LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 62, 11 August 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

GIVEN UNSOUGHT. [From “London Society.”] |" Concluded.'] In the smoking-room of the ‘Arcadian’ was congregated a crowd of after-dinner loungers. Painters in long beards, barristers in mutton-chop whiskers, actors with cleanshorn blue-tinted cheeks, guardsmen with curled moustaches and patent-leather boots, dramatic critics always on the qui-rive for scraps of news, journalists with ears ever ready for a chance for ‘ copy,’ silent waiters, and cigars and seltzer water. The new Royal Academy had that morning been opened, and as the subject was the newest, it formed the principle theme for conversation.

‘ By-thc-hy, Dalrymple,’ said a youngishlooking barrister with sharp, intelligent features, to a well known art-critic, as the two were seated amidst a group of smokers ; ‘did yon notice - Ruth’ to-day, it’s hung In the big room, next to M V ‘ You mean the new A.R.A.’s picture—yes, I noticed it.’ ‘ Did you like it V ‘I am astonished at a lawyer asking the question. Discretion is the soul of criticism, as well as of valour. jS t ous verrons. 1 Ah, said the barrister, not at all discomfited, ‘it’s a most artistic work, to my mind—the best he’s done. I suppose you’ll slate him—no, I forgot, you can afford to praise him, now he’s an A.R.A.’ The critic shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, and smoked his cigar. ‘ You know the man, Lewis, don’t you !’ asked another.

‘ We were at school together, and have been very good friends ever since.’ ‘ By-the-by. I have not seen him lately ; 1 remember voting for him here, but that must have been some months ago. lie was the man about whoso picture all the row was got up, yes—l don’t think I have seen him at ail this season - ’

‘No, 1 don’t think you have, he has been abroad for three years, in Spain and in Palestine ; I hear from him occasionally, and was the first to let him know of his election. R the R.A. got him elected, 1 believe. Ah ! I shall he glad to see him again. Waiter, the Globe ” and a cup of coffee and the group brobe up.

In a low easy chair, a cigar in his mouth, our friend Tom Lewis sat reading the ‘Globe.’ He had finished ‘Notes of the Day,’ and had begun the leader, an attack on the Home Secretary, when a man in evening dress entered the room, tall, vigorous, with brown face and hands, a crisp curly heard and moustache, and Saxon blue eyes. Glancing round the room, lie saw Lewis, advanced to him and touched him on the shoulder.

‘ Good heavens ! it can’t be you, Ned ?’ ‘The same, dear boy, how are you ?’ And the two friends clasped hands. ‘By Jove ? how you are altered—improved, I mean,’ said Lewis, when his friend had sat down close to him. ‘ But tell me, when did you arrive?’

‘ Only three days ago. I went directly to your chambers, found you had moved — hadn’t time to look in a Law List, because I knew I’d find you here. I have been dining with Heighten to-night, and came on here to look up ray old friends. Come, tell me all about everything.” And the two sat and smoked, and fought their early battles of life over again. ‘ And now,’ exclaimed Ned, ‘ I must be off. I called yesterday at St Mawos House, and was asked by the Duchess to an evening party.” ‘ Capital,’ answered Lewis. I too am going. You wonder how I came to have the entree perhaps? Know then I was junior counsel for the Marquis of Grampound, the Duke’s eldest son, in the election petition when he was nearly unseated for bribery, and conducted myself in such wise as to have become an intimate friends of the young ’un and a constant visitor to the Duke. Come, it is time to go.,

As they rattled along Piccadilly in a hansom, Ned inquired if his friend had heard aught of Mrs Hodges and her children.

l Oh dear, yes. Mrs Cyrus has married again. An American, I understand. One of her children died two years ago, but the other is now one of the belles of Baltimore.’

‘And Lucy ?’ ‘ My information is not precise about her. 1 heard, however, that she disapproved of her aunt’s marriage, and after some little difficulty, has appeared as a public singer.’ ‘ Where, in England V ‘ No, in Italy, I believe; Mrs Hodges lived in Rome for two years. But hero we are.’

The rooms were crowded, Lewis and Ned, after a gracious reception from the Duchess, retired to the staircase for comfort and air. Presently a song was commenced, a simple ballad —‘ Kathleen Mavourneen.’ The crowd was so dense that the singer could not be seen from the door.

‘Who is it?’ asked a bystander. ‘ I forget the name,’ answered another, ‘ but an English girl and a protegee of her Grace, picked up at Naples, I believe. Ned was enthralled, then startled. Yes, there could be no doubt, it was the voice whose echo was ever in his ears —he was listening to Lucy Graham once again! As the last reverberations died away, Ned advanced eagerly through the people in time to see his love escorted towards the conservatory. Her cavalier was the young Marquis. Presently the young gentleman emerged alone, obedient to a message from his mother. Graysbrook stepped in, and found his divinity alone among the flowers. For a moment he regarded her without speaking. She raised her eyes, and the tell-tale roses flew to her cheeks.

1 Lucy ! Lucy ! you have not forgotten me ?’ ‘Oh heavens ! —Mr Graysbrook—no, of course I have not forgotten you !’ and the blushing girl almost gasped for breath; Ned sank into a seat beside her, and softly took her hand. ‘ Lucy—you remember the last time we met? If you do not, I shall go through the scene again. Times have changed, you will not shun me again ? Tell me, sweet !’ Lucy Graham, trembling with joy, inclined like the goddess of love towards him — and Thus again they met. Sciaticus.