Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

"For Father's Sake," or A Tale of New Zealand Life

Chapter XVII

page 185

Chapter XVII.

Bonsby can boast of a beach as good as any in New Zealand, and the inhabitants of Bonsby know this, for any summer, if you are passing, and have occasion to enter the Bay, you will see half-a-dozen or more tents erected on the beach, or dotted here and there among the trees that grow so luxuriantly on the sides of the hills. These hills line the north-east coast, shutting in the entrance of the town, and preventing the traveller from getting a proper view. It is not until the steamer enters the Bay that its passengers get a glimpse of the town. Even then they are often disappointed by seeing what appears like a forest of green trees, with an occasional house peeping out here and there, with three or four columns of blue curling smoke, and with a bold rugged white cliff protecting the southern border. If you wish to see Bonsby to its advantage, you must climb one of those eastern hills, and turn your face south-west. You will be surprised at the remarkable difference of the two pictures of the one place. Is either at fault? No. But the secret lies in your position. Like the life and actions of another, if viewed from so low a standard as the sea of your own short-comings, a part only becomes visible; that part which is most exposed, or is in direct contact with your lowly position.

Ascend into the hill of spiritual discernment. From thy elevation mark every varying shade, every veiled feature. See the massive buildings of Unselfishness; the deep winding rivers of Love; the curved shore of the beach of Strength; page 186the dark green, golden tinted foliage of the trees of Sympathy. And from the hills of the east, those bold, rugged hills of Bonsby, you see Bonsby as it is. Calm, peaceful, snug little Bonsby: girt on all sides by that elevated chain, with its small clasp of deep blue sea. Among her grey-roofed houses, and bordering every street are tall poplar trees, blue gum, oak, buxon fir, and wattle. On the golden pasture land of its outlaying valleys, cattle with well-filled flanks, and horses with sleek coats and erect ears, browse; while, on the hilly slopes, like the star spangled sky, twinkles the white woolly sheep. The two rivers, so quiet and peaceful in their pleasant humours, so fierce and rushing in their rage, so widely separated at their source, united at their terminations, the rivers, blue and shining in the shimmer and sheen of their rippling glassy surface, wind in and out, and around and about, those peaceful homes and stone-built walls; winding and threading, and teaching us the path-way to the sea. No birds hover in the air; few nestle among the trees. Only the lark, the bright, joyful, almost immortal lark, disturbs the silent ether; floats unperceived beneath the illumined sky. In the grass beneath your feet, among the flowers at your side, around the trees above your head, no snakes or reptiles curl; no hateful hiss disturbs your quiet musings. New Zealand, the land of liberty and love, nurtures not the adder of the soil, the serpent of the people. Venom may lie within her bosom, but man alone has placed it there; man alone need fear.

The distance from the town to the place of encampment is about a mile, and a good carriage roads leads from one place to the other. A breakwater and two bridges break the monotony of the road, the former being a rugged and picturesque white elephant, with rusty iron eyes gaping at you wherever you turn. Bakers, butchers and fruit page 187sellers take turn about visiting this seaside resort, and at any hour of the day refreshment may be obtained. Appetite is a hard task master at all times, but in the bracing sea breeze its demands are heeded with unusual rigour.

We will visit this pleasant scene in the quiet hours of evening; evening of day, evening so full of white-winged, golden crowned spirits; beautiful peerless evening; time of receiving Heaven's shining robed messengers.

A carriage rolls quickly along the rainbow tinted sand, and draws up in front of one of the largest of those tents, scattering a crowd of children who have gathered on the beach. The single occupant alights, pauses to say a word to the driver, watches the safe turn of the carriage as it drives back the road it came, enters the wide flapping entrance, and is warmly greeted by the hostess, who is none other than our friend Mrs. Rettos.

"I am not quite settled, my dear; but you will not mind that. It is picnic time, you know."

"I think it just splendid." The eyes wandered around, and lingered on the strip of blue sea peeping through the arched entrance. "It is a fit place for our farewell."

