LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 127, 27 October 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A FIGHT FOR A WIFE.

Chapter I. The Meeting.

The scene of this deadly encounter was neither gloomy nor romantic ; it was fair and pastoral; and the time was May ; and all the sweet influences of the spring-time were shedding a soft, idyllic sweetness over our English dales. We had with us at this time a young American lady who was on her first visit to the country; and one evening when various plans were being proposed for her amusement and edification, one of us said to her : ‘ Now, wouldn’t you rather get away from London, and go straight down into one of our quiet valleys, and see a real old English town that has been slumbering there for centuries, and is likely to sleep for as many more? You will see a strange old place, with quaint houses of red and white, and here and there a garden between the gables. Then you will go down to the sides of a broad and smooth river, flowing by under some beautiful woods. You live in an old-fashioned inn, call the Complete Angler ; and just outside your window yon will see the smooth blue river break white over a long weir; and you will see the trees and lawn, and verandah of the miller’s house on the other side ; and beyond that, again, the soft low hills and hanging woods of one of our English counties.’ Our young friend was much pleased with the notion ; but hesitated. Of course, she said, this quiet and beautiful place must be far away, and difficult to reach. When she was told that it was something less than fifty miles from London, she at once agreed to go ; and hence it was that the desperate conflict which I have to describe took place in one of the most peaceful nooks of Berkshire, at a time of the year when the human bosom should have been full, not of angry passions, but of the singing of nightingales. For this was the secret of it: two men had overheard this proposal, and each of them had inwardly resolved to outwit the other by immediately telegraphing to the Complete Angler for rooms, so that he should be installed there when this young lady and ourselves, her guardians for the time, should arrive. One of them was a slender young gentleman, fair-haired, large-eyed, and rather petulant in manner, who had just made some stir in literary circles by the publication of a volume of metaphysical verse ; the other was considerably liis elder, inclined to be stout, comely of face, and made welcome among us chiefly by a sort of shy good humor, which sometimes led him into saying good things, but, in any case and at all times, seemed to make him very well contented with himself. This Mr Humphreys was understood by some to be in a Government office ; but no one could ever precisely say what it was, and his duties certainly never interfered with his pleasures. His rival, who had the privilege of being styled by the Court newsman the honorable Philip Sturmere Maurice, was the youngest son of an impecunious nobleman, and was believed to be waiting for some colonial appointment.

Now, these two men, from the moment that our pretty Miss Newton came along us, began to pay her a series of more or less occult attentions, all in a friendly sort of way, of course, and generally through the small and gentle lady who was her hostess. By this means they could present her with boxes for the opera ; they could lend her new books ; they could even offer to escort herself and her two companions to an exhibition of pictures. All this was smooth sailing. Little did we perceive in it the elements of a tragedy. The young accepted these marks of friendliness with a sweet impartiality; doubtless they were merely little acts of courtesy extended to a stranger from a distant land.

And of the young American lady herself? Well, she was neither very wise nor very learned; but she was exceedingly pretty, and she had a curiously winning and fascinating manner that drew women as well as men toward her. Perhaps it was the softness of her voice ; perhaps it was a kind of piteous look in her dark-gray eyes ; but anyhow people liked to get near her, and when they got near her they got interested in her, and when they got interested in her they immediately went and asked everybody else what was her story. No one present knew. It was supposed to be rather a painful affair —had she not been engaged to he married to a young man who was drowned within sight of shore, Paul and Virginia fashion? hut in any case she always referred to it in a vague way, and apparently wished to keep her sorrow a secret. Por the rest, she was rather tall and pale ; she wore a good many rings; and when she travelled she dis2>layed to the other inhabitants of the railway carriage a bag filled with all sorts of curiosities in the way of scents and other toilet requisites. One might have laughed at the fashion in which she played with these ; only she was so pretty and childlike one had not the heart to laugh at her. She seemed only to pet herself because everybody else petted her, We drove to Paddington station. There was a young man there, looking furtively up and down the platform. He came to us and said, with an amount of confusion in his

