LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 131, 31 October 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE PITY - OF IT,

(From Temple Bar.') The train was on the point of starting. Frantically I rushed into the first carriage that offered. My vis-a-vis and sole travelling companion was a lady. A nuisance, thought I; nothing beguiles the tedium of a long journey like the fragrant weed ; and experience teaches —a judicious tip can always secure us that luxury. Well, I should change carriages at the next stoppingplace —pity it is some hours away. Meanwhile, with a cold critical eye, I proceeded to take stock of my companion. In common with my species, I love to look on a beautiful woman; and this woman was very pleasant to the eye. She had laid aside her tiny black-velvet hat, and a hood —white, soft, fleecy, like new-fallen snow—rested on her dark hair, and was lightly fastened under a white round chin by a knot of intense scarlet that became her dark beauty rarely. The wavy hair was parted on a low white forehead, and great dreamy eyes of_ the purest grey looked out from between jetty fringes. I doubt if any man could trust himself to look down, down into their slumberous depths, and yet his pulse not quicken by an extra beat or so. She wore the hideous upper garment known as a loose jacket, but even that abomination could not conceal the sweeping outlines of a grand bust. She was in the pride and prime of her ripe loveliness, and might be some six or seven-and-twenty. More beautiful women, according to the approved standard of the Greeks, I had often seen, but never one so (there is no English for it) seduisante as this one, Be sure I did not allow my beauty to become cognisant of my observation. Consciousness spoils the prettiest picture. Presently she dropped the paperknife with which she was languidly cutting open the leaves of Punch. I picked it up, and thereupon we naturally fell into conversation. Hazardous, I thought. It is a rule of mine never to converse in a railway-carriage with a woman, more especially a pretty one._ The process is almost always disenchanting—the approved feminine mode of talk, or rather scream, under such circumstances, being in a harsh and distracting treble, exceedingly terrifying. But my fair companion at once stilled my fears : instead of rising, her voice seemed to fall into a lower key, that interpenetrated the labouring steam with a subtle sweetness. The tobacco-hunger under which I pined at the commencement of the journey subsided completely ; and " hen the ardently-desired stoppingplace was reached, my only fear was that some unmitigated bore would stumble into our carriage and disturb the tete-a-tete. As good luck would have it, there were few passengers to London that bleak March day, and the remaining hours sped free from intrusion. When two people have journeyed in company for six or eight hours, they either part in apathetic indifference, in an enmity they hardly care to conceal, or on decidedly amicable terms. I found that I belonged to the class last mentioned; and, for the first time in my recollection, a pang of regret shot through me as the train stopped at Euston square. To use the elegant language of Dick Tartly here, I must say good-bye for ever and a day to the first woman who had made running with Habana and come in at a canter ! She evidently expected no one to meet her, and no one came. In the imperfect light I could not make out the address on her luggage, only the name —‘ Miss Delorme.’ As wo shook hands at parting, I said, ‘ This world is so small, I daresay we shall meet again. ’ She gave me one of her smiles, all the more precious that they were rare, and droi e away into the darkness. ‘ Heigho ! 1 suppose I have seen the last of my fair friend,’ I said, as I rattled off in a hansom to ray old quarters in town. For about the first time in my chequered existence I sipped my post-prandial Lahtte in a dejected mood. And as I puffed at my remilia, the wreaths of smoke perpetually slurped themselves into the likeness of a ceitain piquante face, surmounted by a white hood tied with a cherry ribbon. Pshaw ! With a short laugh at my own folly I lounged out -to spend an hour or two at a well-kown haunt of amusement. Tonight this masculine resort had lost its charm, if charm it ever had. Coralie and Pelagia, with blackened eyelids and overlavish display of full-blown charms, the sickly odour of perfumery—the whole place and its adjuncts were simply disgusting. I confess this phase of feeling was a novel one, but I did not care to have it out with myself analytically just then. * I shall be all right

to-morrow,’ I said, as I turned in ; ‘ the long journey has upset me.’ Which last observation was a true one. Next morning I had an uneasy consciousness I was not so jolly as usual, and while I dressed, I whistled to keep my courage up. And as the day advanced, symptoms of something amiss set in so decidedly that they could no longer be ig nored.