"To the place, or to me?" queried Mrs. Rettos with a mischievous gleam in her kind blue eyes.

"Both," the dreamy voice answered. "In this weary life the offices of both are so much alike, so similar in effect, that in meeting and in parting, the same thoughts arise and find vent in the same words."

"Little flatterer. Is that meant as a compliment to me, or are you disparaging my sea-side residence? Beware how you answer, for I am a jealous woman."

"I hardly know what I mean, nor do I think I addressed you. My words were spoken to myself. The receiver might not always be grateful for your gifts, may often wish you had not been so kind, but that does not lessen your page 188worth, it makes them greater, adding lustre by their unselfish intentions—despised recompense. You see I class you and nature together. It is the highest tribute I can pay to both."

"Run away, my child, you make me vain. What is the little I do for others, compared with the much others do for me?" Mrs. Rettos gently wrapped a soft white shawl round the girl's shoulders, and playfully pushed her toward the door. "Run out and have a peep at my children. You did not know I had such a large family, did you?"

The children clustered together again as soon as the carriage had driven off. They were too excited, and too much taken up with their own enjoyments to notice the visitor, or to be inquisitive about anything but their supper. "Let's have a game of hide and seek," exclaimed a merry voice. The rest of the party took up the strain, and sent their answering cries across the water, and up the solemn darkening hills. Then there came a bable, such a happy joyful bable, such a bable of harmonious sounds, that the air, the sea, the rocks, the very sky quivered with the strain.

Out in the Bay, leaning on their oars, and gazing at the tranquil waters and misty landscape, were two young men. They seemed to be idle, very idle, for the boat rocked and drifted wherever it pleased, and seemed, by its constant dipping and flapping, to be making wry faces, and contemptuous ejaculations, at the troubled musings of one of its occupants: the other was lazily puffing at a handsome meerschaum pipe, and watching the bluish white smoke curl up into the air. They had evidently been talking about something serious, for an expression of gravity rested upon their careless faces. Suddenly over the water were borne those joyful sounds. The air became full and ringing, and the melancholy of the listeners trickled down into the murmuring sea, and vanished.

page 189

"Let us row in a little," said one of the young men, bending forward, and looking toward the rocky shore. "There must be some fun on." His companion silently complied with his wish, and turned his strokes in that direction. The moon calmly rose from behind the hills, and its silvery light fell on the molten waters, on the shining plashing oars, and on their dropping tears. Only the faces and the hearts of those silent rowers were still and shadowy. For a second time they rested on their oars, and feasted their eyes on the scene. A scene, not of silence and cessation, as was the former, but one full of joyful light, of quivering rampant sounds. And should they be the only two to enjoy this feast of rejoicing nature? Come, borrow my glasses, they are faultless to the sight, and through them take a peep at the costly delicacies of the soul.

The beach, the sandy shingly beach, with its variegated stones and sand, with its playful curling waves, its boisterous children. And on the beach a party, a half out and half indoor party, held in honour of one of the merry maker's birth day. What fun (Ah! there was "some fun on") those children are having. How they laugh and shout. How they roll and tumble shout on the soft shining sand. How their hair streams in the breeze, and their hands ache with pelting one another. And then the screams from the seeker, when he or she catches sight of the hider, and the laughs of the hider, when he or she is caught. Feet, bodies, minds have dispensed with their hereditary manacles, and are exuberant in their freedom. Oh, it is fun, true, genuine fun, to play about on the beach, to dance to the music of the waves, to be dressed in the full costume of ease, which is the best kind of elegance, and to let your spirit rise as high as the blue sky above, conscious that there is neither woof nor warp to hinder page 190their upward flight: feeling that the enjoyment lies in itself, and not in its environments; in the inner, and not the outer.

The boat with its two occupants gave a sudden lurch, and the young man in the bow almost dropped his oars. His companion looked at him, but the eyes were strained toward the shore, and the face was expressive of an intense excitement.

"Steer closer, Frank," was all he said, but his voice quivered with agitation. They went in so close as to run aground.

