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[SOW TIKST ftnUBHCD. j SABI,NA ZEMBRA. 8i A NOVEL, BY WILLIAM BLACK, Author ef "MAOLZOD OF DABE." A PRINMM or TWOLX," See., 4c. J CHAPTER Lt.-AT CAM? MAN TOWBB. i ANIE'S keen desire to visit the northern isles ud hills, and Edin- burgh, and Melrose, and the dowie dew o'Yarrow," had apparently gone fielD her mind now. She seemed half con teat with this bit of western Wigtonsbire; and indeed they found the neighbourhood exceedingly picturesque and interesting. Of course they in- sisted on Walter Lindsay accompanying them on aB of their excursions; and the attendant who want with them, perched on the box-seat beside the driver, speedily discovered that his office was a saeeare. It was "the tall young leddy," who had supplanted him; devoting herself entirely to Lindsay, and never wearied of tolling him of all tfcafc was around as them as they walkm* .1- Sbe did not need to lea,: oomenow he knew wbm she was close by him. Her voice was a magia" guide-perhaps an occasional touch of bar dromh too. Naturally, when they were step- pWg iato a boat, or passing under the archway of some old ruin, she gave him her hand; but ordi- mriiy they merely walked side by side—her face tented towards his. They were thus strolling along the shore one IftWTiing, she stooping now and again to pick up a Tfctl1 or a bit ot crimson weed, but ever returning to bar welcome task of describing the fair world around them and Janie and her husband were following some little way behind. "If Walter bad only his eyesight for ten minutes:" Janie said, wistfully. "If be could only see the expression of her face every time she tftms te him. There is one thing surely be must •otwe—that her voice changes whenever she speaks to bia4 whatever she may be saying to Q8- whatever nonsense may be going on—the moment 11M apeaks to him, it is all gentleness; and you know how soft and kind her voice is when she chooses. That is what I have said for years and yeus, ever since I have know her-the way to win Sabie's love is through her pity, Walter Ugclmy uted to be too well off; she never could be brought to care for him. So I suppose it is traa that there may be a soul of good in things eVii I daresay if she had not come through that dxeadfal time of trouble, she would Be have got to know what a true friend he is; and I am epties sure, if this misfortune hadn't befallen him, she wouldn t have the sympathy with him she has now. And very little trouble she takes to hide it. If be could orly see for a second how she watches hi4 face when she's telling him anything-to gather whether he's interested yes, and the quickness with which she is the first to get him his stick and his hat when we are coming out, and the eagerness with which she listens to him, and 'her quick approval-ah, well, I don't know what may come of it; but apparently Sabie is quite happy whenever she is with him." Thae said Janie, in her incoherent way her busband-took a more practical view. What ought to come of it is clear enough. To make of two broken lives one whole one is the sensible thing." "Bb is too proud to ask her," Janie said. I Let her ask him." i She can't. Besides, he would refuse to accept such a sacrifice-that is, if he was likely to be per- manently blind.' "Now, look here," said Mr Philip, "that is a subject which we can't speak of to Walter but you and I may speak of it; and I assure you that his determination to look at the worst side of the possibilities must have grown up when be was living here by himself, and giving way to depres- sida and gloom. Or he may think it right to schtol himself to face the worst that can happen. Vely well; that may be reasonable enough. But you must remember that the chances are really the other way. No doubt, many of the operations are unsuccessful; but the majority of them are successful; and you know what the doctors said —that everything depended on the general health of the constitution. Well, look at Lindsay. He has never had a touch or gout or rheumatism, or anything of the kind all his life long. J, say the chances are all in his favour. Of course the aiudety must be dreadful; and I can understand a man, in a kind of half despair, saying to himself that he will rather look forward to the worst, so that he may not be wholly crushed if it should happen." "I wonder what Sabie thinks," Janie said, ab- sently. "I am afraid to ask her. And I suppose if he were to be permanently blind, it would be too great a sacrifice for her to make? I know, if the positions were reversed, it would not be too aHM a sacrifice for him to make he would sacri- fice anything, everything for Sabie's sake. But ybla aoalt eftea meet with a devotion like that. He told me himself—but mind, you must not tell Sftbie this.