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Show 1 &r 71 S::P 2 GMxr I it . jy if (Continued from Lat Week ) Wm (All Rlrbti RMfrrrt.) S I CHAPTER VIII. (Continued.) J jlCK was silent for quite a i long t.me. Then be sat up, 1 and put hll bands round his J knees, and said: 1 , - If life will let me. I want to do I some'hing pretty good one day Do i you think I could, If I had a shot Wt at It?" Joan looked at him very solemnly ' 'I am sure you could, Nick, jj Tou're very strong, and you're not j really siupid. aDd If you weren't I bo badly dressed you would be frightfully good looking, you know " ) N'lck blushed up to his eyes at theso words, and then laughed un- 1r easily I "Oh. rot!" ho said, i l f But though he objected to thin reference to his jooks, he was glad to think tlMt Joan was so sure that be could do something good. And in his heart that day, as the twilight twi-light crept Into the cave, and as the sea outside was touched with the crimson light of the setting sun. It? made a vow that he would "havo a hot" to do something which would make Joan less , ashamed to walk with him among the cowl, and glad, perhaps, to share hifl honor. Poi the fi.'tt time ambition lit a little fire In his soul, and the boy in him yearned for the activity and adventure of man . hood. "That was one of the afternoons when Toan's company was 60urce of harplness. There were other afternoons when her mond was less peaec'ul nnd more exciting, when she was like a wild sprite, touched with a little madness, so that he wondered at her She called to him, "Catch me If you can!" and was off like a fawn along the sands, H j so that in bis clumsy boots he Jfe could not keep pace with her long legs, and had to stand at last, pant-Si pant-Si j lng nnd laughing, while she skipped g-1 out upon a rock and jerred at him. iAj There sho unplaited her pigtail I and shook her hair free, so that it I was like rippling gold, and pre-m pre-m tended to bo a mermaid, peering at the image of her face In the mirror mir-ror of the 6ea. and singing little songs In a high voice Then sho iuui on uei suui iiuu sioiKiug.., V and walked for a mile or more, wading in the waves, until the edge- 1 L of hoi frock was all wet Nick Vv paddkd with her, though !t seemed to nlm a Slrl's game, of which he K. ought to bo ashamed, and with his Kl boots and stockings slung over his , shoulders, and irith his hand out- BrL stretched to hers, ho parr-d through tfpfVr ' the "ttle waves, wishing that life 3' might bo always as pleasant as '., this, with Joan holding htm fast by Ij the hand, while she lauhrd. and Ij: gave little shrieks of fear as the big waves came in, and cried out when Imaginary crabs caugfu hola Bafl of her toes. Efl "Why don't you learn to swim, H Joan-" he asked "It is much more fun than thfs I would teach you tl in lime." But Joan, who was a townred gnl ;aid that paddling was quite f-J ' good euough lor her. and that she xrr W could nm bear the Idea of umlress-lag umlress-lag In the open air, with all the HM world looking at her. li "There is nobody here but me," I said Nick, "and I would not look at BjJ 'jU until you were in the water." But Joan refused the offer BJ I 1 "One must draw the line some- B9 where," sho s;id. and she drew it Hgj very definitely at the lace edging ' of her white frock, which was a KpSH great disappointment to Nick, be- 4 cause, as she would not bathe he 4j could not bathe, and he yearned J for the water like a young sea-lion, jfik ' So one atternoon followed an- ,1 othor. and Joan was never quite the J 6ame girl on any afternoon, bo that gpp WfL. was never Bure whether shi 1 would be sweet tempered or quar- S relsome, dreamy or wild, scoffing ! or tender, and so that he found her 1 wonderfully perplexing. Her coming com-ing to Barbamplon created a tre- mendous disturbance in bis life. which was not altogether pleasant and painless. For ho could not settle down to his old pursuits, and bis studies In the mornings and J evenings became farcical because jf B all the words he read had no niean- 1n" ,0 n'm' nri'' no V"'n' through g whole chapters without understand- lng a single paragraph. The re-mem-H brance of Joan's beauty, of her teasing smile, of her Impudent, (mocking words, of her swift transitions tran-sitions of mood, came between him and his books It was as though Ij her coming to Barbarnptou had set I his whole being on Are, nr had I touched him with some magic spell I which made his pulse beat more quickly. 