LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 175, 30 December 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

AUDREY'S CHRISTMAS MORNING. (Coitlniicd.") She smiled at Lis earnest manner. She well knew that when the time should come for her to leave Lorrimcr Hall, she would suffer a pain quite as keen as anything he would feel, though not for his sake. She had come out of her gay and careless life into contact with his a contact that, scarcely felt by her, was one to leave its lifelong mark on her young lover's life and career. He could not bear now the thought of being called upon to part from her, though somehow he knew, poor fellow, that be and she would never be anything more to each other than they then were. Still the sunshine of her presence intoxicated him, and he left the future to take care of itself, content to live in the present. That night Audrey sat so long in her room thinking, that at last Esther came to ask if her dear child ever intended to go to bed. ' Esther, sit by the fire and talk, like a good old thing. I want to ask you if you ever saw Colonel Wrighton at papa's house long ago, before he went to India ?' Esther seated herself, and after tmo jthing out her black silk apron, gave a little cough. ' Well, Esther •' 'Well, Miss Audrey.' ' Tell me about him, for you must have seen him, Esther ''.' ' 1 don't like, please, dear Miss Audrey, to talk about that gentleman.' ' Why not ? You can have no reason to dislike him, Esther ?' 'May be not, dear; but in my humble opinion he wrought a great deal of sorrow in your house, Miss Audrey; and I make a point of never talking of him and his heartless ways.' ' Why, Esther, what can you mean ? Come, tell mo the rest, now you have said so much. Why is it Colonel Wrighton will never go to Ashton Mills to sec aunt Helen?' 'Hego to see Miss Helen ! Why, if the master heard of it, he'd tell Mark to turn him from the door. Hid you never know, Miss Audrey, that he and dear -Miss Helen were once very near being man and wife '! 'Aunt Helen!' and Audrey's voice sounded low and husky. 'Ay, indeed,' Esther went on, not noting in the firelight that the girl's face was white and her li]>3 trembling, ' ay, indeed, very near, when he took some fancy into his head that Miss Helen took too much thought of the attentions of another gentleman who is long since dead ; and one day he rode over to the bouse in a white passion and saw Miss Helen, and then he went away, and we never saw him or spoke of him any more. Mr Huntley knew of it long ago, but I don't, think he ever told his lady.

Here followed a pause, during which Audrey never spoke, and Esther poked the fire. 'Esther, did—did aunt Helen pay too much attention to the other gentleman? Audrey asked at last. * Well, dear, she may have done, I daresay. She was young and handsome, and women are weak creatures when men worship the ground they trod on, as did that poor gentleman. I don't say but that Miss Helen was thoughtless, but it was too much to break her heart by way of punishment; and I can't bear to see that man going about with that untroubled face of his, and know that she sits at home and mourns for him till this day, poor thing.' ' Then it is for his sake that aunt Helen has never married ?' Audrey asked, looking far into the grim faces made by the coals, that seemed to stare into her heart with their fiery red eyes. ' Whose else ?' Ester said. Then Audrey bade her old nurse 'goodnight,' but instead of going to her bed, still sat by the fire, heaping on small mountains of coal, yet even in the heat and blaze feeling dead and cold at her heart. So the riddle was solved—he was indifferent to her because he loved another, and that other the pretty aunt whom Audrey herself had always loved so much. He had no thought for her blooming young face ; he was thinking of a face whose early youthful bloom had passed away. So that was why he never went near As'hton Mills ; why he was impatient to get away from Lorrimer Hall and its vicinity; why he wanted to go back to India. Audrey saw it all now, and with it came to her that this man would be to her, all her life, a something different and better than all the rest of the world. Not that he would ever know it: she would rather die than that he should; whatever Mrs Huntley might have fancied, she could know nothing. None of them knew, not even he.

It was her first trial, the first that had ever touched the girl's sunny life, and, God help her ! it was not a light one. She had almost forgotten her aunt. During a whole fortnight she had never been neai her once ; she had left her alone in her loss and loneliness. Oh, it was very selfish ; she saw it now that her ej es were opened. She might have gone on for years, wrapped up in herself; but from this night Audrey had thrown her girlhood aside. They had called her selfish, a flirt, vain and unfeeling. Well, perhaps they were right—she had tried to win hearts that she did not care to retain; but somehow, since she had heard her aunt's story, and had known, for the first time, who her lover had been, Audrey felt that she could never be the same careless, light hearted creature again. The next day, after breakfast, she asked Mrs Huntley for the phaeton to drive over and see Miss Ashton.

