LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 138, 9 November 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A NIGHT ADVENTURE. [From Temple Bar.] Chapter I. THE RENCOUNTER. I was a sub in a marching regiment in Upper India—in one of the la I coatee corps, as the natives called the Queen's regiments, in days before the dreaded word Amalgamation was thought of—and was riding home from mess one well-remembered, steaming hot, suffocating night in the month of August. A vapoury, humid sort of heat, such as generally prevails in India towards the close of the rainy season, made it positively a task to breathe. My little pony was trudging along wearily at a lazy walk with the bridle loose on his neck. My waistcoat was thrown open as widely as possible ; my head was bare, and I was fanning myself with my cap. I was panting for a breath of fresh cool air. It was just the sort of night when one would most Avisk to follow the advice of the witty Canon of St. Paul's-to take off one's flesh and sit in one's bones. Only those who have experienced it can conceive the state of utter prostration and depression, which the English in India have to endure at that time of the year. Nor was the scene around more cheering. The curs were barking and howling dismally in the native bazaar, the outline of which loomed far off dark and dirty-looking on the steaming plain. The monotonous sound of the tom-tom, and occasionally the cry of a

native sentry, added to the yelling of the dogs and the intolerable croakings of no end of frogs, made up a most hideous discord. The station seemed as if it were buried in sleep ; and not alight was visible in any one of the long Hue of bungalows which fringed the plain. The spirit of exhaustion reigned supreme. My syce, who crept along drowsily behind me, and myself, were apparently the only people not on duty who were out that night. Suddenly the lifelessness of the scene changed to one of animation and excitement. A white object was hastening across the plain towards me. I soon discerned that it was a woman —an English woman—with dishevelled hair, and with her dress in the utmost disorder. She was running as fast as she could, and followed at some little distance off by a man who nourished a horsewhip in his hand. Shrieks and cries for help proceeded from the woman as the man more closely approached her. Soon she was at my side. 'Oh ! save me ! she said, holding up her arms imploringly towards me. 'I entreat you, protect me from his violence!' I was off my pony in an instant, and stood between the woman and her pursuer, whom I was surprised, as he_ drew near, to recognise as a captain in my own regiment. We had always been the best of friends, but he was now in a violent passion, and making straight for his victim, who was cowering in terror and in tears behind me. Could I stand by and see him horsewhip an unfortunate creature, who had appealed to me for help, and whom he ought to have protected ? I was absolutely necessary to act at once. ' Halloo ! Harrington, what's the matter ?' I cried. 'Do be calm, like a good fellow.' ' Stand out of my way !' he shouted, at the top of his voice ; why do you interfere between her and me ? Get out of my way, I say !' 'Don't be so mad; do listen to me,'l replied, in a pacifying tone of voice, when he sprung at me like a tiger. A violent struggle ensued. Harrington was foiled in his attempt to seize me by the throat; nor could he pass me by to rush at his unfortunate victim. The next instant I had grasped him by the collar, of which I did not relax my hold till I had fairly broken my whip over his back and shoulders. It w f as not his fault that he did not make use of his whip as well, and to as much purpose, as I did mine ; but he was held at arm's length in such a way that he could not touch me. When my whip was useless I shook him from me; but he again sprung at me, and closed with me. He was perfectly furious, and altogether beyond the bounds of reason. He did his utmost to throw me, but I threw him instead, he pulling me in the fall on top of him. We were soon on our feet again, when a longer and fiercer wrestle took place, when ended in Harrington going down a second time, and my falling heavily on him once more. I was up in a moment, but he continued to lie where he had been thrown. 'Now kick me while I am down, you coward !' he exclaimed, scowling at me most fiercely ; ' you are villain enough for anything. ' ' " Coward!" Get up and be off!' I replied, with no little contempt for the fellow. ' When I horsewhip a woman I shall be as great a coward and villain as yourself. Take your thrashing home with you !' And up he rose off the plain, murmuring all sorts of oaths and threats, and strode away as fast as he could. ' Here's a pretty mess,' thought I. ' What is to be done now ?' It was certainly a most unseemly and unfortunate affair, j Why could not I have got to my house without encountering such a strange adventure? The steaming, sweltering heat, heated though I was to excess from my recent exertion, was forgotten in the presence of the woman in white standing close by, a picture of misery on the dark open plain. Was it a vision or not ? Oh ! no ; there could be no doubt about the stern reality of the severe struggle which had just taken place. I had got into a fine quarrel through a woman I had never seen or spoken to before that night. Of course few people will believe that. It is easy to see what a false glaring color people might put on the whole business. It will be assumed that the occurrences of the night were all concerted, and that I was an intriguing ' villain.' Harrington seemed to imply as much in his very emphatic observations. What then was to be done? What provision could possibly be made at that time of night, and in such a desolate station as , for an unhappy woman ? 'Oh ! I am so sorry this ever happened,' she moaned out in her agony. 'lam not only miserable myself, but the cause of misery to others —even to one I never met before. It is dreadful'!'

She was evidently sensible of the consequences which must ensue after the hand-to-hand struggle in which I had been compelled to engage, whether I would or not. And I, on my part, was also very sensible indeed of the delicate position in which I so unexpectedly found myself placed. ' What in the world am I to do t she asked.

