LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 263, 15 April 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MADGE’S SACRIFICE. By E. M. Alford. ( Continued .) Mr Combe started with unfeigned admiration as he unplaited braid after braid and shook out the silky hair, and said : ‘ Excuse me, miss, but what a head of hair, to be sure ! It would be a fortune to me just now. I happen to have to fit up a lady, with an entire head dress of just this particular shade. I have sent far and wide to match it in vain. See miss,’ laying a thin strip of golden hair against Madge’s luxuriant tresses, *it takes the tint to aT. You don’t happen to be wanting to part with any of it, I reckon ? I could afford £4 for the half of it, and welcome.’ The good man had spoken, of course, in jest, chatting on as he brushed out the glittering mass admiringly ; so that he was considerably taken aback when Madge answered demurely : ’ * How fortunate I should have come today ! Yes, I will sell it gladly if you will give me £8 for the whole. I could not part with it by halves, you know.’ Any pathetic feelings Madge might have had about the matter were dissipated by a merry laugh, as she caught in the mirror the expression of Mr Combe’s face, as he stood behind her, the brush suspended in his uplifted hand.

‘ Mercy me ! miss, I thought you were in earnest, you looked so grave like,’ and the brush descended on the head again at the sound of the merry laugh. *So I am, Mr Combe ; quite in earnest. I want £8 for a particular purpose, and I can do without my hair till it grows again. Come, cut it off quite close ; it’s best to get a thing done, when you’ve made up your mind.’

‘Excuse me, miss, I daren’t do it, such lovely hair as it is. Your folks would be downright savage with me if I were to let myself be tempted. ’ * Oh, no they wouldn’t,’ laughed Madge. * They can trust me to do what I will with my own. If you won’t cut it off for me, I must do it myself,’ seizing on an idle pair of scissors.

‘Oh ! please, miss, no; don’t chop it off anyho-w ! If it is to be done, let me manage it skillfully for you, so as to show as little as possible. Unfortunately, it is too soft and silky for a crop. I’m afraid you won’t like the look of it, miss.’ ‘ I don’t expect to,’ said resolute Madge. ‘ I know what you mean, it will be just a head of stubble. Never mind, time will mend matters. Now make haste, please.’ And Madge shut fast the merry blue eyes, that she might not watch the process in the mirror. The deed was quickly done, and she was aroused by Mr Combe’s saying ; ‘ There, miss ! I’m sure I beg your pardon. It does seem a sin and a shame. But if a £lO note down would be any comfort, I’m sure it’s worth it well.’ And he stroked the beautiful long tresses admiringly. ‘0 thank you,’ said Madge gratefully, turning away from the mirror, where she had caught a glimpse of a smooth, round golden head, and childish face, with a momentary shock. The half-hour was just up, and stowing away carefully the precious £lO note in an old leather purse: and muffling the little head in a thick veil, she had wisely brought for the purpose, she hastened to join her brother.

Kit, preoccupied with his own troubles, did not notice at first any alteration in her appearance. And they walked briskly homewards, he lamenting over the loss of some of his favourite books which the bookseller ■was to take off his hands to the amount of £lO.

‘ And I am sure they cost me at least double that,’ sighed the youth. ‘lf there is one thing more intolerable than another in this weary world, it’s poverty, and no mistakc.’ ‘Now, don’t grumble, Kit,’ said Madge, cheerily. * I don’t think its half bad to be poor. It must be very hard not to be selfish, when you can always have just what you want. I’ve often thought what a help it was not to be rich. ’

‘ But then, Madge, you know you’re not like other people. You always were an oddity, though of the right sort. But what a pace you are going at! arc you cold ?’ ‘ I should think I was ; the wind seems to blow right into my skull.’ ‘ And you’ve got a thick veil on, too. I say, Madge, what have you done to your head ?’

‘ I been to the hairdresser’s, of course. Wait till by-and by before you criticise the result. I call it first-rate.’

And so they chatted on till the old vicarage was gained, where Madge crept up to her room the back way, her head aching so, poor girl, from its unusual exposure to the cutting east wind, that she could only lay it on her pillow and cry. Presently the dinner-bell rang, and Madge started up, realising for the first time the ordeal she had to go through, and in her present aching state dreading it extremely. The pain was a sufficient excuse for a little delay. So, locking her door, she sent down a message that her head ached badly, and she had rather rest than eat, and then covering herself up on the bed, she fell into a sound slumber.

Twilight was creeping on when she awoke, much refreshed, though cold and hungry. She smoothed down the short ends of gold, that had got stivered out into a sort of halo during her sleep, and descended to the oakpanelled parlour. There, as she expected, was the whole family party sitting round the heai’th in the

gloaming. But, as she had not expected, another youth sat by Kit’s side; Tom Helston himself. He had joyfully set off for home as soon as Kit’s remittance had arrived.

He sprang up eagerly to greet her as she came in, but gave an involuntary start as the firelight played on the glossy cropped head.

At the same moment a chorus of voices exclaimed, ‘ Why, Madge, what have you done to yourself ?’

