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"Straight and swift the little craft was cleaving the glittering waves,"

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a room full of contrasted lights and shadows, in which the portraits on the walls, and the living figures moving about in it, must always look their very best; lastly, the bedchambers, which were really furnished-and not merely fitted up by upholsterers, as in our own time -with their elaborate mahogany four-post bedsteads, high-backed sofas in carved wood, looking-glasses with deep drawers opening without a creak, the carpentry unimpaired after a hundred or two years' wear, oak wardrobes and chests of drawers with massive brass handles and locks. All these evidences of good taste and solid fortune handed on from generation to generation impressed the boy deeply. It was, indeed, the first house with a family history he had ever entered in his short life, and the sight set him thinking. "Will this house be good enough for your mother, think you?" asked Durham, as the two strolled about the fine old garden at will. 66 Oh," Geoff cried in an ecstasy of looking forward, "if mamma will not be satisfied with this, she must be hard to please indeed! | How happy we shall all be here!"

"My dear fellow," the other answered, as soon as your mother arrives in England you and I shall cease to be together. You will no longer live in my house; I shall not live in yours."

"I am very sorry," was all Geoff could say; and, glancing down, his tutor saw that the childish mouth was trembling.

"We must soon have been separated anyhow," Durham said cheerfully. "You were to go to Eton, recollect, and afterwards to Cambridge. This was to be your last year with me."

Geoff made no reply. The afternoon was now waning, and they hastened home in silence.

CHAPTER III. THE DREAM-MOTHER. As a matter of course, Geoff's head was now full of his mother-that dream-mother crossing the sea to make life blissful for him ever after. Very little good did he get from books or tutors, for, though naturally unimaginative, he could not help building castles now in the air from morning till night. What would the mother of his waking dreams be like? What kind of happiness was it they were about to taste together? A dozen and a dozen times he had asked these questions of Durham and Georgie, his closest friends, and a dozen and a dozen times they answered him a little impatiently.

"Wait and see, my lad," Durham would say, fearing lest Geoff's expectation might be

raised too high. "You may probably find that you disappoint each other a trifle at first.""

"Oh, sir!" Geoff would say with an expression of great dismay, "I am not clever enough, you think—I have not worked hard enough at Euclid."

"Wait and see," was Durham's invariable rejoinder; "and when the time comes do your best to please, and leave the rest.”

Georgie quite naturally tormented him with misgivings of a kind Durham had not hinted at. A little excusable jealousy lay at the bottom of her harmless shafts.

Geoff," she said, opening wide her handsome brown eyes, "I always had a poor opinion of boys of your age, but I never expected such absurd behaviour of you. This wonderful mamma of yours is to turn out a perfect queen, and an angel into the bargain, so you think, outvying everybody under the sun, as beautiful to look at as my dear mamma was, and the soul of amiability and goodness into the bargain; and for cleverness you seem to think no other woman was ever like her, forgetting that she has spent all her life on a desert island."

"Not a desert island, Georgie. Please stick to facts. The Pearl Islands, of which papa was Governor, are not desert at all, but as civilised as Sussex."

"I do not wish to say anything unkind. It will be your duty to love and cherish your mamma every bit as much if she is crabbed and stupid as if she were sweet and clever," Georgie said sagely. "Only why will you make up your mind that she is to be just perfection? Nobody is that, you know, except my own darling papa."

Thus silenced by his two advisers, Geoff tried to keep his dreams and fancies to himself, a task by no means easy. He was living, indeed, two lives, one with that ineffable dream-mother who had breathed romance into his soul from the remote ocean isles; the other with his daily tasks and common associates, for all else and every one seemed common to him now. Even Georgie must henceforth take the second rank in his thoughts and affections, he argued. Wondrous spell of motherhood! The careless boy was being already magnetised by this passionate mother's love-loadstone drawing him from afar. He seemed to belong by right to her above all, and alone.