6ent the blood through his veins with a rush of new vitality, and made all his senses strangely i ecuto and Impressionable, so that he V mor vividly, to hear moi UlMBlf, to smell with nostrils that quivered at the faintest faint-est fragrance. Even his sense of touch was so stimulated that sometimes some-times when Joan's hair blow across his face, or when she put her hand on his lcevc. or when she leaned her head upon his 6houlder as they sat together on the sand dunes or In the cave, his body vibrated as though with a current of electricity It was as if his whole being had been awakened Into a new life, an l il spirit and body lifted up by a wonderful exhilaration. He was surprise and a little frightened by this intensity of physical ami mental consciousness, and though It was Joyous at times, It was accompanied ac-companied always by a kind of irritability ir-ritability or excitability which was almost painful in Its effects. He became so silent at homo that BMstles and Polly were both alarmed about him, and he k.u short-tempered wlrh them both when they inquired tenderly about his health, hating himself afterward after-ward for his lack of self-control Mar; Laenham also noticed the change In him, and suspected the rnuse of it, for one day she asked him, quite suddenly ami abruptly, whether he had made a friend of any j?lrl in toe neighborhood. For a moment he was tempted to lie to her, but the frankness of her eye and the tenderness of her smilp saved him from that humiliation. He told her about Joan, and asked her If he might bring her in to tea one day. "Why. that will be splendid" said Man- Lavenham, as though sho longed to make the acquaint ance of XkV? friend, and she pretended pre-tended not to notice his self consciousness con-sciousness bv launching into a description de-scription of the campaign of cooking cook-ing which she would put In hand at once, in order to produce cakes worthy of a young lady from London. Lon-don. Then sho asked another question which made the color sweep into Nick's face. "Does your falher know about the' Princess Joan?" That was an awkward question, for N'lck was conscious of a certain guiltiness in concealing the arrival of Joan from Bristles Time and time again It had been on tho tip of his tongue, but for some reason which he could not explain, he had not revealed the secret of his solitary soli-tary walks across the estuary, from which ho had returned late for tea. Ho was conscious that between him and Bristles there had grown nn Ml InirlafMa i,-.r-r,.. n,v,ik , rated them, but this seemed to him because of the secret between hla father and Mary Lavenham. which was always at the back of his mind, as a haunting and disturbing thought Indeed. Tor the first Mm in their lives there was a lark of candor between the father and son who had been all in all 1o each Other, because Bristleg shirked bison's bi-son's eyes for some reason of bis own. and Nick hid his inmost 'lioucbts with tho shv Jealousy of adolescence pn when Ifary La venham aked the question, "Does your father know about the Princess Prin-cess Jonn1" he stuttered out a few words about his own private affairs which had nothing to do with anybody any-body else Mary Lavenham laughed at him. and shook her head, and put her hand upon his shoulder "You know yon are talking nonsense, non-sense, there. Sir Nick Hasn't your private, happiness or your private unhnppinoss anything to do with the man -who har, been your best comrade all these rears, and who worships every hair on your head0 f'orr.e, come!" For some reason Nick could hardly keep (ears out of his eyes, thonrh he had grown too big for childish tears. ' Mv father does not care for me like he used to do." Then looking very straight tf Mary Lavenhain, ho said: "He Is more Interested In other people now " Miss lavenham seemed to understand un-derstand his meaning, for she dropped her eyes before his gaze, and h-r face flushed very deeply. "You will always be first in your father's heart." she said, rather nervously "But you are not go greedy as to want all his love, Mck?" He did not answer that, but sat staring at the pattern of her little carpet, moodily. It semed to him that Miss Lavcuham had by those words confessed that his father loved her too. and the idea that his father should lovo any woman but Beauty, whom ho had first loved even this woman who had been very splendid to Nick with her fine frankness, her fellowship, and her laughing jollity -was intolerable in-tolerable to his imagination. Oh, It was a hateful idea that one day Beauty might come tack and find another woman In her place. It was an Idea which upset the balance bal-ance of his boyish morality, and disturbed tho foundations of his -?r--v - '"' --' y - t I . ' ., . .'""