The Volume Of The Sacred Law.

"Is this Peter Nundy's Settlement , my friend ? " asked one of them . "Yes , sir , it is ; leastaways , this is apart oi Mr . Nundy ' s place . He lives up at the house not quite half a mile up stream , just at the back of that there clump of pines over agin the creek . " " I'm much obliged to you , friend . "

"You ' re welcome , sir , I ' m sure . If you ' re a friend of the gov . 's , perhaps you'd like to step inside a minute , and brush yourself up . Not that we keep many brushes in this quarter , but you look mighty dirty , sir—if you'll pardon me for saying so . " The stranger turned to his companion and smiled , and accepted

the hospitality of tlie stockman . " My wife ' s very queer , sir , " said Norton , as he lifted the latch of the door , and ushered the two men into the living-room of the cottage , a large compartment , which was half a storeroom for implements , harness , and all manner of oddments . " Yes , sir ; I

think she ' s going to make a finish of it , poor old gal ! She ' s been dreaming , sir ; and that's a sure sign of something , I reckon . " " Is there no doctor round about ? " asked one of the strangersthe one who had not previously spoken . "We don't get no doctors nearer than Gerrad Point , eight mile

up the Witmitty , but we ' ve got a angel here as ' as done more good than all the doctors in Boston , sir—in Boston , " and Norton brought his fist down on the bench to emphasise his assertion . " She lives

up at the house with the Boss , and she was here this morning , God bless her ! looking after my old girl , and giving her all the comforts and good things she coulel find . But

she ' s in love , sir , is Miss Gertrude ; she is " but the stranger did not allow him to finish the sentence . " Tell me , " he said , trying

to speak calmly and to master his emotion , " What is this Miss Gertrude like ? " "Like , sir ! Well , I hardly know , upon my word ! She ' s

not over big , and has a good and pretty face ; but it ' s her ways as makes us chaps so fond of her—I ' m blest if she don ' t !"

" Yes , yes ! my friend , I quite believe she is all that is good ; but what is she like ?" " Well , you wait till I go and ask the old girl ; she'll be able to tell yer ! " And the stockman went into the inner room , leaving the two men to themselves . " Are we on the track at last , Miller ? " asked one of the other .

But Norton came back at the moment , and requested the gentlemen to walk in and have a look at his wife . " She seems to be worse , " be said . They went into the room in which the woman was , and walked up to the bed , which was particularly clean for a stockman ' s hut .

She seemed to take no notice of any of them until her husband spoke to her and asked her if she could tell the gentleman what Miss Gertrude was like . This revived her a bit , for she turned her head , catching sight of the stranger who stood at her side . She was going to speak to him , but she stopped half-way and looked

with terrible earnestness at his face . " I dreamt of you last night , " she said , presently , in a voice which showed her end was near ; " and I told Miss Gertrude about it this morning . I saw you running after her along a river and over a bridge , but you stumbled and fell down , and when she

went back to you you were dead" —the listener shuddered" Miss Gertrude said it was a funny dream , but I can ' t make it out . She had your portrait round her neck . "

" THE LITTLE STOCK OF LETTERS . "

CHAPTER VIII . Yet is the tale , hrief though il he , as Mntnge As full , methinks . of v . U-1 ami wcnulmus i : ki : v ; c , As any that the wandering tribes rc <| uire . Stretched , in the desert , round their evening tire : As any sung of old . in hall or hower . To minstrei harps at midnight ' :, witching hrmr ! The day was drawing to a close , and Gertrude was tired out .

She was still thinking of Mrs . Norton ' s dream , and bow strangehow very strange—it was . Mr . Nundy had asked her to play just one " something" before he turned in for the night , and they must get to bed earlier even than usual to welcome their guests and prepare for them on the morrow . Early in the evening it had

commenced to snow ; darker and darker it bad grown , and faster came the flakes , so that everybody had made up their minds for a snowy Christmas Day . Gertrude played a favorite piece of hers . She hardly knew why—of course , it was Mrs . Norton ' s dream—but her mind was at Chertsey all this long day , and she was playing in

her own room one of those dreamy melodies that awaken the silent chords of the heart , and sends the memory back among the quivering echoes of the past . Tears came again as she fingered the keys , but they were the gift of a kind Providence to dim her sight so that she could see but blindly the dear dead days of a year ago . Poor

Jinks ! she wondered where he was , and what he was doing now ? She was at the gate again the last time she welcomed Richarel after his long absence . What a day that was ! What a day ! How

they had chatted long into the night , those husband-and wife lovers , secure in each other ' s affection , which seemed so soliel anel so lasting . She went on playing and dreaming , and Peter Nundy did not

ehsturb her , for he had guesseel long ago of a love still burning in her heart , so he silently crept out of the room , and ' left her alone to pour out her music and her memories

together . She must have played till past eleven , and was tired out with the fatigue of the day , and with playing . Why

should she not read over again the little stock of letters she had brought with her

rom England . The poor women and children ! how unfortunate it was that their enjoyment should be spoiled by the storm , when the weather for the past few days had been so propitious . She went to the window and raised the blind . All was white . The heavy flakes were coming down in myriads , and the gathering wind

blew them against the window , and stippled it all over . What was that dark object moving across the yard and coming towards the bouse ? She crept among the folds of the curtain where she could watch . The figure came quickly to the window , and she saw a man peer into the room ; and , without the slightest fear , she stepped in

front of him . Who was he ? Oh , God ! why let her eyes deceive her heart ? Why let her think for one brief moment that this is Richard Rawlinson ? She could riot help it or reason it , but her hand went up to the fastening of the window , and the man raiseel the sash .

One look , and all her promises to her mother were forgotten ; a wail of agony escaped her lips as she staggered from the window , but her husband had leapt through the opening and caught her senseless body in his arms . Wakened by the noise , and not finding Gertrude at her side , Mrs . Oakhurst had slipped on her dressing-gown and

come to look for her . Never had her mortal eyes deceived her as they did this night . Grasping the situation in an instant , she closed the room door and drew down the window and the blind .