"Why! What is the matter, old boy. Do you see a ghost?" asked Frank Leaty, wondering what could be the cause of his friend's sudden pallor. But he might have spared himself the trouble of speaking, for something had mesmerised those scorching eyes. Only the slim dark-robed figure of a girl advancing toward the cluster of children from one of those white canvas tents. A girl! and such a tirade. I wonder if she were conscious of it. She seemed to be, for she glanced about in a hesitating restless way, as if she felt the spirit of disturbance in the air.

She paused and lifted a white hand to sever an imaginary cord that seemed to be dragging her into a space immeasurable; but her hand was struck down, and another hand severed the cord. Her whole body winced at the sharp incision, and a quiver of pain shot through her heart, but the soul was free (the soul which lived in the body, and yet could be free), and the severed cord shrivelled and shrunk, until it became a tiny spot of glowing light, leading through a deep dark mist into a glorious vestibule beyond. Then, as a spirit advanced to meet her from that brilliant hall, with its floor of golden water, the same intervening hand severed the connection, but pointed to the marble statue of "Union by and by."

page 191

And the children, the bright happy children, unconscious of all this, stood and beckoned to the motionless moon-lit figure.

"I beg pardon. Did you speak?" And the young man shook himself as if he had just awakened from a sleep.

"Yes! I asked if you had seen a ghost."

"A ghost. No. Yes. A ghost of the past. Let us go back Frank."

"Go back," exclaimed the other in astonishment. "What the devil do you mean? We have scarcely had a breath of the sea air yet, and you want to go back."

"I am sorry, but I had forgotten I have an appointment this evening."

"D—n the appointment. So have I, but I chucked it up. Appointments are of use only when they are convenient. I suppose that is why you have one to-night."

"Perhaps," answered his companion dryly.

Frank was angry, very angry, and for a time would not speak to his friend. To think that he had been fooled into going for a moonlight row, and then to be fooled into going back. It was quite enough to rouse the devil himself. And then that ass sat there and looked so indifferent, and so composed, as if the whole thing was a matter of course. Darn it! and he might have been enjoying himself with Grace. That comes from considering someone else before one's self. Really, the more he thought of it, the blacker grew the insult. 'Pon his word he would like to duck him in that confounded water he seemed to be anatomizing. And the offender, poor unconscious offender, plied his oars, and pulled, as if for dear life, pulled until the perspiration stood out in great drops upon his forehead, and rolled down his cheeks, until the veins on his white shapely hand looked like the livid purple strips of a heavy whip lash, and until the muscles of his arms became hard compact knots. page 192Away like the wind tore that little boat, cutting through the trembling water, and leaving behind a pale narrow line, which appeared like the trailing footprints of a warning spirit on the love ocean in our region of thought. And away like the wind of the wind tore some one's thoughts, cutting through the narrow veil of time, until it hung before the mind in shivers and shreds, revealing beyond a misty vault of uncertainty that enticed and allured, by its flickering light, the victim to its—what? Frank, be not exacting, be merciful, even in thought. In the scales of consideration, what, O what, is the weight of your petty chagrin?

"Diabolus embrace the fellow. Are you having a race?" exclaimed Frank, breaking in upon the silence with his voice, and upon his friend's corns with his foot.

"Of the mind," answered the dreamer, rubbing his injured toe, and resuming his chrysalis by the sudden twitch of pain, and forgetting in his mortal retrogression that he had been assigned to the care of the Dark diety.

"I am afraid, my friend, you are out of sorts, out of wits may be. Has the sea god—Neptune is his name, isn't it?—has he examined your case, and ordered the antidote Europe?"

"He did, but finding his medicine increased my distress, I have taken Bonsby from Terra instead."

"Sensible fool. Stick to the lady's drug, and you will never be troubled with wandering indigestion again. I take it, and can give you a guarantee."