..e .. ' '' ' v '"' y '. . -' '' w'a :iv.v ' "' 1 ' - r belief In loyalty and love. For always he had clung to the vague but anfadlng hope that Beauty, who had gone away suddenly, would come back suddenly, always her ghost walked with him, alwaya In tho cottage by the sea he had kept, as It were, a vacant chair by the hearthslde, for the errant mother who, when sho was tired of wandering would return to these two people who had waited for her. Ho could not explain these m She Stepped Out rf Wm of the Cave and Stood There, Framed in the Entrance Way of the Rocks, with the Sea Behind ler. things to Mary Lavenham, and ho did not know that sho read them in his eyes and that they caused her to draw back from the pleadings plead-ings of a father who did not guess the reason of her hesitations . . . The tea-party in Miss Laven-ham's Laven-ham's cottage was not a success as far as Nick was concerned. Joan had accepted the Invitation and had come in her best clothes and with her best company manuera, which made Nick feel more shabby than ever, and utterly boorish. She wore a blue silk frock, tied up with pink bows, jarnl white silk stockings stock-ings with patent leather shoes, so that even Miss Lavenham was abashed by this grandeur and said: "My dear, you should not have put on such finery' for a cottage tea! I can only give you homemade home-made cakes, you know." But Joan smiled very' sweetly, and said in a slightly patronizing voice. "I am sure this cottage is very sweet, and St is so quaint to have tea in such a tiny room " Then she 'asked Miss Lavenham how many servants she kept, and was very much surprised when she learned that Miss Lavenham was not only her own mistress but her own servant, and ordered herself about, and gave herself a day off occasionally, and answered herself back when she was cross "Doesn't it make your hand3 rather rough?" asked Joan. "It makes them houest hands," said Miss Iavenham. and she held them out laughingly, and said, "I am proud of them, because they aro not too lazy to do a woman's work." "How weird!" said Joan "Mother thinks it Is so unladylike to do housowork. Sho li proud because mmsm she has nerer even made her own oed." Mary Lavenham rubbed the aid of her nose, which was a funny little habit she had when she was vexed with something. "I am afraid your mother and I I would dlcagreo with each other," he re-marked, and then, as though J Bhe had been r. little, bit Impolite to her visitor, sho laughed and said ; "Of course I know I am not quito a respectable person, and I feel ery ?nuch honored that a young lady of fashion should visit my humble dwelling" "I am sure I am delighted," said Nick was rather abashed when his father strolled in to tea and was duly introduced to Joan by Mi.s Lavenham, who called her "Princess Joan of Battersea Park " I- v as obvious to Nicn that Miss Lavenham had told Bristles stou'. her before the tea-party, because he did not seem at all surprised to see her, and knew her real Dumb of Joan Darraeott. "I remember you quite well," ho sai l rather nervously. "You wero ! the little girl who used to pick up the things Nick dropped from the balcony Ll Then the Merman came in, and after him the Admiral, so that It. was quite an extensive tea-party, and soon all but Nick wero talking away as gaily as possible; as If it were a great evont to have a visitor visi-tor The Merman behaved to Joan with great deferonco, and called her "Princess," and "Your Royal Highness" as he handed her the cakes, and was more cheerful and amusing than Mck had seen him for somo time Only once or twice did a shadow come over his faco as Mary Lavenham exchanged prl-vato prl-vato kind of smiles with Bristles, and even then he tried to get back to his old friendliness with Bristles, and kept passing him the bread and butter, as though to snow there was no ill feeling. The Admiral was in quite his best form, and told a number of sea stories, and made Joan open her eyes wide with wonder when he described the peculiar ladlca who had honored him with their friendship In his younger dayB. One