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CHAPTER XLIII. MY Wire's coxrussroxs. ' A loving woman has need of some one to confide inâ€"a mother or a husband. My wife had neither, for I was still but “Greg- ory” to her; and so she wrote down her hopes and fears in the end page of the book I had given her to keep her accounts in, adding her little memoranda of events. Her confidence was made in secret. I had no knowledge she kept a diary until I found the book, with faded flowers between the leaves, which doubtless had some memories for her, on the bookshelf by her bed when she slept there no more. “I am so happy ! He has found a new pleasure in life,” she wrote under Oct. 5th. “And one that must briiigus nearer together. Hetold me I might read to him when he sat down to draw. I chose ‘ Vanity Fair,’ as being a man’s book. After I had been reads ing about an hour I saw that he had his arms crossed on the drawing board and was looking most earnestly at me. However, I did not take any notice of that, because I thought he might be studying lines and curves. After a good long while he took up his pencil again, but instead of going on with what I think he calls “elevations,” he dropped his hands in his pockets, and leaned back in the chair, still looking intent- ly at me from under his fine dark brows. “ ‘ Shall I go on with this, or would you like me to read something else ‘2’ I asked. “ ‘ It’s all the same to me,’ he replied. ‘ I couldn’t tell you a single word of what you’ve been reading.’ “ I was a little disappointed to hear him say this, because I had been trying to read distinctly and with expression, and had flattered myself that he was interested in it. “ ‘ I’ve been listening to the music of it,’ he added, making my heart bound. ‘ It is astonishing. One would think I had never before heard the sound of a human voice.’ “ ‘ You have heard me sing sometimes,’ I said. Indeed, quite unconsciously, I do sing a little in the morning now. “ ‘ Yes,’ Said he, ‘just as I saw your ‘ face here for weeks and weeks before I ; found out the delight there was in studying its beauty.’ i “ I expect I Coloured up at this ; I know I felt the blood tingling all through my veins. “ ‘ My senses are waking up,’ he cried, rising up in excitement. ‘ I couldn’t smell, nor feel, nor see,nor hear a month agoâ€"only taste like the meanest animal. Now when I come in the room I detect sweet smells ; when I dip my hands in the stream and feel the fresh breeze on my face it gets into my head like a passion.’ Then with a laugh he , ple of months ago. devil again or a man.” and I said no more. told him all. cret and the thought of my boy to-niglit. __,..â€"â€"-â€"â€" evening. He thought I could not feel so light a touch. 1 can tell when he is think- ing of me, even when his eyes are not upon me; but how I can tell I do not know. I thought when he lit my candle he would ofl'er.me his handin saying ‘ good-night,’ as he did before; his eyes seemed to burn me so_ that I felt confused and helpless. I think if he had held out his hand I must have given away, for my heart was full of love and trust, and I could not doubt that he loved me, and I was too fluttered to think about right and wrong, though at the bottom of my conscience there was a little voice that said ‘ No.’ But he let me go, dropping his hand by his side. and now Iain glad; for surely the time has not come if he does not think so. And this restraint on his part is a better sign than anything; for it shows his ear is not deaf to the voice of conscience, so that I may safely believe that his moral sense has awoke, just as the physical sense of hearing music did last month. Oh, it might have been terrible if we had both yielded to our feelings, for that love could only have been one of the sensesâ€"a love that could not have lasted. He could notlovea creature taint- ed with the basest and wickedest of crimes for ever.. It would have passed away with the gratification of his senses, and changed to disgust when our common weakness ~be- came evident. I must be strong now. “‘I had a terrible dream last night ” (writing the next day). “ I thought I saw my dear little boy lying in bed, and when I turned back his curly head his eyes were open and glazed, and he was dead. I do not think I am foolish enough to believe in dreams, and I know he is as tenderly guard- ed by Helen as though I were \vitli 11im~ But 1 could not get the dream our. of my mind, though I did my bestnot to think 0f it, and to devote