"Thanks. I am very much obliged." There was a cynical smile about the corners of the young man's mouth. "By that I conclude that you are one of Terra's walking advertisements. A word of advice. Have a care, you do not court what you seek to repulse by your foppish indulgences in nature's folly. There I have given you a mouthful of chaff, ruminating on it."

page 193

But the pier was reached. Swiftly the boat glided up to the stand, and the young men sprang out. Neither of them sorry that this terminating had put an end to their not too pleasant conversation.

"I say Frank, do you mind seeing to the tackle? I must be off."

"Not in the least. Go by all means, and a father's blessing go with you. My Certie! If I don't pay you out for this dastardly trick, I'll chew my socks. The mean skunk."

But the blessing, and its accompanying threat, was heard only by the stars, for the poor delinquent was beyond the range of their vindictive power. The tackle got rather rough handling from Mr. Frank Leaty's hands that night.

And the girl on the beach, the girl with the starry eyes, nay, the planetary eyes, for though large and bright, and shining like the stars, yet twinkled not nor dazzled the beholder, being of that rare and limpid light, which burned beneath, and threw its steady brightness on the brown velvety opals; light which became brighter with a deeper purer brightness the closer it was observed, the nearer the observer approached. That girl stood on the beach and conned over the first pages of her romantic book of life. But she was not left long to her silent study, for soon the small white cloud of moving figures came flying toward her, their voices, like the ark of God to the children of Israel, preceding, and proclaiming their intentions: "Oh do come for a race. It is such fun. We will give you a head start. You must. We will make you. This is our day." There was a scramble to obtain possession of the hands, a forward charge, and the struggling, laughing captive was dragged over a city of sand-built forts, through and across an ocean of trenches, and down to the water's edge. The bait, bait that flashed out in the glowing light page 194of innocent enjoyment, was too tempting, and the poor weak hungry fish was caught. If boys will be boys, so girls will be girls, even though they have passed their teens, and have seen trouble uncover his fangs and growl. That reminds me. I heard a whisper the other day that Colonial girls have no girlhood. They step out of their cradles into long dresses, or worse, into long trousers. If by that they mean New Zealand girls, they are little-minded fools, and their observations have reached no wider limits than their own narrow natures. Girls in New Zealand have their girlhood, and a happy and blessed and unending girlhood it is. It continues from maid, through matron, and into eternal maturity. Those girls, or figures of girls, which have come within the range of the slanderer's observation, are not genuine New Zealanders. They are imitators; offsprings of a race crossed between the Old world and the New. Their parents, if they had any, are dead, consequently they have no one to guide them. Seeing the spirit of liberty in our land, and stamped in the hearts of our people, and mistaking the moulded wrappings for the true form of the wrapped, they succeed in making themselves a corruption of the reality. Thus, through not being properly nurtured, they step out of their cradles before their limbs have been sufficiently strengthened; their half-formed minds glint on the shining Medusa head; they are turned into the nineteen century centaur of half man and half woman; and they strut about aping the man, and shaming the woman. O women, we do not grudge you a home in our Island, but we do object to your ways. We invite you to our feasts, but you must put on our robes. If you reject our beneficence, and infringe upon our laws, you must take the consequence of our indignation, as well as that of your own violated modesty and power. You are handling knives that will page 195pierce through your own hearts, and enter those of your children; for what think you, will they be like who are offsprings of two masculine parents? And we, who are true children of the soil, will not spare your feelings, we will cast arrow after arrow upon you, until we have destroyed the whole brood of scavengers. I warn womankind, that womankind will not be dragged down from their exalted seat above the chasm of their true nature's afflatus.

But eschew with your bickering, and return to the children; the children who are getting bored by a language they do not understand. A long line, uneven, irregular, variegated, a line composed of dots. "Ready, steady. Off." The starter claps her hands, and joins in the chase. The line pauses a moment, sways, and then sweeps onward in a wild headlong gallop. On on, laughing and shouting, and making the air ring again and again. On on, advancing and receding, on on, crossing and recrossing. At last legs are tired, voices hoarse. Right about wheel, back speeds the line, less boisterous, less rapid.

