BARREN RONOUR.



had withstood stronger temptations in
his time-but leant over the side and
answered, in his own firm, clear tones,
  "1 Thanks, a thousand times; but get
back out of danger instantly. It is useless
waiting for me; I don't stir. I have
given up my place already, and no power
on earth would make me take another
man's. If a ship comes near, we may
all be saved yet; if not, we know the
worst, and I hope we know how to meet
it."
  When the cutter had pushed off,
WAyverne sat down again, burying his
face in his hands, and remained so for
some minutes. Suddenly he looked up,
and drew the miniature out of his breast,
gazing on it steadfastly and long, with
a love and tenderness that no words
can express, and a happiness so intense
that it savoured of triumph. One of
the survivors who chanced to be watch-
ing him (unconscious of the catastrophe
being so near) said afterwards that a
strange light shone out Alan's face du-
ring those few seconds a light that
came neither from moon nor fire, but as
it were from within-a light, perchance,
such as saints may, one day, see on the
faces of angels.
  " Helen-darling Helen," he mur-
mured, "I always thought and hoped
and prayed that I had acted rightly;
but I never knew it till now."
  Ile pressed the picture to his lips,
and kissed it twice or thrice fervently.
Let us hope that in that impulse there
mingled nothing of sinful passion; for
it was the last of Alan Wyverne's life.
  In a moment there caine an awful
smothered roar-a crash of rending tim-
bers and riven metal-all the fore-part
of the vessel seemed to melt away, scat-
tered over air and water in a torrent of
smoke and flame; the after-part shook
convulsively through every joint and
seam, and then, with one headlong
Dlunge, went down, like a wounded



whale " sounding." Some half-dozen
strong swimmers emerged alive from
the horrible vortex, and all these were
saved. Brave Jock Ellison, after re-
covering from the first stunning shock,
never attempted to make for the boats,
but swain hither and thither, till his co-
lossal strength failed him, hoping to find
some trace of his master. But Alan
Wyverne never rose again, and never
will-till the sea shall give up her
dead.
  And now my tale is told.
  I have attempted to sketch, roughly
whatbefel a man very weak and erring-
who was often sorely tried-who acted
ever up to the light that was given him,
at the cost of bitter self-denial and self-
sacrifice-who, nevertheless, in this life,
failed to reap the tithe of his reward.
  Alan Wyverne was strong, up to a
certain point; but he had not faith
enough to make him feel always sure
that he had done right, in defiance of
appearances; nor principle enough to
keep him from repining at results. Ile
could neither comfort himself nor others,
thoroughly. He was a chivalrous true-
hearted man; but a very imperfect
Christian. He dared not openly rebel
against the laws of God; but he was too
human to accept, unhesitatingly, the ful-
filment of his decrees. Throughout
Alan's life, Honour usurped the place
where Religion ought to have reigned
paramount; he shrank from    shame
when he would perhaps have encoun-
tered sin.
  Just see how complete was the earthly
retribution.
  To that one principle-sound enough
if it had not been the ruling one-he
sacrificed love, and friendship, and re-
venge, and life. Yet the happiest mo-
ments that he knew for years, were those
when he stood face to face with a terri-
ble death-a dead woman's picture in
his hand.



THA END.