He gave a short laugh and glanced round him for a moment. One hand was still fastened on Maud's sleeve, but the other, with the revolver held loose in it, hung limply at his side. Quick as light, Maud's disengaged hand shot out, twisted the weapon from his clasp, and sent it whirling over the cliff. The movement was all too swift and sudden for Watherston to prevent it; but he only laughed again with the cunning chuckle of insanity. "Euchred! You think so. I guess you have plenty of sand, Mrs Egerton. But I can do without that thing. You may have helped to get me quit of the gallows. I am going to send you down there after the gun; and then I reckon I can go back and tell the British police the poor lady slipped over the gulch, and her friend from the States could not save her though he tried his level best. How's that? Now over you go!" He released her for an instant, and Maud threw both arms round the slender trunk of the larch-tree. The madman seized her by the shoulders and tried to tear her away; but she clung desperately, and called for help with all the force she could throw into her voice. She knew that her strength could not long avail her in the struggle with this ferocious assailant; but there was just a chance, if she could hold on for a few minutes, that her cries might attract attention and bring assistance. As it happened, they did. Ambrose Royle, puffing confusedly along the upper path, found himself mounting the cliff, and suddenly recollected the hotel - clerk's directions. He paused and looked round, and perceived the other footway running parallel with his o some thirty yards farther dow Between the two there w only a green slope, thou the cliff fell away steeply below the second path. Ambrose was considering whether he should descend the hill or walk back to the junction, when a cry, emitted in Maud's clear carrying voice, fell upon his ear. He had not been trained to act quickly in emergencies, and he commonly thought many times before he did anything. But on this occasion he did not hesitate. He answered the call with the first shout that rose automatically to his lips, which was the shrill whoop of the hunting-field. The next moment Maud and her adversary, both looking upwards, observed a man careering down the declivity towards them, taking five yards at every stride, arms and stick waving furiously, and view - hallooing with all his might. So disconcerting was the apparition that Jim Watherston stepped The Awakening of Ambrose Royle. 121 back to receive the charge of are my guardian angel, I bethis unexpected reinforcement. lieve! I might be down there But he kept his face to the foe if you had not come to help What should I have done how narrow was the platform without you? I owe you my on which he stood at his life now-as well as my happi backward movement he set one foot on a loose stone a few feet ness. Ambrose raised the little from the edge, tripped and hand to his lips. Then he stumbled on the smooth slippery noticed that the white arm was turf, tried to recover himself, all bruised and livid under the slipped a yard backwards, and torn sleeves. then threw up his arms and "Are you hurt?" he asked with a wild ory disappeared anxiously. over the precipice. "Oh no!" said Maud; "there Ambrose might have shared is nothing the matter with me. his fate, for he was coming I am none the worse for the We down the slope too fast to encounter, though I am afraid check himself. But Maud saw my late antagonist is. the danger and caught him by must go back as fast as we as he reached the can and have the poor wretch The impact brought got out and attended to." the arm level. them both to the ground, safe, but with no margin to spare. They rose and peered cautiously over the steep descent, Ambrose very hot and panting, Maud with cheeks of marble but still breathing quietly. It was one of her characteristics that she was never "out of breath." But as it turned out, Jim Watherston needed no further attention. He had broken his neck in the final fall, and when the rescue party reached him they found him stiff and cold where he lay. Maud Egerton and Wilfred were married very "quietly" indeed at a Kentish The American was sliding Fennell down the nearly perpendicular face of the crag, rolling over village church. Ambrose was and ever, and trying ineffectu- the best man; and in the roseally to stay his progress by covered porch of the village clawing at the loose stones and inn, before the wedded couple springing tufts of weed. Even drove away, while Wilfred had as they looked he fell sheer gone indoors to make some down through a drop of several final arrangements, he had a feet where the cliff curved in- few words with the bride. wards, and lay stretched out "You are going to be very motionless on a flat slab of happy," he said. rock. "I think so," she answered. Maud turned to Ambrose "But, dear Ambrose, I feel a Then wickedly selfish woman. I owe to you my husband and my life, and I can do nothing for you you." "For me?" said Ambrose with a faint smile. "Oh, I don't count. I am only a poor old thing, you know." "Don't! You are the best and kindest of men, and my dear friend." "Who was foolish enough to imagine he might be something more to you than a friend. Do you know that?" "Of course I know it," said Maud; "am I not a woman? It could not be; but I hate the thought that I have only come into your life to gain happiness for myself, and to leave you disappointed and distressed. Perhaps it would have been better for you after all if you had never fallen asleep