grandest of voices that ever was."

" Von are very kind, llorr Steinmuller," responded Lorlie, gently, " and I assure you 1 appreciate your desire to benefit me, but I do not wish to become a public singer, and nothing short of actual necessity could ever induce me to do so !"

All in a moment the little man's mood changed, and from the height of enthusiasm lie was plunged into the depths of despair. " Oh, lraulein ! fraulein ! 1 beg, I implore, I beseech you not to say that!" he cried. '• To keep that voice from the world ! Ah, it is wrong ! it is cruel ! it is wicked ! I have terrified you, and you will rob all music lovers because of that. See ! I retract my words. I will not terrify you any more — I will not be your manager—l will go away where you will not see me nor hear of me from this minute, but your voice—oh, do not deprive the world of your voice, and then sometimes the poor old Steinmuller, whom you think mad, perhaps, may steal into the theatre and hear you sing. No, no. 1 will leave you to choose your own manager, and here— is my brother's card. Yon will fro to him and find a manager—to him ! Ah ! no, do not' refuse to take the card—a time may come when you will wish to use it, and I beg, I implore you to take it !"

"Then I will take it flerr Steinmuller," responded Lorlie with a smile. "L do not think that I shall ever wish to seek an engagement to sing in public, but if I do, I will use this card, and remember the kind spirit of the friend who put me in the way of earning my bread." " Thank you, fraulein, thank you 1" murmured the queer old enthusiast. "I wiil no longer terrify youl will go back to my slumbers ; and I will pray, fraulein, I will pray that you may have reason to give the world that voice which I, poor old mad Steinmuller, will remember for ever."

Then with a deeply deferential bow he turned and walked away, sorrowfully shalehis head and wringing his dirty hands. "Poor, queer old creature! what an enthusiast he is, and how excitable where music is concerned, " murmured Lorlie, as she watched him pass through the steerage doorway and descend tho steps. "Of course I shall never need the card—perhaps never hear of him after the ship lands—but I will keep it in remembrance of him, for I can't help liking him, in spite of his eccentricities and his dreadfully dirty hands." But if she had known ho\v closely the old trombone player's life was yet to be woven into the web of hers, she would not have wondered at the interest she felt in him to-night. . CHAPTER XV. " no sun GOES down but WHAT some HEART DOTH BREAK." In spite of his promise to hide himself from her sight, some subtle influence seemed to draw the old musician toward Lorlie, and long before the voyage was ended they were warm friends. His affection for her—born in this strange way and out of her glorious voice—was almost pathetic in its dog-like devotion, and caused Sir Lionel no little amusement, for ho wouid actually curl himself up at her feet, and sit for hours, staring into her face, and mumbling sorrowfully: "So much music lost to the world—so much music lost to the world !" And when she sung to himas she sometimes did—ho would sit entranced, with his hands folded, his face upturned, and a far-away look in his dreamy blue eyes. His history was as lean and pathetic as the man himself, and he told it in a few brief words.

His parents had been professional singers, and in his childhood he had been a dreamer, a waif and a stray, with neither kith nor

kin save his brother, who was a sharp, shrewd business man, and had little sympathy with a queer little chap who would forsake his dinner to follow a band of music, and who, when ho was sad, orepfc into a corner and wrote requiems and ballads, and quaint little nocturnes, and ev n now could not resist the opportunity to forsake a desk in his brother's theatrical agency and rush off to join some band of musicians, who offered him nothing for his services save his expenses and tie delight of being near music. "Gustavo writes letters and makes money ; but I shall never be able to do anything but write music and make song'* of my thoughts," ho said. "That is my life— that will always bo my life. Gustave is my brother, but my trombone is nearer to me, for that is my wife, my child, my family I" To Sir Lionel, who never thought of associating the trombone with anything save hoarse "and guttural belches, this seemed simply ridiculous; but he refrained from saying so because he didn't care to hurt the old herr's feelings for one thing, and because ho didn't care to stir him up on the subjot of music for another. Meantime the days passed merrily on. Bridget recovered from her seasickness, and became the gay, good-natured Bridget of old, and having in due tiipo been informed of "Mr Arthur Burleigh's" desire to become a boarder in her establishment when she and " Phelim and the childer were all under wan roof ag'in, an' God's grace on it," not only gave her hearty consent to the arrangment, but regarded it as " an honour an' a blessin' to be able to repay his koindness, an' have the loikes av him makiti' home wid her an' hers !"

As for Lorlie, it was easy enough to see that she was pleased, for her face was the mirrow of her thoughts, and that was all sunshine and happiness, and if she didn't now exactly why,(Mrs. Phelim McLoughlin did, and many a smile and a wink she bestowed upon the old musician, when she called him away to do some trivial thing that would allow Lorlie and Sir Lionel to be left together. " Whist now ; go shoine up that big brass buglo av yoorn, me buck," she would say to him, "an' whin ye have it as broight as goold, blow till ye bust it, but lave thim two alone phatever ye do, Hair Steinmuller, which God knows it's well ye named, fur bechune thim lang stramers on yer haed an' that billy goat's mustache on the chin av ye a horse ain't the match av ye fur hairiness. Shoine yer bugle, shoine yer bugle, hair, an' av ye foind Mary Ellen a-slapin' in the t'rout av it, shlidc her out gintly, an' kapo her quiet till Mister Burleigh goes out to dine !"