But young ladies (New Zealand girls in their girlhood) are not such swift runners as children; they do not get the same amount of practice, therefore, although they may be first at the start, they are almost sure to be last at the finish. So it happened that the young lady with the phantom power fell short of the physical honour.

"Run on children. Don't wait for me. I am "knocked out of time," came in short broken gasps from the once boastful competitor, and the children ran on, laughing as usual; ever happy, whether in going or coming, whether in running or falling. A new theme filled their little beings, supper, a real bonsering supper, with oranges and cakes, and sugar and jam, and tarts (ah, those tarts, I can almost taste them in the very name), but tarts and cream, and more laughing, and more shouting, and more fun than ever. page 196Fling up your hats, and dance with joy, in comes the supper, the bonsering supper. Slower and slower grew the steps of the laggard, lower and lower sank the head. The little cold hands were clasped; all laughter, all sunshine had gone; all sadness, all sorrow remained. The spirit of disturbance again troubled the air, and again the golden water played on the floor of the vestibule beyond. But the glowing light was brighter now, and she could see a tiny silvan thread she had not noticed before. The ends of that thread she could not see, but the middle, or the line between the points, was plainly visible, and stretched from the glowing light through the dark mist, becoming lost in the bright distance. Suddenly a shadow falls, whether across her path, or across her thoughts, would be hard to say, but the planetary eyes are raised, and the bent form stops short. What? Why? When?

"Nellie."

"Iwand."

Draw down the veil awhile. A few moments that is all we ask. A few moments of immortality, then back; back to the mortal facts: the facts which are the fruits of the use or abuse of such immortal moments.

Quietly and firmly Nellie withdrew herself from the close embrace to which she had been surprised into yielding; from the hot passionate kisses she had received, but not returned.

She stood with her white hand clasped in that old peculiar style, which Iwand understood so well. The peculiar style that betrayed the agitation, the deep and earnest thought. She stood, and her drooping form looked shrunk and withered in the grey moonlight.

"You go to-morrow, Nellie?" asked Iwand, after a silence into which all the elfs of remembrance seemed to be huddled and haggling.

page 197

"Yes!" The very question and answer they two had countor-used the night of Iwand's farewell so long ago.

Iwand shaded his eyes with his hand. He could not bear to look upon that pale wasted face, those hollow cheeks, and purple rimmed eyes.

"You have been very ill, Nellie?"

"Yes! but I am better now, and the doctor says a change is all I need to set me up."

"Will you be long away Elmy?"

"I cannot say. The lady I am going to wants me to stay with her altogether. When did you come?"

"To-day I came by the steamer you are going away in. Marion wrote and told me of your trouble and illness. I asked, and obtained leave of absence, and here I am, just in time."

"This, then, is Mur's surprise. I might have guessed."

"I nearly missed seeing you to-night, Nellie. I went up to your home, but could gain no information regarding your whereabouts. I had fully given up hopes of a conversation alone with you, until I twigged you from the boat."

Another painful pause, in which the hearts of both beat against their bars with all the force of a terrific gale. Each felt as if a crisis in their lives had come. As if the uncertainty and doubt of many years was to be cleared away. As if they would stand in one another's light as they were, and as they would ever remain. The strain upon them was easily seen by their white agitated faces, their heaving bosoms. Was all the past to be swept away? Was the beginning to be measured by the centre, the beginning with its sunny smiles of innocence and love, the centre with its bitter tears of folly and love still? What would the scales declare? Hope for the future? Aye, hope, there is hope to the very grave, to the shore of the sea page 198beyond, but what kind of hope? Answer.—And in that glorious moonlight night, in the solemn silence of the assemblage of angels, beneath the tabernacle of the blue star-spangled sky, with the great foam fringed ocean at their feet, those two united, and parted, and united again, held the scales of the united, or parted again, which?

