A SAILOR'S LOVE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 46, 15 November 1890, Page 16

A SAILOR'S LOVE.

t''" HAD promised to marry Warren Krxslrn. His ring was on my finger—a magnificent diamond solitaire—and the engagement was sanctioned by parental authority—the welding to take place in six months. I stood at the window of our cottage parlour in Dunedin turning the around and around upon my finger and trying to get up an enthusiasm over my lover. For I well knew that I did not love him : I liked him, respecter! him, but there was no real love for Warren Rosalyn in my heart. There were only two of us—mother and I—left of the Alden family, for lather had been dead two years, and we had struggled along as best we might—gradually coming to the conclusion that life was a hard battle for two lone women to fight. And then when we were the poorest—our fortunes at ebb tide—Warren Rosalyn’s proposal hail come, and mother had advised me to accept him, for he was the possessor of great wealth. How could I refuse the gifts that the gods had provided, and turn my back upon ease and affluence ? I did not love any one else. I saw poverty —gaunt and blear-eyed—staring us in the face upon on*e side, and upon the other wealth and luxury—so 1 allowed «n .hlp< l Thp dip WAS CAst.

Uiyseil IV Ut IUC UIC <_*vr-L. One morning a letter came for my mother. She read it ami uttered a cry of surprise. ‘ Hester !" she said, glancing into my face with eye* full of sadness, ‘ I have news from my nncle Richard. I have not heart! from him in years, and now he writes me that he is very ill^-dving—and must see me. “ Bring Hester," lie savs. in his letter, “your daughter Hester. I have never seen her, but lam told that she is just like yon. that she looks as you did when you were eighteen, and I was so proud of you, Janie ’ * What' shall we dot" I said as my mother laid the letter from the old man aside. ‘lt is a long journey.’ ‘ I know. dear. But how can I refuse the dying request of the last of my race and name ? Sydney is not so verv far, after all. He says the salt breeze will be a benefit to me. and he has a lingering disease and may live for week*. And see, Hester, he sends a cheque to defray our expenses.’ The sea voyage would indeed be a boon to my mother, for mother had long been an invalid. So I felt a secret satisfaction in preparing for the journey. And one warm morn ing in Decemlier we steamed away from Dunedin, and I. for one, was quite willing to go. The parting with Warren Kosslyn did not break my heart. He was not a lovable man, and somehow lately I had found my bonds growing irksome.

Standing upon deck as the steamer bounded over tlie shining water, I gazed down into the waves, thinking of home and friends, and wondering why my heart did not thrill at thought of Warren Rosslyn, when all at once the en-gagement-ring upon my finger slipped off and fell into the watei. With a start of surprise I made an involuntary movement — there was a swift rushing in mv ears, a dull thud as I struck the water, and 1 realised that I had fallen overboard. I remember the swift despair which flashed across my heart. I was so young to die—life was so fair and sweet and hopeful. I could hear the wild shrieks of my mother, as the steamer s speed was slackened, and then. a~ I came up for the second time from the gulf of foamy, frothing waters. I became aware of a dark form rising and falling beside me on the waves. Some one had come to my rescue. Whomever it might be, he was a hero to risk his life for a stranger in this mad fashion. A little later a life preserver was fastened around my waist, though how the gallant swimmer ever achieved the task I could never comprehend, then a clear, cuol voice said, calmly : •Do not struggle—l>e quiet 1 I will save you if von will only follow my directions.’ It was a hard, an almost impossible, task : but by the time that the boat had reached us. which had been sent forth from the steamer to our rescue, I was unconscious.

