LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3798, 17 June 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A REMARKABLY RARE OASE. (Abridged from the Arqos\)), Tbere was a sea fog thafc day. It sur-. rounded on all sides the lonely-looking house on the cliff's edge. Tho house was not really lonely ; but a turn in the road hid it from the coast-guard station, a short mile beyond whioh lay a busy, populous, sea- side town. From tho back of the building the downs swept up-, wards in gentlo undulations ; here and there, whero the hill-side fields had been turned up by the plough, the clay showed reddiah. brown when the fog lifted ; everywhere .else a tender green hue was spread, from the thin, ears of spring wheat or tho graßs on tho pasture land. The spot was so little lonely ( ia reality that, noises from the town mingled with the murmur of the waves upon, the beach below. You might have fancied it a place from whence no cry for help could be heard ; a fitting hpot to be the scene of a waysido robbery. Desolate it certainly was, without any fancy in the matter. Nothing like a tree sheltered it ; there were only the fields, I the sky, and the waste of waters beyond the, cliff's edge. The plaster had fallen from the walls. and left brown patches on .them here, and there. The garden was overgrown wiih , weeds, and one or two out- buildings at the., rear, had been suffered altogether to fall into disrepair. The fact was the .house was .no 1 lpngen used as the dwelling-house to thefarm upon which it stood, but was to let, if anyone- ' could be found to take it. Meantime, it was- 1 in tho charge of the young woman, scai'wly past girlhood, who was leaning againsfc. the top bar of fcho gate and looking, out, into the fog. Sho mighfc have been watching for the tenant that never came, for at every sound on the road she listened intently, and turned' her head to follow with her eyes the different vehicles that from time to timo camq out of fche fos on her right hand to vanish infco tho fog on her left, like phantpm visitors, from a world boyond. Perhaps this idea of phantom visitors had suggested itself to t.ho, girl, for her eyes looked frightened, and her restless glance betrayed a mind ill at ease. Her lips moved, too, as though, from living much alone, she had contracted a habit of talking to herself. Indifferent passers-by, chancing to notico the figure afc tho gate, saw .only, just tho sort of porson ono would expect to soe in such a place. Others, who looked mare attenMvely, might have Been an unhappy, terrified girl, not. yefc accustomed, to the placo she filled jusb now ; one lor whom ifc mighfc have been better to havo a friend at hand ; one for whom it might not Le well fco live alone. "eh" bo there again," remarked ono of two men widki»g.at:the head,Of a team or horaeo* draaing cloud of coals. " She bo always thero," replied his corn- . panion ; .•* I've oome along days, and I'vo comq along sights; I've passed by Stonedene in. fair w< atjhor, and in storms as threatened to send the waggon over tho cliffs ; and dr<ye ,or nights, f «ir weather or foul, I've Been hep on tho watch." "On tho look-out for a tenant for Master Draw, said the first speaker, cracking the long cart-whip La his hand. " Ay ; 00 it would appoar." " Yot. the. houso doesn't let," romarkqd the othor, looking back ovor his shoulder aa tiwy passed tho gate. " Nor it won't let ! Why, wiio'd tak* it ? Who in their senses leastwise ?!'• "Along of it being that muah out of repair, you moan P-" '^1 don'fc mean no suc'i, thing; what's a da>*H work or so aboufc a place like that ? It won't let bocauso it' Ban plucky house ; Drew is un unlucky man, and always was. Thcro'& a spell upon the houao. Who but Drow would have put a mafl woman in for to Lako ohargo of ifc? Thore'B a spoil upon it, I say." Both men looked back, but tho houso waa no longor viiblo ; tho fog hid it. The noxt powon to pass along the road was Drow hinißolf ; nnd it must bo allowed that if Drow west really an unlucky man, ho failod to look tke part. Thoro was about him a cortain cheerfulness of aspoot that might have defied fche worst ill-luck could do him. His was in the oh^erfuleit of voices, too, 1 that, half ohec*_ipg tho hone io too shafts of

