EVE THE THIRD.

STRAY RECOLLECTIONS OF CHARLES CHALLICE, POLICEMAN 999 X, RESPECTING THAT YOUNG MAN AND THAT YOUNG WOMAN, WHO GOT INTO TROUBLE.

By FLORENCE MARRYAT.

IT’S many a time and oft, as I’ve been had up in the police courts and ordered by the beaks to stand forward and narrate on oath all I had seen or heerd on concerning certain strange circumstances, as had come across my path whilst on dooty. And I never made no bones about it neither, but spoke up, bold and true, for it seemed tocome nateral like, and all in the way of the perfession.

Charles Challice, 999 X.

But when a man is called upon, at my age, to give the perticulars of the most tenderestmemory of his life, it don’t come so easy, and if these here words as I’m about to put down is to be printed and published, and happen to fall into my missus’s hands, why, the Lord help me! for I shall never hear the end of it.

Howsomever, it’s been put to me, as my testimony is needed to complete the history of the life of a young woman, as was once a great friend of mine, and so I won’t refuse to give that testimony, though the doing of it may go to scrape the ashes off a fire, as was kindled twenty-eight years ago.

Twenty-eight years ago! Only to think of it, and yet I can remember everything as took place then, as plain as if it happened yesterday, though I’m a married man now, with six boys and gals round me a-growing up to men and women as fast as they can do it.

First there’s my Charley, a fine strappingyoung feller, as will be in the Force with me before long; and then his sister Maggie, as was married more than three months ago; and little Annie, in the Telegraph Office, who’s keeping company with the brewer’s young man. And after them come three youngsters, all in the Board School as yet (though it’s little enough, they’ll learn there to be any use to them), and the youngest is eight year old, so you may suppose their mother and I are no chickens.

Though my wife’s a comely woman still and a good woman into the bargain (if her tongue was a bit shorter), still she’s a hard worker and she means well by all of us, and she has a nice red and white skin and a plump figger as any man might be proud of.

Yet, would you believe it, that sometimes, after all these years, as I’m sitting opposite to her at the table and thinking what a fine, well-kept woman she is, her chestnut hairand her blue eyes and white skin seems all to fade away from me, and I sees instead of them a thin, almost a pinched, little face, with pale cheeks and large, dark eyes, like two stars glowing in the sky at night, and a tangle of black curls falling all about a young gal’s neck.

And when that vision (or whatever you likes to call it) rises before me, I feel as if the food I was eating would choke me, and I’m forced sometimes to make an excuse to rise from the table, in order to sweep the back of my hand across my eyes. And yet it all happened eight and twenty years ago, and she’s a lady now, and rides in her carriage.

Well, well! we mortals are fools at the best, and I suppose I’m not behind my neighbours. But I must tell you the story, and then you can judge for yourself.

Twenty-eight years ago, I was four andtwenty years of age, and had not long entered the Force. I believe I was a tolerably good-looking chap, at least the women used to tell me so. I know I was strong and big, measuring forty-eight inches round the chest, and standing six foot two in my stocking feet. But I didn’t think much about women in those days.

People make great mistakes about policemen. The comic papers print so much fun about the cooks and rabbit pies, that the public take it all for gospel. But, that ain’t the ambition of all of us. I can speak for myself that, in the days that I was young, I wouldn’t have looked at a cook as was a cook in the way of sweethearting. Cooking is an art as comes by experience, and though I liked a good dinner as well as any man, I couldn’t have gone to the length of making love to a greasy old woman in order to get it, nor I wouldn’t have accepted,what wasn’t hers to give away, neither.

I was brought up by my sister Margaret (having lost my poor mother, before I could remember her), and the first thing she taught me was never to lie and never to steal, and, thank God, I’ve not forgotten the lesson.

Margaret’s a good woman, the best I’ve ever known, and if I’m found on the right hand, at the last day, it will be all due to her. As soon as father was dead and didn’t want her no more, and she had got me into the Force, she went for a hospital nurse, and at the time I speak of was going on nicely and giving great satisfaction to the doctors. Whenever she could get an hour’s leave I used to try and get leave too, to go and meet her, and if it was impossible she would come down to my beat and stand in one place, maybe for half a day at a time, only to exchange a few words with me as I passed backwards and forwards.And I didn’t loiter on my beat those times, I can tell you!

