heat and cold, were indifferent, a man of thews and sinews, as well as of girth and inches, and with a great heart in his great body. His intelligence was not remarkable, but he had plenty of common sense, which, however inconvenient to a theologian, is to a working clergyman the most valuable of all senses. And yet at this moment he was doing a very foolish thing, for what could be more contrary to common sense than to cherish so tenderly that last look of Evelyn Nicoll, whom he knew to be as good as engaged to another man?

Common report had given her to Sir Robert's nephew, George Gresham, and while she had taken no pains to contradict it, her mother had, by implication, corroborated it. Indeed, it was understood that George was shortly expected at the Hall, for the very purpose of making himself better known to his future bride before the knot should be tied between them.

Still, as Evelyn had never with her own lips confirmed the general opinion, the curate gave himself the benefit (as he fondly imagined it to be) of the doubt, and persuaded himself that he was doing no harm in thus secretly worshipping his idol.

He was far too modest a man to suppose that his passion was returned; he was not half rich enough for her, he knew, nor half good enough for her, he thought-though in that last idea in my judgment he was mistaken -and she was altogether, he confessed, out of his reach. If he did entertain a hope that he should ever win her, it was one of the very vaguest kind; but now and then he could not avoid giving himself up to it. In his saner

moments he foresaw that he must be content with honouring and admiring her as the wife of another, and would think himself happy if, under such circumstances, the opportunity might be afforded him of doing her some selfsacrificing service.

Such men there are in this nine

teenth century, by contrast with whose natures all that has been recorded of the so-called 'Ages of Chivalry' grows pale and dim. One other mistress he had who was not denied to him, Work, and his devotion to her was incessant. Some fools thought less of his labour in the Lord's Vineyard because he went about it as often as not with a short pipe in his mouth; he was labouring in it now (or words have lost their meaning), and though his pipe, by reason of the gale, was an impossibility, his attire was far from what is generally associated with the ecclesiastical calling. He wore a dark peajacket, with waistcoat and trousers of the same thick material; and his black cravat was knotted instead of being tied in the orthodox way.

Thus he rode at the bay's best speed along the sandy roads, making occasional short cuts (not free from rabbit holes) across the heathery moor, till the lights of Archester gleamed before him.

Without drawing rein for an instant he galloped down the stony street to the little pier, which he knew on such a night would have its complement of seafaring men, watching their old enemy the storm, and in a few words explained his errand.

A ship on the Lancet, opposite Halcombe Point, and the lifeboat wanted; ten pounds a head from Sir Robert to each man that pulls an oar in her.'

It would doubtless have looked better in print' had he appealed only to these brave men's sense of duty, and it would have been sufficient, for the mariners of Archester were never backward in risking limb and life for their fellow-creatures; but, on the principle of 'surplusage being no error,' the curate addressed them as we have described. Moreover, it saved time, and time--a few minutes more or less-was of immense importance to all those upon that cruel reef (which, however, had thus far been the cause of their preservation). Time had be

come, indeed, the alternative of Eternity with them.

A rush was at once made for the boat-shed where the cork-jackets and all other things were kept; and in an incredibly short space of time eight men were ready for this perilous enterprise. There are two things which expedite human action above all other motive powers; namely, the opposing elements of Fire and Water. The celerity with which a fire engine is got ready and started is the greatest triumph of human forethought and agility. Next to that is the quickness with which a lifeboat is got under weigh. From the shed at Archester were two slips,' one on either side, so that the boat could be launched to north or south, according to the quarter from which the wind was blowing; the men were in their places, and a score of eager pairs of hands were on her stern and sides ready to run the Swiftsure (contraction of Swift and Sure, I wonder?) off the track on which she stood, when the coxswain suddenly roared, Stop!'

There was a man missing; only seven being in the boat beside the coxswain. From the list of the crew hard by (for everything was at hand in that place) he began to read out the names of those absent; George Parfitt?' 'Here,' answered a ready voice. 'You are not George.'

'No; he is ill a-bed, but I am his brother.'

'A bold fellow, no doubt; but hardly strong enough for the tight job before us.' 6 Henry Absolon.'

'Gone to Mirton,' was the reply. Hullo, sir, this is quite irregular.' This to Dyneley, who had slipped on a cork-jacket and sou'wester cap, and jumped into the boat.

'No matter, coxswain, I am as strong as any of you, and can pull as good an oar. There is not a moment to lose, I tell you-push off."

There was a burst of cheering, which, however, in no way impeded the exertions of those who thus in

dulged their feelings, for at the same moment the boat began rapidly to move down the slope.

'Steady, steady. The moment she touched the sea it seemed to every man that he was under water. Never since the gallant Swiftsure had been built had she put out in the teeth of such a storm, the wind beat almost dead against the land, and strove with frantic screams and fiendish fury (the Prince of the Powers of the air being in command that night in person) to dash the boat back on the rocky shore. 'She never, never,' shrieked the frantic blast, shall ride the main this night to rob the hungry waves of their human prey.'

