LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 260, 12 April 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FULL MEASURE. By Minnie Young. (Continued.) The servant entered, bearing a card. 'Mr dimming is the library, ma'am.' ' Show him in here, Andrews.' Andrews vanished. Directly he had gone, Marion drew a note from her pocket, looked at it for a moment, pressed it frantically to her lips, and then threw it into the fire. ' That is well done,' she murmured, with a sigh of relief. 'lt would not have been safe to keep it.' And then she flung herself back into her chair and covered her face with her hands, whilst something very like a sob escaped from her lips. ' Mr Cumming,' Marion rose to greet him with her usual quiet grace. ;There was no woman of his acquaintance, whom Mr Cumming admired so much as Mrs Burdett. He often thought that had she not been married, he would really have done her the honor of proposing to her himself. That she would have declined such a privilege, he never for one moment supposed. Who had a better right to consider himself irresistible than the possessor of twelve thousand a year ? But as Marion Burdett was married, his selection had fallen on a very different specimen of feminality— Hilda Vaughan, who came up to Marion's shoulder, and whose claims to beauty lay in a pink-and white complexion, fluffy fawn coloured hair, and a smile that was sweet to insipidity. ' It is a very cold raw day, Mrs Burdett,' said Mr Cumming, drawing his chair nearer to the fire.

' I believe it is, Mr Cumming,' she replied, ' but really in this room I never know what the weather is like. If Igo to the window, I can't see a square inch of sky.' ' I think, Mrs Burdett, that I caught sight sight of your charming young friend Miss Vaughan, as I was coming here, walking with her maid.'

' Very likely; she has been sitting with me this afternoon.'

• Oh, ah, yes,' said Mr Cumming; and then he began blowing his nose violently and looking very ill at ease. ' I wonder, Mrs Burdett,' he exclaimed suddenly, after a long pause, 'what sort of a wife Miss Vaughan would make.' ' A very good one, I am sure, to anybody who was really fond of her. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see Hilda happily married to a nice sensible man, who was sufficiently well off to keep her in comfort, for she is not strong enough to rough it.' ' Do you think—' ' Ye-es ?'

'Do you think now I want your candid opinion and advice—do you think she would make me a good wife ?' 'Mr Cumming, I never venture to give advice upon such a subject; it is too grave a responsibility. But I will say that there is no one to whom I would rather see Hilda married than yourself. You have my best wishes for the success of your suit;' and Marion held out her hand.

Mr Cumming took it and raised it to his lips. ' You will always be my friend, will you not, dear Mrs Burdett ?' ' I should always wish to be a friend of Hilda's husband,' she replied, with a marked emphasis on the last four words. And then Mr Cumming understood that the continuance of Mrs Burdett's friendship depended upon his making Miss Vaughan his wife. He sat on for some time after this, discussing one uninteresting subject after another, until at length it became perceptible, even to his rather obtuse senses, that Mrs Burdett was not herself to-day—not quite such good company as usual; so he rose to take leave.

'Perhaps she is not well,'he thought, as he left the house, ' or perhaps she is a little hurt—although she hid it so cleverly—at the idea of my marrying.' And the last ' perhaps' was so flattering to himself that John Cumming dwelt upon it for the rest of the evening. Chapter 11. Mrs Burdett's next visitor was a tall bronze-bearded man in a red bunting-coat. He entered unannounced. ' Well, Marion darling,' he said, stooping down to kiss her smooth white brow, 'how has the world been treating you to-day ? Have you had many visitors ?' ' A few people have called. Have you had good sport, Eustace ? You're home early, ar'n't you ?' 'I came back by the four o'clock train from H . We had a good run in the early part of the day, but it turned very cold about half-past one; it is freezing hard now. What a nasty evening for Ferrars to start! Did you see him before he left?'

' He came in to bid good-bye this morning; lie was to leave town by the threeo'clock train.' 'And have he and Miss Vaughan made up their quarrel ?' Marion laughed, a very mirthless laugh. ' No, I don't think they have even seen each other again since that eventful evening at Lady Styles's dance, when Hilda made herself so supremely ridiculous. And I am going to ask you, Eustace, as a favour to me, not to mention Mr Ferrars to Hilda. The sooner she gets over all this romantic nonsense the better.' ' Oh, all right. I won't mention him ; I never do. I know nothing of the man beyond having seen him once or twice at tea here in this room. But he always struck me as being such a particularly straightforward good sort of a fellow, not at all the kind of man to trifle with a girl; and he really does seem to have played fast and loose with that little friend of yours. I met her yesterday, poor child, looking as pale as a ghost.' ' Hilda is not very wise, Eustace. I am very sorry for her ; for it is so necessary for a girl in her position to marry early, that she really ought not to waste her youth and good looks in sentimental longings and regrets. Mr Cumming nas been confiding to me to-day that he means to propose to her, and I do hope that she will show a little common sense, and accept him.' 4 That scrubby little snob ! O Lord ! Toor girl!' • My dear Eustace, it is very fine for you to say "Poor girl!" but Mr Cumming would be a very good match for Hilda ; he is very much in love with her, and I shall consider her an excessively foolish girl if she refuses him. If anything were to happen to old Miss Gresham, Hilda would be left without a home and with only two hundred a year to live upon, and I am sure she will never make

any more by her wits; so please don't be putting any romantic nonsensepnto her head.' Colonel Burdett laughed. He had never been accused of being romantic before. Then he jgot up from the sofa and went off to his sanctum, the smoking room. He never outstayed his welcome in his wife's boudoir, and she often wished that her other friends were equally considerate. To-day she could not bear to see anybody ; the sight of faces, the sound of voices, was torture to her, when she reflected that perhaps she might never see his face nor hear his voice again. She was not given to hysterics, the relief of tears was denied to her; she envied the women who could find comfort in weeping. Her heart wept tears of blood, but yet her eyes were dry. There she sat, like some statue of Despair, rigid and immovable ; her hands clasped, her eyes gazing into the red hollow embers of the fire.