-tial when it first occurred to him there was something wrong with his eyea, be began to think there would be at least this com- pensation in beiag blind, that Sabie Would always bftH* the same beauty for him, that he would always think of her as he bad first known her. There never has been anything that be would not sacrifice, and willingly and gladly, íf her sake. But I don't know about her." "You don't know about her?" her husband repeated, staring at her. Wen. I like that:" Oh, of course, you want me to argue that she is bound to make the sacrifice ? I am not going te say anything of the kind. But this is clear enough—that, if the success of that, operation de- pends considerably on the general. health of the patient, our little trip here seems to have done Lindsay a world of good. He is in ever so much better spirits than when we came." That is because Sabie is his constant com- panion," was Janie's answer. And I must say for her, that when she sets about making much of anyone, she does it with a will. There is no mis- taking it. I remember, in the old time, mother declaring phe was a most horrible flirt because of the way she was 'going on' with Walter at his own house one night. Bnt she wasn t going on.' When she wants to beoqmd to you.' as the children say, she certainly CIAU, and she doesn't care who sees it, either." Well, then," aaid Mr Philip, it is clear we are not doing Lindsay much harm by keeping him occupied and ebonful; and I have been thinking we might add -an two or three daya more to our visit. We eut/t be in the way, for be has nothing to do; and .tb¡e house is big and the servants just as obliging and good-natured as they can be. Well, now, I was thinking of Monday vmmt shall we say Wednesday iustead ?" "If you will stay to the end of the week, Phil Janie answered, MI will give up any one of the places 1, wanted to see—any one you like." "The end of the week? Well, we must first ask for an invitatioB, and then .elll see what Sabin,. says.* But Philip Drexel had himself already cut out oae portion of their travelling programme-that referring to the Braes of Yarrow. He seemed to have lost interest in th& grey and shadowy figure which, in his London dreams, he bad pictured as on Yarrow's bpukt4 with a world of mystic gloom around her. Fee even as the blood oi an ansemic parson is flushed by fresh air, and sunlight, and smaim, so Mr Pliilip's imagination, under the constant stimulus of historical and legendary scenes and associations-to say nothing of the brisker health begotten of rowing and climbing, aad moorland tramping had warmed into colour Asams Lindsay's books he had discovered the ballad of Fair Annie and be bad gradually put away from him the grey phantom of Yarrow's banks for this brighter, if still pensive, figure— that of the forsaken mistress who is bidden to ..It. her in greea cleiding," and "braid her y,]]-,— batr," that ebe may welcome home the bride Fair Annie stood in her bower floor* And tboftit ower the land; I there she saw her am zude lota V*" LaadiotfhM bride by thenar V She's drest her sons i' the scarlet red, Herself i' the dainty green And though her cheek looked pale and wan, She weel might ha' been a rueen." This was what he was busy with now; and so the visit to Yarrow's haunted stream was dis- carded, or at least postponed and there was so much the more time to add on to their lingering in the pleasant Kingdom of Galloway. When Philip asked Lindsay to keep them on for another week, be wound up his not ineffectual prayer by saying- And the best thing you can do at the end of the time is to come along with us. Moping down here won't do you any good. Come with us for a run through Scotland, and then go back to London with us." But Lindsay would not hear of it. I should be a continued drag on you, and you have plenty to do. Besides, I have grown familiar with this place I can get about a little even when Jamie isn't by. Of course, I shall have to be in London for a brief time: we shall meet then. In the meanwhile, Phil, my lad, don't talk about your going, there's a good fellow. I don't want even to think of it-until it's over." If these days, then, were now numbered, at least they were halcyon days. The visitors had not committed the usual mistake of English folk in going to Scotland just at the very worst time of the year for weather. And how quickly the time passed! In the morning after breakfast, they all went outside, for the mignonette was sweet in the soft