myself to my husband’s happiness. All day the impression has been on my mind, though, and, longing to confess all to my husband, I tried to turn the conversation that way after dinner. But he st0pped me at once. ‘ For God’s sake,’ he said, passionately, ‘ never say a word about the past. I could have listened to what you chose to say, and kept a cool head and acallous heart, a cou- I can’t now. I can’t understand myself ; either I am becoming a This frightened me, Yet now I wish I bad My heart aches with this so- Tlie following day :â€" “ What a weak thing I am. When my heart sinks a little, or rises a little, my self control goes at once. Last night; I regretted that I had not told him all. Now I see how added, ‘ Ishan’t be able to draw soon when 2 ill timed it would have been. I look at you, or understand what you say when I hear your voice. No wonder my , hand shakes to-night. Thank God for l‘liis!’ 1 “Oct. 6.â€"He sang this morning for the i first time. was no tune. It was ‘ Rock of Ages ’ that I we used to sing at Feltenham in the old time i to the tune of ‘ Batti, batti ’ from Don ‘ G’i’oummi when he was in the choir. I can’t l describe the emotion that swelled my heart ' when I heard that. His voice is not as it _ used to be ; one could not expect that after i W unused for eleven long years ; but it E d "‘ " V cars, though he sang so ' ‘ "'1" rom heaven singing j ' "one more “ He was turning over the pages of one of the big books with an impatient smile for those subjects which so absorbed him, when his mind was occupied with mechanics, to- Hc has tried before, but there night, when he came upon the subject of l’hrenology. \Ve looked at it together. It is cheering to sit beside him and listen to his explanation of difficult subjects. “ ‘ It would seem,’said he, ‘as if the pus- sure that rendered certain faculties of mine insensible whilstI was under punishment were being gradually removedâ€"these, for example.’ He pointed out some of the iii- tcllectual bumps. “ ‘ And there too,’ base that related to t pointing to me. his head ; nee: I’ve I said, w“ BEYOND REC/iv. “ ‘ The fairy Propriety, sir,’ said I, ‘who wouldn’t have me look as if I were your servant.’ “ ‘ My servant, I Wish l’ropriety would suffer you to be my mistress,’ he said, with his eyes afiame.” ' CHAPTER XLIV. AN OLD ACQUAINTAXCE. Yes, I had fallen in love with my wife for the second time; but, as she has shown better than I could, my love was without Schtness and tenderness, and wholly of the senses. I, myself, felt that, and my mvak- ing conscience told me that such love was despicable. One morning in December, when I was about to start offfor Newton for a supply of household requisites, Howler came up to me, wagging tliebroken stump of his tail, and looking at me out of the corner of his blearcd eye with uncertain friendliness. “Take him with you,” said Hebe; “ I’m sure he will follow if you pat him.” Ihad a superstitious feeling thatthis brute would love me when I was lovable and not before, and, to test myself and please Hebe, I bent down and patted Howler. He gave my hand a single lick in return, and turned away with a'snilf as though he could not yet quite approve the flavor of it. But hav- ing given his head a shake, he wagged his tail resolutely, as if resolved to do what was expected of him. He followed me a hun- dred yards, came to a stand. and turned back, his tail hanging down limp, and his ears working nervously. Hebe defied him to return ; 1 wliistled encouragingly. It was no good ; after a few plaintive whines, he slunk back to Hebe, crouched, rolled over on his back with his four legs in the air when he got within arm’s length of her, readier to receive the worst punishment she could inflict than to follow me. “ Never mind,” thought I as 1 went on ; “he has come further than ever he came before, and that is a good sign.” A good sign of whatâ€"that I could love my wife when my eyes were not charmed with her beauty? I looked round. She Was standing where I had left her. I could only see at that distance a pale spot of light, where her face stood out in re- lief against the dark-blue woollen wrap that enveloped her head and shoulders. Yet my heart went out towards her, and throbbed gladly with the thought of return- ing to her in a few hours. “Oh! I am getting better, body and soul !” I said aloud in joy ; and with an incxprcssible sentiment of longing and hope glowing within me, I trotted over the bleak moor. I was within a couple of miles of the