PASTURE-LANDS.

"PHIL,

A WORK OF RETRIBUTION.

I.

elty is what I want. I am tired to death of the life I know I might forget myself, perhaps, in one that

dear old fellow, how glad I am to see I didn't know. I have felt lately as if I should like you again!" to escape from the tumult and fret of modern civilization, to the ancient and unchangeable East."

"And I to see you, Bertie!"

The two brothers clasped hands in that strenuous grasp which, with Anglo-Saxon men, expresses so much, and gazed into each other's faces with eyes that were slightly misted. Five years had passed since they last saw each other, and many are the changes which can be wrought during that length of time on human faces, as well as in human lives. Colonel Philip Thurston, of the Egyptian army, had grown many shades darker, and somewhat older in appearance, since, like Childe Harold, he bade his native land good-night, and sailed away to the climes of the sun; while Bertie Egerton, whom he left a gay stripling, with the world all before him-a world ready enough to show its most attractive side to one so sunny in nature, so charming in manner, so liberally endowed with the good things of fortune-had undergone a deeper change. The bright boy whom Thurston well remembered, had vanished forever, and left in his place a man with a somewhat worn and almost reckless expression on his handsome face, when the light of cordial gladness died out of it.

Of this change, Thurston, however, was too wise to speak. The brothers had met on the deck of an ocean-steamer, and there were a hundred things to say-questions to ask and answer-while they entered a carriage and were driven to Egerton's hotel. It was not until after dinner that anything like confidential conversation took place. Then, as they were smoking together, with the summer twilight dying away over the city roofs and spires, Egerton said, in a studiedly careless voice: "If you had delayed your coming a little longer, Phil, you would not have found me on this side of the Atlantic. I had made all my arrangements to go abroad when I received your letter."

"Indeed!" said Thurston. think of going?"

Thurston took his cigar from his lips, and knocked the feathery ashes off against the ledge of the open window by which they sat, before he said: There is not a great deal of the unchangeable East to be found in Egypt now-unless you go to Thebes, which is not at the present time a cheerful place of residence, whatever it may have been three thousand years ago. Cairo, under the new régime, has quite as much 'tumult and fret' in it as any city of Europe.

But this disgust of modern civilization is altogether new with you-what has caused it?”

'Satiety, I suppose," Egerton replied, looking at the young moon as it hung, a golden boat, in the pearly sky. "I believe there is no doubt but that if a man were restricted to a diet of ortolans and champagne, he would tire of them after a while. For five years I have run through every form of social dissipation, and been sufficiently courted and amused. But it has palled at last. I am tired of the frivolity that has made the sum of my life! I am sick of dancing and flirting, of clubs and drawing-rooms. If I do not go away and turn idler or savage for a time, I think I shall blow out my brains!"

He had forgotten himself, and in the last sentence there was so much passionate earnestness-on the outlines of the handsome face such a deepening recklessness-that Thurston was fairly startled. Yet what could he say? The malady was plain enough, but it must needs be a skillful physician who can minister to a mind or spirit diseased. So, for a minute, there was silence. Carriages were rolling below, pedestrians passing, lamps gleaming through the deepening dusk; a child's laugh floated up together with a red balloon; some distance down the street a band of musicians were playing. On this medley "Where did you of sound Thurston's voice broke.

"Oh, I don't know," replied the other, indifferently. "To Europe for the summer, I suppose. In the autumn I meant to turn eastward, and pay you a visit. Egypt must be a pleasant country to live in, I think. If I pitched my tent there we might | have a comfortable time—you could drill, and march, and countermarch, to your heart's content, while I reclined under a palm-tree, or floated on the Nile."

"So that is your idea of life in Egypt, is it?" said Thurston, with a laugh. "It is a good enough country for me-a soldier by nature and profession, with no fortune besides my sword-but it would not suit you. The novelty of everything might amuse you for a time, but I should be sorry for you to think of pitching your tent there permanently."

"As well there as anywhere else," said Egerton, with a shadow of gloom falling over his face. "Nov

"If the necessity for change of scene is so urgent," he said, with a tolerably successful attempt at lightness of tone, "you must not let me detain you in America. So long as I am with you, it does not matter where my furlough is spent. After I have transacted a little necessary business, I am ready to accompany you to Paris or Stamboul."

'Nay, I am not quite so selfish a dog as that," said Egerton, with a smile-but Thurston noticed that his lip trembled under the silky-brown mustache. "It ought to be enough for me to be with you," he went on, "without dragging you over the ocean again, when you have just made a long journey to see your home and your friends. You'll be patient with me, I know. I'm not quite myself in all respects, but with regard to you"-and his hand fell on his brother's shoulder-"I have not changed one iota."

