If old Snodger says a storm's brewing, you may depend upon seeing the yeast come flying over the sine-hills. By Jove! what a puff!" he continued, as a sudden gust nearly took his cap off. house rock to its very foundations. Ever and anon there would be a lull, as when I first awoke, and then again the casement would rattle and the blast shriek by. Suddenly a flash illumined my room for an instant, there was a I "Well, I really should like to see one of pause of a second or two, and then the loud the storms you describe," said I; "not a ship-boom, as of a gun, reverberated round the house. wreck, mind, and bodies washing ashore for days after, but a storm without injury to life or property; for indeed there is something majestic in the warring of the elements, the rushing winds, the scudding clouds, the metaltube-like roar of the heavenly artillery, and the vivid flashing of the arrowy lightning. There is something, to my mind, intensely poetical in the majestic fury of a tempest." “Yes, very,” said my companion, drily; "very poetical, no doubt; but, as in this case, intensely damp; and if you'll take my advice, you will come with me from amongst these pattering drops, and try to find a little more poetry indoors." "Bravo! Fred," I exclaimed, "that's the most sensible speech I've heard you make lately. I believe you are turning into the right road again, and are going to give a manly tone to the bent of your feelings." “Ah, well,” said the poor fellow, sighing, "it was about time; for I've made a fool of myself, or been made one of, quite long enough." It was no time for further conversation without doors, for the rain was beginning to stream down, and the wind howling in fitful gusts over the "wat'ry waste." I hurried home, and after my customary chocolate and cigar, retired to my bedroom. Upon opening the casement, I could tell that the storm had much increased; but the darkness and rain proved themselves insuperable obstacles to my leaving the house to go storm-gazing; besides which the wind was not sufficiently high to create the "mountains high" waves that would satisfy the desire I felt to see a storm on the sea-coast. Sleep fell softly on my eye-lids-one of the great blessings of the sea air that may be commended to the sleepless. The wind rushing by the house lulled me to my rest, and I was soon in the land of dreams, or rather in that | deep, sound repose whose waking banishes the sleeping workings of the brain. I must have slept for some time when a sudden noise that seemed to my waking senses like thunder, roused me with a start, and I listened anxiously for a repetition of the sound. I looked towards my window, but everything seemed of pitchy blackness, and for a time the startled pulsation of my heart, with its heavy throb, throb, was all that I could hear, beyond the furious wind which was now raging fearfully, making the 1 At first I took it for thunder, but my collecting thoughts told me it was a distress signal. turned out of bed and hastily dressed, and on going to the window I could see that there was a fire on the shore. Directly after a vivid blue light shone out seaward, and by its glare I could discern some thick black mass in the distance. It was now plain enough to me that a vessel was on the sands, for they bore but an ill repute, and I had heard more than one tale of their fatality. On descending the stairs I found my landlady up, and comforting herself with a cup of coffee, and from her I learned that the whole village was on the shore, for a large vessel had come on the sands. Resisting the old lady's persuasions to have a cup with her, I ran down to the beach, and on passing the opening in the bank was for a time dazzled by a large fire upon the sands, which was blazing up and roaring beneath the violence of the wind, and lighting up the assembled crowd. Where the vessel lay all was intensely black, for the light did not pierce so far; but the foaming waves, as they rolled over and tumbled with fearful violence upon the beach, seemed to reflect the fiery beams in vivid flashes. People were running to and fro, excitedly giving orders which no one executed; the mortar had been tried again and again, but the men could not get any communication with their rope to the vessel, and if they could have done so, the advantage would have been very doubtful, as the sea had risen to a fearful height. Another flash, and a report from the vessel sent a thrill through the breasts of those who burned to render aid but were helpless; and a chill struck to my heart as I thought of the dire straits of my fellow creatures. An excited crowd on my left then took my attention, and I reached the spot to find that the lifeboat had been brought down in its truck, but could not be manned. Most men shrank from encountering such a sea, and those who would have dared it were dragged back by wives or mothers, half frantic with fear. It was a never-to-be-forgotten scene; the roar of the cruel waves was deafening; here and there they threw up cask, spar, or plank, only, as it were, to pounce upon it and drag it back within their angry