I loved my sister Margaret as much as she loved me, and her cheery face and words was better for me to see and hear than those of any woman—leastways till I met Nan. And this is how I met her.

In those days my beat lay up Whitechapel way, and a nasty neighbourhood it is, particularly at night time—full of thieves and drunkards, and not fit for a decent woman to pass through.

Hardly a night passed without some serious row. The men thought no more of sticking their knives into each other, than of swearing, and as for the females—well, I was pretty case-hardened by that time, but it turned my blood cold to hear those females go on at one another and the men!

I used to think sometimes, as I pushed my way amongst them, that hell itself couldn’t be worse them they was.

Well! there was a little baker’s and sweet stuff shop in those days, standing not far from the theayter, and sometimes I’d turn in there to get something to eat, for I was growing still and could stow away any amount of food. And behind that there counter, in that there common little shop, I seed the most beautiful young woman as ever my eyes fell on.

Not one of your red and white beauties at all, mind ye! None of your yellow-haired buxom gals, with broad shoulders and a pinched-in waist.

On the contrairy, she was very thin and slight, with a figure like a willow wand, and a soft, brown skin without a bit of red in it, except on her scarlet lips. But her hands and feet were as small as small could be, and her eyes!

Well,Inever seed such eyes before or after! They was like two glowing lampsset in her face, and her hair was like a black silk, curling all over her head and shoulders!

Shewasa beauty—well-made and clean cut, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. She seemed very poor to me, for she was worse clad, than ever I’d seen my sister Margaret, and we was humble folk.

Her black dress was patched in several places, and more brown than black, but I noticed how beautiful her hair was kept, and that she generally contrived to have a bit of clean white frilling round her neck. She was mostly grave and serious when she was serving me, but if anything made her laugh—and I could see she had a merry soul by nature—Lord, how beautiful her mouth would be! Well, I fairly fell in love with that gal.

I went into the little shop as often as I could, and I fell to dreaming of her on mybeat, and to watching her, as she went in and out. She didn’t live there, for I often saw her arrive at about seven in the morning, sometimes with her poor thin shawl wet through with the rain, and with never an umbrella, which went to my heart; and sometimes, when she left off work (which was never till late) a lad, whom I took to be her brother, used to wait outside for her, but oftener she went home alone.

The reason I took the young man to be her brother was, not only, because they were much of an age, but, because she always seemed so pleased to see him and used to kiss him on the face right before everybody, and tuck her arm under his and go off singing, as if she was a queen.

Not that the lad resembled her at all, for he had hair and eyes more of my colour than hers, and a fair, clean complexion. But he seemed no better off—just a roughworking lad in fustian and corderoys—and I put them down as some labourer’s children, and fell to wondering, if she would think a policeman’s wages enough, to keep a decent home on.

From seeing her so often and thinking of her so much, I come to seem to know her as a sort of friend, and I always said “Good evening, Miss,” when she passed me. And she would look up with those wonderful eyes of hers, and answer “Good evening, officer!” in a voice like music.

You know we policemen like to be called “officer!” It sounds higher and more important like, and when Nan said it, it sounded sweeter and better than ever.

From passing the time of day, we came to exchanging a few words, but my love always made me too timid to say much.

I longed to hear all about her family and her home, but I never seemed to get to knowmore, than that the lad, whom I took for her brother, called her “Nan,” and she called him “Nick,” in return. “Dear Nick” and “darling Nick.” Lord! how I used to envy the feller, though I wouldn’t have been her brother for all the world.

One night, however, I see something that disturbed me very much. I met Nan at the end of my beat, walking along home with a young man of the name of Rummles. Now, I knew this Rummles well. He was an ostler—leastways he professed to be one—but it was only a cover for thieving.