In this way the good-natured and shrewd little Irishwoman contrived to throw the young people together, and allow them to convers3 freely, nob dreaming of the mischief she was doing, or of the troubled state of "Mr. Burleigh's" thoughts each night, as he lay in bed and wondered how all this was going to end. During Miss Ignatia's illness matters went on smoothly enough, but when, as already recorded, Miss Dyaart not only recovered, but learned of his visit to the steerage, for the first time he felt glad that the voyage was close to an end. He wasn't quite sure what the future would be, bub he was wise enough to know that there would be a domestic cyclone if the truth came to his mother's ears, and to prevent it there was only one way—to give the steerage a wide berth for the future. " To-morrow the voyage will be ended," he muttered, as he led Miss Dysarb down to dinner, " and to-night must be the last time I meet Lorlie on shipboard." As he sat there sipping his sour, and listening to Miss Dysart's stock of small talk, his thoughts were busy forming plans for the future, and the result of it was that his last visit to the steerage was an early and a brief one.

" I have come to say good-by Tor the time being, Miss Lorlie," he said us he took her hand. " I have given so little thought of lata to my work for the magazine that it will occupy all my time now for the rest of the voyage. Wo shall probably reach quarantine before noon to-morrow, and as I am a cabin passenger, of course I shall go ashore at once in the tender, because I have business to attend to, and must report for duty at once. You will be landed at Castle Garden some time later, and I'm afraid I sha'n't be able to get there for two or three days at least, and you must promise me that you will leave word there so that i can find out my new home." " Oh, I can do that now, Mr. Burleigh," she answered with a smile. " Bridget knows her husband's address, and of course that is where we will go to live. Wait and I will get her to tell me the street and number, and you can write it down in your note-book." She hurried away as she ceased speaking, exchanged a few words with Bridget, and then returned. "Ib is No. —, Second Avenue, Mr. Burleigh," she announced. "As we shall go there at once, you needn't think of visiting Castle Garden to seek us, because Air. MoLoughlin promised to be there to meet Bridget, so we shall only remain there a very few minutes." " Then it's good-bye until we meet at —, Sccond Avenue, Miss Lorlie," he said, as lie took her hand in his. "I hope you will be glad to see me when I arrive." " 1 know I shall," she answered, artlessly. " Good-bye, Mr. Bureligh, good-bye until then !" It was over, that long voyage, and all the oflicial business which followed the dropping of he anchor at quarantine. The health officers, and the custom house officers had fulfilled their mission. The cabin passengers had gone ashore hours ago, and now the barge was at the side, and even those poor ill-used, overburdened creatures who filled the steerage were free to land at last. Like a drove of sheep they flocked over the vessel's side into the waiting barge, and were towed down the streern to Castle Garden, and the sight of the busy harbour with its Hying craft, its green and smiling shores, and the wharves and warehouses that loomed up in the distance was a welcome one to all. Oh, my ! but it's a foine place indade !" asserted Bridget, delightedly. " Phat wid the hills and foorts out here, an' the houses an' the ships down bcyanb there, nob Quanestown itself can howld a candle to it. Look at the sojers in the foorts, an' the littlo ducky boats all around about, an' musha, God knows ! d'ye moind the big black woman standin' out there wid the feather brush in her hand Plaze God fur the size av her. An' phat fur is she there ?" " That's Liberty Enlightening the World !" explained Herr Steiinmuller. "Liberty, is it? Musha, God knows, but is she a naygur ? Well, well, well! divil a I hair av me thought that. An' phat's that beyant there, hair, the round-shaped house that looks loike a collar-box

'' That's Castle Garden !" " Where Phelim is ? .1 bless him, an' is he there ?" exclaimed I Jget, delightedly. " Jamsie, get up an' wave yor hat at it, me darlin', an' see av ye can catch a pape av yer father, fur the oyes av me's as full av wather as me heart is wid gladness, an' divil a thing I can see at all, at all ! Oh, my Phelim ! God love ye, an' are ye there ? Oh, Lorlie, alanna, to think as I'll soon be in the two arrums av liisn ! God speed the boat God speed the boat an' siua that blessed minute 1" And as though God did speed it, the barge floated down between the smiling shores of this Mew World to which these penniless strangers were coming for a shelter and a home, and just as the sun began to sink across the bay it drifted at the granite wharf and there made fast. More like a drove of sheep than ever, those hundredsof * eatures flocked down thegangplank and poured into Castle Garden. Here waiting friends and anxious relatives greeted them as one by one they were released, and here Bridget, laughing, sobing, wild with eager joy, stood waiting her turn to be called and passed, aud all the while her eager eyes were searching everywhere for Phelim. It came at last the turn" for which she had so eagerly waited, and plucking Lorlie by the sleeve, she forced her way forward as happy a creature as the &un shone on in all this new bright land. " hat's your name !" " McLoughlin, sor, Bridget McLoughlin." The clerk looked sharply up and caught her glowing eyes. i " Husband's name Phelim McLoughlin 2" he gravely and stoically asked. " Faith it is, sor, Phelim McLoughlin an' no less, God's mercy on him J" Ah, then you have heard already. I hardly thought it from the way you look. Step in the office here and claim his affects. They were sent down here three days ago— right after the accidentsent by one of his fellow - labourers who know that you

were coining on the Cambria, and who, I be* lieve, paid the expenses of the funeral out of his own pocket, poor devil Funeral accident gasped Bridget, excitedly. " Oh, Cod's mercy 1 ye don'( mane my Phelim ? Where is he ? What's happened to him ? Is ho dead ? My God 1 is Phelim dead ? Ah, I see it in yer face ! I read it in yer oyes. He's dead J Oh, God! take me and the childer, too !" Then, with a piteous scream, she dropped backward in a dead swoon ; and as Lorlie with a piercing cry sprung forward to her assistance, she heard someone in the crowd say : "Poor thing! It's the widow of thato hod-carrier who fell from the Hayes Building and was dashed to pieces five days ago !" [To be continued.]