Iwand drew very close, so close that his brown wavy hair mingled with the loose locks of that dark bowed head, so close that he felt the warm breath upon his cheek, the glamour of the magic presence in his chaotic soul. But he did not touch her, did not attempt to draw her to him. She was as one who had not as yet ascended to the Father, a creature in immortality yet unsealed. The light of that golden water shone in her face, and in the sweeping folds of her loose dark robes. He dared to feel, but not to touch, the flesh made spirit by its immortal flight, its divine communications.

"Nellie," and the strong manly voice broke and became a hushed whisper. "Nellie. Did you receive a letter from me sometime ago?"

"Yes, Iwand."

"You did not answer! Poor child, I do not blame you. I have come for my answer now. Believe me, dearest, I would not bother you, only you are going away, and I may not see you again for some time.

Foolish Iwand, foolish short-sighted wooer. Even then, at the eleventh hour, if you had come with the sack cloth and ashes of your soul, you would have been received with open arms, and words of welcome and comfort. But to come with the scent of that condescending patronizing letter sprinkled upon you; to come with the words of a pleader, but with the bearing of a commander, to come labelled with, "I ask, and, therefore, must receive, I show you that I love you, and, therefore, you are won. You ought to feel highly page 199honoured by my condescension. I—I—I all is I." Not a muscle of that motionless listener moved. The face grew grey, grey and cold as the rocks around. The hands were clasped as in a vice. The soft white shawl fell back from the creamy neck, and floated over the bent shoulders like a shield of protecting purity. And the great blue sea monster, with its never ending roar; the white froth flying from its lolling tongue, a tongue which seemed to be an accumulation of tongues, one on top of the other, one swallowing up the other, and the other spitting out the one: courtesied with grand and humble grace, and licked the young girl's feet. One moment, two moments, she stood thus: One moment—two moments—of time which was as a thousand years, and the cord of selfish desire, of mortal wilfulness was severed; severed by an unseen hand, just as the visible one was upraised in the very act of divine obedience: severed, and the poor weak flesh was saved the sharp pang of pain. For, seeing the willingness of his child, God in his compassion turned the heartrending sacrifice into a lamb of outraged pride and holy indignation: himself providing the where-with-all. Then the step, which would have effected eternity, was arrested, and eternity's planned step was taken.

Nellie raised her head, and in the simple gesture was her old proud self again. Her face was deathly in its whiteness, but it was firm as marble, and under the large bright planetary eyes were painted dark purple shadows. Her voice was low, but clear and penetrating, and the ring of reproach in it chilled and humiliated the self-conscious listener.

"Iwand, listen. When you left me, I was a child. A lonely child, with relatives, innumerable with friends, none. Lonely in the midst of a vast crowd of seething living beings, who knew not my language, nor did I theirs. There were times when I thought that even you misunderstood my page 200idioms. But our lives, yours and mine Iwand, had been strangely linked together from infancy. We had grown up together, been schooled together, had had our childish joys and sorrows together, prayed together, and, although we were not born together, our constant intercourse had woven cords which twined themselves around our hearts, and drawn us nearer and dearer to one another than any ties of blood could have done, What I was to you—Ah, Iwand, why had you told me so often. What you were to me, I dare not try to fathom. You were my—. All. Do you wonder then, that with me, trifles, vices, which are fribble, being contrary to your temperament, had no power to wrench those cords asunder. So when a breeze from the distance was wafted to me, bearing on its pinions stories of a dissipated and wasted life, I smiled, and was happy. Happier than before, I verily believe, for I realized my vocation, my importance in your life. At last I had found an object to achieve. Something to accomplish. I was not simply your guiding star, but also your helping star. "Iwand will return," I cried in the exaltation of my inner thoughts. "Iwand will return to his Lyly. And, as in infancy, so in maturity we, you and I, would work out our sums of life together, One alone is too weak to stand against the world." My beloved, my Iwand, I loved you better in your blight than in your untainted untried innocence. Too well, by many a bitter failure, I had learned the lesson of mercy, recognised the unanswered cry for pity. Yes Iwand, my pity brightened the glowing light of my love. But, O! one day, one fatal day, into my hands was placed a beautiful letter. A letter pure and unblemished in its contour, perfect in its ciphering, but a letter that would be marble in its expression, were it not for the unlimited amount of self-satisfied veining between every lineament. O, that awful letter which showed me it was a beautiful idol I worshipped, but an idol of lifeless marble, an page 201idol that could not return a tithe of my affection. "Why did you not throw open you heart, as you used to do, and tell me all, and trust my love? My love that could have wiped out everything. But to deceive me, to pretend you were the same, but grown powerful in your purity, your integrity, to wish to show me you were doing a noble charitable action in asking me to be your wife. You might have spared my feelings a little, Iwand; the feeling of "Your simple country Lyly." Nellie spoke the last words with a tone of great bitterness. In her thoughts she was living again those keen sharp moments of wounded pride and shattered love, when with streaming eyes and bleeding heart, she read the doom of all her maiden hopes.