clutches as they came racing in, chasing one another till they arched over and broke in cataracts upon the sands, drenching us with the spray. The from "the drink," and they wanted volun- exclaimed, "But you will not go, Fred? Ob, teers. All at once a light form with streaming hair rushed up to Wilson and clung wildly to his arm, and, as I stood by his side, Amy Ellis tell me you will not be so mad! Oh! stop him," she appealed, to those standing by, "do not let him go!" Then turning again to Fred, she continued, almost shrieking, for the these men, born and life-spent upon this spot, dared not make the attempt. wind swept away her words, "Oh, Fred, stay, stay; for my sake, stay!" But bitterness was in the heart of Fred Wilson, and with a cold gesture he loosened her hands from his arm, and turning to me, made a sign that I should remove her. I half led, half carried her away, and turning my head, saw Fred Wilson climb into the boat, shouting, "Now, my lads, who dares ?" Amy was sobbing and wringing her hands, and begged pathetically that I would go back and stop him, struggling to free herself from me. Two or three of the neighbours relieved me of my half-fainting burden, and I turned back towards the life-boat. To be awakened at any time from a sound sleep to some scene of excitement always produces an indescribable feeling of there being a want of reality in what passes, but never did I feel this more strongly than on that fearful night. The deafening roar of the waves and the howling of the mighty wind had a bewildering effect with which it was hard to combat, and I felt as if in some wild fevered dream, from which I was anxious to awake and be freed. The boat was only three parts manned, for the men, brave though they were, dared not face the night. Old weather-beaten fishermen shook their heads at it and shouted to one another that "she must bide, for they'll never launch her," and I, knowing the peril of those on board, gnawed my lips at my own impotence and want of energy. All this had occurred in a very few minutes, and even in that short space the gale seemed to have increased in fury. At times it was almost impossible to stand against it, and with clothes drenched with spray, it seemed to numb and paralyse mind as well as body. Another blue light from the vessel showed where she lay, and we heard, or fancied we heard, the shouts of those on board, for they were only five or six hundred yards distant. Every one present was in a state of the greatest excitement, and though fresh arrivals were constantly appearing, all shrank from a combat with the fearful sea now running. I appealed to a stout fellow by me, and pointed to the boat, but he shook his head as a knot collected round, and he but acted as the mouthpiece of the group as he said, "It's maister. It 'ud be on'y gettin' shut of one's life. She must go to pieces directly; an' as to Maister Fred there, he couldn't find a gainer way to the church-yard than tryin' to launch that boat." no use, I found I had only to look at a man after this for him to turn away, and, sick at heart, I felt that the venture must be desperate when On looking round I found old Wilson by my side, a fine old grey-haired farmer, with a coil of rope on his shoulder. On seeing me he spoke, and I could see the old man was all of a tremble as in a broken voice he said, "There's my boy trying to get out the boat, and I can't go and stop him. I can't stand here and know some of God's creatures are being choked with the sea water and howd my lad back from going; but Lord knows, sir, I shall be ready to down on my knees if they can't launch her." If I were asked, and gave a frank reply, I should say that I was decidedly and constitutionally a coward. As a boy at school I dreaded fighting, and it was only after repeated blows and ill-usage of various kinds that the pugilistic spirit was roused within my breast which proved a terror to my enemies, and drove away Jack Brown, our bully who would fight, crying, with the bridge of his nose seriously damaged. And on this memorable night, surrounded by the excited crowd, and with Fred Wilson appealing for volunteers, I felt my heart flutter within my breast, and a nervous trembling about my knees, all the symptoms of cowardice. Love of self, thoughts of home and friends whom I might see no more, the danger of the enterprise, the boiling surf, and the mighty billows chasing each other madly shoreward, all tended to increase the feeling; and then came a reaction; another gun made the blood tingle through my veins, and by the flash of another rocket I fancied I could see forms clinging to the rigging of the dark indistinct mass out on the sands. I looked at Fred as he stood at the boat's head, with the blazing fire lighting up his noble countenance, as he frowned on the shrinking crowd before him, and then, with a muttered, "God help me!" I was at his side, followed by a volley of cheers. The cheers broke forth again, for my example was followed, and two stout young fellows climbed in after me. There was a squeeze of the hand from Fred, and then in a whirl of excitement