LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 180, 6 January 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LADY ARABELLA. ( Continued .) The Marquis was not inclined to forego vengeance, nor was he at the end of his resources. He renounced the idea of a civil suit, and carried the matter into a more powerful court, so far as the world of fashion and the turf were concerned. Everybody knows that the Jockey Club in Paris is a tribunal from whose decisions no gentleman would dream of appealing, and it has frequently been called on as umpire in equine difficulties.

The case was brought before the club, and a unanimous verdict rendered against the Lady Arabella. She was reprimanded severely for her recklessness, and adjudged to pay the price of the filly. The decision was transmitted to the young lady, written on illuminated parchment, made awful by historical names and tremendous seals.

The Lady Arabella rent the sheet carefully into sixteen pieces, crowded the ends into a small white glove, and sent the whole back to the club in a dainty, silk-lined w orkbasket.

She had committed the crowning insult—the unpardonable sin. Had she boxed the ear’s of the grandest duchess in the Faubourg St Germain, society could not have been more outraged. The newspapers teemed with the quarrel, and Gavarni published caricatures of the British “peeress.” The market women chose her name as a new expression of abuse for their wide vocabulary. The gamins chanted original songs of condemnation under her windows: indeed, hardly anything short of a republican outbreak could have roused such a disturbance. English, and titled though she was, the English verdict was against her. Punch, with his customary disloyalty where the sacredness of the nobility is concerned, improved on Gavarni’s caricatures, introducing the Earl, and several other prominent members of the illustrious family. The noble relations nearly went mad, and debated the propriety of immuring Lady Arabella in a private lunatic asylum; a design only relinquished from a fear of the retribution the abandoned young woman would surely sooner or later.

The sole person utterly uum-’ ve( l was the Lady Arabella herself. M Mocourt wept herself half blind; *he maids lived in hysterics; at every sound in the street the men servants rushed to barricade the entrance, under the impression that the enraged populace, headed by the Marquis and the Jockey Club, were coming to tear the household limb from limb. But her ladyship preserved her composure unbroken, and even began an elaborate piece of embroidery as an occupation for her mornings. It was odd enough to see her sitting tranquilly at work, looking so beautiful and refined in her white draperies, while the people shouted her name in the streets, and her subordinates trembled in corners. She was deaf to the entreaties of those faithful adherents that she would leave Paris. Never, she said, until the storm subsided ; it should not be said she ran away. A short while and some new excitement diverted public attention. Lady Arabella was left in quiet, save so far as letters or daily demands from the Marquis were concerned. Then a affliction befell her ; the cherished kuar died so suddenly that his was attributed to poison, A. j. could not be discovered.

So Lady Arabella ruslied back to in such haste that her servants had scarcely time to pack the boxes. She absolutely paid the Earl a visit, and conducted herself with so complete an unconsciousness of having given offence, that the family sat aghast at her assurance, but dared not so much as whistle.

The Earl, softened by her charms, and the witty stories wherewith she lightened the partrician dulness of the castle, determined to set matters straight in spite of her; he could not help loving the wayward creature. He knew that the Marquis still besieged her with letters: newspapers averse to the family kept the affair fresh in people’s minds, and he found somewhere a brilliant idea upon which he decided to act. He would write to de Chei'ville in his niece’s name, pay the price of the murdered iilly, and end the scandal. —-But no member of the Grahame race could ever do anything without first bringing the matter before the family conclave. The consequence was, that Lady Arabella discovered what was going on, and descended, like an enraged Juno, on the august junta, when it was assembled for the purpose of concocting a suitable epistle. ‘ You are writing a letter to the Marquis de Cherville,’ said she, and the instant the assembly heard her voice it trembled. The tone was ominously calm, When Lady Arabella paused, the family knew she might be coaxed; but when she spoke with that slow coldness, the family had learned it would be safer to trill e with a lion, or any other wild animal of which she might chance to make a passing favourite. The Earl shook in his shoes.

‘My dear, I thought—we all thought—•— ’ 4 1 beg none of you will weary yourselves by so unusual an effort,’ interrupted Lady Arabella, sweetly, as her noble relative broke down.

‘This,’ said the Earl, making a dash at his dignity, ‘ is—is a matter in which the family honour is concerned. You—you really must permit us to—to act, my love.’ ‘The family honour!’ quoth she. ‘When was honour gifted on the ancestral tree ? Much Jack yonder knows about it.’ Jack was a titled cousin, with many aristocratic follies written down against his, name.

‘ I wonder if Mary would like to talk of it ? ’ pursued her ladyship. Mary was a marchioness, who had not lived with her legal master for some years, and of whom ill-natured people said that if her private diary could be printed, it would be the oddest cluonicle since the days of Louis XIV.