It was just six weeks ago that Marion Burdett had first met Balph Ferrars. She seemed to see him again now as she had seen him then, standing in the doorway at a crowded evening party, his tall figure slightly bent, his pale grave face, with its thoughtful earnest expression, looking almost out of place in that gay crowd. It was not a face, you would have said, for Marion Burdett—who had the best-looking men in London at her feet—to rave about ; but there is no accounting for these things. From the first moment she saw Ralph she resolved to make him care for her, and she was accustomed to get her own way on this point. After she had watched him for some time, she saw him go up and speak a few words to their hostess, who immediately took him up and introduced him to Hilda—he had evidently asked to know her. That did not inspire Marion with the slightest jealousy. Hilda's was just the style of beauty to attract in a ballroom, where her face was always decked with smiles ; but when you had the advantage of seeing her daily, and discovered that she was always smiling when she was not crying, her beauty was apt to pall. Indeed, one man had been heard to declare, after staying for a week in the same country house with Miss Vaughan, that he should never admire a pretty girl again. Towards the end of the evening Hilda had introduced Mr Ferrars to Marion, and from that time he was a constant visitor in Hill street. There was no shrewder woman in London than Marion Burdett ; nobody quicker to detect a flirtation, nor more ready to point out when the love was all on one side; and yet, like most of your clever people, she was as blind as the merest tyro in such matters could have been at the moment of all others when it most behoved her to be wide awake. True, she was under the influence now of a feeling that has made fools of some of the wisest of mankind since the days of Troy and Helen. However it might have been, whether she could not see or would not see, at all events she did not see, that the attraction that drew Ralph Ferrars to the house was not herself but Hilda Vaughan. She was not even aware that she was growing to care for him with an intensity of which she scarcely believed herself capable; she only knew that life had suddenly grown much brighter, and that the old insipid monotonous round of pleasure seemed invested with a new interest. But the day of awakening was near at hand. One morning Hilda rushed round to Hill street very early, in a perfect tumult of agitation, to tell Mrs Burdett that she was quite sure that Ralph Ferrars was madly in love with her, and that she on her side adored him. Marion was accustomed to receiving confessions of this nature from her young friend, whose whole thoughts ran upon the tender passion ; and, as a rule, Hilda's confidences bored her beyond expression. But to day it was not weariness she felt as she listened to Hilda's rhapsodies about her darling Ralph. The communication had produced one effect that the speaker little dreamed of-it revealed to Marion the state of her own heart. What made all kindly feeling towards her little friend turn to gall and wormwood as she listened to her very gushing confession of her love for Ralph Ferrars, and of her implicit belief in his devotion to her ? Ralph devoted to that pretty inane child ! Marion would not believe it. And then a thousand trifles light as air recurred to her, that seemed now the confirmation of her worst fears. Marion Burdett was no coward; she determined to learn the truth at once. Let the knowledge of it cost her what it might, it would at all events free her from the agony of suspense she was now enduring. She was not a bad-hearted woman either, and she had been a very kind friend to Hilda ; but she was a woman of very strong although not easily roused, feelings, and she had never really known what love was until she met Ralph Ferrars. Six years ago she had married a man whom she liked very fairly, but at whose approach her heart had never beat one throb the quicker; and now her cheek would grow pale and she would tremble with agitation at the very sound of Ralph's footstep. She was determined to find out the truth of Hilda's story, and this she could only do from Ralph himself ; for Hilda romanced so wildly upon the subject of her conquests, that it was impossible to place any faith in what she said. So Marion tried to pump Ralph. But he was impenetrable ; the secret was his own, and he knew how to guard it. One night at a large ball Hilda flew up to Marion, her chaperone, in a flood of tears, and told her that she was in despair; she had had a quarrel with Ralph, and she was sure he would never forgive her, and she was miserable, of course. Marion, who hated scenes, was perfectly horrified at Hilda's want of self-control, and tried to pacify her by promising to go and look for Mr Ferrars, and smoothe matters with him. But her search was in vain. Ralph was not to be found. He had left the ball.

The following day lie called in Hill street, looking very grave and sad ; and then for the first time he confided to Marion his love for Hilda, and implored her help. He told her that he was ordered off to India very suddenly, and should have to start in three days' time. He must see Hilda again bef jre he left, he said, and hear his fate from her lips. He gave Marion a note, which he asked her to deliver herself into Hilda's hands, and he begged, too, to be permitted to have an interview with the latter at the Burdetts' house; for Miss Gresham never allowed her niece to receive visitors. That note Marion never delivered. She contrived, moreover, that Hilda and Ralph should not meet during the next two days ; and the latter sailed for India believing that the girl he loved so well did not care sufficiently for him to share his life of poverty and temporary exile from England. To be continued.