I was in my place, with a strong ash blade in my hand, ready with my companions in the boat to battle with the cruel sea. Rushing waters-choking spray-blinding surf-and the noise as of a thousand cataracts in one's ears, and we were launched amid the boiling cauldron of mad billows. A sharp, short struggle, and we were beaten back and the boat almost stove in by being dashed upon the beach. It was quickly upon the truck, and a hundred yards off, under the semi-shelter of a row of piles, we were again launched, and this time with better success, backing water to the direction of our coxswain, and rising and falling like a cork upon the mighty waves which seemed almost to curl over into the boat. As we receded from the shore my cowardly feelings fled, and I felt in a perfect frenzy, straining at my oar with nerves in a state of tension for the battle with the waters. At last, after a tremendous struggle with winds and waves, we were under the lee of the stranded vessel, and then it was some time before we could communicate with her by a rope. Go close up we dared not, for the waves made a clean sweep over her decks, and the passengers and crew, about thirty in number, had now taken to the rigging, which sloped over towards us as the vessel lay upon her beam ends. At length we got ten in our boat, one poor fellow, numbed with the cold, missing his hold of the rope, and with pale, agonised face disappearing in the hissing waters. Another struggle with the breakers, and our freight was landed. Brandy was hurriedly partaken of, and soon we were again under the vessel's lee, returning this time with eleven fainting creatures, who slid down the rope of communication. We landed them, and then, half-exhausted, we returned for the remainder of the crew, who were clinging fast to the main mast. The moon was just sullenly breaking, and arms were frantically waving as we neared the vessel, which lifted with each wave and then came down with a fearful crash. It was evident she must soon go to pieces, and we strained every nerve to new exertion in order to finish our task. struggle for life or death, and I essayed to swim, but I don't recollect feeling any par ticular dread or fear. How long my struggle lasted I cannot tell, but it was ended by my being dashed by the waves upon a pile; and I recollected no more until I found myself lying on the sand, surrounded by a throng of anxious faces, while by my side, pale and still, his face gashed across, lay Fred Wilson, our gallant Coxswain. Sobbing, weeping, and wringing both her hands, holding his head in her lap, knelt little Amy, and even in the half-confused state in which I felt, I could not help something like a grim smile coming across my face at the sight before me, so perfect an exemplification was it of a woman's nature. Rough but willing hands were pressing "sups" of brandy upon me, the effect of which was to make me try to rise, but only to sink back helpless, for I found I had a dislocated knee, and, in company with the seemingly lifeless body of poor Fred, I was placed in a donkey-cart and taken to the Wilsons'. The rest of our party, as I afterwards learned, were safe, but anything but sound, for bruised, -in one instance, maimed,-and half drowned, they had been dragged ashore by those awaiting their return. I found myself in a few days more thought of than ever, and would gladly have dispensed with the thanks of those whom we had saved, for I had only played a subordinate part in the rescue. However, I had to receive thanks and deputations as I sat in semistate in old Wilson's parlour. But As we reached them the mast went by the For at their house I stayed, waiting for conboard, and the drowning wretches were plunged valescence, and sharing with Fred in the minisinto the boiling surf. We were backing water trations of little Amy. Poor Fred was nearly towards the vessel, and consequently were going at death's door on one occasion, for the shock stern foremost, and in obedience to our cox- of his blow, the excitement, and the terrible swain's warning cry, we pulled forward to avoid cut he received, left him with a wild fever, the tangled mass of rigging close by us. Two men from which he recovered but slowly. were clinging to a spar, and we reached them Amy-quiet, subdued, little tearful-eyed Amy and took them off, one of them holding with a -came every day, and Fred seemed in no deadly grip a submerged body, which we took hurry to get well. I hobbled about with a in as well. The others had disappeared, and crutch and a stick, and one afternoon, when we were about rowing shoreward, when a hand just waking from my after-dinner doze, I heard rose from the waters and clutched my oar. Its subdued voices in the adjoining apartment. In owner was dragged in, and then, with failing my half-waking state I cannot be sure of their strength and flagging energies, blinded, and import, but they sounded like, almost fainting, we again tried to battle with again, darling?" the surf. I remember little more, except seeing after a quarter of an hour's hard rowing the heads of the piles appear for a moment