Both Jack and Mary were present. She, the marchioness, burst into a Hood of hysterical tears j the. other women gathered sympathetically about her, and there would have been a trying scene if that blundering Jack had not thrown dirty water over her from a bouquet-glass in his bewilderment. The laches flew at him for his awkwardness ; the marchioness called him several names which had no place among his ancestral titles. Lady Ax-abella interrupted the tempest. 4 One moment, ’ said she. 4 You can follow up your private quarrels at any time, good people ! Just pow I am the person under consideration, and I want my before I leave the room.. What havey^to ■: 1 . - ; -wto . -Jr ■ ■

say further, Lord Faulconbridge? ’ she asked, turning to her littcle. ~ ‘ If you wouldonlybereasouable? ’ groaned the earl- ‘ And I a Grahame! ’ returned she. dear uncle, don’t expect impossibilities.’ Her jest encouraged the family to think she was giving way. A faint chorus of 'wfcT postulation was resumed, which she chqckeHT d unceremoniously. \J*j > r/ j ‘ Ah, you want war ! ’ said she. ■ WilL m you shall have it.’ » ‘ My dear niece ! ’ began the Earl, and'tttif'" fain to stop. She had gone into one ofnjfc passions, and was past listening. ‘ Take one step toward meddlihg with or anything that concerns me, nOw or future, and I will make you long to emignufc j in a body to some South Sea island, who*' ■ (, the Grahame name never was heard of,’ 1 she, in her clearest, most deliberate vh»o«Ad , which sounded as hard as iron. • w h.'.fct . New expostulations from the Earl, cries from the women, threats from the mfexi. The Grahame blood was well up on all side*;;;’ But Lady Arabella conquered. She stttntf each one of them neatly in turn, she cov«Wa H > the group with confusion, and paralyzed" it with wrath. *Do this if you dare—mind, if you dare ! I am Helena Faulconbridge’s granddaughter! Some of you remember her, and were in the castle the night she set it on fire to punish this wonderful family for its insolence. I have as much courage as she had, and more brains. I’ll do worse than bum you 1 in your ’ beds, my cousins ! ’ " 1 The women wept, the men said short words under their breath; but standing there in their midst, cold and white, the girl looked so much like the portraits of the dreaded ancestress, whose name had scarcely been mentioned aloud for ten ■ years, that they were struck dumb. She saw her ‘advantage. -i fs ‘* • ‘ If you presume to interfere,’ she went oh, and her words cut like hail-stones, *if one among you, from Lord Faulconbridge down 1; to the poorest, neediest, laziest of the name ** —who prefers to be a cringing dependent to earning his living like an honest man—has the intolerable impertinence to meddle in this matter, I will write letters to the newspapcrs in London and Paris denying this grand family’s authority to act. And u you use my name again, I will bring an action against you all in a court of jtistice.’ And, with that, out of the room swept J Lady Arabella. For three days she made their waking hours torture by the pitiless lash of her tongue, all the time appearing in her sweetest, gayest mood, and agonised their rest at night. One had the nightmare, another had the nightmare ; which disturbed the housei with hideous cries. Everybody rushed frantically through" the galleries in costumes* more picturesque than decent, mad with fears that the girl possessed by the spirit of Helena had set fire to the illustrious mansion. -M Lady Arabella summoned her faithful Mocourt, her private maid and men, and with scant leave-taking to the Earl, and none whatever for the rest of the clan, she d«- • parted. Secret intelligence had reached her that the MarqUisr arfe.—. • - to England; and though not m the least disposed to yield the conflict, she wanted a short jvrrnist/lcc. , bo she and her train floated over to Stntzer* land, and for a time she was left in peace. But Mocourt’s passion for letter-writing, and her loyal desire to relieve the Earl’s uneasiness, again exposed Lady Arabella to the enemy’s attacks. „ . During the long midsummer days, while su& —rag reposing amid the beauties of Interlachen, epistles from the Marquis beset her; a daily sUower, thicker than the locusts in Egypt. At last, John brought some news to James, and James to the maid, and she to Mrs Mocourt. The wretched old lady flew in despair to her pupil. The French Marquis has arrived, and set up his tent in Interlachen ! She was so long in getting out. her tidings that Lady Arabella lost patience. ‘You stupid old dear,’ said she, ‘unless yon speak, I’ll not let you open your mouth for a week. What is the Earl at now ?’

‘ It’s not the Earl,’ moaned Mrs Mocourt. ‘ It’s the French Marqnis—right opposite our hotel. He came this evening !’ There never was any counting on the way; in which Lady Arabella would receive unpleasant tidings. She saw fit to be -immensely amused , by this proceeding on the part. But, being rather tired; of Interlachen and its loveliness, she determined to give him the slip. : At break of dawn she and her retainers departed; and she did not allow them to rest till they reached Baden. But in less than a week the crowds that thronged the cursaal had a fresh topic of conversation. The Marquis de Cherville appeared; the old stories were revived, and Lady Arabella was stared at again. * Since he likes travelling he shall have enough of it,’ she said. ‘He shall turn himself into a new edition of the Wandering Jew if he follows me. ’ ‘

Mocourt wept, maid and men groaned, but off they had to start again. Along the Rhine went Lady Arabella and her flock, and the Marquis pursued. The adventure grew interesting. The young lady found excitement hi eluding his pursuits, and forced her people to submit to out-of-the-way routes and unheard of disguises. But the 'Marquis proved as keen of scent as a sleuth-hound No matter what cunning she displayed, or how retired the spot in which she hid, there never were many days of quiet. He found her out, followed, and overtook her. Then she again took up her march. Tired of obscure routes and, small villages, she sought Berlin. In three days the newspapers announced the Frenchman’s arrival, detailed the romance, published her portrait, and. made her once more the mark of all eyes and tongues. She fled to Dresden; autumn had come thou. The Marquis haunted her among the countless marvellous teapots, and again rendered life a burden. She debated with herself whether she should try Russia, and enjoy the pleasure of meeting her enemy with his nose frozen. But recollecting that her own might freeze as well as his, she turned in another direction, r ; • .. . (To be continued.)