"Well, we can have those rooms at Sandcombe," ssid my father as he opened his morning letters by lamplight in dense November fog.
Phere was general rejoicing round the breakfast table, for the prospect of a Christmas holiday away from the miserable atmosphere which had for weeks past made London a shroud, was very attractive.
Tonly, though T tried to show an. interest in the subject, felt utterly indifferent as to where or when we might go. If I had had any choice in the matter, it would have been to stay in the London home where Thad lately spent so many happy hours and cherished such bright hopes all within the last few weeks dashed to' the ground by my own egregious folly. But was alone to blame? Ought not Ralph Grantley to have seen I was in jest, or at Teast.have made some attempt to find out the truth, when I showed him the diamond ring Cousin Robert had given me, and in a fit of mischief forbore to tell him that Aunt Maria had left it tome in her will? But "Ralph was such a grave earnest fellow, and 80 sensitive where I was concerned, that the harm was done in a few moments—harm that must blight my life for ever! Ralph had hastily left me with acold farewell, and not one word had I heard from him since. And, alas Thad no right to offer him any explanation, for no actual engagement had as yet taken place between us, though I had reason to know that Ralph was only waiting foreign appointment already promised him, to speak to my father until a lucrative was formally bestowed, I was too much ashamed of my folly to betray my trouble to any one but my sister Effie, my ever sympathizing confidant, On the afternoon of the day which had prong! it the Sandcombe answer, our chatty friend, Mrs Osborne, called upon us.
"Have you heard of our friend Mr. Grantly's appointment she asked my mother.
"No"
"Oh, it's something very good I believe at Colombo. He was just starting for a farewell visit to his parents at Ryde when my husband met him, and heard the news he was looking ill, Charles says; if he can spare the time, he is coming over to us for a day or two, before he sails."
"But I thought you were going away for the Christmas holidays, like ourselves "'Ah yes, but I haven't told you yet we've taken a house at Sandeombe, and you know that is quite near Ryde."
My heart gave a bound—I should probably seo him again after all "Halle, what's this about?" exclaimed father, as a telegram was handed to him that night at dinner: "Prospect House, Sandcombe, do not come next week scarlet fever in house."
"Tsay what a nuisance exclaimed my Eton brother.
was more than a "nuisance" to me. My last spark of hope went out. Scarcely a word reached me of the family discussion which ensued, but finally I gathered that we were to start next morning in quite another direction to a place called Saltport, without even waiting to secure lodgings my father preferring to spend our first few days at a hotel, rather than stay an additional day of his short vacation in London. To Saltport accordingly we went, and found_ourselves so comfortable at the Sea-view Hotel that we decided to remain there. Had I been in spirits to like anything, I think I should have liked the place, with its striking contrast of old fishing-settlement and market town to the north, and southwards the modern watering place, lively With. its. mid-winter season; the two separated by the river Eaveney, widening quite headless of appearances, and panting out seawards into the. pierencticled bat for breath, T reached the swing-bridge.
hour, at whose landward end it was crossed "Step back, please," said,. rough by a cumbrous old swing-bridge. voice.
An amusing feature of Saltport life was Ilooked round. A blue-shirted sailor was that same bridge; amusing at least for in the act of throwing the iron chain across visitors and loungers; though it struck me aay path; another held the iron bar which that it must be troublesome enough for worked the joints of the bridge; for there, those passing on business, to see the rusty close at hand, a fishing smack was awaiting clanking chain thrown across it at each entrance to the river end just as they approached, the signal that "Oh please, please, just, one minute I the bridge was about to be parted in the pleaded. What mattered that minute more middle for the passage of a vessel between or less to.a herring boat? While to me it the river and the sea. On such occasions mattered my whole, life's happiness. and quite a crowd of waiting carriages, carts, Ralph's! But the heartless bridge-keeper and foot passengers would be congregated shook his head, and slowly, inexorably, at both ends of the bridge, which formed the fatal brid; ted in the.middle... In the only communication between the po-my wild despair I looked across to see was pulous visitors' quarter and the post-office, it possible to throw the letter to' some railway-station, and shops. compassionate, person waiting on the other Mechanically, listlessly, in spite of earnest side—the post-office was not. fifty yards efforts not to damp the enjoyment of those off—but, alas,. the. breach' was much too around me, I went through the usual sea-wide. In agonized'. suspense, I watched side routine, walking on the pier, or driving the harbour clock., There remained eight to the principal points of interest in the minutes to post-time when that' dreadful surrounding country with the rest of our stoppage occurred; four "minutes were party. me. Ah, now the boat: was through The only event in which I felt any inter-the Wedige eon but quickly closed I est was the arrival of the post, which might should do it; but the bridge moved not. bring us a letter from Mrs. Osborne, with To my horror, I. saw a banze'approaching whom my mother always corresponded from the other side. Then indeed I knew when we were out of town; a letter possibly all was lost. containing news of Ralph Grantley. But When at last, sick at heart, I reached the days went by, and the letter came the post-office, it was.ten minutes, past six, not. Bright December days those were; and of course the London mail was closed. "glorious. weather" my companions called 'There were no means of telegraphing' from it, while I morning after morning drew up Saltport in those days. my blind, selfishly longing for a rainy day, Almost distracted, I reached, the, hotel, and shuddering to see the inexorable, and carried a Bradshaw to my room with a unsympathising sunshine, and know that it faint hope that there might be a morning might mean a day's long dreary gregarious train from London to Folkestone later than outing.