New- ' ton road, when I made out in the distance a cart joltiug towards me. “'hat was the meaning of it? The trackâ€"it could not be called a roadâ€"led nowhere except to_ my hut, and was only traversed by me. There seemed to be two men in the cart. It was too near the high road to suppose that they had lost their way ; they must be coming to seek me ; with what pur- pose? As we approached I perceived that one was a country lad; the other an old man in a silk hat. The lad might well be he who drove me and Mrs. Bates whenl first went to see the cottage ; the old man’s appearance was hardly less familiar to me, though I could not make out quite where I had seen him before. Their regard showed that they were equally uncertain about me, and anxious to know who I was. We stopped by mutual accord when we met. “ Re you the gent, sir, as I drove over along of Mrs. Bates ‘2” asked the lad, But before the question was put I had recognized the old man, and be me. It was old l’ieeton. He, too, was greatly changed, and not much for the better, albeit his face was shaved, and his dress made some pre- tense to respectability. His silk hat was limp in the brim, brown on the crown, and shiny with wet brushing: his linen was irty and frayed ; the metal shone thro edges of the buttons that fast ‘ or" coat, t ‘ looked a1 ' crcl' however, was removed upon fi the'lady had taken with her in jewels of considerable var I led the way to the parlor. As we passed ")2: my inquiries in 3' [he the bar, Beeton asked witha magnificent “on, I learned that a P9 l ‘mmed air what there was in the house, and Gregory had, in the lance” ‘91”? 0f ordered the best“ June, purchased a cottage on the most dos- it well,» said he, closing the door of the olatc part of tho moor, undercirc'izu‘ismno‘ parlor and turning upon me; “you are m?“ Showed at Pressmg need ‘20 “but looking superb, my deal. friend. The very refuge remote from observation. Eroni the picture of helm, a‘ud prosperity. Tim-Q suit woman who sold the cottage, I learnt hmv'.‘ becomes you amazingly. Ah, how I wish I I “light find my Wily ‘0 it" and bl‘lsm‘mnl”? could wear tweeds and a felt hat ; but you I hired the I’ld Who had conveyed the said km)“. in 0,1,. profession we have to l.egmd Gregory to his abode to take me there, with appearances.” AS he spoke he removed his the firm conviction that in GregoryIahould delapidated hat and placed it on the side- find (“3' 01d fl'ie‘d ‘Vyndlmmv and 1“ hi3 board carefully, as though a rude touch keeping the Edy-Whom the Object Of this might injure its rusty nap. “ What a PI'OfeSmonnl m‘l““‘3’-” His manner would have led one to be- lieve that he could afford anything. “ We will go in here.” l. l pleasure it is to be free from the tranimels of conventionality. It agrees with you ; that’s certain. known you in that grey suit. cost you three or four guineas.” He took the lapel between his fingers, looking at it critically. “ And you have an air of com- petence that the best of friends could hardly hope to find in one who went into prison without a rap and has only been out of it, half tant commission with which I am entrusted. a year. And I’m told you have a little house and property all to yourself on this charm- ing moor.” “Do you want to know how I came by my money?” “My dear sir i” he cried, hands and his eyebrows in expostulation. “Do you want some of it yourself; that what you were coming over for?” “I have never yet," he said With excessiv dignity, “in the whole course of my pro- fessional career, taken moneyâ€"except as a loan, without first rendering adequate ser- vice. If it is in my power to serve you, as I hope to do â€"â€"” Here the servant bring- ing in the lunch he dropped that subject, and made a remark upon the state of foreign politics. “Now,” said I, when the servant went out ; “Tell me what you want.” “Why this stiffness, my dear sir? Come, sit down, and let us talk over our affairs as we eat, like a couple of old friends.” "I am not going to eat." “But I ordered lunch expressly for you.” “I will pay for it. Come to the point." “Your tone is offensive, sir,” he said thrusting three bony fingers in the breast of his shabby frock coat, and drawing hiinsel up. “ It is not the tone in which one gentle- man should speak to another.” “ Gentlemen?” said I, laughing bitterly. “ We are both ex-convicts.” “ And so are nine-tenths of mankind. The only difference I recognize between my- self and the judge and jury, who convicted me of embezzlement, is that my offense