Year: 1872

now. snail go TO the deYu Ia
II enough after this, and the faster Il
: better. Who cares? Not you, har
L and calculating as you are; and u
sl-yet, though you don't care enoug
S flor me to save me from damnatior
0 Hove you. / always shall love 20
7 better than any living woman. NJ
9 own hearts darling, if love will Wi
/ you, I'll win you yet, in spite ofyour
: self" And then-they were unde
: the arch Of the bridge, with thu
t deep shadows round them, and onll
, the gray, trembling water for a wit
T ness-Travers caught the girl in hil
arms, as she was turning from him


caught and crushed her to his heart
IN sort of frenzy; kissing brow, lips
and cheek, not once but a thousand
times, as he did so. The next mo-
ment-before she could even cry
out-he was gone-passed away in
to the mist; and Maize birmingham
was left alone.


\ +


Two yearsl A short space in a
long life. A mere nothing to look
back on in general, though a very
eternity in prospect. Two years had
passed, end Maize was still Maize
birmingham; still all alone. 1t was
evening nova still, sweet, deWy
evening, after one of the hottest days
of the unusually hot July; and she
was seated on the pier at Southsea,
gazing over the glittering sheet of
deep, molten blue, across which the
Isle of Wright rose greenly purple
against a background of violet and
crimson sky. Behind the dark
fringe of trees which crowned its
summit the sun was just sinking like
a huge globe of lambent flame, tip
ping the bows and topmasts with .
fiery touch, and finging one broad
bar of liqid and across the dimpled
waters of the bay to Mazie's feet, as
she sat leaning over the railings; the
only solitary, the only sad-lOoking
person among the gayly-dressed,
gayly-talking groups of people who
sprinkled Jhepier.


She had been rather a pretty yirl
two years ago-more noticeable per
haps for a certain air of refinement,
an unmistakable look of "good
style" which clung about her, than
for actual good looks. Now, at
twenty-four, she was beautiful wo-
man = beautiful with the added
charm of birth and civilization; and
she knew it-knew it was as did any
of the idle gazers on that fashion
able lounge, and valued it-well,
rather less than the greenish-white
pebbles glimmering through the wa
ter under her feet, or the fragments
of seaweed Tapping to and fro at
the will Of these same waters. What
was beauty or grace to her when she
was all alone?


Two years ago-eYen now looking
back it seemed like ten to her-she
had rather fretted because her hair
was not as curly, her cheeks as fresh
and her eyes as blue as those of
other girls-girls Will used to ad-
mire at the theatre 1r in the Row.
She wanted to be pretty then, just
as she wanted to be rich-for Wills
sake; just as she thanked God for
her birth and talents and the capa-
bilities of good which she felt with
in her. They were all so much to
give Will, and for that reason they
were precious to her; not for any
other. An orphan with neither sis
ter nor brother, living with a wealthy
stepmother, and while enjoying ev-
cry luxury in that lady's house, full
ly aware that of her own she had
only the prospect of a modest hun
dred year, and that contingent on
her not marrying without Mrs. Jern-
ingham's consent before attaining
her twenty-ffth year. perhaps no hu-
man being in this world felt more
utterly solitary than did Maize at
the hour we are contemplating her.
She was thinking, as she did often
(much too often of that parting in
Kensington Garden, under the old
bridge. Often as she had gone over
it again, she could never quite rec
oIect how she got home afterwards,
and then what came next; although
she could remember well such a tri-
tie as Jack leaping on the foremast
damsel of an advancing schoolgirl
just after Will had some pretty, lady
like speech for the dogs rudeness.
She could remember that, and also
shiny white lump on the shiny red
nose Of an old member of Parlia-
ment who happened to be seated op-
posite to her at dinner that day.
But everything else, thought and
feelings and surroundings, seemed
an utter blank, until she found her
self lying face doWnwards on the
floor with the door bolted, and a
very tempest Of sobs and tears tear
ing her slight frame with the vio-
lence of its agony.


He was all she had, her own, her
love, her husband in all but in name,
the very heart-spring of her exist
ence; and she had sent him from
her! No one-nO, not even herself
could have told how deeply and
passionately she loved that gOod-for-
naught young sailor, with his hand
some face and winning manners, till
the hour for parting came. She on
Iy learned it then, when he was gone
from her forever, and she was writh-
ing in her sorrow al lalone; learned
it, as we learn most things in the
world, too late. Are all women
such contradictions, / wonder? Do
all of them know their minds-or
rather their hearts flor when do
mind and heart go together in Wo-
man?)-as little as Maize Jerning-
ham? No woman could have ap-
peared more cold, more passionless,
more unsympathetically hard than
Miss birmingham reasoning coolly
with, and as coolly dismissing her
loving, passionate, wayWard, and
half-desperate suitor; and now, that
prudent, right-thinkiHg woman OF
the world was rocking herself to and
fro, her eyes blinded with tears, her
hair soaked in the same scalding
rain, her hands twisted together over
her thrObbing breast, her breath
coming in fast, strangling sobs, her