THE HAVEN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14093, 22 June 1909, Page 3

THE HAVEN.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY EDEN I EILLPOTTS, | Author of " Sons of the Morning." " Children of the Mist." "The Whirlwind." " The Secret Woman." " The .Mother," etc., etc. [COPYRIGHT.] SYNOPSIS. The nwit of the story is nt the, AMiing village of Bmliuni in Devonshire, John Major, n fisherman, ow.ilng a email trawler, ha* Jus! buried hi« wife Lyttia Major, is a sturdy Christian, known far ami wide for his honesty and uprightness, and good-humouredly nicknamed "Holy John." Up has a son and daughter. Ned, "the hoy, is destined for the sea, but longs for the life "of a 'rimer. Lydin, the girl, is in love with one Sam Hrokenshire. a trawler, who is notorious lor his view that the by-law elosinp 1 Start Hay against trawling should be defied by | the trawlers. In the Sailor's Knot Hotel, oil : Brixham yuay llrokenshire and one Dick Varwell hint ,at" » poaching expedition to Start : Bay.

CHAPTER IV. : Thk lovers. as lovers will, revealed them- ! selves unconsciously in their hopes and : fear*. Lydia's courtship had been secret, I for her father was no admirer of Mr. ' Brokenshireoosr s his ways. But the girl I loved Sam with passionate joy, and not ! the less for a mystery that shadowed litis I name. He talked nonsense to her on the ! subject of the rights of man; while she ' believed all that he said, and. through the ! eyes of love, saw him a great hero. Sometimes his rumoured performances struck ! upon a moment of unclouded perception, j and showed Sam to Lydia in a different ! light; but his presence banished doubt, j his voice awoke a new trust. I Tp-night he talked of the future, and j indicated his intentions. She sat on his ' lap, and he broke his speech with many i kisses. "After your eighteenth birthday I'm , going to beard the lion and come afore ', your father and ax him to let me marry ! you all fair and square," began Sam. : " He's got his knife into me and another : here and there, because — we work late : and think our own thoughts and won't be ! under the heel of other people; but he's a fair man, and I mean to show him the world can't stand still because he wants it to." "Thai's all very fine, Sam, but what about Start Bay?"" " You mind your own business," he said, and hugged her. "No man has ever proved that I've been inside the limits have they? Very well, then —wait till they do prove it. Hearsay's only believed by fools, and threats only frighten children. If I'm caught on the wrong side of the marks, then let your father think and speak what he likes. Till that happens, no man has an" right to say anything; and if I bring better fish to morning market than t'other*— then I say I'm a better fisherman. No call for me to tell my secrets. 'Tis everyone for hisself ; and I'm for you, and I'm going to got you, spite of jack Major, or fifty such. But 1 do hope he'll be reasonable. No living man caa prove hookem-snivey dealings against me. My boat's my own. I've got a few pound saved, I'm steady as time, and I'v» never done another chap a bad turn in mv life." "That I'nl sure you haven't." " And never will. And because me and your father think different in politics and such like, that's no reason why he should refuse me." " He will, however." Sam shrugged his shoulders and played with Lydia's hair. i " If you can say that—so hopeful as you generally be—then no doubt he will. And then, if words won't do it, I must take to deeds. And, for that matter, I'm always better pleased to be doing than talking, though 'tis often brought against me by people that I'm lazy. 'Lazy'! Me lazy ! Don't I breed my own trawl nets? Can't I make my own irons as well as the blacksmith, and my own beams as well as the carpenter, and bark my own sails as well as Uncle Peach? But if your father says I ban't to have you— then he'll get his eyes opened very sharp, I warn you of that, Lydia, though he is your father. 11l stand injustice from no man while I can lift my hand. Whatever • else I may or may not be, I'm going to be your husband —God judge me if I ban't !" She caressed him and returned to the problem. Danger and difficulty delighted her—at this distance. " But what would you do, Sam, if father's firm and won't give in about it?"