June air, an 1 if Janie and Philip generally strolled off by themselves, Sabina had found out for herself a warm bank at the southern edge of the lawn, where it was pleasant to sit. Thither she brought Lindsay's chair, and the daily batch of newspapers; and she could make a shrewd guess as to what interested him most when she began to read-not the squabbling of Synods and Presbyteries, and not the sham ob- jurgation of party politics, but rather the reports from the salmon rivers, and accounts of any new picture exhibition in London. Then the wagonette would come round to the door; the stragglers would be summoned to get ready; and presently they would be driving away along the coast, be up and over the wild moorland country, until, at mid-day, they sought out some sheltered spot for opening the luncheon-basket. The afternoon Mr Philip usually devoted to desperate attempts at I acquiring the art of fly-fishing—from a boat on a small loch hard by. Sometimes the others accom- panied him, and it was very little the two women I. knew of the imminent peril they were in from the erratic cast of flies, especially when there was a bit of a breeze on behind the fisherman. Lindsay, A WALK BT MOOKLIGHT. )f course, could not see; and the saturnine Jamie, litting at the oars, merely sniggered to himself md said nothing. But, nevertheless, Mr Philip logged away with his variegated cast of A uln, Blue Dun, and Coch-y-bonin; and. if be some- ;imes caught up in his own clothes, or occasion- illy lodged the Coch-y-bondy in the gunwale of -he boat behind him, these were but trifling mis- laps; and eventually bis patience and resolution were on most occasions rewarded by the capture )f a few innocent small things attracted by the Mtssage of the drop-fly across the surface. Then lome to dinner; after which there was smoking, md chatting, and music. Sometimes, on these warm June nights, they opened the French win- lows, and went abroad in the stillness, for there was moonlight now; and it was strange to bear, n the silense, the ocasional soft-mewing of some iwtant sea-gull, or the whistle of a curlew down jy the shore. On the last night of all these nights, Philip proposed that they should walk up to the old •ower, to have a last look at the coast, and the silvered sea. All this evening Lindsay had been silent and pre-occupied. Sabina had tried her Dest to cheer him, but without avail; no one had lared to speak of the departure on the morrow; md indeed the restraint on all of them was inly too obvious. So this proposal was rather gladly accepted; and, when they went out into the hushed night, Janie and her husband led the way, as was their wont, and Sabina followed with Lindsay, her hand just hovering near his um. It was a beautiful night; and the further they Elimbed the steep ascent, the more they could see of the still, moonlit water, and the successive frey promontories running out away to the south. There was not a sound-even the sea birds were silent now and the whispering of the ripoles along the shore was too faint to reach them here. And Sabina had ceased to try to entertain him; her own heart was not over light; perhaps she felt there was much to say that she could not say. When they reached the tower-wbicb was part Df the ruins of a stronghold built by the Robert Lindsay who fell at Otterbourne—they found that Philip and Janie had gone inside, and were trying to make their way up to the top. Sabina did not choose to follow them; she seated herself on one of the big stones lying about; and Lindsay re- mained standing by her side-his fingers just touching her dress near the shoulder, that he should know she was there. For some little while there was silence then she said (recnmng to her duties for the last time):— I don't think I ever saw the sea so still. And there is a small steamer right in the way of the moonlight—jet black it is—it is so strange to see it slowly crossing that wide silvery pathway. Where will it be going? Over to Ireland ?" He paid no heed to her question; it was not of the sea be was thinking. So you are really going away to-morrow ?" he said, in rather a lew voice. Yes, she answered simply, and I have no heart in going." Then, with an effort, she gathered courage to say what she wished to say. You must not imagine that I go willingly. I think I have been of some little service to you. I think you like me to be with you. And I would like to stay if I could. You did not forsake me- in my time of trouble. If I am going, I have no heart in going; believe that." The band that was so near her touched her; it was trembling a little. Sabina, you almost make