He was one of the sharpest pickpockets in the East-end. All the Force knew it, and yet not one of us had ever catched him at it, and we was quite on our mettle to do it. He was a flashy-looking cove, as could dress very well, when it suited his purpose to do so, and there he was, perking along of Nan, and looking in her face as impudent as you choose.

It was a sight to upset anyone as loved her. IknewRummles was no company for her, and yet I had no right to say so. I gave her a look as I passed, as much as to say, “Well, this is a rum dodge,” but didn’t speak a word, until I met her again, which happened to be the next evening.

I was looking out for her, of course, but she was later than usual, and made a dash to cross the road without warning. I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Excuse me, Miss,” I said, “but you don’t want to be run over, do you? The tram’s coming!”

She give a little impatient jerk, and says,

“What nonsense, officer! I could have crossed the road twice before the tram caught me.”

“But it’s my dooty to see you don’t come to any harm,” I answered; “and I wish I could see you run no worse risk than this.Is Mr. Rummles a-waiting for you on the other side?”

She turned them wonderful eyes of hers straight up to my face, and said,

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean as he ain’t no fit company for such as you, and I was very sorry to see him alongside of you.”

She wrenched her shoulder from under my hand, and turns upon me quite in a passion, with her black eyes blazing.

“Howdareyou say that of any friend of mine? It was Nick who introduced Mr. Rummles to me, and asked him to see me home, andheknows what is right for me to do far better than you. You exceed your duty, officer.”

And with that she darted away from me, all amongst the cabs and the trams and the omnibuses, and left me with oh! such a heavy heart to think I had offended her!And from that day she seemed to look quite gloomy at me, to what she had done before, and to join that scoundrel, Rummles, as often as she could. And I think the brute was gone on her, too, as well he might be, though I never see her give him any encouragement except as a friend.

Her whole heart seemed wrapped up in the young feller she called Nick, but the three was quite chummy together, and I’ve often watched them go arm-in-arm down the Mile End-road, laughing fit to split themselves with merriment.

One day our chief, Mr. Bostock, says to me, “Who’s that young chap as goes about so constantly with Rummles?”

“I don’t know, sir,” I answered, “more than I’ve heard the young lady call him ‘Nick.’”

“Keep your eye on both of them, Challice,” he says, “for no one, who keeps company with Rummles, will keep straight for long.”And yet I dare not caution the gal I thought so much of against her brother’s friend. But I watched him, aye! like a lynx. My eye was never off Rummles, night nor day. I knew I had but to spot him in the trick to set myself right with Nan. To gain her heart and to marry her, was the dream of my life at that period.

If you had told me then, that I should marry Deborah, with her red hair and blue eyes, and live pretty comfortably with her for the remainder of my life, I should have called you a liar. Black eyes and black hair was all the go with me at twenty-four.

Nan was my first love—sometimes I think she was my last. I was hard hit, no mistake about it, and she was (unfortunately for me) such an uncommon sort of gal, with a Spanish look about her, and such a devil in her eye, as made it difficult for a man to forget her!

Well, I followed my chief’s orders to the letter, and kept my weather eye on Mr. Rummles. The brute seemed to be in luck’s way just then, for he dressed like a gentleman, and kept his hands, as far as I could see, out of other men’s pockets. But I knew I had but to bide my time, to catch him at his old tricks, and so it fell out.

It was a big night at the theayter, the benefit of the manager, who was a favorite all round London, and the crowd was immense, both going in and going out. I had watched Mr. Rummles swaggering in, when the play began—dressed up to the nines, and looking quite the toff, in his own estimation—paying down his money at the box-office like a lord, and ogling all the gals through a sham eye-glass.

“There you go, my beauty,” I thought, “and I daresay, if the truth was known, every copper of your money has come out of your neighbour’s pocket. But I’m lookingafter you, my lad, and you’ll have to be very clever next time, if you want to do it without my seeing you.”

I spoke to one of my pals about him at the same time, who was told off to look after the inside of the theayter.

“There’s that beauty, Rummles, gone in, Looseley,” I said. “Keep your eye on him. He bought a dress-circle ticket.”

“All right! I know him well! He won’t get the better of me,” says Looseley.