face that seemed to make him a trifle sulky, * Are you going into the country ? What beautiful weather. I took it suddenly into ray head to run down to see Marlow ; it must be looking so pretty just now.’ Miss .Newton said nothing at all, though, she seemed surprised ; but the lady beside her—who manages all such things with an infinite tact and discretion—smiled demurely, and remarked, ‘ What an odd coincidence! We are going to Marlow also. We shall make quite a little pirty. How very nice.’ When once the awkwardness of the meeting was over. Mr Maurice was apparently highly delighted with his good fortune ; and he did his best all the way down to make himself an agreeable companion, taking care to address himself mostly to the elder lady. You would have fancied that he meant me to hear all the talk with our pretty Miss Mary ; those young men are so transparently cunning. Well, we got down at length to the little country station, and here there was a humble carriage in waiting to drive us to the riverside. We passed along through the sweetsmelling fields. We drove through the quaint old town, which was all shining now in the warm light of the evening sun. We passed the church and got down to the bridge, and there before us, on the other side of the stream, stood the old-fashioned inn amid its trim plots of grass and bushes. * Did you ever see anything more beautiful ? ’ the elder lady says; and, indeed, it would be difficult to compose a prettier picture than we beheld at this moment, the solitary, quaint old building by the side of the river, the smooth water reflecting the drooping trees, the white line of the weir, and, behind all these, some rich meadows leading over to a low rampart of hills, the thick woods on which were turning red in the sunset.

It was, in truth, a peaceful spot, and we drove over the bridge, and round and down to the inn, with something of a notion that here, for a space, we should shut out all the cares and stormy passions of the world, and dream ourselves back into a condition of primeval peace and innocence. We got down from the carriage. The solitary waiter was at the door to receive us. We hoped that we should be the only occupants of the famous old hostelry. Just at this moment the face of the young gentleman who had come down with us was observed to change color, and a most unchristian gleam of anger shot from his eyes. Who -was this blithe and buxom gentleman, whs, dressed in a fishing-costume of gray, came gaily along the passage, and seemed overwhelmed with amazement and joy at seeing us ? ‘ What ? ’ said he, * can it be possible ? Bless my soul, now! What a fortunate thing! But who could have dreamed of meeting you here, of all places in this sinful but delightful world ? ’ Who, indeed ? It has been the lot of the present writer to have been present at dramatic performances in the capitals of various countries, but he has never witnessed a more beautiful piece of acting than that which was performed by a stout and middle-aged gentleman on the threshold of an inn in Berkshire. We were very nearly imposed on. For the moment, it almost seemed real. But then our common sense came to the rescue, and we knew that this sly old dog had quietly slipped down here and taken up his quarters in anticipation of our coming, while the most we could hope for was that the green and fertile plains of Berkshire might not be stained with blood before the week was out. Chapter ll.— Threats, They behaved themselves pretty well at dinner. We dined together in the coffee room, a queer, low-roofed old place, with an abundance of windows looking out on the river, and with colored pictures of the Thames hung round the walls. The only other occupant of the room was an austere and elderly maiden lady, dining all by herself, of whom Mr Humphreys rather cruelly remarked that, considering the number of leap-years she must have seen, it was curious she had not taken advantage of any one of them. On this Mr Maurice rather indignantly retorted that there were certain spectacles which deserved sympathy rather than ridicule; and we all agreed with that statement. The incident passed by no bones were broken.

After dinner we went outside ; there was still some warm color in the sky, and the smooth river caught a faint glow as it stole away under the dark green trees. The woods were quiet now; in the twilight there was no sound but the soft rushing of the water over the weir. One began to wish that these young people might sing in the gathering darkness, down here by the side of the rushes, They were thinking of other things. ‘ Of course, Miss Newton,’ says the taller of the two gentlemen, ‘ you will go for an excursion on the river to-morrow ? The fact is, a man I know has put a little toy steamer at my disposal. It is down at Cookham just now. I could have it up here for you at any hour you may choose.’ ‘A steamer,’ says our young American friend, ‘ what a shame it would be to bring a steamer into this quiet place.’ The barometer of the young man’s face falls ten degrees ; that of his rival jumps up a hundred. ‘ And that isn’t the worst of it,’says the latter, eagerly. ‘Oh no, not at all. The joys of a trip in a small river steamer are most multifarious. First you run aground. Then your waves upset a skiff, and the two men in it make use of the most awful language. Then you take off somebody’s outrigger. And so on, and so on, until you wish you had never been born ; and, indeed, when you go ashore, your own mother wouldn’t believe that you had ever been, for your identity is completely lost and smothered up in the coal dust that has been showered on you. No, no, Miss Newton, don’t you be a 1 mean, don’t you go in a river steamer. Now, if you really want to enjoy the river, I’ll show you how. We shall get a big flat punt; and moor it out below the weir, and we shall have luncheon on board, and plenty of books and a box of water colors. If you like to sit and read, well. If you like to spin for trout, you can have my line. If you want to sketch, you have all the scenery about you. Now, that is how you ought to spend a nice, idling, enjoyable day on the Thames.’ Mr Humphreys was quite pleased with this burst of oratory. ‘Do like the picture ? ’ he might have asked, in the romantic words of Claud Melnotte. And she did like the picture. She said it was charming. She hoped she would have that boat. To he continued.