was found out, and theirs remains to be discov~ cred. \Vhere is the man who can honestly say that he has not committed some fault for which he would have been punished if Justice were not blind ‘3 Nine-tenths, did I say ‘3 We are all ex-convicts, sir.” " Hang your philosophy 1” I cried impa- tiently ; “will you speak to the point or not '2” “ As a professional man and a friend, I must decline to enter upon the subjectwhilo your attitude leaves me in doubt whether 'on are hostile or simply pressed for time.” “ What does it matter whether I am either the one or the other ‘2” “ It matters a good deal. If you are hos- tile I refuse, on professional principle, to continue the consultation ; if you are press- ed for time, it will be my duty, as a friend, to find some occasion when you are at lib- erty to give me your patient attentionâ€"- either calling upon you by appointment, or dropping in with the hope of finding you at leisure.” There was no mistaking the significance of these words, pointed by a particular subtle depression of one eyebrew. I did not want him to come to the cottage, and he must have perceived it, as I threw myself in a chair to wait his convenience. He made bow and seated himself at the table, at once attacked the beef. I never at m ore ravenously. With an , . -“M I declare I should not have , _ _ It must have incriminate yourself until you have heard e therewith the major’s investigation in that i f ience of the crew of the barque “ Saranak ” I was about to speak when he stopped me abruptly. “ I beg you not to say a word that may me out. For personal reasons that Iexplain- ed to you, I believe, in the past, I have no ' ,- desire to gratify the wishes of Major Cleve< den. But whilst he is my client I am bound in professional honor to execute the impor- I have been engaged for months on this busi- ness, and my expenses areâ€"we will not say enormous, but heavy. Now, sir, Iam pre- pared to resign my commission, and accept service on the other side if you find it worth raising his while to engage me. If you as my client is under forcible detention in your cottage at assure me that Major Cleveden’s wife is not Dartmoor, I am bound to believe you; and ‘ quarter is closed.” “And if, on the other hand, I donot- choose to employ you? ” “ Then, sir, with regret I must inform you that within twenty-four hours you will be arrested for abduction and larceny, and Major Cleveden will once more obtain p03< session of your wife.” (To us CONTINUED.) HELPLBSS IN MID OCEAN. For Ten buys the UPCW' of the “Sim- aiiak ‘ Lived on Three Goose and a hole 9 Rain “'le or. A Halifax despatch says zâ€"Advices from i Liverpool give details of the thrilling exper- ,5 from Sheet Harbor, N. 8., December 12, for the Mersey, with deals. On December 3' 21 the bark encountered a terrific gale and was thrown on her beam ends so suddenly that everything movable was swept over- board and the man at the wheel drowned. \thn the ship righted again, the only ti“ left standing was thirty feet of the in' mast and the lower part of the mizzen mast. As there were no sails, it was impossible to do anything except to let the vessel drift, in an easterly direction. \Vhen they came to‘ realize their position, without food or water or oil to light lamps or coal to make a fire, the captain and his men were almost ‘ distracted, and their only hope lay in at- - tracting the notice of some passing ship in the day-time. There was no food of any kind, but the captain had brought six geese from Sheet Harbor, and three of these were washed over and lost, so that the whole of the ship’s company, now reduced to eleven all told, had no prospect but to live on the geese until help came. The captain had the geese killed and distributed the flesh in little bits not the size of penny pieces, at stated intervals. His own dinner on Christmas ‘ day was what he could scrape oEa leg bone. \Vorse than this, there was no water until about December 23, when some rain fell and they caught abucketful, which was meas- ured out at the rate of a wineglassful per day until December 28, when they caught two bucketsful and had then two glasses per day. By this time they were becoming famish< ed, and fears were entertained that an old sailor would succumb. However, they con- tinued to hope and they prayed fervently. “ At meal times, ” said the captamn“ we prayed and it looked as if the Almighty had made the little pieces of flesh (or en. ' " "Wing! was wasted) fill us like ' 1ivin ' in lio es ‘ S;