I took care to be about the doors when the performance was over, and the crowd come out. Itwasa crowd!

A lot of swells had come over from the West-end to show their respect for the manager, and we couldn’t find cabs enough for them. I was standing on the kerb, hailing the hansoms one after the other, when I see a gentleman cross the road, to get one for himself on the other side.

He was a middle-aged man, very handsome and dignified in appearance, and well dressed. We policemen see so much of all sorts that we know a well-dressed man at a glance.

This gentleman had a black cloth cape cloak over his evening clothes, all lined with black satin, and as it flew open I could see the glitter of his gold watch chain, and the flash of the diamond solitaire in his shirt front. He had hailed a hansom, and was standing by the wheel telling the driver, I fancy, where to go to, when another man rushed across the road and thrust himself in front of the gentleman, crying out, “Hi! cabby, are you engaged?”

The cabman said “Yes,” and the first gentleman jumped into the cab and drove off; but not before I had seen the other pass his hand quickly under the loose cape and draw out something, that glittered for amoment as he thrust it in his own pocket.

As he did so, the cab dashed out of sight, and he turned his face towards the lamplight. I recognized Rummles, and guessed at once that he had taken the gentleman’s watch. I was after him like a streak of lightning. “I saw you this time, my lad,” I cried, as I cut across the road, and at the sound of my voice he began to run.

Lord! how that fellow did run! Talk of greased lightning! It wasn’t in it with Rummles. He went like a hare down the Mile End-road, darting in and out of the crowd, and doubling, whenever I gained upon him.

One moment I would think I had lost him altogether, and the next, I would see him scudding before the wind on the opposite side of the way.

At last, when I was almost inclined to give up the chase, who should I come upon,outside the Aldgate Station, but my gentleman himself, leaning—as free and easy as you like—against the wall, not a bit blown, but quietly striking a match on the heel of his boot to light his cigar with, whilst Nick and Nan, who seemed to have been to the theayter too, was standing by, talking and laughing with him. I grasped him pretty roughly by the shoulder.

“So I’ve caught you at last!” I said, as I give him a shake. “Now! just hand over that watch, will you, and come along to the station with me.”

“What watch?” he says, looking as innocent as a child.

“The watch I see you take from the gentleman’s pocket,” I answered.

“It’s no good shirking it! I seed you with my own eyes, and you don’t get off this time, I can tell you, my beauty.”

“All right!” he says. “Search my pocketsand take the watch for yourself, copper! I can’t say fairer than that, can I!”

Looseley, who had joined in the chase, had come up with us by that time, and together we rummaged the whole of Rummles’ clothes. But not a sign of the watch could we find anywhere. And yet I knew I had not been mistaken, but had seen the glimmer of the gold chain in his hand.

“Go on!” exclaimed Rummles, sarcastically; “why don’t yer take the ticker out? What’s the trouble? P’r’aps it’s in my boots or up the sleeve of my coat! You’re a fine copper, you are, not to be able to shake it out.”

But though we did look in his boots and up his sleeves and all over him, we couldn’t find the watch. I began to think my eyes had deceived me, but Looseley, who was a much older hand than myself, was not a bit put out.

“He’s got accomplices,” he said; “they all have, and he’s passed it on to one of his pals. Don’t you let go of him, Challice, and I’ll search this young man and woman,” pointing to Nick and Nan, who were standing by, open-mouthed with horror at the accusation we had made against Rummles.

“No, no, Looseley, it ain’t either of them. I know these young people,” I says quickly, “and they’re quite respectable.”

“All the same I’ll search them,” replied Looseley, and as he was my senior I had no power to stop him. But, as he approached Nan (who was shrinking back against the wall), Nick sprang at him like a young lion.

“Don’t you dare to lay a finger on that young woman,” he cried, “or I’ll fell you to the ground.”

We should have laughed at such a threat from a stripling to Looseley, who was one of the strongest men in the Force, only asthe lad sprang forward, we could all hear distinctly the rattle of some metal in his coat-pocket.

“Well, suppose I take you first, my young cockerel,” said Looseley, as he thrust his hand into the pocket, and drew forth a gold watch and chain.

