LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4745, 16 July 1883, Page 4

LITERATURE.

LOVE AT THE GOLD FIBLDS. (Diprose's Annual.) By B. li. Fabjbok. (Continued.) During the pause that followed, he sought to pieroe tho shadows in whioh the land was wrapt. Night had now completely fallen, and a 0001, sweot breeze swept over the sea. lha day had been very hot, and tha cool air was doubly refreshing to the semes. The moon's light phyed on the wators, and the •tara flashed brilliantly in the depths, and seemed to rejoice in the happy betrothal. 11 In helping her, Charlie, you will be helping me." "I have thought of that, too, dear. Hare you any idea where first te direot your ■teps ?" " Not tho niightest ; once during tho Toyagd I BBked mother, and sho said that God would guide us." "J t was a bold venture for two helpless women to oomo cut, unaided, on ■uoh an errand." Klaie gavu utterance to a piece of wisdom '' Doe 3 lova always Btop to consider, Oharlio ?" " Fortunately not," he replied, with a bright smile, *' or you might hava refused to accept me." " I wonder why I did aooept you, Charlie 1" "Ah," he said, *' I wonder why. I am not suoh agreatoatob, Elsie; you'll find that out soon enough." "I am sure I had no idea of luoh a thing this morning. If anjbody had said to me, •Elsie, before you go to bed to-night you will be engaged,' I should have said, ' You're a ■tory/" " Do you repent, Elsie ?" "No, unless you do. Charlie, do not lot us joke over it, it is a solemn thing." "It ii, my dearest ; like a new religion— the religion of Iot c— we will never forsake our creed, Elsie, and every day of our lives shall fix it more firmly in our hearts." " Charlie, I am very grateful ; 'J. will try to make you happy." "We will commence soon, Elsie." "Yep, Charlie, in a ye»r or two." "A year or two ! Do yon know what jou are saying ? Do you know how long » year is to me now ? It is an eternity*, and I ilon'fc intend to wait as long as that for you, K>, no indeed. If Mr Anjbody had told yon t h <» morning that you would be an engaged f,:i -1 tonight, jou would have Mid te Mr Atjbody, 'Yqu'ro a Btory ;' you have admitted' that, Mica fllsie." " Yes, Whoever would have thought of suoh a thing !" II Bo you see it was settled for you without you knowing anything about it. Now, if Mr Anybody told you thievery minute that you would be married at Christmas, would yon . dare call out, ' You're a story ?' Be careful, Elsie ; lam watching your lips, and if I see the slightest approach to such an injustice towards Mr Anybody, I will put a seal upon them, never mind how many people there are about us."

She gave him a doubtful, wondering look : f< Oh, Charlio, we are near the end of November." "The twenty-fourth, my pet, tha luciieet and the happiest of all dajs, but one, the day before Christmas, when we shall bo married." " Impossible, Charlie j it isn't to be thought of." " Then wo will not think of it j wo will do it. As for its being impossible, thare is nothing impossible in this world. I lo?k upon it aa an accomplished faot. I am not going to Ist you slip from me ; this now world is larpor than you thifck it is, and you have no notion what a treasure a woman ia in it; hir weight in gold does r.ot give the»remotwt idea of her value— nor oven her weight in diamonds. Yoader, Uieri>, Elsie, in that new land, there ars ten thousand fine fellows waiting to snatch my treasure from me — more than ten thousand, ten times ten thousand; I am not going to giva them tho ohanoe. On Ohristmas Day I shall be the happießt m.'n, and you, I hope and balieve, the happiest woman not only in thia new world, but in every world, new and old, even in the Btars, if they aro inhabited ; Elsie, bend your head a little. I must kics you— secretly ; no one shall »oo." A tew minutes af terwarda— " My darling, I suppose I ought to speak to your mother ?" 11 You know best, Charlie. Break it gently to her ; ahe will bo pained at the thought of parting from ma." " There ia no need for that. If sho does no!; find her son, and likes to li-re w'fch in, sho shall do so.' By-the-bye, vrhat is his came ? " " Lawrence Bray." " Bray is a —ell anough name, but not half as pratiy aa 3*eburn. Don't you agree with mo, Mrs Bneburn ? " "How fooliih you do ta-k, Charlie ! " murmured iC.jie, with happy Bigha. Awaking from her dream, Mirg Bray looked round and eavr Slrie and i-odburn together. She called tha girl to her side, and Eleie went to h«r ; Easbiun stood a littlo apart. "Wo have everything ready for going ashore tomorrow, El«e ?" " Yea, mother ; our trunks are packed." " There must not be a moment lost, Elsie. I shall not be able to sleep another hour until I fold my dear boy again in my arms. The noblest lad, the handsomest, the truest ! Ah ! if he knew his old mother had come so many thoutanda of miles to sea him, ho would be here on the ship with us at thia moment. Oh, my! boy ! my boy !" She oast a wandering look around her. Perhaps she thought that heaven would hear her cry, and send her lad to her arme. "Mother," ssid Elaie, re ailing her wandering senses, " what ia tho first thing we shall do when ye go ashore ?" The question aroused the mother to reality. " I have not thought of it," aho «sid halplesaly. "Wo cianot remain in Melbourne, molhor." " No ; he would not be in the city. Ho is on the goldfields. We must go to him." " Ye?, mother ; bat there mo so many gol-lSeldß, some of them hundreds of miles apart." " How do you know that, child?" 'I hare asked about thatn. We eball be in a land of strangers, and shall not know < whioh way to turn. If we could find a friend !" Mrs Bray's eyea followed the direction of Elsie's, and rested on Basburn, who had lit a oigar, and was smoking ib, awaiting hia opportunity. "Do you mean Mr Baeburn, Elsie ?" " Yea, mother ; he would help us, perhaps Hois a gentleman, mother." " Yes, yes ; but nob so fine a man as our lad. Go down to the cabin ; I will apea\ to Mr Eaoburn."