the light cart he drove, he called out a greeting to his caretaker as he went br ; <n- would have gone by, had not an imploring gesture of her hand induced him to pull up altogether. l The gate at which sho stood opened upon *• farm track leading to tho crest of the Downs ; tin; door of the house was at the sMo of the track, and just within the gato which tho youug woman now threw optn. " Musfc I turn in, lna'nm ?" said t he farmer in his hearty voice ; " well, if there's no help for it, I suppose I must, though time presses with me this afternoon." " Do I trouble you so often that you erudge mo a few minutes ? When I asked you to. leave me here I promised to give no trouble • I have kept my word," she said. ' "You have— to be sure you have;, the mor j reason I should turn in now, or at any time when you make a point of it ; maybe it is in my intero-t you make a point of ie today ;you thins I should see the place a bit; there s more plaster faUen ; no chance of » tenant with a house in this state." " It ia an unlucky houee ; or so they say," she replied, gh.i.eing carelessly round upon the fallen plaster lying where it fell, and the tangled weeds in the garden. " t 1 don't hold wiih ill-luck ; law bless iy©u,raa am, I vo seen tao much of life for fchab- .* man makes his own luck -and a woman too." The girl shook her head impatiently, „ " I tell you they call it an unlucky house ; what has it been to me ? and you— did you do so well here that you can afford to laugh at the notion ?" B " Times were hard," he said, " luck, had naught to do with ifc ; and times havo mended with me since; but if you don't like the n juse, why not leave ifc ?", "I must earn my living," she -returned, quickly. "Be would be better pleased I should do that alone as I am here, than in the old way • I am sure of it, Mr Drew." | "If the house lets," began the farmer, but she cut ehort his speech." "If it lets I will come back .to you ; but till it does son-.- ono must be here, and why not las well as another There was a gentleman came to look over ifc only the other day." " You told him what a lonesome seeming placo it wae, for all ifc stands so near the town, said tho farmer, with a somewhat rueiul look upon his round and cheery countenance." "I did," she replied, eagerly ; " and how the winds sweep across tho Downs 5 or when it blows from the sea on stormy days ifc is ao strong and fierce you can scarce keep yonr feet outside the door." " And how warm ifc is in summer," Drew suggested. " Certainly 5 I told him that as woll— how there is no speck of Bhade anywhere within sight, except the shadow thrown Xv the house itself an unlucky house, Mr DrtJT.!' ••■ " Ay ; I've no doubt you told him all about it, and that he went away fully satisfied, and with no notion of coming to me or of wanting any further information," said Drew, drily; "that's about all the ill-luck thero is, I take it— that I get no tenant." Ho knew very well that he should not Betone as long as this woman was here ; thi* woman who, amongst all the misfortunes she had known, would count it the greatest that could still befall her should sho have to leave Stonedene. "You have heard nothing p" ahe asked. after a moment or two of silence, during which her eyes had turned again to watch tho road before tho gate. ' " You would be sure and tell me if you had $it was fco you ho said— what did ho say? Tell me the words again." fche drew a step or two nearer, and laid her hand upon tho side of the cart as she spoke. "It was on the Downs " he, began, but ehe interrupted him again, and took up the tale herself. " Yes, with the sheep feeding aU round; you were alone— he had rent me back; the bolls were ringing in the churches of fchetoVn. —I hear them now 5 ifc was on the Downs, and he said " " Wo walked a bit together." Drew went on, as though by lengthening the narrative ho sought to .calm her, and yet knew it would all end aB it had ended many times before. "It was a summer afternoon and every-, thing was very still and peaceful, and when it came to good-byo between us, he just wrung my hand, and said, ' Take care of my wife, Drew, till I come back.' " " Till he comes back ! Oh, listen to the wavis upon tho shore !" she cried ; " till he comes back!" and with that fill (to .hitter weeping. . The respectful tone in which he had hitherto addressed her changed at once to one more familiar ; he leant down from the carfc and patted hor upon the shoulder^ " Mattio J why Mnttio ! this will neyer do ; I'yo told you., beforo that ifc looks as though you did not trust him aftor all." " I do. trust him," she sobbed. "Of course you do ; who should jif jre.did, not, you, and/ I, who know him for a good man," • " Thai's what I say!" she oxclaimed ; 'fbnt I likp to hear you say ifc too ;. I oalled you in to.day.to hoar it, Mr Drew." " Come over to the farm and hear it there," bo. replied j but the Btepped baclf from the cart hurriedly, crying that others did pot think as.he thought, that he knew as woll as she did what others said, and what tale Bhe . would hear from them if she went to the . farpv. (To be continued.) ;