Oceanic telegrams are not delivered with much promptness, and it was some weeks before Geoff was made happy by the news that his mother had really started, and that

she was on the friendly, hastening sea. There were no bounds to the boy's joy then; he whistled, he sang, he gambolled; his frolicsome mood made the grave Durham lift his eyes in wonder at what had come over him. Geoff became now so expansive as to link his arm affectionately in that of his tutor, and occasionally make endearing little speeches to him. He was, indeed, as all of us are under the influence of great happiness, in love with everybody.

The house they had looked at was hired, and beautified from top to bottom in honour of its expected mistress. Ralph Garland put in a word or two of advice, Bella and Georgie laid violent hands on this monstrosity and that; with the aid of one and another, Durham contrived to transform the place. The garden was stocked with summer flowers, faded hangings and carpets were replaced by new warmtinted textures, cornices were regilt, oak panels polished; finally, bowls of gold and silver fish were placed in the windows, singing birds installed in the conservatory amid tropical flowers and plants, and, to crown all, a peerless Angora cat, milk-white and commanding, was trained to sun herself in the boudoir.

The last preparations being made, there was nothing left to do but wait. Geoff, though in reality brimful of happiness, fancied these intervening weeks of looking forward burdensome in the extreme. Every morning he awoke with almost a paganish feeling stirring his heart as he gazed on the sea. Oh! might but the winds be fair and the waves propitious for the mother's voyage, it seemed as if he should have nothing left to pray for any more. So foolishly and fondly mused the boy as he lay on his little bed, counting the days till his dream should come true. The sea, he thought, hearkened to him, for seldom had been known so calm, so lovely a season. May was fairer than April; June was serener, sunnier than May; the summer had come in earnest, and the sea, a sheet of sparkling sapphire, had flotillas of yellow-winged fishing boats on its calm surface all day long.

Bewitching as the place was then-dimpling green hills above, silvery-brown sands below, gentle breezes blowing off the sleepy waves, pearly dawns, crimson and amber sunsets, matchless star-lit nights-strange to say, all its inhabitants had fled as from a plague-stricken city.

The plain truth of the matter was that fashion commanded this wholesale flitting in order to make way for the myriads on myriads of holiday-makers who now came instead.

Geoff and his friends belonging to the vulgar herd, stayed where they were.

On the first Sunday in July Garland put the usual question to Durham, meeting with the usual answer. No further news had been

received of Lady Auriol.

"I hope all will turn out well when she does come," Ralph said, looking significantly at the lad as the family procession walked home from church.

"What is there to be afraid of?" replied the other carelessly. "We may confidently expect our traveller safe and sound, since we have heard of no storms and shipwrecks. The pair are pretty sure to be happy together; and Geoff is an ordinary lad-so long as his mother loves him he will ask no more."

"Take care how you call any one ordinary till he has been tried," said Ralph. "Who knows what he is himself till he has been born again either in joy or sorrow?"

"You are a romancer. All human nature is poetry to you."

"You know absolutely nothing then of Lady Auriol?”

"No more than you do yourself."

"Her husband's last years must have tried her much. Diseased alike in body and in mind, helpless, hopeless, all but mindless, what a death in life was that!"

"Sir Geoffrey managed his official duties. till the last, and Lady Auriol always wrote cheerfully; things may not have been so bad as we suppose," Durham answered.

Then they talked of his own plans, and the use he should probably make of his own freedom.

"Do not leave us just yet, anyhow," Ralph said insinuatingly. "In a year or two I might be rich enough to get a glimpse of foreign travel with you. Who knows? The sight of a new lovely land would affect me strangely."

A moment after he sighed at the gossamer woof his fancy was weaving. Little chance, indeed, had he of seeing any new lovely lands with bodily eyes, for every year brought added burdens and tasks, and every year, alas! took something from the fiery courage and strength of his youth.

That July Sunday Garland's guests would never forget, so interminable it seemed, so unbrokenly happy. The long, beauteous summer day was, indeed, a little life in itself, and morning, noon, and eventide were alike superlative. Not a discord jarred the inner harmony; not an adverse breath ruffled the outer surface of things.