me speak when I bad determined to keep silent—and if I could-" But here he paused for a second. No, not yet; not as I am now I cannot. But perhaps here- after-it may be different. I must wait-and then —if it is different—I will come to you." She could not fail to understand. "You do not trust me," she said. "Do you think that would make any difference to me?" He bent down a little, perhaps it was to listen for the least sound of her voice; it was a habit he had got into since bis eyesight bad left him. "Sabina, if the worst were to happen, would you still have pity on me 2" For answer, she took the hand that was hover- ing over her shoulders, and held it in both of hers and kissed it. "My best and dearest friend," she said, and there was even a tnuch of pride in her simple self-surrender, I wish to be with you always bur, if that were to happen—then more than ever." CHAPTER LII.-Ar A PICTURE SHow. Walter Lindsay neither let nor sold his town bouse and studio. On all sides he was informed that the most skilful oculists in the world were to be found in London, and when the time was drawing nigh for the operation for cataract to be performed, he repaired thither. Nor did Janie, and Philip, and Sabina leave him much chance of sinking into a nervous apprehension and gloom. Nearly every evening they went round to his studio, for Sabina was staying with these good friends just then, and Lindsay and they were near neighbours. Sometimes took to him, or sent him, flowers. It was a fair exchange. M O. diaaa ye mind, love Gregory, When we sate at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks? It's no sae lang sinsyae. Iu her time of trouble be bad shown bar a kindness that she treasured in her inmost heart; and now it was her tarn, in a smaller but in no unwilling way, to pay him all kinds of little attentions, aud seed him daily remembrances. They wan not undervalued by the recipient of them. During the week of suspense that foflowed tha operation, Janie was terribly anxious; Sabina much less so. Indeed, her apparent or schooled indifference not only surprised Janie, but pained her, and she ventured to remonstrate. "Even if the worst should happen," Sabina said, calmly, "I am quite prepared for it; it will not be so very dreadful." Sabie I have yon no regard for his fame as a painter?" I have a greater regard for his love," was the answer (these two being alone together at the time). What do you mean. Sabie? Would you rather have him always dependent on you? Is that what you mean ? It cant be that you imagine, if he were to recover his eyesight, he would care for you any the le,s, when you know quite well that never in all your life were you looking su pretty as you are now—that can't be it? "Janie, don't talk as if my interests should be thought of at all," Sabina answered. "Of course, if Walter gets back his sight, that will be a joyful day for all of as. But if it isn't to be-well, we will do what we can to make his life pleasant for him and I for one am not going to be downcast, even at the worst." But she was hardly under such good control on the momentous day when the examination was to be made. She, and Philip, and Janie, were all in the house the doctor was in the room upstairs. It had been hinted to them that, as far as it was possible for medical skill to judge, there was every reason to believe that the operation would prove to have been successful. But notwithstand- log that, Janie was very visibly agitated, and Sabina, though holding herself in restraint, seemed to be listening intently, as if for some footfall on the stair, and she started at the smallest sound. Janie, indeed, couid not keep FIill. She went from one place to another. Not a word was spoken by any of them. At jiast she left the room, and crept noiselessly up the staircase, and hang about the landing. She could hear them speaking within; surely those voices were cheerful enough ? Suddenly the door opened. "Good-bye for the present." You'll tell them, doctor?" "011' yes; thoy're waiting below-they won't have left, depend on it." Then he shut the door, and the next moment was confronted in the dusk by this poor, timorous, apprehensive, speechless ghost. Oh, it's all right," said be. Very satisfac- tory indeed." Janie flew down the steps-how, she could never afterwards understand- and rushed into the room. "Sabie! Sabie!" And then her arms were round her friend's neck, and she was kissing her on one cheet, and the other cheek, again, and again, and again. It was all the message she could deliver-but it was understood between these two. A long time after that—last June, indeed-it was