“I think we’ve got hold of the right thing and the right man this time,” he continued, as he clapped the darbies on Nick’s wrists. For a moment we was all taken so much by surprise, that we hadn’t a word to say, but Rummles was the first to speak.

“Well! what’s all yer blooming row come to?” he exclaimed. “What price for my stealing watches now, eh, copper? My friend here’s been to the theatre as well as me, but I ain’t responsible for his actions, and yer can’t make me so.”

“They was together, and you mistook one for t’other,” said Looseley to me, in a low voice.

“They wasnottogether,” I answered firmly, “I haven’t seen Nick before, to-night. This chap, Rummles, was the only one near the hansom, and I see him rob the gentleman.”

“Anyway, I took this fellow red-handed,” he said.

“Oh! no, no!” cried Nan, who had found her tongue at last. “Officer, you know Nick and you know me! We wouldn’t do such a thing. We’ve been sitting quietly in the gallery all the evening, and walked straight down here. Oh, Mr. Challice, speak for Nick. Don’t let them think he could do such an awful thing. Don’t let them take him away. Oh, Mr. Challice! do be our friend and speak for us!”

She sobbed, as if her heart would break, and I wished to the bottom of mine, that I’d never been on the look-out to catch Rummles. But there it was, you see. The watch wasn’t inhispocket and it was in Nick’s, andthe Law goes by facts and not by fancies.

“What are we to do?” I asks of Looseley aside.

“Do?” he answers. “There’s only one thing to do! March ’em both off to the station and have ’em up before the beaks to-morrow morning.”

Nan give such a scream at that, that my heart felt like water within me.

“Nan,” says Nick, very white, but very quiet like, “formysake don’t make a disturbance! It can’t do any good! Ididn’ttake the watch,youknow that, and the truth must win. Let me go quietly, dear, and you go home as fast as you can, and I’ll come and tell you all about it as soon as the matter is settled! God bless you, Nan!”

And he held his white face to hers, and she clung round him and kissed him in a way that brought the water into my eyes; and I couldn’t help speaking to her.

“Cheer up, my dear!” I says, “depend upon it, it will be all set right, and we shall find an explanation for the mystery.”

“God bless you, Nan!”

“Oh, let me go with him,” she cried, “dear Mr. Challice! He will be so lonely and unhappy by himself. Let me come too, and sit by him till the morning.” But at that I had to shake my head, and Nickreminded her she had to give an explanation of his absence to them at home.

“Keep up your heart, dear,” he said bravely, “a couple of words will set this right! Go home, like a good girl, and wait for me.”

And so we watched her go sobbing down the street, with her shawl held up to her eyes.

“Now, what are yer holdingmefor?” said Mr. Rummles impudently. “You’ve got the right chap, and I’ll thank yer to let me go!”

“Yes! I know Ihavegot the right chap,” I answered him, with a good shake, “and I mean to tell the magistrate so, first thing to-morrow morning.”

So we hauled them both off to the station-house, and locked them up for the night, though I never believed for a moment, but that I was right, and that Rummles, findinghimself pursued, had dropped the watch into the other’s pocket.

It was a very handsome watch, with a heavy chain, and a gold locket containing hair. On one side of the case was a monogram, but so twisted and turned that Looseley and I could make nothing of the initials; and on the other a crest of a dragon and a spear, and some words in Latin that were spelled thus—“Vivit post funera virtus.”

We couldn’t make nothing of the matter, naterally, but Looseley locked up the watch safely, and the next morning by ten o’clock we were all before the beaks.

Well! the upshot of that was, everything went against poor Nick. I felt sure in my mind it was Rummles as I had seen take the watch; but when my evidence came to be sifted it was only a supposition after all, for I couldn’t say I had seen the watch, only the glitter—and supposition don’t go formuch in court. And then the watch had actually been found on Nick.

There was no supposition about that, and the fact that he was known as a companion of Rummles went against him. And so the examination ended by Nick being committed for trial, and that scoundrel, Rummles, let go free.