of them was a Queen of an island in the Pacific, who had fallen in love with him because, as he afterward after-ward learned, she thought he would be very tender to eat. Another was a copper colored lady, who dressed in a necklace, and who desired to worship him as a god, because he smoked a cutty pipe and wore gold' ear-rings for tho sake of his eye-' 6ight Theuhore was a lady who wished to be his mother-in-law, and who ordered him to be beaten because he would not consent to marry' her eldest and ugliest daughter. daugh-ter. Fortunately he was rescued In the nick of time by the skipper and crew of the "Sea-mew" from Cardiff. "I assuro you, ma'am," said the Admiral, turning to Joan, "that I have had many hairbreadth escapes from matrimony. Even now I do not feel quite safe." Hereupon he looked over to Miss Lavenham, and winked prodigiously, prodigi-ously, and seemed surprised at tho i laughter which went round the table. Only Nick was rather silent and tongue-tied. For somo reason ho was 111 at ease, and wished that he had not brought Joan to this tea-party. It gave, him a Queer pain to see her laughing and charting char-ting with theso friends of his, Ignoring Ig-noring him completely. She wasl excited by their attention to berj and her cheeks wero flushed ancT her eyes shone with a bright Hghd so that she looked prettier than? ho had ever seen her before. But some worm gnawed at him. It seemed to him a kind of outrage that she should be taken possession posses-sion of like this by other people. She had beon his secret. She had beon all his when they sat togothe? In tho cave, or on the sand dunes. It was horHWe that he had to give her up 'o otfc . , and eit out In the cold, estranged from her because theso grown-ups monopolized her interest For the first time in his lite he knew the pang of Jealousy, and there was a rage In his heart. A few dnys after that tea party, he had Joan all to himself again in tho little cave which they had made their hiding place, but the happiness which gavo an enchantment enchant-ment to this hole in tho rocks, so, that in its twilight there seemejB to lurk all his day dreams of tbn beautiful things that were walling for him In life, so that its sandstone sand-stone walla were clothed with magic tapestries, woven out of his Imaginings, so that this girl in the White frock, sitting with bjf knees' ttickod up, was a creature of mystical mys-tical loveliness, fragrant with tho odorous perfumes of all life's sweetness, tonohed with the glamor of dlvlue maidenhood, mysterious, taiiling, and elusive in her uaturo (Continued on Next Page.) 'l I $ttslftfi nu&lfin Win TjftSdstli I- t , i JI3 X X X ((Continued from Preceding Page.) 9 as the. secret of life itself was a little spoiled by the dread know! edge that It was the last of these golden hours he would have with her alone On the following day she would go back to London and ,eave him to his loneliness. It was that sense of future loneliness which weighed down his spirit. I "Joan," he said. "I don't know what I shall do without you." He spoke emotionally, but Joan answered in a light hearted way "Exactly what you did before I came. Nick " I "That's Impossible. Nothing will be the same " Joan laughed, with her face to the sea She had mado her two hands into a telescope, and was I am to get back again, so that I ran borrow some books out of the librarv, and ko to the theatre with mother, when she's tired of lying down A holiday is all very well, hut one gets awfully sick of it, don't you think?" "I'm sorry you haven't enjoyed yourself," said Nick, dismally. "Oh. but I have!" said Joan. "Still, enough is as good a6 a feast. . . . And now I must be going." "No. don't go!" said Nick. She had jumped up, and was smoothing her frock clown, but she was startled at his voice, and at tho queer look on his face, which had gone white, even in spite of its tanned skin "Don't you feel well?" she asked "No, I feel rotten. I hate to 'Thanks awfully You have been frightfully decent " He could not say goodhy lie bold her hand tighter than he knew and then he stuttered out a few words, In a gruff Jerky way. "Iook here do you mind9 Give me a kiss. T T want It more than anything. For remembrance." "If yon like," said Joan. Sho held up her face to him. and ho kissed hor on the cheek, very lightly and quickly, as 1 hough afraid "Silly hoy!" she said, and as though to show him how to do BUCb things, she put