LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 142, 16 November 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LADY ESTHER

By Mrs. Forrester, Author of “From Olympus to Hades,” &c.

Chapter I,

‘ What do you say his income is, Desmond ? ’

‘ Certainly not less than thirty thousand a year.’

‘ Thirty thousand a year! and all made in trade—made out of the vice and misery and drunkenness of thousands of squalid wretches —delightful idea ! ’ ‘ Hang it, Esther ! as long as the money’s there, what the deuce does it matter how it’s made ? ’

‘Noble sentiment ! ’ uttered Lady Esther, with languid scorn. ‘ I don’t suppose you ■would take much exception to the way it was made if you had the spending of it, via toute hello,' returned the Honourable Desmond St. Sylvan, with a shade of pique. ‘Tell me, Desmond, do you think it just possible I might have the spending of it if I chose ? ’

‘ A geat deal more than possible—highly probable ; he admires you awfully,’ ‘ Oh, propitious fates ! ’ and Lady Esther’s voice had a still deeper ring of scorn in it. ‘ I am pleasing in the eyes of this prince among traders. He might be induced to hold out the sceptre to this trembling aspirant. ’ ‘ I don’t know what the deuce you’re driving at, Esther; but it seems to me you are talking an uncommon lot of nonsense this morning. ’ ‘ At least be patient with my nonsense, dear, ’ responded Desmond’s sister, with a slight flash of her grey eyes ; ‘ only think what a sister with thirty thousand a year might do for a young man who calls nothing bnt his debts his own, and propitiate her while there is yet time. Jacob Valliant (I think you said his aristocratic name was Jacob) is vulgar, mon frere .’ ‘Well,’ said Desmond, with a deprecating air, ‘ perhaps he is not exactly the same style as the men of our set. ’ ‘As Archie Lyle or Gordon Tempest ? ’ interposed Lady Esther, with a low mocking laugh. ‘ Well, perhaps not exactly. His blood lias no taint of the sangre azul —a rich unadulterated crimson, eh, Des? And his manners—so charming, so refined, so easy! To see him get into his gloves—l can’t say put them on —is enough.’ ‘ Hang it ! Esther ; you can’t have everything. ’

‘ True, dear; and gloves or no gloves, manners or no manners, blue blood, or red, yellow, white, black, what does it matter when a man has thirty thousand a year ?’ ‘ He’s not half a bad fellow —very liberal with his money, they say. ’ ‘ They say ?’ echoed Lady Esther, raising her arched eyebrows a shade higher. ‘Ah ! I’m glad to hear you speak from the exj>erience of others. I should have been sorry to think you had borrowed from him already on speculation. ’ A slight flush crossed Mr St Sylvan’s face, and he pulled his moustache uneasily. • How old is your friend, Des ?’ his sister continued, imperturbably, after a short pause. ‘ I don’t know why you’re so fond of harping upon his being my friend,” returned Desmond, irritably; ‘ he’s no particular friend of mine, and if he was, I shouldn’t be likely to ask his age. ’ ‘ Let me see, ’ said Lady Esther, placidly. ‘ The top of his head is quite bald and shiny —but that is not always a sign of age ; half of his teeth are false—then people lose their teeth so young nowadays ; he is wrinkled round the eyes —but the cares and anxieties of business would explain that. He may not actually be more than eight and forty, and Colonel Trevor told me the other day men only attain their prime at fifty. Besides, with thirty thousand a year, what does it matter whether a man is fifty, seventy, or a hundred ?’ ‘ Come, Esther, shut up all that humbug ! You may pretend to be ironical with people who don’t understand you quite as well as I do, but I know, and you know too, that all yon care about is show and dress and cutting out other women. And I say, this fellow’s too old to be made a fool of. Do you mean business ?”

Lady Esther rose slowly, and walked across the room to the sheet of plate-glass that filled the centre of the wall. Without answering her brother, she proceeded to take an audible inventory of herself. ‘ Eyes fine, nose too small, mouth wide, four tin re good, hair (and she pulled out the long pins until it fell in shining waves below her waist) magnificent. On the whole, not a beauty. I don’t mean to marry a poor man. I don’t mean to dress St Catherine’s hair. And as lam not vain enough to imagine my charms will command a more eligible adorer than your plebeian friend, I have the honor of informing you, Mr Desmond St Sylvan, that I do mean business.’

The young man rose and approached his sister, taking a mass of her silky yellow locks caressingly in his fingers. ‘ Realty, Esther, your hair is magnificent —by Jove it is ! and 1 say, dear, you mustn’t forget it was I who introduced him to you.’ _ A strange smile flitted across Lady Esther s face—not quite a pleasant one either. ‘ Oh, no, Desmond ! don’t be afraid of my forgetting. I shall remember that there was once a brother who loved his sister so dearly that he was content to sell her into the arms of a man she loathed and despised because he thought it a cheap way of cancelling a debt of honour he had incurred.’ And Lady Esther disengaged her curls from his touch, and swept slowly out of the room.

A thoughtful frown came over Desmond’s face.

; By Jove ! that was a nasty speech to make,’ he muttered; ‘and how the deuce did she hear the fellow had lent me money ? Esther always was queer, though. As if she’d marry any one she didn’t like, except to suit her own convenience.” And thus consoling himself, Mr St Sylvan lighted a cigarette, and went off to White’s.