"Do you think I doubt that?" asked Thurston. "Do you think I could doubt it under any circumstances? We have not been like ordinary brothers, Bertie, at any period of our lives-you know that as well as I do. Thank God, no bitterness has ever come between us-nor ever will, I think! Of course, I saw, as soon as I looked at your face, that some change had passed over you; but you must understand that I do not ask the cause of it. Go or stay, speak or be silent, without fear of misconception from me."

room.

into her eyes-such eyes, Phil! I have never seen any others of the same tint; and as for expressionsometimes I think that they have no tint, that they are all expression. But"-with an impatient accent "I must not maunder like this. The end came as it had been foretold. When I grew too earnest to amuse her any longer, she turned to ice and bade me go. I wearied her, she said, coldly; she had nothing to give me; she fancied that I had understood that flirtation was only-flirtation; if I had made a mistake it was not her fault. And so all ended!-Well, no doubt you think me weak to suffer such a woman to rob life of all savor for me. But most women who play this game are bunglers more or less, while Agatha Loring is an expert. When she is done with a man, he is fit for nothing but to go to the devil as fast as may be."

"And do you think such a woman worth going to the devil for?" asked Thurston, with indignation. "Why can you not put her out of your heart through scorn? Great Heaven! if I loved her better than my life, and she showed herself in such colors, it would be enough. I should thrust her aside, and go my way as if she did not exist."

Egerton pushed back his chair abruptly and rose. "God bless you, Phil!" he said, huskily-and walked away into the dusky dimness of the unlighted Thurston did not follow him, and more than a minute passed in silence, broken only by the noises from the street. Egerton paced once or twice the length of the apartment; then, without returning, he said: "If I hesitate to tell you the reason of the change which you find in me, it is only because a man naturally dislikes to brand himself as a fool. Yet you must hear it sooner or later-from others if not from me-and the story is simple and commonplace enough. You know that I have always had a very susceptible disposition with regard to women. I have fallen in and out of love dozens of times, and a year ago I should, for that very reason, have esteemed myself the least likely subject for one of those insane passions that now and then wreck men's lives. In fact, I was accustomed to say that no woman had ever made a deep impression upon me, and II was like a wretch hurled in one moment out of did not believe that any ever would."

"You once wrote me something equivalent to that," said Thurston, more to fill the pause which came just here than for any other reason; "I remember you said, à propos of some desperate lover, 'I cannot imagine why a man should suffer the loss of one woman to come like a shadow between him and the sun, when there are multitudes on every side as fair, as wise, as witty, as she. There is no such thing as nonpareil excellence. Thank Heaven, the world is a" rose-bud garden of girls," and he is a fool who, losing one rosebud, does not pluck another!'"

"Ah!" said Egerton, "it was I who was a fool to talk so lightly of things beyond my comprehension! He jests at scars who never felt a wound' -but I have been wounded since then. The shadow of one woman has indeed come between me and the sun, and I would not tell you, if I could, what darkness has fallen over my life. I met Agatha Loring more than a year ago, and from the first moment I saw her I loved her. Do you know what that word means, Phil? Very likely not. I never knew what it meant until I met her: but, compared to what I felt for her, every feeling that I had ever known for any other woman was like water unto wine ten times told. I was warned from the first that she was a cruel coquette, and would throw a man's heart away like a useless toy when she was done with it; but such warnings were less to me than the idlest wind. To be with her was sufficient; to hear her voice, to touch her hand, to look

VOL. III.-2

"Your theories would fall away like cobwebs if Agatha Loring once laid her spell on you," said Egerton. I know I am a fool, but she is a sorceress. No ordinary woman could fill a man's life with the consciousness of her and the need of her, and then wreck it as she does. When she sent me away,

heaven into hell! I do not understand yet how I failed to blow out my brains, unless it was that I shrank from being the subject of a three days' talk. I did not even think of you, Phil-consider that!"

"My poor boy!" said Thurston. Involuntarily he rose and put his arm across the young man's shoulders in their old, boyish fashion. More he could not say. His heart was hot as he thought of the woman who had wrought such work through cruelty or caprice, but he knew that to speak of her as she deserved would for the present avail nothing.

Egerton, on his part, was touched by this sympathy. "You are exactly what you always were, Phil," he said, gratefully. "Dear old fellow ! it would be a dark day, indeed, when any estrangement came between us-but we need not speak of such a thing; it will never be. And you must not think that I mean to bore you with my folly. I have told my story and I am done. Now let us discuss your plans. Where do you mean to go? All our relations are eager to see you, and welcome you to their hospitable roofs. (That's the correct phrase, I believe.) People are amazingly hospitable, you know, when they are only called upon to appreciate success. I have pressing invitations for you from all uncles, and aunts, and cousins to the tenth degree."

haste. Therefore, in order to accomplish the first two objects, I propose that we shall turn our faces toward the old home of our boyhood. Let us go to Beechwood. I should like to ride through the woods and fish in the river again. I used to think, in the East, that one whiff of the pine-odors would be better than the fragrance of Araby the Blest."