her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him on the lips Then she gave a funny littlp laugh, and sped away, loavlng him alone, ovoroome by a strange faint ness, as though for a moment his senses had swooned. She turned, on the other siae of the estuary, to wave her hand to him, and he answered with his cap. iiB 1 "I remember you quite well," he said rather nervously. girl-woman, the spirit of womanhood woman-hood itself CHAPTER IX The Father of the Man. Then sho dfsapponred behind one of the wind shelters, and he felt, suddenly, as though there were 3 great emptiness in hiu heart, ami a tremendous loneliness about him Boy as ho was he knew the desolation deso-lation of love, the pain of it, the agony of separation, the death-throes death-throes that lie In the first farewell. He strode home moodily, and tried to hide hte heartache Bui by a glance from h'.s father's eyes, by the kindly way in which he put his hand on his shoulder and said,. "Well, old man?" he knew that Bristles had guessed what as wrong with him That night he went early to bed. but not early to sleep. For a long time he sai on the side of his bed staring at the blank whitewashed wall upon which the candle-light flickered Joan's departure had ended another chap ter In his life. He- was no longer as he had been before her coping. She had unlocked some little aooi In his heart and let out a legion of desires, of hopes, of ambitions He must begin to carve out his way, to prepare himself for the Journey intc the great world, to look ahead to his goal. He could no longer drift on aimlessly, in the same old dreamy way of boyhood, lie could see, even now the day was coming when this little cottage by the sea would no longer bo large enough to hold him. He would have to go out and away. In the future thut lay before him two spirit voices would call so that ho must answer them. Two dream faces would haunt him, two g'hosts beckon to him. The faco of Beauty, his mother, and the face of Joan, his comrade, were visible to him, even In the darkness through which the whitewashed walls of his little bed room showed faintly when the candlo had sputtored out; and thai night in his sleep the) were strangely lntormlngled, so that they seemed like tho face of one B squinting through them at a ship Hj on the horizon line "I am sure I shan't take anything B away with me. The (.lifts will stay Bj where they are. and this cave will B still be here, and the sands will B still be there. Won't they?" Hj 'Wo," said Nick ' She was surprised by his em-B em-B tphailc denial, and half turned her B 'head to say: B "Why not?" B "Because after you have gone B this cave will be emptied of of all B that makes it worth coming to. B When I come hero alone, I shall B only see your ghost sitting here B not ?ur real self." H; P "Good gracious!" cried Joan, "I Hj hope you won't find my ghost here. You make mo feel quite creepy, B you quaint boy." I "I Uve a lot with ghosts," said Nick, In a low voice. He was thinking of Beauty's ghost which had always seemed close to him. "Sometimes they make me feel less B Hj "It's funny to think I shall be B back in London to-morrow," she tald presently "I shall think of B the sea when I hear the traffic B swishing through tho streets " "Is that all you will think of?" asked Nick, hoping that she would Hj think of him a little. "And I shall think how jolly glad think that this is your last afternoon after-noon here. Perhaps when you go outside the cave I shall lose you, always." 1 Oh. I expect I shall see you In London." said Joan cheerfully. "Everybody comes to London It's the only place where there'3 any thing to do." She stepped out of the cave, and stood there, framed In the entrance way of the rocks, with the sea be hind her. From tho twilight of the cave Nick gared at her, this creature crea-ture of light, whose hair shone like crinkled gold, whose white frock was glamourous In the sunshine "Aren't you coming?" she called out, and without waiting for him, ran down to the smooth sands "Poor empty cave!" said Nick, In a queer, low voice Then he followed fol-lowed her and at the estuary said goodby to her, according to the rule she had made. It was tea time, and there were few people about. There were only old boatmen near them, leaning against a pile of timber and some children going homeward home-ward with their pails. Joan held out her hand "Goodhy. Nick!" She glanced up Into his face with her