LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 179, 5 January 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LADY ARABELLA. The Lady Arabella Grahame was two-aud twenty. The cold-blooded manner in which Debrett gives dates, where the ages of unfortunate peeresses are concerned, makes any reticence on this point useless. There is no possibility of giving a personal description of any significance except by comparisons ; so I will tell you that since the famous Duchess of Marlborough no Englishwoman e\ er possessed such beautiful hair or so firm a determination to have her own way. Lady Hester Stanhope was not more eccentric ; and as the young lady’s income was immense, she was able to gratify her whims to any extent. She was the despair of guardians, of governesses, and of the whole troop of relations who wished to mould her into a decorous demoiselle of society; yet those whom she chose to conciliate could not help idolizing her. Towards her nobody could hold half feelings. She was extreme, and made others so where she was concerned. I want you to understand how womanly and fascinating Arabella Grahame could be, how kind and generous she was at heart; or else you will condemn her as utterly unfemiuine in the caprices which had made her celebrated from London to St. Petersburg. She actually kept a betting-book; and she drove both lovers and relatives to despair by the summary way in which she rejected the most eligible offers. The wilful young lady had thought it hard enough to be worried by her kinsmen’s interference, while still under tutelage ; but she resented bitterly the advice and animadversions wherewith they pursued her after her majority ; especially on each occasion that she threw away some great match. This spring, and she was now twenty-two, the whole clan, from the noble Earl who headed the family down to the poorest hanger-on, was shocked and outraged by her disdaining a ducal coronet laid at her feet. The troop teazed her to such an extent that she deserted London. Accompanied by her ancient governess, her pet vassals, and her Irish mare, Spitfire, the handsomest and worst-tempered brute outside Pluto’s stables, she set sail to France, and descended like a golden-haired Aurora upon Paris. Now, the Lady Arabella detested the ‘ city of all delights,' and had an old-fashioned British scorn for everything Gallic ; but as she said to her old instructress :

‘ Purgatory in peace is better than Paradise made a howling wilderness by one’s relations. ’

Mrs Mocourt looked depressed by these irreverent comparisons, and said something about ‘thefamily.’ ‘ My family !’ retorted her ladyship; ‘ Why I’d rather have hyenas for cousins than mine. A jungle tiger would be preferable, as an uncle, to old Faulconbridge.’ ‘My dear !’ expostulated Mrs Mocourt, ‘ there is not a more delightful man in the world than the Earl; such perfect manners, such ’

‘ I vote for the tiger, ’ interrupted Lady Arabella ; * he’d eat me up and nave done. But my uncle wants to sell me to be baited, tortured, bound down, tied up, hampered, berated, be ’ ‘ My dearest child !’ ‘ Oh, I don’t care ! I dare say it’s fast and wicked. So much the better ! I vow, I’m driven out of my senses; and unless you want to send me to a mad-house, please don’t mention marriage or uncles in my hearing again.’ 4 Indeed, I will not,’ replied the old lady, frightened into temporary submission. * And mind, we will do everything they call wrong, because it’s sure to be enjoyable,’ pursued Lady Arabella. ‘We will! If you put on that shocked look, Mrs dress in boy’s clothes, and dance at Mabille; shoot peas at the public, and sing the Marseillaise in the opera house! Be warned in time, you old darling!’ So Lady Arabella did just what she would. She rode her demon-haunted Irish mare in the Bois de Boulogne, snubbed every English acquaintance who called upon her, was oblivious of the British Ambassadress’s invitations, sent back her relatives’ letters unopened, and finally caused the family hair to stand on end by a scorching note to the Earl. The epistle was read in full family conclave by- the Earl; and the spirit of prophecy seemed to enter his soul.

4 What,’ said his lordship, 4 can be expected of the common herd when the daughter of an almost royal bouse avows her contempt for birth, station, all that keeps chaos aloof is democracy, radicalism—the offshoot of the hydra-headed monster which runs rampant in these days.’ The Earl groaned, the family groaned ; but no echo of their lamentations distux-bed the Lady Arabella in her pleasant retreat far up the Champs At last, the august conclave had to cease its moans from lack of breath, and allow this wayward scion of the race to follow her caprices in peace. They did not seem very dangerous caprices at present. Mrs Mocourt consoled the Earl by a secret letter, giving an account of their quiet life. She was only obliged to chronicle one painful eccentricity on the part of her fonner pupil. Lady Arabella had seen fit to make a pet of a young bear, which she kept chained in the court-yard, reports of its escape frightening the whole neighbourhood into fits at least six times each day. The neighbourhood complained, the police interfered ; Arabella laughed in their faces, and stood by the bear. The Earl was glad to compound for so innocent an eccentricity, axxd faris regarded it as another specimen of British insanity. Bvxt in less than a week the soothing effects of Mrs Mocourt’s missive were done away by an act on the young lady’s part which caused telegraphs and newspapers to be busy with her name, and made her stared at when she appeared in public. The Marquis de Oherville bad for some time past devoted himself to training a filly for his sister, pretty Madame de B, , the most timid of equestrians, axxd graceful of women. The Marquis was really a charming specimen of tho gilded youth of the noblest faubourg, but he had never succeeded in ridding himself of one prejudice—he detested the daughters of Albion. And of those daughters he held the Lady Arabella in special abhorrence. . The autxxmn previous the Marquis had stayed at a friend’s house in the Highlands. During the first days of his sojourn tlxe Lady Arabella Grahame was there also. Her great wolf-dog nearly ate him up as he descended at, the door, and’ th® 'unreasonable damsel hated him in They would never be introduced io sacl) other ; Both declined it; and sse wsmamed khe_e*celled heraoH m- outre opinions and ppripr-