''I know very well what I'd do. I've got an invention for it all ready. But we'll leave that for a bit. We'll hope he'll listen to sense, though he's the sort that reckons all tense but his own be nonsense. We'll see what the pair of us can come at before your birthday. And by the same token, what be I to buy you against it?" " I don't' want you to spend your money on me, Sam." " Who should it go on, then No other girl but will ever get a penny of mine— never again. Did your father see me at the funeral But I know ho did. I took very good care that he should." " Yes, he did. Ned mentioned it, and asked him if he seen you." " What did he think of it?" ' " Never mind that." - "But I want to know. He couldn't say nought against that, surely?" " He said that ho was a good bit surprised to find that you had Sunday black; and that he' shouldn't have expected it." " I'll surprise him mom than that presently. Surely he thought 'twas a civil and respectful thing in me to be there?" v He didn't think about it?" " And what about they gravid roses and lilies and ferns on the grave?" "What about them?" she asked, starting. " Well, I put them there— for your sake, Lyddy." You 'Father was pleased, in a quiet way, over them. He knew they were glafs-houso flowers and thought that they'd come from one of the quality." " Not at all," said Sam. " They corned from me." "Wherever did you get them?" " No matter. They won't be missed. I know an under-gardener or two in a place where they keep ten." She was troubled. " 'Tis things like that, Sam, make people fearful for you." " Let 'em mind their own business." Well, 1 I am father's bueines*:—at any rate he thinks so. And if he liked you which he doesn'the'd never let us wed till I'm up twenty-five." "Good Lord ! How d'you know that?" " 'Tis dne of his fixed sayings, that no woman should go into married life sooner —not if he could prevent it." " Cold-blooded old devil !" "Sam!" " I doa't mean that, but there —such opinions make me wild. I'm twenty-five this minute —very near twenty-sixand bo I to wait till I'm an old man for 'e? No, by '." She was tearful. " Well, I put you first in the world, and always shall," she said. "I hope 'tisn't wicked ; but so 'tis, and very well you know it. First— first —always and for ever." He crowed a-nd cuddled her. " You'm the true, faithful fort, Lyddy." "But are you, 1 wonder?" "Faithful as the sun." She jumped off his lap at this assurance, and bade him strike a match, for it was growing dark. " There's plenty of light to kiss by," he said. "Strike a match," she repealed. "I want to show you something." He obeyed, and she took the light from him and held it up to the broken plaster of the wall. On a smooth spot appeared two hearts overlapping, and transfixed with an arrow. Upon one the initials of Lydia appeared, while "5.8." adorned the other, Beneath was a date. " That's all right," raid Sam. "I set it there the day you said you'd take' me. Don't you remember?" "Yes, I remember," she answered. "But do you remember ? Give me the matches and come into this little chani-

ber. Mind the floor—it has rotted away, and the ceiling's half down, too." She led him into another room of the ruin. The lath and plaster above was partly fallen, and hung in a great threatening sheaf from the broken rafters ; the floor was full of holes; the walls still supported drooping and rotting paper. "Look here, Sam," said the girl, as she struck another match, " there's a lot of lovers have writ their letters here, and I know most of 'em well enough; but who are these?" She held up the flickering light to another emblem of hearts and arrow. It closely resembled Mr. Brokenshire's recent _ record in the outer chamber: but it differed in the particulars of the date and l one pair of iuitials. The record was nearly • a year old. i "Cuss the little cat!" said Sam. "But you know that story well enough, Lyddy. > I never hid it." ' " I didn't know it had gone so far as . that." "In a sort of a way it had. She—but ' there. 