laughing eyes, and then said: The Father of the Man. IN most lives events of less Importance Im-portance than ideas. Tho things which happen in a man s outward experience are trivial compared with the things which happen inside his brain. The great crises of history arrive, not by definite acts, but by a host of in definite tendencies of thought, culminating cul-minating in a supreme conviction. So it was in the history of Nicholas Barton. Looking back upon his early days, he remembers few episodes epi-sodes or adventurous Incidents of any great influence upon his char acter and fate but only the t east less adventure of a mind Struggling forward to an uncertain goal, of a spirit yearning with undefined desires, de-sires, of an Imagination thrilled by the dim half lights of truth He remembers moments of revelation when ,-. conversation, a few ( bance words, a sudden flash of Intuition, ohanged his whole aspect of life, or helped him up to a new plane of understanding, or made his whole being quiver with an emotion emo-tion which became a new source of inspiration. He remembers also a thousand small detail;; oi experience, experi-ence, all blending into one broad, even pressure upon his intelli- MP gonce, and imperceptibly directing Its character and evolution. He knows now that the quiet monotony of his life In that little cottage by the sea, so uneventful and unexciting unex-citing as it seemed, was charged with forces which he was power-loss power-loss to resist, but which moulded him llko clay on the potter's wheel. One such rorce was the quiet out steady influence of Mary Laven-ham. Laven-ham. Whom ho had called the Lonely Lone-ly Lady. This curious woman of blunt speech and blunt manners had something in her character which had put a spell upon tho four people who were her closes' neighbors. She had no particular beauty, even her nose had a ten dency to bluntness, and her chin was ilniost masculine in its strength, but her eyes, gray wnen they were tranquil, steel-blue when they were lighted with emotion, seemed to look out with an utter truthfulness and candor which captured cap-tured the confidence of her friends, so that they confessed themselves to her, and revealed secrets which they had kept hidden from all others. Her gifts of practical help fulness, too, wore so great that men, who are helpless jn many things belonging to the sphere of women, called tn her when they were In distress. It was, for In stance, to Mary Lavenham that Captain Muffet went when a button fell off his blue reefer jacket, when his second-host braces broke, when he set his kitchen on firo during some experimental cookery with a new gas stove and a kippered herring, her-ring, and when he was threatened with a week-end visit from one of his elderly maiden sisters, who oc casionally invaded his small cottage cot-tage and uttered severe criticisms upon his domestic economy. It was also Mary Lavenham that he called upon when he was in low spirits because the gout devils were pulling his left leg, and w hen he was beset with religious diffl culties, because as a seafaring man he could not reconcile the story of Noah's Ark with his knowledce of ships and shipping Always he found comfort and many times to Nick he confessed his gratitude for the friendship of I his woman whose wisdom and kindness were beyond those of any other woman except his own mother, dead these fifty years "My lad." he said. "If ever you lose your hearings In a black fog of doubt, just you send up a rocket for Mary Lavenham. She'll pilot you into safe- waters, and make no charge for the service." Once he said very solemnly. "I love the ground that woman treads on. To go Into that cottage of hers is better thau a sermon. She makes one feel good " in more 'Jocular moods ho vowed that for Mary Lavenham he had a romantic passion which was wearing wear-ing him to a shadow, and that only the fear of a refusal prevented him from possing tho question to her, and buving a p!aln gold rine. And once, after repeating that well worn joke he added very mysteriously, mys-teriously, staring hard at Nick, and speaking in a hoarse whisper: "But I'm not the only one to feel like that for Mary Lavenham. There's rivals about, sonny.'' Thereupon he winked convul slvely with one side of his face, but In a solemn way. "Rivals ?'' said Nick, lifting his eyebrows. "Ay." said the old man "And If you'll not split to a living soul I'll give you the