As soon as the sun had moved towards Beachy Head and freshening breezes were

low-lying on the horizon, straight and sure she pursued her way. Soon, with colours spread, she was gaily making for the harbour's mouth.

blowing from the sea, all the party went out of doors. They had only to open the front door, and there were glorious hills all round about; deep below the dimpling summer sea. Some went one way, some another, while a little group collected round Garland, who was dreamily watching the silvery sails breaking the blue expanse. The lame girl sat near him; she regarded it as a Sunday privilege to keep within earshot of the master. Near, also, sat Georgie and Geoff, who were tired of roaming about. Close by Durham lay stretched on the grass, his long limbs affording a nice jumping-bar for the two youngest children. Other members of the miscellaneous family made up the semicircle, all shaded by white-cotton umbrellas; all, like Garland, fascinated by the azure of the waves and the dazzling white-bells sounding musically from the shore; no ness of the sails, riding like birds between blue and blue.

"That sail yonder bearing up channel is no common craft, neither a collier nor fishing brig," Garland said, raising his telescope. "Ah, I thought so-it is a yacht."

"May I look?" Geoff asked, with a boy's natural eagerness where a telescope was concerned.

"Look your fill," Garland replied kindly; then, patting the lad on the shoulder, added in a playful voice, "she is making such haste towards this place that we might fancy your mother was on board impatient to embrace her son. Whose yacht can it be? for evidently she is coming into port."

"Oh, if mamma were really on board!" Geoff cried, then blushed at the foolishness of the speech. It seemed to him, although he was afraid to confess the notion even to Georgie, that such marvels might well be, and that those quickening sails might mean the impatient wings of love longing to fold him close. A strange, unconscious depth of feeling had become possible to this commonplace lad under the new influence of the last few months, but none perceived the change. All were now intent on watching the elegant little craft as she scudded gaily with the westerly breeze; and a more fascinating sight could hardly be imagined. So swift, so easy her course, so airy and lightsome her form, that no human-fashioned thing seemed here, fitted to encounter wild winds and storms, rather a beautiful phantom, an ethereal vision, destined to vanish from sight as quickly as it had come.

But no; now catching the full radiance of the sinking sun, now in deep purple shadow, now lost amid the pearly and roseate clouds

"Let us go down to the shore and see her come in," Garland said; and with one consent, old and young wound their way down. the rock-cut staircase leading to the fishmarket. They were soon on the beach, which, as is usual in such places, presented no less busy an appearance on Sundays than on working-days. Garland and his friends, having reached the water's edge, sat down on the pebbly beach watching the yacht, now glistening like a silvery-winged bird between the twilight sea and sky. For a little time they watched and waited, the soft summer tide rippling at their feet, the church

other noise but the fishermen's voices breaking the stillness. By-and-by, they saw that the yacht was making to, and soon a boat, plied by two sailors, put off for the harbour.

"Now our curiosity will be gratified," Garland said. "We shall learn not only to whom she belongs, but who is on board. Most probably the travellers prefer not to come ashore till to-morrow, the day being Sunday."

Much curiosity had, of course, been excited at this end of the town by the appearance of the yacht, and long before the boat reached its destination an eager crowd awaited it on the landing-place. The keel had hardly grazed the sand when a dozen rough voices were heard clamouring for information. The two newcomers also made eager inquiries. Every one wanted to be heard or answered at once. In the midst of this confusion Garland fancied he heard Durham's name uttered; but the other laughed away the supposition. "Impossible!" he said; he knew of no yachtowners. Again, however, and this time all heard it; Durham's name was passed from mouth to mouth, and two or three of the fisher-lads, who had recognised him where he sat, now came that way, beckoning and vociferating.

What could it all mean? Durham at last rose to his feet, hopelessly puzzled, and the rest of the party followed him to the boat, all in no less a maze than himself.