1 can't speak against women. I liked her well enough till she gave up liking me. ' 'IVas the money that t'other chap had. And he hid behind his money, so she couldn't get a true sight of him. " And now she finds 'twas all a bait, for he only dangled it, and then he drew it in again when he'd caught her." "Mr. Harris wasn't the man to let her handle his money." " No; and she've found that out by now. She's poorer than she'd have been with me, for all her hty'xtnd's cashand the shop, too. I don f „ wit her no worse than she's got. though she did treat me bad. She wasn't worthy to black vnur shoes, at her best; and the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was when she chucked me.' "Perhaps 'twill bo your turn to pay us women back for what she did to you, and fling me off, Samuel?" "If I do, Lyddy, let 'em fling me off the top of Berry Head. You'll be my wife afore this time next year, or I don't know myself." " You were the first I ever loved, and you'll be the last," she said. " And you was the first I ever loved with my whole heart and soul— l swear that afore the Lord. Her cruel love of money always did make me savage with Sarah. -And oft we quarrelled over it." "We've never had a word, Sam." " And never shall. Never was a pair built for each other like us." The dusk had drawn down, and now Brokenshire helped Lydia from the ruin, and prepared to see her home. " I wish I could ask you in to supper," she said; " but father wouldn't allow that." " I reckon not. The first time him and me sits at a table together 'twill be at mine by the look of it." " You'll show him you're different to what he thinks." Sam lit his pipe and did not answer. "Are you going to sea to-night?" she asked. "Ess; if you peep from your chicket window half afore midnight you'll see the Night Hawk and another hard-working boat, perhaps, taking the tide. Venus be chasing the moon just now, and the wind's set for good and all in the north-east by the looks of it." "How's Mr. Trust?" " He's broke his finger, and has to bide home. Who do 'e think be coming in his place? Tumbledown Dick!" "What's the good of that bunch of rags in a boat?" "More than you'd think. I know all about Dick. Tisn't the first time he's been to sea— the first time he's been in the Night Hawk, for that matter. There's nothing that man don't know behind his dirt and chatter. He's taught me a lot worth remembering, Lyddy." " Better that you don't tell father so. Dick-Varwell is the only man I ever saw who makes him right-down angry. He says 'tis a shameful thing that such as Dick are allowed to cumber the quay and lead young men astray." " I know. But let them that be angry with him answer him. It's because they ve got nothing to reply to his arguments that they be angry." " Father says he's worse than one of the radical newspapers; but I'm not with father about such things. I thought a lot when there was talk about me going for a schoolteacher." " You come and teach me ; and the sooner the better." "Don't be caught with Varwell, any way," she said. "Be warned against that; for the justices would judge you by the company you kept, Sam." "I shan't be catcbed at all. And more wouldn't Varwell, if he didn't choose. That man arranges to go into klink just as cool as me and you will arrange to go for a honeymoon afore long." " Home is very different without poor mother. And 'twill be worse still when Ned's gone, and there's nothing but Aunt Emma and the horrors from morning till night." "I'll soon.take you out of it. Be Ned pulling a very long face about sailing?" "Yes, he can't bear the thought of it." " Poor toad! He'll never make a fisherman ; and it shows your father's foolishness Ito think he will. When I was nine year I old, bosses wouldn't have kept me out of I my father's boat; and though I saw him drowned and only got saved by the skin of my teeth, when the Warrior was sunk off Portland, 1 was to sea again inside a month. But Ned—a good ploughboy spoiled ; that's what he'll be." Then they reached the door of Lydia's home, and as Mrs. Michelmore happened to be standing at it talking to a postman, Sam's farewell was brief. A letter had arrived from Mr. Major. He was -working off Lundy Island and making good catches. He intended to be back, however, in the course of ton days; and he directed that Ned should be equipped and ready to accompany him when next he went to sea. "I was hopeful as the North Channel would keep father a good bit," confessed the boy to Lydia. "Anyway. lie promised me that my first cruise shouldn't be round land, and that it should not last above three da vs." , "■You'll surely like it so well as the other boys after you're used to it," declared his sister; but he shook his head mournfully. " I'm a land bird, and always shall be," he told her. "Think of Deborah,'' said Lydia, laughing. She already saw the dawn of a romance between Ned and Mr. Honeywill's small daughter, and took some delight in it: But even the thought of Deborah could not cheer her brother at this season. "Deb hates the sea, worse than what I do." he declared. (To be continued daily).