• Well, we must think about that. But for the present, at any rate,' I suggested, ' try and get rid of your agitation ; as we walk along we will consider what is best to be done.'

'lt was soon arranged, as she dreaded returning to Harrington's house, that she should remain for the night at the Dak Bungalow, a house built for the accommodation of travellers ; and I promised that she should speedily be made as comfortable as possible there. For travellers in India are expected to carry about with them both bed and bedding, and the means of supplying all their wants, the Government providing only a rOO f—an empty honse—to shelter them from the drenching rains and scorching heat of the country.

We had now approached close to the bungalow, which I occupied conjointly with my friend O'Donnell, who had only just returned from the mess with our old ' chum' Hill—the kindest and best natured fellow in the world, and whom, on account of his rare qualities, we had christened ' The Dodo.' Leaving the unfortunate lady in the garden, 1 entered the house, and in a few hurried Avords related what had just occurred ; then, throwing the handle of my whip, which was the only portion of it left, on the table, I added, ' The other part of it has disappeared across Harrington's back and shoulder's.'

' I'll tell you more about it when I return. I propose to leave her for the night at the Dak Bungalow. Don't you think that is the beet thing to do V

They both agreed it was, and in a short time our servants were on the road with every requisite to make a homeless creature comfortable for the night in an unfurnished bouse. , .' ~ . ~ It is unnecessary to depict the deep distress of mind which the unhappy victim of Harrington's violent rage suffered. I remained with her in the verandah of the bungalow, in view of the syce who had charge of the buggy, until the servants arrived; and after seeing that she had everything she required, I bade her adieu for the night. An hour or so afterwards the whole affair having been discussed by O'Donnell, Hill, and myself, and the whole truth impartially revealed, I said— , ♦Well, Don, I implicitly trust in you to act as my friend in this business. I place myself entirely in your hands.' 'All right, my dear boy,' replied Don; • I will see you through it, for I don't know how you could have acted otherwise than you did.' And so we "turned in,' fully expecting that, before parade in the morning, I should receive a message from_Harrington. Chapter 11. A DOUBLE GAME. Nothing unusual occurred before parade the next morning. No one suspiciously sloped off towards me, or was lying in wait for my arrival, as I rode towards the barracks. It was clear that the fracas of the previous night had not yet been noised about, and that the various knots of officers gathered here and thtre before " the assembly" sounded had nothing of an exciting or scandalous nature to discuss. The old accustomed air of languid indifference, an ntter want of interest in having to go through the rehearsal of a scene which was performed almost daily throughout the year, generally prevailed. Even Harrington himself, though he looked unusually pale, appeared to be as listlessly indifferent in his manner as any one present, while he walked up and down in close conversation with Charley Kice, the admirable Crichton of the corps. A great ' card' was Charley in the estimation of his admirers, and still more so in his own. Kesistlessly fascinating, as he thought, among the ladies ; a lady-killer, par excellence. Somehow or other, he and I could never pull well together; he always owed me a grudge, why I never knew; but I must do him the justice to say that he was never backward in paying me off whenever he had the chance to do so. Poor fellow! he afterwards died in the Crimea, and with all his faults, I regret him still. Parade was over. Still no one specially sought me out for a private interview. I almost began to believe that the events of the previous night had never happened. Surely Harrington did not intend to take his thrashing in silence ! After a little delay, O'Donnell and I rode home together, where we remained for a couple of hours, but no one called except ' The Dodo,' who, of course, only ' dropped into see if anything was up.' Again we reviewed our position. It was clearly not my business to make the first move in the matter. Certainly not. The only sense in Which I could be looked upon as the aggrieved party was that I had been compelled to take part in a most disagreeable struggle, or else accept the still more disagreeable alternative of seeing a helpless woman horsewhipped before my face. At the mess breakfast that morning the unusual absence of Harrington and Charley Face was generally observed. It afterwards transpired that the two had breakfasted together; that the exquisite Charley subsequently paid a visit to the Dak Bungalow to play the part of mediator, but that he forgot his part, and paid impromptu that of a faithless inamorato instead; that he was forthwith indignantly repulsed, and that he accepted his defeat with mortification and anger, which his affected smiling composure could ill conceal. I had remained at home all the morning, fully expecting to be honored with a visit from one of Harrington's friends, while O'Donnell and ' The Dodo' conducted the duties of the intelligence and reconnoitring departments. But neither had they nor I heard a word breathed about the previous night's encounter. I would remain in no longer. So at about two o'clock—tiffin time —I drove off with Don to the mess. It was clear that something was astir there. As we drove into the compound a party of young fellows, followers of Charley Crichton, were engaged in earnest conversation outside the verandah of the mess-house. ' They have let the cat out of the bag, at last, by Jove !' observed Don. ' Charley has set some story afloat, you may be sure, and they are now discussing it.' 'No doubt about it,' I said ; ' but if they have told the truth, I am curious to know how they will explain Harrington's extraordinary conduct in not at once demanding satisfaction.' *We shall soon know,' rejoined Don. 'I ■will not be long finding out what is going on. If they have trumped up a story, they shall quickly know on which side the truth is to be found ; for I believe your version of what occurred most implicitly.' To be continued.