Colonel Wrighton wai standing on the door step as she came out, dressed in her soft furs.

• You are taking advantage of a most lovely day for a drive,' he said, holding open the door for her. 'Yes, I am going to see aunt Helen,' Audrey said, watching his dark bronzed face, and detecting a slight flush that came into it at the mention of her aunt's name. ' She is very lonely; I wish I could persuade her to come back with me.' He took no notice of the remark, but just raised his hat as she drove away; then turning, he took his way into the garden, and thought of a conversation that had taken place between him and his hostess that morning, the pith of which had been this—Audrey loved him ; at least, so Mrs Huntley said; why should he not try and care for her and marry her ? The child was g)od and true, and he was wasting his life unmarried. Then he thought of another face that time had by no means erased from his memory ; yet he and she could never be anything to each other again. He had, perhaps, been hasty, and had wronged her in the past time, but she must have long since forgotten him; she had never even answered a letter he had written, trying to bring things back to their old footing. He was going to India again. If this bright Audrey loved him, why not take her with him? When a man has lived out the romance of his life, he can have no second, but he thought he could be quietly content and happy. He had not noticed Edward Clayton's attachment to Miss Ashton. Possibly, if he had, he might have made up his mind differently, for he did make up his mind that day, and when he had once done so, he was not slow to follow it up by action. So now he only waited his opportunity of asking her, and Audrey little guessed what treasure was awaiting her acceptance. She was then sitting at her aunt's feet in the big bright drawing-room, She had found Miss Ashton a little sadder than when she left, and Audrey had stolen in and passed her arm lovingly round the still pretty figure. It was the woman he loved, Audrey told herself; she had been his in the time long gone by. Could Audrey be mean enough to be jealous of that which had existed when she was only a child ? No, no, not that; whatever her sorrow at her own great loss, she would think tenderly of her aunt's love for Wrighton. She tried to talk of him ; but her aunt turned to other subjects with a nervousness which showed Audrey that he was far from forgotten. She tried to take her back with her to Lorrimer Hall; but Helen shook her head, and Audrey knew persuasion was impossible. ' I shall only stay till after Christmas-eve. I shall be back here on Christmas morning, aunt Helen. lam determined to spend the day with you here ; there's no use saying any more about it. I told Mrs Huntley to-day, and she agreed.' ' Well, dear, if you will have it so,' Miss Ashton said with a sigh, for she thought Audrey changed, restless, and excited, and unlike herself. The girl was unusually loving that day, and when at last Audrey said * Good-bye,' she clasped her aunt in her arms and burst into tears. 'I wish I were not going,' she said; 'I would much rather stay here quietly with you, Aunt Helen. I have had so much visiting, I am tired of it. I think lam growing old,' she continued, with a poor little attempt at a smile. 'My darling, your life's journey is only just Legun, while I am far on mine. God grant, Audrey dear, that you may have less trouble in it than He has been pleased to send me.' The girl hid her face for a moment, while a storm of tears shook her. Helen tried to calm her with gentle words and kisses, and when she had partially succeeded Audrej r went away; but before she had driven far down the avenue she stopped the ponies, fiot out, and went back to her aunt,

' Atmt Helen, I came back to say good bye again, and God bless you for all your goodness to me, and make you happier than you have been. I thought I'd like to say it again,' she said, kissing her, and running back to the phaeton. Miss Ashton stood by the window and watched the pretty bright-clad figure as it passed by, then she covered her face with her hands, exclaiming, ' 0 Audrey, my darling,' and burst into tears. No one would have cried over Audrey Ashton if they could have seen her a few evenings after at the Hall. Gay and beautiful she looked, with a rich color on her young face. It seemed to her that Colonel Wrighton had tried more than once to join her, but each time Audrey found some excuse to geb away ; then Mr Clayton came, and she was glad of his society to help her to pass the time, which seemed interminable that evening. Her manner to Mr Clayton was changed ; she put aside every endeavour to charm, which was but natural to her, and talked to him in a quiet earnest way, that be felt very different from what she had been accustomed to use with him. He thought her better and sweeter in this mood; but, poor boy, his heart had become her property long ago ! At last, sitting by her side for a long time, he was called away to sing—an accomplishment in which he excelled—and Audrey got up and went into the conservatory, which adjoined the drawing-room. Here she stood, listlessly looking at the pink and white heaths, that were almost the only flowers in bloom then. She had stood thus for a few minutes when a voice sounded close to her, a voice that made her heart beat in wild confusion,!

