CHAPTER III.

In Peril.

MIRIAM, excited and angry still, went up to her little attic to prepare for her walk, carrying up with her the box which Caroline had brought down. With Miriam the storm had not yet blown over.

"For Caroline, indeed, to talk about seeing anything in my box!" she muttered, as she put down her burden on the floor with a heavy bang. "She knows well enough that I'd no more stoop to do the mean things that she does, than I'd go begging barefoot about the streets! And to think of mistress listening for a moment to the backbiting sneak! I'm glad that I gave her warning! I'd rather be a galley-slave, I would, than stop in a place where I am not trusted."

Miriam's mind was like a piece of water that has been violently disturbed, and which can reflect nothing distinctly; every image is distorted and confused. But even before she had quitted the house, reason had begun to resume its quiet power, and Miriam to have a suspicion that her own conduct in the affair had not been altogether either sensible or right.

"I wonder if Hamil will think that I have done a foolish thing," said Miriam to herself, as she went out into the street, where the freshness of the air served to help in cooling her temper.

"He was vexed when he heard of my leaving my last place, just because I had quarrelled with the nurse. I shall only have a four months' character now, and, after all, four mouths was hardly a long enough time for mistress to know me so well as to listen to nothing against me. I wish that I had kept my temper better, but I can't help flaring up when any one touches my character. I am so much afraid that Hamil will be vexed. He is so quiet and calm and wise himself, he has such a beautiful temper; I never knew him fly into a passion in all his life! He knows I have been a peppery little thing from my childhood, only I never was angry with him, oh! No—I never could be angry with him!"

Tender thoughts of her brother still further calmed the spirit of Miriam; the troubled waters were becoming quiet as a mirror again, and the excited mind could once more reflect. Miriam began now to think that she had come on a useless errand, for it was likely enough that she might not be able to have a word with her brother, who did not expect in the least to see her at such a time, and who would probably be engaged in performing military duty. Besides this, Miriam was by far too modest and well-conducted a girl to go to the barracks alone, without any proper protection. How was she to let her brother know that she was waiting to see him, and wishing to ask his advice?

"I do believe that I shall have to go back again just as wise as I came. I've been acting the part of a foolish, ill-tempered child," thought Miriam, as she slackened her pace, walking up Albany Street towards the barracks. Here, however, Miriam was mistaken, for the thought had scarcely crossed her mind, when her glance fell on a tall form in uniform that she knew well, on the opposite side of the street.

"Oh! This is fortunate indeed," exclaimed Miriam, "to think that Hamil should be the first soldier whom I should meet!"

She had little time for self-gratulation, however, for as she spoke Hamil turned aside from the pavement, and disappeared within the door of a public-house.

Miriam had been heated by exercise and excitement, but now she turned suddenly cold. The terror which had struck her two months before when she had looked at that same dear form staggering under the influence of drink, came over her again, and almost overpowered her. Was her brother, the brave noble-hearted brother, whom she so fondly loved, he of whom she had been so proud, was he yielding again to that deadly vice, which would sink him lower than the brutes!

Miriam's anxiety for Hamil's safety during the campaign in Abyssinia had been light and easy to be borne compared with what she felt now; for had not her brother owned that a taste for drinking was his besetting weakness, and to what must that taste, if indulged, inevitably lead in the end? To shame, disease, and misery, condemnation before God, things a thousandfold worse than death! Hamil was entering on the steep downward incline, and what a precipice lay before him! The full extent of her brother's peril flashed on the mind of Miriam, and every other feeling yielded to the one desire to save him, as she quickened her steps almost to a run.

The modest young maiden had never crossed the threshold of a public-house, nor had she even thought of doing so before; Miriam had a natural shrinking from going amongst strangers, and into a place where it would be unseemly for her to appear—and yet, to the no small surprise of Hamil, as he stood at the bar with a glass of gin in his hand, he heard a voice nervously pronounce his name, and, turning, beheld his twin at his side!

"You here!" exclaimed the soldier, almost dropping the glass in his amazement.

"I must speak with you—it is on a matter of importance—I am leaving my place," said Miriam, so breathless with excitement, that she could hardly bring out the words.

Hamil's first impulse was to toss off the liquor for which he had paid, before leaving the bar, but he changed his intention, put down the untasted glass, and followed his sister out of the place. The soldier was annoyed that Miriam, even for one minute, should have been seen within those doors.

"What brought you here? What had you to say to me?" Hamil asked, with a little approach to impatience in his manner; had he possessed less fine a temper, he would have been angry.

"Oh! Hamil—how could you, after all that you promised—" began Miriam, but she could not, from emotion, go on. All that had led her to seek her brother on the present occasion, her own affairs, her loss of place, her quarrel with Caroline, seemed to have entirely escaped from her mind. She had room there now for but one thought, that of the temptation and danger of Hamil.

The soldier could very well imagine what was passing through the brain of his sister. He felt humbled and disgusted with himself, for when he had entered that public-house, Hamil knew that he was breaking through many an earnest resolution made to himself, as well as the promise made to his sister. The twins walked on for some little way in silence, then, as if by tacit consent, they took the first turn into the Regent's Park.

Entering the enclosure, Hamil and Miriam went over the grass to a quiet seat, where they could converse together undisturbed and unheeded by any one. Neither of the Macbeans uttered another word until they had reached this seat, and sat down upon it; each was busy with bitter thoughts which it would be difficult and painful to put into language. Miriam, indeed, was beginning to turn her thoughts into prayer, and when once she was able to do this, half their bitterness was taken away.