mauces, in. order to horrify her enemy. She nearly shot him by accident one morning when she was handling a pistol. That put a climax on all. Naturally, he neither forgot nor forgave. The young lady’s name had the same effect on the Marquis that a red rag has on a mad bull. He charged full tilt at Albion-and its maids with bitter anathemas. In return. Lady Arabella made his title synonymous with everything silly or effeminate; whatever she wished to stigmatize as utterly Ottendurable she denominated a ‘ de CherviHs.’ As they had scores of mutual friends botj|K England and France, of course each hs*S all the harsh criticisms pronounced by Jno other, and was spurred on .to increased enmity. \ On an ill-fated Tuesday the Marquis was exercising the filly in one of the broad of the Bois. He was in an especially amiame mood and in the most stylish possible nocturne—altogether quite a modern Apollo. Rush—whiz—flash, out of a narrow path that made so short a turn that nobody but * maniac or an Englishwoman would hay* ridden fast around it, darted Lady Arabella Grahame on the back of her fiend of an Irish mare. She saw nothing, and she could not have checked the mare if she had seen; Like a cannon ball, the Hibernian fury dashed against the filly, knocked her down, and added a vicious kick. When the Marquis could realize anything, he found himself lying on the ground, with his shoulder-blade broken, and the poor filly dying. Only Spitfire’s strength and her mistress s quickness prevented their also having an ugly tumble. On they dashed, like a female impersonation of the Centaur ; but, as soon as she could, Lady Arabella reined in the mare, and turned her, prancing and rearing, with all her impish tricks fully roused, back to the spot where the accident occurred. The unfortunate marquis was trying to raise himself from the earth. His eyes met the lady’s: each recognised an implacable foe. She looked past the wounded man, gazed, for an instant, upon -the quivering frame of the expiring filly, then regarded her own steed. Not a scratch had befallen the mare. Without a word, or another glance at the prostrate Frenchman, she put Spitfire at her speed, and vanished down the alley. Presently her groom appeared in view, but he was too much occupied getting within sight of his mistress to notice any other mundane object. . a; : Of course, before night, the story was all over Paris. If the Marquis had been inclined to keep the affair quiet, he could not have done so. > But he had no desire. Gallant son of Gaul though he was, the blonde beauty’s cold-blooded disregard of the consequences of her recklessness upset his selfcontrol. The victim was at once buried, and over her grave was placed a wooden monument, with this inscription ; ‘Fauvbtte, aged four years and eight months. Murdered, May 10th, 18—, oy Lady Arabella Grahame, Englishwoman.’ The grave was at Montmorenci, and the curiosity-devoured Parisians rushed in shoals to read the epitaph, abuse the British nation, and scatter garlands over the tomb of Fauvette.

The Marquis submitted with tolerable patience to the decrees of the doctors, lay in bed, nursed his shoulder, and meditated some sweet revenge. Everybody was interested in his state, except the Lady Arabella. She played with her bear, rode Spitfire, and made no sign. Wherever she appeared people stared at her as if she were a Frankenstein monster; but she seemed all unconscious; and even Mrs Mocourt dared not hint a word of reproof, or name the subject in her presence. To add to the scandal, the history of her first meeting with the Marquis in 'the Highlands was narrated and enlarged, until the mildest form it took was that she had set her wolf-dog on him, challenged him to a duel, and when he refused, fired a pistol at him. The encounter in the Bois de Boulogne was decided to be a deliberate attempt at assisuation. De Cherville recovered from his hurt, but his wounded spirit was by no means healed. He flung gallantry to the winds. Supported by the unanimous verdict of his friends, he resolved to treat the creature philosophically under the circumstances. Sending his lawyer to the lady’s residence, he demanded payment for the filly. Lady Arabella Chanced to be in the court-yard, feeding her bear, when the lawyer arrived and explained his business * * Show him here,’ said the irate daughter of the Grahames, when the footman repeated the message and the matter as nearly as he dared. ’ » • Into the court-yard marched the avone, very stately and grand. But his composure gave way at the sight of the lady standing under a linden-tree with the half-grown cub. He was erect on his hind legs, his forepaws resting on her shoulder, and bound' only by a chain, which looked very frail and insecure to the startled servant of justice. ‘ What are you skipping into the air for ? r demanded Lady Arabella, at a sudden but not unnatural movement on the lawyer’s pai-t. ‘ Did you come from Charenton ? ’ ‘I come, madame, from the Marquis de Cherville,’stamered he. ' • , ‘ Very little difference,’ quoth her ladyship, ‘ You came from a mad man,-instead of a mad house ! What do you want ? ’ The lawyer explained, his eloquence sorely disturbed by sundry growls from Bruin, Lady Arabella heard him through,* burst out laughing, and then went into a tremendous rage. ‘ Walk through that gate in half a second, Monsieur I’Avoue, or I will set the bear on you ! ’ She made a motion to undo the animal’s chain. Bruin was growling again, and showing his sharp young teeth in a frightful grin. The lawyer gathered up his dignity, with the skirts of his long coat and fied, pursued by a burst of laughter from Lady Arabella in which the bear joined with alarming energy. The crest-fallen gentleman returned to the Marquis to report his ill-success, of course embellishing his account- By the time it was thrice repeated, the story ran that Bruin had been set on him, and that be had narrowly escaped with ,his life. To be continued.