announced that on a certain day there would be opened in Bond-street an exhibition of water- colour drawings and ske tches, chiefly of the River Shannon; and on the previous Saturday there was a Private View, at which a large number of the artists' friends were assembled. It was a goodly display, considering that most of the aeries had been produced within eighteen months—though some of the drawings were of an earlier date. It was one of these other ones that seemed to have caught the fancy of a noble and gracious lady who would .insist on Lindsay going round the room with her, and so profuse were her praises that, in order to get away from them he said- Y es, I like that one myself, for it was just underneath those trees that I caught a twenty- eight pound salmon." Really now!" said this good lady. How very interestiug! Twenty-eight pounds-that must have been a large fish. What did you do with it ?" I sent it to Sabina Zembra." Sabina Zembra?" she said, inquiringly, "Who is that?" Don't you know? There she is—over in that comer-talking to the little old gentleman with the ear-trumpet," said Lindsay, looking towards a tall young woman in a dress of silver-grey plush, with a beefeater's hat of the same material, and with one deep crimson rose at her breast. But that is your wife," said this noble person, peering through her eye-glasses. Ah, I set-- that was her name, was it? What a very extra- ordinary present to send a young lady!" What else could I send her-from the Shan- non ?" 6At this moment Janie came along. "It's all right," she said, in an undertone; "Phil has been down to some place in Piccadilly, and got a room where we shall be by ourselves. Sabie and I will follow whenever we see you going to the door. And Phil is waiting outside." The consequence of this manoeuvre was that, a few minutes thereafter, these four were seated at lunch in a private room of a well known res- taurant, and they seemed rather glad of this respite from their public duties. When I first thought of having an exhibition of this kind," Lindsay said," my wildest hope was that that young woman there would condescend to come to the private view. I little expected to see her mistress of the show." "I assure you that it is remarkably nice," Sabina said. You've no idea what pretty things have. oeen said to me this morning. And do you think I was going to make any protest ? That wouldn'c have been business-like. I felt far more inclined to say:—'Good gentleman, er pretty lady, your opinion is quite correct; and will you buy You mercenary wretch However, wte ve little cause to complain on that score; and I mean to make our holiday this year a thorough- going one. I suppose you have got everything ready for Monday morning. Philip—rods and nets and everything?" Yes, I think so." Oh," continued Lindsay, I beard a pretty story about you the last timn I had to run down to Wigtonshire. The boy Jamie says that when you were fishing from the boat you were con- tinually catching up on the gnnwhale behind you. Now how did you manage that? You must have doubled the flies right behind. And do you know you were whisking: them past people's faces?" "Can the boy Jamie use a rod himself?" Mr Pnilip asked. Oh, yes, Jamie can throw a fly." "Then perhaps it would have been better for the young ruffian to have given me some advice instead of treasuring up a tale about it." "Never mind, we'll show you how to lift your line behind you when we're all back in Galloway again. Yes, and there's some nobler sport for you, my lad, when we go on to Cromarty wai; till you find yourself fighting a thirty-pounder—then janie will have to be by to give a scream when you bring him to bank." Coffee and cigars were brought in but the little party could not idle here much longer; the artist bad to go back to receive his patrons and friends. As they were going downstairs he said Look here, Mr Phil, I reckon I shall see you to-morrow some time or other; but if I don't, mind you come a bit earlier on Monday morning. Eustoa Station, 9.45, that's the watchword; and j then—' Take year seats for the North It only remains to be addect that Sir Anthony Zembra, who has at length bad the honour of office conferred on him, came to the show that afternoon, and was vastly complimentary. At the dinner tables which he adorns with his handsome presence, be is quite fond of talking to his son-in- law; and at the last banquet of the Royal Academy, on being called on to answer for the House of Commons, be made pointed reference to his own personal and immediate association with art. THE MM.

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