Chapter 11. Lady Esther was on her knees by the couch in her room, sobbing as if her heart would break. Her yellow hair was tossed dishevelled from her face ; all the languid, mocking pride she had so well simulated before her brother was gone, and in its place low, gasping sobs and a passionate rain of tears. ‘ Oh, how I hate myself !’ she moaned, and then she pressed her passionate lips again and again on the crimson petals of a rose the man she loved had given her the night before. Her caress was too vehement; the bright leaves dropped in a shower at her feet, and, with sudden passion, she flung the runined flower away. ‘So perish my three days’ love !’ she cried in a burst of petulant anger. ‘ After all, I dare say it won’t break his heart. Men don’t feel as we do. ’ And then inconsistent Esther cried again at the bare thought that her lover might possibly get over her marrying another man without a broken heart.

£ Why can’t the nice men have money ?’ she exclaimed presently ‘Why are they always younger sons, and as poor as church mice ? And why are women so selfish ? Vincent is ready to give up everything for me ; he does not mind being poor, he says ; if he only had me, he could give up everything else in the world. Ah ! but men always talk like that before they’re married ; and then we have to suffer in reality ; they make all the sacrifice in theory beforehand, and we in practice afterwards, as Flora La Touche told me only yesterday. ’ The door opened softly at this juncture, and the very object of her thoughts entered in the shape of a pretty little woman attired in a print morning gown. ‘ Niobe dissolved in tears,’ she cried, laughingly, as Esther rose from the floor, in some confusion, ‘ a new role for you, Queen Esther.’ ‘ Don’t be provoking, Flora !’ said the other, pettishly. ‘ The poor child can’t make up its mind to take the pill, in spite of all the nice jam,’ Flora went on. * You can’t give up Captain Loraine, ’ she added, more seriously. * Yes I can,’ answered Lady Esther, stiffly, her eyes quite dry now. ‘ I am going to take some blue blood into trade ; Heaven knows it wants it badly enough. ’ ‘My dear Esther,’ exclaimed her friend, ‘do pray come off the stilts for once ! Trade is the backbone of our country, as the papers tell us ; and, besides, all those grand ideas of exclusive idleness are becoming quite subverted now. People, at last, are getting reasonable enough to see that it’s much more satisfactory to have fine houses and carriages and clothes, even if they come by trade, than to pinch and screw and be harassed by creditors they can’t pay, for the very small satisfaction of turning up their aristocratic noses at those who don’t care to eat the bread of idleness and dependence.’ ‘ Oh, Flora ! ’ responded Lady Esther, ‘ I’m not so small as to despise trade because it is trade, and I know there are hundreds of men who are really gentlemen in business ; but it’s the man, this man, that disgusts me so horribly.’ ‘My dear, ’ said Mrs La Touche, naively, ‘ it must be conceded on all hands that the man is most objectionable; but as the heroine in this charming story says,’ and Flora tapped the suspicious-looking brownbacked book she held, ‘ if he could give me such diamonds and cashmeres as those, dispose dc via main, j'epouse les yeux femes' ‘ You have no right to talk like that, Flora; surely you married a poor man for love ? ’

‘ Who then could have a better right ?’ laughed the little lady, gaily. ‘ JSia chere, sad experience makes me say to you, don’t marry for love, unless everything else is desirable. When I was engaged to Harold, he used to talk with an air of profound conviction of the delights of making sacrifices for me. He would leave oft smoking ; that would be at least forty pounds a year in his pocket; one club would be quite sufficient for a married man; that would save subscriptions. Then he could give up his hack; it would cost no more to keep a brougham for me. And, as we rode together in the How, or sat out square dances in dimlighted conservatories, I listened, putting full faith in the heroic self-devotion of my knight. But to-day, dear child, he still has his hack and his three clubs, smokes as much as ever, and gets his clothes made at Poole’s ; whereas, you see, I have to be contented with a chintz toilette at fifteen pence a yard, and only get a drive in the park when your mother or some other kind friend offers me a seat in her carriage. And when, in an occasional fit of migraine, I remind him of his ante-matrimonial protestations, he only laughs, in the most barefaced manner, and says that men will swear anything to get the woman they want.’ ‘Vincent would not be like that,’ cried Lady Esther, indignantly. *Oh ! of course not,’ laughed Flora. ‘lf any one had told me three years ago that Harold would be like that, I should have indulged in a most imposing burst of indignation. But, leaving Vincent out of the question, Esther, you would not seriously throw away such a splendid chance of establishing yourself ?’ Lady Esther bit her lips,[and then returned to her old mocking tone: * Tres chere , I am not quite mad. Tonight will decide my fate, and you shall at no distant day make merry, when Hymen presides over the union of two loving hearts. ’

• Esther, dear, I cannot bear to hear you speak in that voice ; it seems so unnatural, and of late you put it on so often. Child, if the thought is really so painful to you, if yon feel nothing but loathing for this man, give up the idea at once. Believe me, dear, though I spoke lightly just now, all the luxury and wealth in the world could not atone to you for the forced companionship and caresses of a man you detested. Poverty with the one you loved would be heaven in comparison. ’ ‘Don’t try to unsettle me, Flora,’ cried Lady Esther, in a harsh, strained voice. ‘ You were sensible enough just now, and my mind is made up. 1 don’t believe in love or romancebut there was a. sudden break and tremor in the girl’s voice. ‘I have resolved all my life to marry for worldly goods, and I shall keep my resolve. Come, Flora, you’ll dance at the wedding ?’ Lady Esther put on a brave face and smiled ; and when Mrs La Touche looked grave, and would have persuaded her against this sacrilice to Mammon, she held her fingers to her ears, and would not hear a word. ‘Come, Flora !’ she said, ‘ put on yonr bonnet, the carriage is here. We’ll go and take a turn in the Park, and come back in time for me to be arrayed for conquest. ’ To be continued.