In passing her lovtr, Elsie managed to slip her hand into his, unaeon by Mrs Bray, and aha tripped along the deck as blithe as a aummer bird. "I whh to thank you, Mr Saeburn," said Mrs Bray, "for all your kindness to us." "It has afforded mo pleasure," he said, " to do what lay in my power to help two ladiea travelling alone." "You also, are travelling alone, Mr Baeburn." "Yes; lam alone in the world." "Have yon no mother?" "Fo mother, nor father. lam truly a wanderer." " Poor la-'l ! Hovr proud your mother would have beer, of guch a Bon, were she alive ! Mother and should never be parted, never, never ! You are going out to friends, Mr Baeburn ? " ' No ; I do not know a single person in Australia. Am I right in supposing that our cases are similar?" "I know only one-' a dear, very dear one, whom I have come out to meet. What brings you to tbia part of tbe world ? " "To seek my fortune." "Oq tho gold fields ? " " Yes, Mrs Bray, on the gold fields." " I hope you will find it. We are goiDg to the gold fields, too, to seek my son." "On whioh gold fiald, Mrs Bray ? All wajs are alike to mo, and I would make your way mine, if you did not object to my company ; tho roads are rough, and it might not be safe for two ladies, who know nothing of the country, to travel without protection. On which g^ld field ia ysur son ? "

The same helplesi look came into her eyes which he had already observed. The difficulties of her position were forcing themselves painfully nxxrn her. " I should be happy to help you, Mra Brsy." She oaught his hand with eagerness "la the offer made sincerely, Mr Baeburn ?" "In porfect sincerity, Eire Bray." " I may speak fully to you. lam in deep trouble ; I want a stronger arm, a wiser heart, than I po?eegg, to lead me to my son, in whom lies my only hope in life." " I will do all in ray power, Mrs Bray." "In truth and honour?" "In truth a^d honour." "My aon Bhall thank you. I can r!o nothing bub bless you. Idobleeajou '= a 77, and I accept your offer. Acpiuo me agaiu that I can trust you, that ycu will do nothing to thwart my wishes." " I faithfully promiso you." "On your honour na & gentleman." "On my honour as a gentleman." " They are not light wishes j they are the hopes of my life, cherished for years, when Elsie was a mero child, and my aon wiu a man. filsio is not mj daughter j her father was my dead husband's friend. Before eho was twolv months old she was left without parents, ■ ud we adoptod hor, end grew to lovo hor as our owa. Thon my husband died, and my only ohiid, my dear son, left me, to seek his fortune, as you are doin^ Mr Caeburn, if you hear people speak o>i»ia»t my eon, do not belio7a them. Tho world is filled with slanderers. ITo ij nob'.e em{ upright— a good dan. A little wild, porhF>-«i, but what of that ? Are coi nil men t '.' And when he hears from my 3ip3 that I i /.• brought him the deareat'.roa'uretho worl or-ncains— when I tell him thai is is for him I have reared .and educated my dear adopted child, w! 0

will love him with a love almost as tender as my own, who is ready to be bis wife—" " Mrs Bray !" oriod Baeburn, in deep agitation. "Dear friend, that God has sent me to carry out my heart- felt wish ; do not interrupt me, but let me pour out my heart to you. Ah, if you knew the exquisite relief it is to' me to do this without restraint, you would blegs the ohance that has sent rou to me. It means bo muoh to me, so little to you. I shall ramemberyou in my prayers, to-ni^ht, and every night. It will do you no harm. And Elsi» — the sweetest, dearest maid on e»rth—Bhttll pray for you too. And whon she and my noble boy are married, you shall come to u» Oh, my heart, my heart!"

The contemplation of the happy future iho had mapped out was too much for her. She eank upon the deck in a pasiion of tear*, and rocked to and fro. Baeburn knew that it would bo uselesß to attempt to undeceive hor in these supreme moments. Events must take thdr course, he thought. Her eon might never be found, might be dead, if found might be married — there were a hundred eventuBlilios in his favour. But if («nd an ommnus fear oppressed him at this turn) some part of the mother's hope* should strangelj bo realised— if her son should be disoovwed, unmarried, and Beeing Elsie in her spring beauty and freshness, Bhould love her — ■ — . He would not think of it j he strove to thrußt the torture aside. Tho man might be wealthy, unscrupulous—— . Well, then, it would be man to man. But Elsie ! Dut» might tear her from him— he had not studied her in vain ; from a senso of duty she might mako the sacrifice, and wrwk h»r life and his. It •hall bo done in tho oloar light of day, he thought gloomily ; no false feeling shall deprive hor life and mine of Bunghino. H« had but littlo time to pursue the outront of his thoughts. The old woman's convulsivo emotion attracted the attention of tha female pafliengers, and she wa» led to her cabin, and given into the caro of Eliie. * * * (To be continued.)