Thrice the Swiftsure was cast a score of yards up the strand, then withdrawn like a plaything which a child throws from it only to pursue and clutch again, but the fourth time the oar-blades and the strong arms that use them are plied to such good purpose that she is flung back no

This was satisfactory so far as it went, but made it clear to every man (if he had not known it before) that the return to Archester against the wind would be a physical impossibility. After performing their perilous mission, should that be practicable, they would have to go on to Mirton Harbour (twenty miles away) if they should reach harbour at all, since to try Halcombe Point would be to go to pieces.

Such things are trifles to the heroes who man our lifeboats, and we ashore think still less of them, but supposing even the case of a country doctor robbed of his night's rest by a summons to a sick bed, and compelled to ride twenty miles in a storm which did not admit of his return, we should

call it a hard one; add to this utmost fatigue of body and extreme peril of life, and give the laurel where it is due.

Once round the Point the Swiftsure flew before the wind, as though, instead of being a bare boat, she were a racing cutter. She was following, in fact, the very route of the Rhineland, only the sea had a very different customer to deal with. The waves filled her again and again, but her escape pipes freed her from the deluge as quickly as it was poured in; they threw her on her side, but she made light of that, and even had they thrown her over she would have righted again in half a second-though, unhappily empty.

Thus hurried along at headlong speed it was no wonder that, in a shorter time than it had taken the mare and her rider to cross the Moor, the one man in the boat to whom the use of his eyes was not denied-for the eight rowers, we may be sure, cast no look behind them-exclaimed, 'There she is, boys.'

And there she was; half of herthe stern part-now covered by the rising waves, and the other half, now hid, now seen, with a bare mast sticking out of it, covered with human beings, like bees in swarm. The sea was running like a mill race, and the sharp reef beneath it.

of such a gale, ere the flowing tide should engulf the last spar of the Rhineland.

'Steady; be ready to ship oars and out with the grappling irons.' The next minute they were under her quarter, and had made fast to it.

The

'The women first,' cried the coxswain, in a voice of thunder. There were but three women left, and none of these could move across the rocking deck without men to help them. first two were carried, rather than led, and lifted into the Swiftsure; the third, Elise, used her own limbs, though stiff and cramped, upheld on either side by the American and Gresham.

All sat where they were placed, without a word, as though astounded (as they well might be) at their own deliverance. The wreck was clear of all save one man, who clung to the mast apparently stupefied.

'Quick, quick,' exclaimed half-adozen voices. He never moved.

'Are we all to be drowned for one fool' ejaculated the coxswain, passionately. Cast off, boys.'

'One moment, sirree,' cried the clear shrill voice of the American. He leapt back on the wreck, seized the still hesitating man round the waist, and fairly threw him among the

rest.

It's the poor Capen, Coxen; he don't like to leave his ship,' said he

'There are women on board,' observed Number Six, who was the

curate.

'Never fear, Master Dyneley, but we'll do what man can do to save 'em,' was the reply, not without a certain haughtiness in its tone. The waves and winds could be discounted, as it were, as a source of peril, but whether there was water enough above the rock to float the lifeboat to leeward of the wreck, was an experiment not to be reckoned upon, but only tried. If they shot by her, it was plain they could not put back again in the teeth

myself-especially when I've had a share in her.'

As the boat once more flew before the wind its occupants could see a little group upon the quay of Halcombe, whose joy appeared only second to their own. These persons, of course, knew not how many of the crew had succumbed to the waves, or to the fatigues and privations of the night; they only saw that every soul upon the wreck had been taken off; and were in comparative safety. They were well aware that on their cruel shore no boat could land in such a sea, but to many of the poor shivering crea

tures on board the Swiftsure it seemed strange enough that they should be turning their backs on these hospitable and friendly people.

Gresham, of course, knew why they didn't land at 'The Point,' and secretly he was not displeased that the attempt I could not be made. He recognized female forms upon the quay, and guessed, rightly enough, their identity; and he had good-or at least sufficient -reason to congratulate himself that the Swiftsure was making for Mirton. He was now turning over in his mind whether it would not be better to wait a day or two before presenting himself to his friends at home, and to let it be imagined that he had not taken passage in the ill-fated Rhineland at all.

The accommodation on board lifeboats is in extent considerable, but it is not of a select or private character. Rescued folks settle down where they can, and are seldom found to complain of their quarters. The craft is broad of beam, and there is room for passengers, even in the very centre of it, without interfering with the rowers. Here sat Elise Hurt, exhausted but grateful, with the same loving arms supporting her that had made her hold secure upon the shrouds.