It is always best to look one’s circumstances fair and full in the face, whatever they may be. And after a reflective survey of mine, I deliberately told myself that the lady of the train had taken complete possession of me ; that she was the only woman I had ever met who, I felt, exactly suited me in every fibre; and that she, and she alone, held my life’s happiness in her two white hands. Not without bitter humiliation did I come to this conclusion. Heretofore I had utterly contemned love and love-making. Any fellow who was spoony was ever the butt for all shafts of my ridicule. And that I, the hard-hearted old stager, should be compelled like any lovesick boy to knock under to the old disease was, to say the least, degrading. Oh ! I thought, if sooner or later it must come, better have it well over in one’s salad days. When it attacks a fellow in his thirties for the first time, it goes as hard with him as the whooping-cough at that mature age. Truly I was sick. The jovialfaces of my familiars filled me with disgust—from all jollification I turned with loathing. Strange, I had never met her nor even heard her name. The question that haunted me day and night was—how can I see her again ? But no feasible plan presented itself, and I disquieted my soul in vain. Ten fevered days in town ; then one fine morning I ran down to Southampton to have a look at De Yere’s steam-yacht. As I lounged in the direction of the Docks—by Jove ! what an extraordinary coincidence—a few paces ahead of me was “my beautiful lady!” No mistaking the leisurely majestic tread, and the tall grandlyproportioned form. Alone, too, as I had seen her before, her grave pure face the best safeguard against insult. I need scarcely say it was the work of a moment to get alongside, doff my hat, and ask if I could be of any use. She greeted me with a heartwarming smile, but declined my offer of assistance. She was there, she told me, to meet a brother from India coming home on sick-leave. ‘ My only brother, almost my only relation,’ she said, looking wistfully out of great dreamy eyes. Then, remembering I was only a casual acquaintance, she again told me she had all the necessary information about the arrival of the steamer, and in the slight bow that followed I felt I was dismissed. Some two hours after the recontre, the bustle on the pier told me the Indian steamer was in. Oh, the eager faces that line the quay ! Oh. the fond, fond arms outstretched to enfold the loved and the long lost! As I stood watching on the pier-edge I was human enough to be moved by the scene. I saw Miss Delorme go on board; eagerly she scanned each sun-bronzed face —disappointedly she turned to the captain. A spasm of pain seemed to contract his weatherworn countenance, as he replied. She pressed her hand to her heart, and remained standing, motionless as a statue. G-ood God ! her brother has died on the homeward voyage ! Quick as thought I sprang on board. It was too true ! —the poor fellow breathed his last as the white cliffs hove in sight. ‘Miss Delorme,’ I said, laying my hand gently on her arm, ‘come with me.’ With touching docileness she suffered me to lead her away. I took her to a comfortable old-fashioned hostelry near the pier, but her dumb dry. eyed grief frightened me so thoroughly that I was puzzled what next to do. Men are so clumsy in all such crises. Fante de mieux, I sent the landlady, a motherly soul, to see what she could do. Presently she returned, well-pleased—- ‘ She’s a-cryin’ her heart out, poor lady! that’ll do her a power of good.’ An hour later I called, and was much surprised to be received by Miss Delorme, pale and grief-worn, but composed and dressed for travelling. ‘ Excuse me,’ I said ‘ but to-night you are hardly fit for a journey.’ ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I can manage very well; and I must return to town at once.’ ‘At all events,’ said I, hesitatingly, ‘ you will permit me to be your escort so far. My name is Brooke—Harry Brooke, at your service. ’ She tried to smile. It was a sad mockery. l Ah ! ’ she said, impulsively, * now lam so utterly, utterly bankrupt!’ after the manner of men, though I was dying to say or do anything to comfort her, I only felt intensely awkward, and was speechless. It did suggest itself to put my arm round her and kiss away the tears, but I felt such a proceeding, at this stage, would inevitably be fatal, and forbore. Miss Delorme, I saw, was a woman of rare self-control. In a few minutes all tracss of the the outburst subsided, and she was walking with me to the station. At our journey’s end, so deathly grew the pallor of her cheek that I was more than thankful when our cab drew up at a certain bright little mansion in Mayfair. At the door stood the lady of the house, eager to welcome wanderers. “Millicent, my love, how white you are ! And where is Ned ?’ But Miss Delorme had quietly fainted; and the sad task of telling the old lady, in a few hurried words, of the death of her nephew, Captain Delorme, fell to my share. Then I left them with their great sorrow. After duly accrediting myself to Miss Delorme’s aunt, Lady Brabazon, I went earnestly about my wooing. Almost every day, for several weeks, found me at the house in Mayfair. By Lady Brabazon—who, as it turned out, was a school-friend of my late mother —I was always received with marked cordiality, but I never could construe the languid kindness with which Miss Delorme endured my visits into the faintest approach to tendresse, lam not famous for patient and continuance endurance of pain, either mental or physical. Better a sharp wrench of agony and done with it, than hours and days of wearing suffering. And, true to my creed, I resolved to have it out with Miss Delorme, and, one way or another, put an end to the mental anxiety which was beginning to plough lines in my once jovial and careless countenance. Yes, I should ‘put it to the touch, and gain or lose it all. ’ Thus resolute, I was shown into my lady’s boudoir; here I found Millicent alone. In the greatcrisis of life I am, fortunately, not nervous. And now I felt as cool as I know I should were I leading a forlorn hope. Seating myself to look her straight in the eyes, I plunged boldly, in media s res . To be continued.