You look like a charity-school girl,” said pert Miss Nellie. “ Or an escaped convict,’ chimed in Master Bob.

‘Or an unfledged duckling !’ suggested Kit.

‘ What has become of your golden plumage, my bird ?’ asked the father kindly, making room for poor blushing Madge on the chimney settee, beside him. He noted that the merry blue eyes were glistening, and though puzzled himself, longed to shield his darling. Madge made a desperate effort to rally her spirits, and resist the inclination to rush off and hide her literally diminished head on her own pillow. ‘ I’ve turned it into more substantial gold, father,’ she said, looking up into the kind face by her side. • I know lam a fright, but if you would only none of you look at me these holidays, I daresay it will have grown to a decent length again by the next.’ * Sold it !’ exclaimed the chorus of voices again. * Who’d have thought of Madge being so mercenary !’ Poor Madge ! the ordeal was far worse than she had anticipated. ‘ I wanted the money for a very particular purpose. Father, mother, indeed, indeed it was very important,’ she urged, as she saw the surprised and rather pained expression on her father’s face, and the disapproving frown on her mother’s.

‘ I think, Madge, you might have consulted me on the matter first,’ said the latter.

* It’s altogether preposterous!’ said Kit, angrily, and he pushed back his chair and hastily left the room. ‘ I’m sorry I’ve vexed everyone so,’ said poor Madge; ‘ but still I think it was right. I’m afraid,’ she added, trying to rally, ‘ you only cared for my poor old wig, not for its wearer at all. I never guessed before how like Samson I was, nor that all my power would depart with my hah- !’ Tom Helston said nothing, but sat looking very blank for awhile, and soon to*k his departure. That same evening, as he sat with his sister over the cottage lire, he exclaimed, not a propos of anything that had been said before: ‘ It’s a miserable old concern of a world, Polly ! The people you think the highest and best, turn out to be mean, money-loving commonplace folks, after all!’ And the good-humoured face puckered itself into a most uncomfortable frown. Chapter 111. Madge’s Christmas did not promise to be a very bright one this year. And had she not been sustained by entering into the true spirit of that blessed festival, I think her brave heart would have given way to depression and discontent, under her troubles. In her generous impulsiveness, she had not considered, as she should have done, the duty she owed her parents before taking so decided a step. Perhaps the fact of working for herself so early had made the girl of eighteen more independent of her feelings than became her age. And though no further word of blame came from either father, or mother concerning her deed, she thought she could detect a shade of disappointment and distrust in their faces, which her troubled fancy, dwelt on and exaggerated. As for Tom, generally so full of life and fun at holiday times, and Madge’s devoted admirer, a change had come over the youth ; his sister declaring that he was sulky from morning till night, and always railing against the unpoetical, money-making spirit of the age. But worst of all was Kit—Kit, for whom all this annoyance had been encountered. Instead of thanking her when she put the £lO note into his hand, thinking that here at least would be a ray of pleasure, lie crumpled it up almost savagely, and said, with as much temper as such an easy-going lad was capable of: ‘ I’ve a mind to toss the dirty bit of paper into the fire, Madge. I call it uncommon hard lines on a fellow to be made out such a brute as all that!’ ‘ As all what, Kit ?’

* Why, to take the very hair off his sister’s head to pay his beggarly bills. I wish all those books had been at the bottom of the sea, and my best suit into the bargain !’

‘That would have been a pity, as the fishes wouldn’t have appreciated them,’ said Madge, trying to laugh. ‘Now don’t chaff, Madge, I am awfully put out, I can tell you. I wouldn’t have had it happen for twice the money. Why, I thought I might have had you up to Oxford this comem., if I pinched a bit. But I couldn’t have the face to lionise you now.’ ‘Oh ! Kit, don’t bother like all the rest!’ said poor Madge, driven to speak out at last. And therewith the tears overflowed. Kit couldn’t stand that, so he strode off with the hardly-earned money. The next day he walked into the town again to receive another ten-pound note from'the bookseller, on the receipt of the huge box of books sent from Oxford by the lad’s order. On his way home he met Tom Helston, and paid him the remainder of his debt. But Tom was ungracious too.

{ lf you were so flush of money, Kit, why couldn’t you have given your sister what she wanted ? I’d have waited gladly.’

It was on the tip of Kit’s tongue to tell the tale of the hair, only Madge had bound him over to keep the peace, fearing his friend’s refusal to take the money so earned. Thus Kit could but shrug his shoulders, and say, somewhat enigmatically ; “I tell you what it is, Tom, I don’t know about intellectual equality and all that tall talk; but as to the moral line, they beat us all to bits, and no mistake !’ And so the friends parted. To he continued.

The man who works with a “ will”—The Probate Judge. Beginning of a judge’s charge in Iowa—- “ Gentlemen of the jury, you must now quit eating pea-nnts and attend to the case.” Smith, the American poet-laurete, has written a defence of his trade. He says, “ The present aige, so noted for matter of fat, and so eagir in knoledge, is still grate in liric poets gifted indeed almost 'wholly in the direction ox the Liar.”