from amidst the seething waves, and then there was a crash and a heavy shock; the boat was capsized and we were all struggling in the water. Thought seemed crushed within me; I knew it was a "Never, dear Fred, oh, never! And then followed something like a sob or a sigh, and a sound that put me in mind of lying when a child in a little white covered cot, with a fair sweet face bending over me, and a pair of soft lips parting from mine to whisper, "God bless you! GEO. MANVILLE FENN. THEO LEIGH. BY THE AUTHOR OF "DENIS DONNE," &c. CHAPTER V. KATE'S WAY. LATE in the afternoon of the day following her visit to Houghton, Mrs. Galton put on her hat and went out by herself for a stroll in the grounds. They were pretty grounds those around Haversham Grange, especially in the early summer days in which this story opens. Not very large but well arranged; the glades and vistas were wonderful, when the size of the place was considered. There was one avenue that gave you utterly erroneous notions respecting the extent of the place, until you discovered that it was folded backwards and forwards, so to say, upon itself, and only separated from itself by an insertion of Portugal laurels and laurustinus. This avenue led away to a side-gate that opened upon the highroad close to a compact plantation, in which rooks dwelt. It was a turfed avenue-one that was consecrated solely to walking purposes; the approach by which everything on wheels or four legs gained the Grange was straight and broad and open as the day, and not the one affected by Mrs. Galton when she went forth to meet her cousin Harold Ffrench. At an early hour, immediately after luncheon, in fact, she had commenced expecting him; her expectations led her to request her husband to take "Kate out for a ride; horse exercise was so good for the little dear. Accordingly the husband and "little dear" went out for an indefinite period; and, having thus killed two birds with one stone, Kate Galton proceeded to make further preparations which seemed good to her, and with which their presence would materially have interfered. The drawing-room at Haversham Grange was as pretty a room, as perfect a one of the kind, to my mind, as I have ever seen. Indifferently as Kate wielded the brush, she understood many of the secrets of the art she was essaying to practise upon Harold. For ex ample, she knew that all light or all shade was bad in a picture, and could not therefore be good in a room; and she brought this knowledge to bear upon the adornment of her special sanctuary, and the result was good. She would not have her drawing-room all heaviness and crimson velvet, or entirely pale blue and frivolity and glare. But she had a happy admixture of shade and high lights-of the substantial and the elegant-and the admixture was eminently successful. A considerable portion of the success was due to there being no over-crowding. Everything was clearly outlined, and there were not too many ornaments spotted about to break every line and fatigue every eye, as is too often the case. Kate Galton detested a mob-even of Dresden monsters or Sèvres shepherdesses, or reproductions of goddesses in Parian marble. These things were represented, and well represented, but not in sufficient quantity to become wearisome you had no need to spread a mental chart of Kate Galton's room before entering it, in order to avoid dismay and destruction. I have said she was a very pretty woman; and that she was so even women who were pretty themselves allowed. A variable beauty hers was-she avowed that it was so herself with engaging frankness. It was wonderfully variable when you come to think about it, for the nut-brown hair came out in golden gleams of surpassing brightness occasionally, and the fair, almost flaxen eye-brows and lashes grew very brown indeed at times. But they were all due, these marvellous transformations, "to the weather," Kate would tell you, for she had an organisation very susceptible to external influences. As she probably knew more about it than any one else, her explanation, though not remarkably lucid, must be accepted in default of a better. The weather had a great effect on her shortly after her husband's departure this day. It brought a most delicate hue into her cheeks, and shot her hair with that golden glory of which we have spoken. When it had achieved this, Kate disposed herself in an attitude on one of the couches in her drawing-room, and rested there, like another Lady Hamilton, awaiting Harold Ffrench. But the hours passed and Harold Ffrench did not appear, and she grew tired of playing Sultana to the inanimate objects in the room —even though an Apollo was amongst them. In reality she was an active woman; the sofa and languor were little affected by her when she was alone. So about five o'clock she disturbed the arrangement she had made of swelling pillow and billowing drapery-of one bare arm from which the sleeve had fallen back, and one delicately shod foot from which the flounces had discreetly retreated-of carefully dishevelled hair and coquettishly adjusted half handkerchief of lace; No. 28 |