When I opened my eyes I lay upon deck on a pile of mgs, mother weeping and wringing her hands, thinking that I would never recover consciousness and at a little distance the tall form of my preserver. A pale, handsome face, with deep, dark eyes, and a firm, grave mouth. Those wondrous eyes met mine, and a look of rapturous delight fla-hed into their depths as he saw that I was conscious once more. He was an officer on board the Trianon, upon which we were making our journey, and his name was Howard West. Of course it did not take long for us to become acquainted, and before twenty-four hours hail passed he was constantly at my side, save when his duties called him away. t >ne night the officers got up a little dance. How thankful I was that I had brought my only evening dress with me. and that it wa- a very pretty one. Mother always lielieved in getting good things, but unless I married a rich man there was no hope of mv ever wearing such another. It wa» of pale bluepewwrfe mire, profusely embroidered with large pale pink and shaded ptivots ia kind of white poppy . accomj>anied bv sprays of wild oats, the latter embroidered in black chenille and fine jet beads. A panel of jetted ganze with black velvet bows fringed with jet was on the right side. The bodice was rather new. A narrow band of jetted blue silk met a band of the same round the throat, which was, or so 1 fancied, very becoming to me. I danced a good deal with Howard West, and sat on deck a[*art with him for one dance watching the phosphorus. Mother liegan to look a little troubled. Finally she ventured a little remonstrance. * Hester, you are engaged to Mr Rosslyn ; don’t forget that,’ she said.

* I wish to Heaven I coaid forget it !’ I panted, angrily. Pale and stern, mother laid her hand U|*on my arm. • You forget yourself—your honour—Hester Alden !’ she said, slowly * I will have no more of this flirting with strangers !’ She moved away, and my heart sunk with vague apprehension. Would she tell Howard West of my engagement —my hatefnl engagement —to Rosslyn I was not left long in doubt. Sittit gin a retired corner of the deck that night, I was startled by the sndden appearance of Howard M est, pale and agitated. ‘ Hester—Miss Alden !’ He took my hand, and I could not remove it from his clasp, for he held it tight, and gazed into my face with dark, compelling eyes. ' Tell hie, is it true,’ be panted, hoarsely, ‘ is it true that yon are engaged to be married ? And to Warren RosslynWhy, I have known the fellow all my life : he is not tit for you to think of, much less to love and marry.’ ‘ I do wot love him !’ I burst forth, impetuously ; then I realized that I had been unwise, indiscreet. His pale face flushed with delight. ‘ Then there is a hope for me—for me, Hester ? Tell me, am I right ?’ I could not speak. I only knew that the divine power of a mighty love was in my heart, and that come what may, I loved the poor sailor. Howard West. And I told him so. I told him all my story. His face grew dark. ‘ When I explain to your mother the truth, Hester,’ he said, slowly, ■ and prove—as I can—the real character of

that man Rosslyn, lam sure she w ill not object. True, she believes me to be poor, and you are not rich, but I am on my way to the death-bed of my father, who. I am sure, will help me when he hears my story, Hester. I left home five years ago to follow the sea It was against my father’s wishes, for he was opposed to the life of a sailor. Now he is old and ill: he has forgiven me, and has sent for me. He is very wealthy, and lam his heir ; so you will not wed a poor sailor, after all, Hester. (Inly I must tell you my real name. Since father was so opposed to the life of a sailor, I took my mother's name on ship board. lam not Howard West, but Howard Arlington ! Why, Hester, what is the matter ?’ I ha»i started up in wild surprise. The name of my mother’s uncle to whom we were journeying even then, was Richard Arlington. Could it be Howard’s own father? It proved indeed to be true. Mother was soon put in possession of the truth. Although Howard was distantly related to me, there could be no objection to our marriage. And Howard—my Howard—soon exposed the villainy of Warren Rosslyn. How he had wronged a sweet young girl, who was even now in Sydney, and whom w e sought upon our arrival there, and listened to a pitiful story. I wrote a letter to Rosslyn that very day, repeating all that she had told us, ami breaking all ties between him and myself. Richard Arlington lived to see his son once more, and be a witness to our quiet wedding. He died happy and peaceful. and all his great wealth was ours. So ended my romance, which bionght into my life its greatest happiness—the love of my sailor lad.