The St. Johns herald., 1897-09-18
A TROPICAL IDYL.

It is an hour after midday, and the
 tropical sun is beaming out relentlessly,
 although the air is tempered by a re-
 freshing breeze. The flowers in the
 churchyard begin to look a little ia
 tigued, and the roses, heliOtrOpe and
 geraniums, planted by loving hands,
 now far away, round the graves of
 those who have died in exile in this dis
 tant land, hang their heads and seem to
 be longing for shower or at least for
 passing cloud, but the grass is still
 green on the slope in front of the church,
 for the dry season has not yet fully set
 in. The sugar canes in the field across
 the road wave their long leaves ill the
 breeze, and the woods bordering the
 ravine, which stretches away to the sea
 in the far distance, present refreshing
 vista of dark green to the tired eye. The little congregation of English
 people comes rustling out of the church,
 and there is a fUSter of light draperies,
 a mingling of pretty colOrs and a ripple of soft voices and gentle laughter. Over all come floating the strains of an organ from the church behind. Some one is playing Mendelssohn's Wedding
 March.
 Then the carriages drive up and the congregation disperses. The first to leave are of course the governor and his family. They occupy two carriages. In the first goes his excellency, her la dyship and their eldest daughter, a gray eyed, brown haired English maiden ill her first season. The aid-de-camp pre- pares to follow, as usual, but the cheery voice of his excellency rings out: "De- benham, will you come with us, as you are the greatest stranger? Colville, my dear fellow, would you mind taking care of Miss Spencer and the girls?"
 And so the newly arrived private sec-
 retary drives off seated beside the eld- est daughter, while the aid d-de-camp
 who has been with her father as long as she can remember, takes his place in the second carriage beside the two younger children and their gOverness.
 "Why does Mrs Noble play the Wedding March?' says some one.
 "Oh, today is the anniversary of her own marriage, I believe, and neither Major Noble nor she has yet arrived at the stage of wishing to forget their wedding day." is the reply.
 And so the joyful strains peal forth while the little congregation meIts away. The musician and her husband follow, and the church is shut up and left to the care of the native garden until another Sunday comes round.
 Only the aidde-camp is unusually grave during the rest of the day, for a strange foreboding has come over him, and it seems just little hard that he, who has remained poor and has begun to grow gray in the service of his ex- cellency, and for love of him and his, should be busted for a stranger and just because forsooth he is heir to baronetcy and to fortune.
 It is evening in the cold weather, and | the short tropical twilight is nearly over, the sun having set on one side of | the ravine half an hour ago, while the | full moon has risen on the other, throw | ing black shadows everywhere, turning the waterfall tOssilver and lighting up | the mist of spray until 1t resembles a huge web of gossamer with the dew upon it.
 A party of young people have been exploring the ravine. They have clam bered up beside the cascade, have fol | lowed the rivers bank to the limit of the government house grounds and are now returning by the high road.
 As they round the corner past the . church two of the party finger behind. They are the governor s eldest daughter and the private secretary. The others go on, but presently discover that some are missing, and the aid-de-camp re- turns to look for them. He approaches gently, walking on the grass by the He calls, but no one answers. From the church comes the sound of music. The amateur Organist has been holding a choir practice and is now playing on in the dark by herself. She llays low, sweet voluntary, but pres ,ntly breaks into the Wedding March. :"
 AS the aid-de-camp advances he sud lenly descries two figures, close beside Jim, standing under the shadow of preading banyan tree near the church ,ate. They are the private secretary md the eldest daughter, and their backs Ire toward him. Before he has time to peak he hears a manly voice say, That is good omen, is it not, my Iarling?" and a sweet, girlish treble re- Dlies: ''Yes, and 1 shall love Mendels- ohn's Wedding March all my life be- ause 1t seems so bound up with you nd with my happiness. Do you re- member that first Sunday But the id-de-camp has turned on his heel and s out of hearing by this time He re- orts that the stragglers "are all right nd coming on. They have only been istening to Mrs. Noble's playing'
 The moon continues to shine and the { to sparkle in her rays and to , plash musically down into it's rocky ed, but to the aid-de-camp a black c hadOw of great darkness seems to have bread itself over everything. and the Y oil of the falling water and the noise : f the breeze among the filoa trees have ' mournIuI. mUaniiIE s0.41s=