When I see his grinning face as he left the court I could have struck him across the mouth. But I was powerless in the matter, and Nick was sent to prison to wait his trial for theft. When that poor gal, Nan, who had been in court at the time, heard the beak’s decision, she dropped straight down as if she had been shot. Rummles was going to take charge of her.

“I’ll take the young lady home in a cab,” he says; “I’m a great friend of hers, and she would rather I would take charge of her.”

“No! you don’t!” I says to him, with alook as black as thunder. “You don’t lay a finger on that gal or I’ll smash you! You’ve got the best of it this time, my beauty, but I’ll convict you before I’ve done with you, or my name’s not Charles Challice.” (And I kept my word, too, for not three months after I had the good luck to get him seven years’ penal servitude, for breaking into the house of an unprotected old lady and stealing all her plate.)

Well, I had Nan carried into one of the court rooms, and when she had had a glass of cold water and could tell me her address, I took her home. She didn’t speak one word to me all the way, but when I had put her down at her place (and a poor place it was), “Officer,” she says, crying, “shall I ever see him again?”

“See him again?” I replied, trying to speak cheerful, “in course you will! What’s to prevent it?”

“But how long will they keep him in that horrid place and when he’s as innocent as I am? My poor, poor Nick!”

“Oh! the gaol ain’t a horrid place by no means, my dear. It’s as comfortable as it can be, and Nick will have everything he can want whilst there.”

“But the disgrace, the shame,” she murmured, “it will kill him! And when will the trial take place?”

“Very soon. P’r’aps in a few days,” I answered her, for the autumn sessions was on, and I knew we had very few cases. “And now you must give up work for a bit, my dear, and wait patiently here till you know the verdict.”

“Give up work!” she repeated. “Oh, no! how can I? It is all I have to depend upon now Nick is away.”

So day after day I used to watch the poor darling, dragging her way up to the baker’sshop, and it seemed to me as if she grew thinner and darker, and her eyes more hollow each time I saw her.

I used to say a few words of comfort to her as she passed, but I knew it wasn’t the time to tell her of my love, for all her mind was wrapped up in Nick.

Only I determined that whichever way the trial went, I would speak straight out to Nan, as soon as ever it was over, and ask her to be my wife, and let me protect and provide for her to my life’s end.

It come off sooner than even I had expected, but I purposely didn’t tell Nan of the exact date, for I didn’t want to have no scenes in court, and thought it far better that she shouldn’t be there.

Besides, I was very doubtful how the case would go, and feared the worst for poor Nick.

When the time came, and he was broughtinto court, I thought I had never seen six weeks make such a change in a strong young man.

He was white and thin and haggard. His cheeks was sunken, so was his eyes, but he bore a defiant look with it all, as though hedaredthe jury to call him guilty. However, right don’t always win in this world, and everything went against him.

The court made very short work of the case. Looseley’s evidence and mine was taken before everybody, and Nick hadn’t nothing to say for himself, except that he didn’t know how the watch got in his pocket, which nobody believed.IthoughtIknew, but I was not allowed to say so. You can’t give evidence of what youthink, only of what youknow. And all I knew for certain was that I saw Looseley take the watch out of Nick’s pocket.

The watch was in court, of course. Ithad never been owned, and the judge ordered it to be locked up again until claimed. But the jury found Nick guilty, and he was sentenced to seven years’ transportation. I was standing next the dock, and he turned an agonized face towards me, as his sentence was pronounced.

“Nan!” he gasped.

“I will see after her,” I answered, and I could read the thanks in his poor face.

As soon as I was off duty that night I made a run for her lodgings, and found her sitting up, pale and mournful.

“You’ve come to tell me when my dear Nick’s trial comes off,” she said; “I am sure of it, for he has never been out of my thoughts all day. Oh, Mr. Challice, surely they can never have the heart to pronounce him guilty!”

“My dear,” I says very softly, and laying my hand on hers (Lord, how the touch didmake me tremble!), “there’s many an innercent man has had to suffer in this world for the wrong-doing of others, and Nick ain’t no exception to the rule. He had a bad friend in Rummles, and he has ruined his life. Be prepared for the worst, my poor gal. The trial came off this morning, and Nick’s got seven years!”