I had supposed 5 in which: case' I: would take nly letter back to the post, on the At last, however, came a grey drizzling chance of Ralph's receiving. it oven yet; morning,' and my' father with the boys but no! The tidal train left town qt 9.30. started for a day's fishing excursion up Ishrank from confiding my trouble to the Eaveney, persuading Efe to accompany them; so my mother and I, with the any of my family till Effie came home late younger children, were left to ourselves. in the evening. In the middle of the hight she was awakened and alarmed by, my talk-'A sudden gleam' of sunshine after lunch tempted us to take a drive, from which we ing incoherently, and called up my mother. lay very ill wi¢h nervous fever for several returned at 5.30, just an hour after the days during which Christmas-tide passed arrival of the second post. There were by; and when I began to recover, the several letters forwarded by our house-"glorious weather" had passed away and Keeper from town, and among them one give place to stormy winds and rain.:' Mi for me, I started, felt my heart grow father, tired of hotel life, only waited wut cold; the original direction was in Ralph's should regain strength for the journey, to hand-writing! I carried the letter straight return home. to my room and tore it open, feeling no doubt it was his farewell on leaving Eng-me. learned from Effie that Mis. Osborne Very weak and ioo that fever left land. But a rush of joy succeeded to my had' at last written and mentioned Ralph painful agitation. The precious lines told me that which in my heart I already knew, Grantley's departure, saying that he had finally abandoned his project of a con-but had lost all hope of ever hearing from tinental tour on his route to Colombo, himself. He loved me, and could never love another. All his prospects of earthly joy had been dashed by what had occurred steamer. and sailed for the East by a Liverpool But there came a night, it was New Year's, at our last meeting; and he had thaokwhen all selfish thoughts and cares were fully hailed an oppertuity of leaving the dispelled amidst a fiercely raging storm country; but. bef fore doing 60, was irre-the tidings spread that two vessels were! sistibly impelled to ask me in plain awful peril off Hartwell' Head, about: half-words, was I, as he had such painful cause a-mile to the south of Saltport. to believe, pledged to another and lost to him for ever. "As he was not immediately due in Ceylon, he had determined to the rockets and other distress. signals from Heattrending was the'sight and sound of the sinking ships. Every window within spend the interval on the Continent, sight of outs was lighted, and there was a should my reply confirm his worst fears, continuous tramp of fect past our hotel in for he could not bear another day of inacthe direction' of the disastrous scene, to tion under his burthen of grief. 'I shall cross from Folkstone on Saturday morning," which. apes man from the Seaview, including my. father and brothers, had hurried. he wrote, "unless in the meantime I hear Some speedily returned to the town, to from you that there is hope for me." charter whatever conveyances' were obtain-"Saturday morning!" and this was able for: the transport of the saved -into Fridsy afternoon Ralph's letter was dated Saltport; and these messengers brought Wednesday, it had not even been forwarded word, thatthe life-boat was gallantly plying at once. That evening's post to town between.ships and shore, and.there was a was my last, my only chance, and it would hope that many lives would be saved. go out in twenty-five minutes! I° had inc of the doomed vessels was English, the writing materials in my room and I other Dutch. dashed off a few lines, ill-written, blotted At length the rescued.were brought into—but telling what my lover yearned to Saltport in carriages, carts, and on stretch-hear and Ito tell; and started for the ers. Never had the Sailors' Home been post-office with ten minutes to spare. so eréwded j every house in the town' was 'Across the broad space between' hotel and open to the forlorn strangers. The Seaview Pier, and down: the esplanade I. rushed, Hotel, standing.as itsdid.on ithe southern
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.