'I owe my life to you,' were the first words she murmured in his ear.

'Nay, darling, the Commodore, as he calls himself' (he had once commanded, as it turned out, a certain flotilla of trading vessels to the West Indies) did his part; it was he, for example, who called my attention to the victualling department-I have still a little brandy left, by-the-bye.'

'Not for me,' she said, putting aside the flask; 'I feel I shall live now. Is it not strange, George, that wet and cold as I am, in this open boat, and with only a plank between us and death, I am happier than I have ever been?'

It is not strange,' answered the young man tenderly. 'It is because you love.'

'Ah, yes,' she sighed.

'Why do you sigh, darling?'

'Because this may be the last hour in which I may say, "I love." Out yonder-with the waves yawning for us, I told you the secrets of my heart; there seemed no harm in it, and it was very sweet to tell them. But now we are no longer two fellow-creatures awaiting the same doom; I am again a penniless girl, and you—you are Sir Robert Arden's nephew.'

6

'Well, and what then,' said Gres ham, lightly, but there was a look of trouble in his face that accorded ill with his jesting tone.

'I know not what then,' she answered. 'You know best how it will fare with us. But I have always heard that the rich English are very proud. There will be a great gulf fixed between you, Sir Robert's nephew, and me, the governess of his children.'

'They are not his children,' replied Gresham; they are the children of his wife by her first marriage.'

His

'Indeed? Then you are his own kith and kin, and they are not. very heir, perhaps?'

Perhaps; though I have never thought of that. When one has a benefactor so kind as he has been, one does not speculate upon his death.'

'I hope not, dear. Pray do not be annoyed with me- 'for there had been a certain irritation in his tone; I only wish to look matters in the face. As it seems to me you are bound, above all things, to obey this good uncle's wishes; and especially never to act counter to them. Is it likely, think you, that he will wish you to marry me?'

'My dear Elise, I thought that those who love were given to building dream castles for love to live in; whereas you build only obstacles to love.

It will be time enough to combat opposition when it has arisen. There will, of course, be objections to our union, some even that have not entered into your apprehensions; but we

must trust to time and happy chance. My uncle is very peculiar a man of impulse and sentiment; by no means the hard, conventional man of the world you have probably pictured to yourself. But, no doubt, we must be prudent. It will not be necessary to tell the good folks at Halcombe all that we have said to one another. Nor even need you repeat the conviction you expressed just now that I was the happy means of saving your life last night; it is an exaggeration to start with, and to proclaim such a fact would be very injudicious. People would think that gratitude might cause you to overrate my deserts-do you understand, darling?'

'I do not like concealments,' answered Elise, gravely. Besides, to dwell under the same roof with you, and never to be able to speak to you, nor look towards you, as I should wish to speak and look-No, Mr. Gresham, I could not do it.'

'What? You call me Mr. Gresham because you have no longer need of my loving service? That is ungenerous, Elise.'

'You do not think so-you can-not think so,' answered the girl impetuously; 'it gives me ten times the pain to address a cold word to you than it gives you to hear it. But it is better to say "Farewell" now-cruel as it seems to part-than later on.'

'We will never part, Elise ; I swear it.'

'Hush, hush !' for in his vehemence he had raised his voice, so that if those next to him had not been sunk in their own thoughts they might have heard him, despite the roar of the wind and the rush of the wave. 'God has been very good to us; do not call Him to witness to aught that does not lie in the path of duty. I fear-I fear that your love for me runs counter to it.'

'Do not fear, Elise,' he answered gravely; 'Love and Duty can never be in opposition to one another. Only, as I have said, we must expect obstacles. The course of true love never does run smooth, you know.'

;

Elise was silenced, if not convinced it was difficult, no doubt, to compel herself to picture mischances, not only to her own happiness, but to that of her preserver.

Presently they came in sight of Mirton, a picturesque village, built in zig-zag up steep cliffs; but with a good harbour and breakwater. Once within shelter of the latter the mountain waves lost their crests, the gale thundered harmless above their heads. With a few more strokes of the oar they reached the side of the little jetty where a few men were gathered together in the grey dawn.

Gresham and the Commodore assisted Elise to land, and were escorting her up the winding street to the little inn, when they were overtaken by one of the crew, who seemed about to address them.

'I will see you in five minutes, my good fellow,' said Gresham. 'For the brave work you and your mates have performed to night, no reward can be sufficient, but What? Dyneley?'

'Yes, it is I,' answered the curate, removing his sou'-wester. 'I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw you step into the boat; and when I felt sure of your identity I had no breath for even a word of recognition.'

Then Gresham remembered that the features of this man had seemed somewhat familiar to him; he had had other things to think about, or else there had been plenty of opportunities of observing him, for he had sat cheek-by-jowl with 'Number Six' for the last two hours.

(To be continued.)