"Your simple country Lyly! Iwand, those words burned their way into the very centre of my heart, for in them I felt your patronizing, condescending smile upon me. I am childish, and unschooled in this world's lore, but I have a heart that beats with all the strength and depth of my worldly sister, even though her's be seasoned with experience's salt, and polished with Society's polish. The sin of intemperance is not the only worm that eats its way into our vital parts, and destroys the happiness of our homes." Nellie half turned away from her companion, and gazed out across the molten water, her great dark eyes rivalling it in their dreamy brightness.

"Iwand," she whispered in a soft far away voice, and stretching her loving arms out to the misty space. "Iwand, I love you still, love you so much, and as the days run into years, my love for you grows deeper. But you are not the Iwand of that letter; the Iwand here beside me." The arms fell. The over-taxed strength gave way, the trembling form sank down on one of the great rough boulders, and Nellie buried her pale pinched face in her wasted hands.

"O Nellie, I did not expect this from you," burst from Iwand's lips. And in his remorse and sorrow he flung page 202himself down on the shining sand at her feet, and tried to withdraw her hands. "Speak Nellie. Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me you will be my wife." And in his sunny eyes there glistened two great tears. Nellie let her hand fall upon his shoulder, and for the first time, since that one look of recognition, suffered her gaze to rest upon that dear lost face.

"I must tell you the truth, my Iwand, mine for the last time—I dare not link my life with your's. I love you too well to sadden and cripple you in your earthly journey. Nor would I be happy, I cannot supper, where I should feast. Seek out another dearest, there are plenty of good true girls, who by nature, are better than I, for I have had to be cleansed with fire, and to the end of my days that cleansing process must continue. Others need no such discipline, having less tendency to evil. Seek one of these, they will be satisfied with less than I, and they will give less in return. O, dearest, believe me, I understand your nature better than you yourself do. Some day, when you are happy with that other, you too will understand, and will thank "Your little Lyly." She bent her proud head, and her sweet lips touched his broad white brow.

But the gentle caress electrified the kneeling figure. Whether it was that Iwand felt in that womanly kiss the holy spirit of her womanly presence, and therefore measured the gulf between them by the depth of the slime of mental carelessness into which he had sunk; or whether it was that the quick of his pride had been touched; Iwand sprang to his feet, his face flushed, and his voice grew stern and bitter.

Involuntarily Nellie arose; the white shawl lay at her feet, and her face, with its great sad eyes, upturned to the angry passionate gaze of him whom she, in her blind selfish love, had worshipped. Ah! Nellie, how much more blessed are you who suffer, yet are free, than they who suffer but find no page 203release, being chained to the broken pedestal of their fallen idol.

"Is that all you have to say, Nellie?" and Iwand held out his hand. Nellie placed her two firm palms into his. Oh how small and thin they felt, and how they seemed to lose themselves in Iwand's grasp.