"Muster Durham, Muster Durham!" reiterated a sailor belonging to the place-his speech would have localised him anywhere"these chaps be asking after you. Be a letter for you from yonder yacht."

Then the foremost of the two boatmen stepped up and handed him a small white note, which even the cold, unemotional Dur

ham touched delicately. Mystery of mysteries, the address was in a well-known hand!

Garland peered over his shoulder and read, for the men were so intimate that they had no secrets from each other. Then the former-Durham being for the moment dumbfounded-caught Geoff by the arm, and said, in a voice shaken by feeling

"Heaven bless you, boy! you have now a mother."

Geoff had just half a minute to spare for the note, which was written in pencil, and worded thus:

"DEAR FRIEND,-I have come straight from Madeira, where I found a friend's yacht. Will you bring my boy to me? "PEARLA."

Without a word, quicker than pen can write

it, Durham and Geoff took their seats. The boat was shoved forward, the bare-legged sailors, standing knee-deep in water, gave the signal; then the boatmen plied their oars, and straight and swift the little craft was cleaving the glittering waves. Garland and his companions watched it dwindle to a mere black speck before they turned homewards, pausing as they climbed their mountain stairs to look again and again on the panorama below, moonlit sea, terraced town, with harbour lights and far-off shadowy hills.

"Pearla!" mused Garland. "Pearla-a lovely name! that should belong to a lovely creature. Doubtless fancifully given because she was born on Pearl Island, child of the ocean and its pearly haunts! To think of a boy like Geoffrey having such a mother!"

OTHER PEOPLE'S DUTY.

By L. B. WALFORD, AUTHOR OF "DICK NETHERBY," ETC.

66

N former times when England expected | pledge to abstain from spirituous liquors every man to do his duty, it seemed to except during meals, thereby earning for satisfy the man-and England-if he did it. himself the graceful title of a mealer." B So, at least, vaunters of the "good old goes a step farther, and scouts the bottle times" would have us believe, and perhaps altogether. But how sourly does the latter they are right: we will hope so, but at any regard the one glass of ruby port in his rate we have changed all that in these latter friend's hand after dinner, and how earnestly days. It is, truth to tell, not our own duty does he inculcate on his dear and excellent which many of us are mainly anxious to ful- A the "duty" of abandoning it. He cannot fil; it is the "duty" of other people, of our understand arguments such as suffice for neighbours, friends, and relations, which himself being found inconclusive by his stands out in bold relief before our eyes, it friend. It irks him sorely to find that in is their burden which presses on our shoulders spite of all he can say, and of the evidence and weighs on our consciences, and it is he can adduce in favour of his own views, his their concerns which leave us no time to companion is honestly and sincerely unconattend to our own. vinced. He has a great regard for A. knows him to be as desirous of promoting the cause of sobriety as he himself, and yet how strange and inconceivable it is that the good man cannot perceive what is as plain as a pikestaff! And how annoying that being thus fatally dense, he will not submit to be told his "duty!"

Other people, we find, are most provokingly obtuse about their "duty," and worse than being blind, they are obstinate. Of course they ought to see it for themselves, but as this is just what they cannot or will not do, they might at least with gratitude acknowledge their shortcomings when these are made clear to them, and follow the lead when it is gratuitously given. Alas! there again they fail. Other people will not be guided, i.e. driven and hustled in the way they should go. They refuse to obey the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely, and we may talk our throats sore, and waste our breath and shake our heads like Mandarins to no avail: it remains that we see their "duty," and other people do not.

For instance, my neighbour A is a temperance man, and as an example to the district of which he is the leading resident, takes a

He

Mrs. C takes her girls to balls, whereas her next-door neighbour draws the line at musical evenings. Then how great a thorn in the side of the latter is the former's neglected "duty" in this matter! She knows that it is a mere occasional gaiety of which she has to complain; she would herself allow that Mrs. C is a virtuous woman and a good Christian, that her daughters are trained in the way they should go, that her sons are useful and estimable members of society, but it is nevertheless a constant lamentation with the good soul that she and her neighbour

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