1 Miss Asliton, you seem to avoid me tonight ; I have tried once or twice to speak to yon, but without success.' .She had moved a little farther away, and her hand had relentlessly broken off a palepink waxen blossom. When she turned to him her face was calm, but her lip had a slight tremble in it that Colonel Wrighton could not see.

' I have been talking to your cousin. Is he still singing ? What a wonderful voice he has !'

' Has he ?' absently. ' Will you give me that piece of heath ?' he asked, not because he wanted it or would have prized it, but because he was at a loss for something to say just then. 'You don't care for flowers,' she said. ' Why should I give it to you ?' fastening it in the bosom of her dress, while her heart beat quick and fast; for somehow Audrey guessed why this man, who had been indifferent to her till then, had sought her, and she prayed that the words he had come to say might never be spoken, for did she not love him with all the strength of her heart ? Then how could she stand by and hear him offer her a love which she knew he had already irrevocably given to another, as she knew he would do if he spoke to her, Audrey Ashton, of love ? They stood facing each other with very different thoughts at that moment. Then he spoke, coming close and looking down on the girl's beautiful face, that seemed to avoid the eyes that sought hers. She put up her hand, as if to stop him; but Wrighton, having come for a purpose of his own, took no notice of the gesture, but went on : ' T am not a man of many words, Miss Ashton, and we may be disturbed at any moment. I came here to ask you to be my wife.' Surely the red blood never rushed to any face and neck as it did to Audrey's then ; it seemed to light up her very eyes. ' Colonel Wrighton, do you know what you are asking me ?' ' To be my wife.' " To be your wife !' Audrey repeated, in a kind of dream. ' Is it so very strange to you ? the idea, 1 mean,' he added. ' Yes, it is very strange,' she said. ' Not strange in others, perhaps, but very strange in you, Colonel Wrighton. But perhaps you are not different from other men,' she said, half wondering still. 'lf you have fancied I am in any way better than other men, you are wrong ; but I do not see that I have committed any sin in asking you to marry me, Audrey.' ' Why do people marry ?' she asked. ' For different reasons.' ' Because they love each other is one, I believe,' she said, her face crimsoning once more. Somehow, girl though she was, she was his master at that moment. He was doing the only mean thing he had e\ er done in his life, and the consciousness of the meanness was beginning to dawn upon him. ' Colonel Wrighton, what could have induced you to come to me with such a request '!' she asked, her pretty lips half curling with scorn. He saw the expression, and felt the superiority she was assuming, and tried to free himself. • I have a right to choose whom I will ask to become my wife, Miss Ashton. But you have not answered my question—will you be my wife ?' ' I will,' she said, ' if you will answer one question of mine satisfactorily.' ' What is it ?' ' Is there any woman living you care for more than you do for me, Colonel Wrighton ?' He had been calm, almost cold, all the time, but at this question—the hardest for him to answer—it was his turn to flush, and his bronzed face grew nearly as bright as hers had done. He stood silent, looking down, and she stood with her hands tight twisted together, and her eyes relentlessly fixed on his face. Then his answer came, and he did not seem so mean to Audrey when he gave it. ' I have done you a wrong, Audrey Ashton, but not so deep a wrong as you think. I had hoped and believed that the woman I loved many years ago was nothing to me now, but if I answer your question truthfully, I can only say she is still dear to me. Forgive me,' he said, going up to her and holding out his hand, ' I did not mean to wrong you. I had hoped if you married me I might have made you happy. You will forgive me ?' he asked, still holding out his hand for hers. ' On one condition, Colonel Wrighton ; I think you owe me that,' Audrey said, her voice less steady now that her indignation against him was less. ' And tl at is ?' ' That you marry the woman who is still dear to yt u.' ' That is impossible.' ' Why ?' ' She does not care for me now; she would not wish it. I asked her six years ago, and she nevt r answered my letter.' T< be continued*