"All, and not all. All, because I can give no other answer; not all, because there is one reason I have not given, fearing lest you would not understand. Iwand;" Nellie's voice changed, and once more the light of that golden water on the floor of the vestibule shone in her eyes and upon her brow. "Iwand, above all my reasoning, above all my facts, sounds the thrilling voice of my theory, 'This is not to be.' Were it not for those distinct utterances of God, my selfish desires would make me weak and yielding in your presence. Dearest, we dare not defy our God's commands, knowing, as we know, that all are forged out of his great love for us. Even now a great peace has filled my heart, and I no longer desire the thing I am denied. I fear if God offered me your love again I would beg that another might accept it. Beyond the spot of glowing light there is the golden water, and the advancing figures."

He did not understand, but he folded her very close, and kissed her several times. All anger and resentment had fled, and on his grave face rested a look of quiet resignation. And Nellie lay on his breast quite still, feeling it was the last time she would ever rest there.

Presently two loving arms, not one whit less loving and childish than those of that first sweet parting, stole round his neck, and a low murmuring voice sounded in his ear. "Good-bye, lover of my childhood; idol of my girlhood. For your sake and for mine I give you up. May He who loves us both grant you a happy future life." The sea page 204heaved a sigh, and the spot of glowing light which pointed to the vestibule, went out.

They parted; those two who loved one another as dearly as in possible for mortals to love. And there by the great blue ocean they buried their love. And the angels, the angels who sympathize, yet know not how to console, floated down in their shining garments and wept over the lonely grave. "Why should this be?" they say, as they bend forward to read the headstone of Memories. "Should the holy cords, which took so many years to make, be severed by a seeming trifle, while sin so dark as intemperance glance off unnoticed and unfelt?" Then a low sweet voice from heaven answered, and the angels veiled their faces and listened, for they knew the voice of their Lord.

["Have ye not heard? Do ye not understand? The stone which the builders rejected is become the head of the corner, while the substance they sought to accept was no stone at all. In the erection of my own individual temples I choose my own material.]

The reins that guide my children's lives I hold in my hand. My face they dare not see, for the winkers of mortality cover their eyes, and hide my immortal brilliancy; and only through a pale mist can I be beheld by those on earth. But I have other recourses beside sight to make myself known. The recourses of touch and sound; the recourse of transfiguration, whereby even man may become a reflection of the divine, whereby man may gaze upon the sacred face that is reflected in him, the glass. Sight, though dim, is not wholly denied. Continual intercourse forms familiarity, and draws God and man closer together. Thus a gentle pressure of the rein in my hand is all that is needed to direct past the unnoticed danger; to lead the way along the intricate path of life. On the road of time there are ups and downs, there are mountains and molehills. But think not because the feet are tired there page 205needs must have been climbed a mountain. 'Tis the summit of a molehill. Again, think not because there is the feeling of nought else but chagrin there needs must have been overcome a molehill. 'Tis the base of a mighty mountain. As the summit is the end of the molehill, there must be nothing beyond. As the base is the beginning of a mountain, look up and mark its continuation. Ah! that mighty mountain, it reaches beyond the sky of this world into the universe of Eternity. The universe of the universes. So alluring and so gradual is the pathway up this mountain that nothing but my gentle pressure would have warned the traveller of the awful danger of a wasted life to which it leads. Look up and see the victims"

In the hollow caves and rugged crevices were peeping forth the despairing hopeless faces of a self-governed people. To return to the path they had forsaken was impossible: they were chained to the rock of their passions. Yet all the while the remorse eagle daily gnawed away a portion of their liver, their conscience, which portion grew again during the night.

Again the low sweet voice from Heaven spoke, and again the angels drew their veils more closely round their faces.

"Learn, O foolish ones, the lesson of your being, the lesson of the being of mortal. The object of the living All is the glory of God. Yet in the rendering of that glory there is the reflect on man." The voice ceased. The angels unveiled their faces, and stretched out their white wings. A soft breeze from a Alcyone's world, bore their fairy forms up into the Heaven of Heavens. And, as they rose a gentle tear from each, dropped on the marble slab, and wiped out all but the name of the dead. Then as higher and higher they gyrated upward, the air became filled with the strains of their glorious song, and in the swish swish of their plumes was heard the rippling treble. "Render honour and glory unto God. Lo he condescends to explain his ways unto man."