"I have not been there for years," said Egerton. "My agent attends to the business. The plantation is rented out, you know, but the house is unoccupied, and if you desire we can go there. All places are alike to me. We will go to-morrow, if you like."

So they started the next day, for Thurston perceived more and more clearly that his brother's case was one demanding prompt treatment of some kind. | The Beechwood idea had come to him like an inspiration, and as an inspiration he acted upon it. To take Egerton away from all associations which intensified his pain, to break the chain of later habit, and recall the fresh, simple pleasures of earlier years, was what he wished to do, and he felt sanguine that the result would be all that he desired.

"You are late, Bertie—what detained you so long?"

"Nothing in particular," answered Bertie, carelessly. "I saw no reason for coming back. How warm it is! One gets a slight breeze on the riverwhich is more than one gets here."

"You will find supper waiting. I took mine some time ago."

Supper-bah! Who can eat in such a temperature as this?"-he put his hand to his throat, and loosened impatiently the collar round which no cravat was tied-"I shall not go through the form to-night."

"Light a cigar, then, and join me in my promenade. I have one or two things to say.”

To this Egerton made no demur. The cigar was lighted, and, as they walked back and forth over the grassy slope, Thurston said:

"I see plainly that this life does not suit you. Despite all your efforts, you are restless and wretched; therefore, as I proposed to come, let me propose to go. There is nothing to detain us here. I am ready to start to-morrow, to go anywhere you like."

This impression lasted for a few days after they had taken up their abode at Beechwood-one of those old Southern houses around which, even when "You are very kind, Phil,” replied Egerton, afdeserted, still seems to linger the charm of the hos- ter a moment's pause, "and you have borne with pitable existence they once enshrined-but it did not my moods better than I deserve; but, when you talk last more than a few days. It was soon apparent of starting to go anywhere I like, you make a misthat Egerton's malady was beyond the reach of such take. There is nowhere I like. This place does not remedies as this. As Thurston watched him, he re- suit me, but I do not know any other which would alized how deeply the poisoned shaft had struck. suit me better. The fault is in myself, not in my The spring of all joyousness and hope seemed bro- surroundings. But I have felt for some time past," ken within the young man. He exerted himself to he went on, "that I am no fit companion for any appear cheerful, he made an effort to feign interest one in my present condition. I decided this evenin the old pursuits, but his brother's eyes-rendered ing that, instead of troubling you any longer, I will by affection almost as keen as those of a woman's- go away by myself somewhere-I don't care where saw through the pretense readily, saw the deadly in--and see if I cannot summon manhood enough to difference, the apathy born of pain, the recklessness that at times was almost fierce.

Nevertheless, he still hoped that this acute stage of the disease might pass, and convalescence set in. But days lengthened into weeks; and, after a month. had elapsed, he acknowledged to himself that such an expectation was fruitless. Indeed, Egerton had of late seemed to grow worse instead of better. He was at times intensely irritable, and again depressed beyond all power of concealment. He had also become fond of solitude, and, wandering off into the woods, taking long rides, or floating in a skiff on the river, would spend hours alone, without any occupation. Thurston uttered no remonstrance, but he observed closely, and, having drawn his conclusions, formed them into a resolution.

The time for expressing this came one evening when the July twilight had faded into night, and still Egerton, who had gone out on the river, did not return. Thurston, having waited for him vainly, took his solitary supper, and then, in the fragrant semidarkness, paced the lawn, at the foot of which the river ran. It was nine o'clock before he heard the welcome sound of oars, and then a boat grated against the bank. He walked toward the landingplace, and, as Egerton sprang on shore, said, quietly:

end this insane folly. In such a struggle a man is sometimes best alone."

"I have been thinking of that," said Thurston, gravely, "but the question is—can I trust you alone?"

"I think so," answered the other. "I am past the stage of blowing out my brains-if that is what you mean. Give me a month, Phil, and by that time I hope that I shall be able to bear myself more like a man."

As he looked at his brother, the starlight was bright enough for Thurston to see the reckless misery on the face that usually concealed this pain, in a measure at least, under a mask. At that sight, something rose up in his throat, and almost choked him. It was fully a minute before he could control himself sufficiently to speak as he desired.

"You must do exactly as you wish without reference to me," he said. "I told you that some time ago. Where do you think of going-abroad?"

"Yes," Egerton replied. "I am sick of America. When you have finished your business, you can meet me in Paris. Then, after we have spent a month or two rambling about, I will go with you to Egypt."

And so it was settled.

II.