behind my screen." Ambrose smiled again. "Ah! that screen! No; I shall bless it always- and you. I was asleep and I awakened. And it is well that a man should do that some time in his life, isn't it? I was slumbering too soundly all those empty years, in a foolish dream of my own small self. You gave me a better one. Now I can always dream of you." "No," said Maud; "don't dream of me or of anybody; but be your real self and stay awake. There is so much to do!" "Even for a poor old thing? Well, perhaps there is something. At any rate, I shall not go to sleep again, I think." SIDNEY LOw. held THE Im ence, month, USINGS WITHOUT METHOD. GLAND OF PRESS CONFERENCE-LORD ROSEBERY'S SPEECH- CRITICS ERICAN REVOLUTION THE WAY.' disclosed feeling the know erial Press Confer- them of the ancient and stately during the past civilisation which they would a warmth of find embodied in our time-worn On either side which abbeys and cathedrals, and in not but be grateful to our venerable colleges. With friends of our Empire. To a quiet satire he urged them all is to pardon all, and to see the country life of Engit seemed in many a perfervid land on their present visit, bemeeting as though the mis- cause when they next came it understandings which which have might not be here for them to sometimes perplexed the Mother see. And then he bade them Country and the Colonies were marvel at the energy and alertswept away for ever. The ness of England's commerce misunderstandings were inevit- and manufactures, and pictured able. Ignorance is a dark as surrounding and watching clouder of counsel, and if at all a prodigious and always times we have thought our inadequate armada. "All Colonies exacting, they, on the these," said he, "are yours as other hand, have found the tra- much as ours. Your possesvelling Englishman haughtily sion, your pride, and your contemptuous, and have suffered home." from the shifts and wiles of that plague of Empire- the remittance - man. And then comes a meeting, frank, intimate, enthusiastic, and all is forgotten save the ties of close relationship and common policy. By the best of good fortune it fell to Lord Rosebery to pronounce the speech of welcome, and he pronounced it with the tact and irony which he possesses alone among modern orators. Eloquently he told These are words of wisdom and sincerity. The Colonies share the pride and privilege of England. What will they give in exchange? Pride and privilege are nothing unless they are guarded with zeal and with sacrifice, and if we are to sustain the burden of Empire we must unite in a settled policy of defence. With the Mother Country the Colonies stand or fall. Not one of them is strong enough or populous enough to fight its own battles in the coming era of competition. So many and so various are the interests which may presently turn the Pacific into a theatre of war, that prudence as well as patriotism suggests a closer and more practical union between England and her Colonies. It is foolish and even criminal to hide the bitter truth from our eyes, and it is vastly to Lord Rosebery's credit that he spoke out "loud and strong." It was not for him to cover up the facts and to say the pleasant thing. He spoke not as a politician addressing his constituents, but as a statesman confronted by men who asked for the truth, not for deception. He sketched the bellum tacens, the silent war, in the midst of which we live, the armaments on sea and land, which the nations of Europe are preparing in rivalry one with another, and in a time of seeming peace. He declared with a proper pride that we could and would build Dreadnoughts, and he sent back to our young Dominions this message, that some personal duty and responsibility for national defence rests upon every man and every citizen. And this has been the burden of the speeches that throughout the Conference were listened to with the sternest patience and acclaimed with the greatest enthusiasm - national defence. Did any discussion fall below the level of this high purpose it met with a cold response, if it were not received in tired silence. On either side there seemed a clear under standing of the Empire s wants and dangers, and this understanding alone has proved the long journey of the delegates well worth taking. England, through the mouth of Lord Rosebery, has made her demand. The Colonies have recognised its justice through the mouths of their journalists. "We have cadged long enough on the Mother Country," confessed an eminent Canadian. Said a delegate from Sydney: "Australians realised that if there were any danger to Great Britain's supremacy on the seas they were right in the thick of it. Therefore the question of naval defence was one of life and death to them." Here are exemplified the two motives— self-interest and pride-which bind men and States most closely one to another; and if in one of them there is a certain cynicism, for that very reason it holds those who recognise it in the firmest of firm chains. And after some First, then, in importance has come the question of national defence. that, as we have said, it is well that those who do their best to shape the opinions of our Colonies should have knowledge of England. Too long have we been disparted from our natural friends and allies by deceiving cables. Silence itself does not mislead so effectually as a telegraphic wire. Thrift suggests few words or an inexpressive code. In either case ignorance, profound and dangerous, is the result. Nor is there any country in the world which it is easier to misunderstand than |