“Seven years!” she repeated slowly. “Not seven years’ transportation?”

“Yes, my dear. I’m sorry to say it, but that’s the truth. He was found guilty and sentenced to seven years’ transportation.”

“Seven years,” she said again in a dazed manner, “seven years, and I am only twenty-one. Oh! what shall I do?—whatshallI do?”

She didn’t cry loud, but seemed to be asking the question of herself in right earnest.

“Nan,” I says, emboldened by her despair,“I’ll tell you what to do. Come home to me and I’ll take care of you! Only say the word and let me put up the banns. ‘Twouldn’t be a grand home, my dear, but it would be a clean and comfortable one, and Nick’s home, too, as soon as he’s out of his time. And I’ll love you, my dear gal, faithful and true!

“I’ve loved you ever since I knowed you, Nan, and if love can make them seven years go quicker, why, they’ll have all the help in my power, and I can’t say no more.”

“You, Mr. Challice?” she says in surprise. “You? Oh, no! Oh, no!”

“And why not, Nan? My wages is pretty good and rising regularly. And you shall never do a stroke of work again if I can help it. And I’ll be a friend to your brother, my dear! I did my best to stand his friend to-day, but the evidence was too strong for me.”

“My brother!Oh, no, you don’t understand, Mr. Challice!Thatis the reason. Nick isnotmy brother!

“He is my dear, dear friend and my lover, and we were to have been married in a little while. Oh, my Nick, my darling Nick! I shall never be the wife of any man but you.” And with that she laid her pretty head down on the table and sobbed fit to kill herself.

There was nothing for me to say after that! I felt terribly cut up over it, you may be sure, but ’tweren’t her fault and ’tweren’t mine. It was a misfortune, and I had to bear it as best I could. But all my thoughts ran, as how I could best comfort her, and that brought me to think of my sister Margaret.

I told her all the story, just as if she’d been my mother instead of my sister, and I brought her to see Nan, and when she tookmy poor gal in her arms and kissed her, I knew she’d do by her as she would have done by me.

Well, it was getting on for Christmas by that time, and, as ill luck would have it, Christmas Eve was the very day fixed for Nick to sail from England in the convict ship.

That was a nice Christmas Eve for all of us. My heart was well nigh broken by the thought that Nan would never be more to me than a friend, and hers was the same at parting with Nick.

She had been allowed to see him more than once, whilst he was in gaol, and she had been terribly upset on each occasion, but it was nothing to the day when she had to say good-bye to him for the last time. Margaret got leave to accompany her to the prison, for she thought she ought to have a friend with her at such a trying moment, and she was right.

“Good-bye, my darling!” cried Nick, straining Nan tight in his arms. “Remember! I aminnocent. And when I have served my time I will send for you, and we will begin a happier life in the Colonies as man and wife.

“Be brave, Nan, as you have always been. This is a terrible trial, but we did not bring it on ourselves. And it is such a comfort for me to think I leave you in the care of this dear, good woman, and that you will have a good home and protection during my absence.”

“Yes,” said my sister Margaret, “you need have no fear on that score, Nick. Nan will remain in the Children’s Hospital working under me, until she has gained sufficient experience to take a higher position. But you may rest assured she will never want for food or clothes or occupation so long as she behaves herself. And that I’ll warrant she means to do.”

“Indeed, indeed, I will,” sobbed Nan, “if only that I may feel your heart is at ease about me, Nick.”

“My Nan! my Nan!” he cried brokenly. “Oh! take her away, Miss Challice, whilst I am master of myself, and may God bless you for all your goodness to her.”

And so my sister Margaret took the poor girl home to the hospital, where she was well provided for and guarded against all temptation. And Nick sailed for the Colonies, clad in his convict dress.

Poor Nan! poor Nick! I felt for them both so much, that I wouldn’t have stolen her heart from him, not if I had been able. But I’ve never forgot her, nor my love for her, you see, to this very day. Only may all the Fates keep this here confession out of my wife Deborah’s hands.

Charles Challice.

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