AFTER Thurston had accompanied his brother to the seaport whence he embarked for Europe, and had seen the ship which bore him "sink below the verge," he was conscious of a strange sense of isolation and desolation. It was true that the shore on which he stood was that of his native land—a land where he had relations by the dozen, and friends (in the conventional sense of that term) by the score; but he had come to see Bertie-and Bertie was gone. As is sometimes the case with men of his order, the sunburned soldier had very tender heart, and this heart ached now not only with the desolation already mentioned, but with the thought of his incapacity to relieve one single pang of the pain which his brother was suffering.

It was the latter reflection chiefly which drew his dark brows together as he set his face cityward again, leaving the docks and shipping, the tossing waves and vanishing ship behind. "God grant that all the suffering she has caused may be returned upon her before she dies!" he said to himself; and it is not difficult to tell to which one of all the daughters of Eve his wish referred.

"You ought-if only by this token," said the other, touching a slight scar on his forehead. "You gave me this with a hatchet when we were both about five years old. When did you come back to America? I did not know you were in the country."

Thurston replied by a brief detail of the why and wherefore of his presence. Mr. Jennings looked a little surprised when he heard of Egerton's departure for Europe; but he was a man of sufficient tact to make no comment further than to say: "I saw Bertie at the Mardi Gras in New Orleans last spring, and I thought he was not in quite his usual health and spirits. No doubt he needs change of air. We all need it more or less, especially in summer. Have you seen none of your old friends? Why, this is shameful! You shall go home with me, and my wife will kill a fatted calf for you with the greatest pleasure. Don't you remember her as Lucy Denmead? She is a cousin of yours.'

"I remember her," answered Thurston, conscious of an absolute thrill of regard for Lucy Denmead, whose existence up to that moment he had forgotten. "She used to be very pretty."

"She is very pretty yet," said Mr. Jennings, with commendable pride, "and gay as a lark. She fills Sans-Souci-that's the name of my country-placewith company every summer, and makes things as pleasant as they can be made. Sans-Souci is the place for you, my dear fellow! Can't you leave the city with me to-morrow? I am only here on busi

Turning his thoughts from Bertie, it became a serious question what he should do with himself during the next month. It was true that certain affairs of business demanded his attention, but at the most they would only claim a part of his time, and how he should dispose of the remainder was an enig-ness, and I find it excessively hot." ma. He might travel; but to travel alone is a dreary undertaking, unless the traveler has some definite object in view, or is so wrapped up in an absorbing feeling as to stand in no need of companionship. There were summer resorts; but the idea of loung-. ing with a newspaper and a cigar on an hotel-piazza, listening to watering-place gossip, or floating on the tide of watering-place dissipation, required more fortitude or more frivolity than Thurston possessed. He thought of his relations, for there occasionally comes a time in a man's life when he feels inclined to seek those of his own blood; but such length of absence, such difference of association, intervened between himself and all of his kindred, that there was not a single door to which he could go certain of a welcome or of congenial society. He sighed slightly, and dismissed the thought. If the worst came to the worst in the matter of ennui, he could follow Bertie's example and go abroad as soon as his business would permit him to do so.

In Thurston's present frame of mind it did not require much persuasion to induce him to entertain this proposal very favorably. He dined with Mr. Jennings, and the next day found him by that gentleman's side in the train which bore them away from the place where he had last seen poor Bertie's haggard face.

It happened oddly-as things sometimes dothat an hour later, as he stood by the counter of a bank which he had entered, a gentleman, after watching him closely for a minute, came up with outstretched hand.

Sans-Souci was several hundred miles distantbut what are hundreds of miles when steam annihilates time and space? On the evening of the second day they disembarked at a way-station, and found a landau drawn by two black horses waiting for them.

"This is pleasant," said Mr. Jennings, in a tone of relief, as they rode along a shade-flecked road, with fresh breezes coming to their faces, green hills on all sides, and breadths of rich meadow-land making a pastoral foreground. "I think you'll like the country, Thurston, and I hope you'll like Sans-Souci. Lucy had the house full when I left, and we are pretty sure not to find it empty now."

A drive of five or six miles brought them to this home of hospitality-a picturesque villa crowning a gently-swelling hill, with a winding stream and fertile valley below. On the piazza as they drove up stood a very small lady very elaborately dressed, who "I hardly think I can be mistaken," he said. welcomed Mr. Jennings affectionately and Thurston "Are you not Philip Thurston?"

"The same," Thurston answered, turning quickly. His glance had scarcely fallen, on the face before him when a laugh came into his eyes. "You are Cameron Jennings," he said, shaking hands warmly. "I should have known you anywhere."

warmly.

"Of course I remember you," she said to the latter, when he hazarded the expression of a fear that she did not. "I think we had a flirtation before you went away, and five years is not such an age in this part of the world, whatever it may be in Egypt. I