name of one of them, and leave you to guess the other " "All right," said Nick "I won't tell " Captain Muh'ett stared very hard again at Nick. "There's a man not far away from here that would give his soul to take that woman bj the hand and go down on his knees before her Poor follow' Poor fellow' He's shipwrecked his life, and Is struggling in the icy waters, and he knows that The Mary Lavenham Laven-ham is the only life-boat within reach of Lim. and yet he daren t call out to her, lest he should drag her down with him. Don't you call that a tragedy?" "The Merman?" asked Nick quietly. He knew it was the Mer man, for he had seen the wistful-nesa wistful-nesa in the eyes of that man when Miss I avpnham was within sight He had seen his worshipping look when she had passed close to him. "Aye!" said Captain Muffett, "it's Edward Framptou. whom we call the Merman. One of tho noblest men that ever breathed, oxcept when the devil gets his clutch on him." And then he confided to N'ick that L'dward Frampton would nave drunk himsell to death long a?o. il Mary Lavenham had not corns t 4 be his noxr door neighbor. Sho had dlscowrod his secret very i J quickly, and instead of being frightened and horror-struck llko f J nine women out of ten, she had 0 been filled with a great pity, and M a good courage. She had nursed, the man when he had been at I death's door, and she had pleaded with him to rise above his weak- 1 ness and she had struggled with hlra when tho craving had got its grips upon him And after th madness had left him, she B had helped him back to self- M respect, by showing him how k 1 she honored all that was a good and noble in him, and B how she believed still ho IB i m on lil crush the beast withiu Bk S'pjfi 1 1 i ii i Atter eery attack she JP Era still put hope Into him by W am this loyalty of faith In his Sr' power to resist, if only he tried with all his will And at least she had succeeded f In gaining longer periods of !j sanity and health for the J man. It was only rarely jM now that he gave way to the poison that was in his blood. 1 B "If Edward Frampton's soul is saved from the fiery lurnaco." said Captain Muf-tett, Muf-tett, taklnrr off his cap as v though he were In church, B "it is Mary Lavrnham who wlll get Gc5o"s thanks, and bo numbered among the saints. ' AniPn " Then after a little whilo he whispered again to Nick, lil-, lil-, though they weie on a lonely 1 stretch of sands with no human being within sound of his 1 There's one thing that makes mo afraid afraid for my dear and noble friend Edward Frampton." Jm "What's that?" asked Nick The old man hesitated P"i haps i ought not to telL. Perhaps it ain't fair to tell ' But after this expression of doubt, he blurted out some vague and incoherent words "It's like this, sonny. If a man fwwr clings to a life belt to save him from drowning in cold water, it s a fearful thing if a stout swimmer comes along and takes awav that one support. The poor fellow may t go right under, losing ail hope " "What do you mean?" said Nick. ' 1 -peak In parables, as it were" L said Captain .Muffett. who had been reading the Scriptures diligently of late "Mary Lavenham Is the "life, belt, and the strong swimmer Is a man who has only got to stretch out his hand to take her. She Is ready for him. She will not resist him because, you see, sonnv ' on this here tide of life God sends' His lifebelts ,0 them that swims dM strongest Changing the way of speech. I put it in this style Love between a man and a woman is like two hearts bobbing about in a great sea. and then drawn to each i other by a strong current, whlob I is God's will The heart of Mary Lavenham Is drifting steadily to. ward tho heart of a man who as H admit, is the least unworthy to be united to that dear soul " After which burst of strange and incoherent eloquence. Captain Mu7-f-H pulled out his bandanna hand. "Who is the man?" asked Nick But again he knew the answer to I his question, though the MmtaJ bad spoken in riddles. He knew that it was his father who had S got to stretch out his hand tc 22 Mary Lavenham's heart, and S M knowledge made him aftSfd a Captain Muffett was afraid thouih for a different reason W " afraid because he believed tL3 father had no right to an I but that of Beauty who hi. 1 to him. though she Cartain Muffet did not anr -r I ils question, but with m ld age made a m, I about something whTcS he KftS been able to hide QOt (To Be Continued.) n |