LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 301, 31 May 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TOLU ON CHRISTMAS EVE. Chapter 111. “ LORD, KEEP MY MEMORY GREEN ! ” ( Continued .) Well, from that hour, no trace of Daisy had been found. The family and the servants were searching about all night, Charles in a distracted state, but they did not find her. They never had found her. What her fate was, could not be conjectured with any certainty, some thought she had ran away ; others cast dim fears towards the lake. Aurelius Silver never enlightened them, nor told a hint of the grave secret the lake might have disclosed. And when all search was abandoned as hopeless, they had quitted the villa which somehow seemed full of discomfort, for the distant winter mansion. And the weeks had gone on, and this was Christmas Eve. Little more had been said about the union of the two cousins; even Mr Silver no longer urged it. In the dining-room of this fine old house sat Violet Silver, making wreaths of holly and ivy. The walls were pannelled with oak, richly brown and lustrous, tossing to and fro in their shining depths the scarlet leapings and writhings of the great fire burning on the hearth, lordly logs like prostrate pillars of carbuncle, glowing ruddily and filling the room with a rosy illumination. The ceiling was painted with a goi geouslyhued picture of Jove banqueting, squired by a golden-haired Ganymede, while his eagles plumed their pinions at his feet, A mighty buffet of Spanish oak, a mass of rare carving, and antique enough in appearance to have been taken from the ‘ ‘ rich, dim city” which Merlin waved into existence with his wand, bore an array of silver plate, rich, rare, and old, catching the firelight with fine effect on fretted wreath and grinning griffin head, the crest of the family. For the rest, a great dining table and vast chairs of oak and ruby velvet, a grim portrait or two on the wall, ancient Silvers, as might be seen by the handsome features ; and Violet in a blue cashmere dress. Mourning had not been put on for Daisy. Arnold Silver would not hear of it ; he refused to believe that she was dead.

Violet sighed as she worked. The girl’s face was changed in some subtle way since that night we saw her by the fountain. A shade more pensive, a thought less radiant, the eyes deeper in expression, the lips parting less readily in laughter and speech; such was the change. The same change, but intensfied a hundredfold, was repeated in Charlie Silver’s countenance. He sat near her : watching in silence her long, rosy fingers as they twined the emerald sprays into a long clustering wreath, flecked here and there with the fire of scarlet berries, dug from beneath the white drifts in the woods. His face was indescribably changed. The features were sharper, the glance of the eye firmer, the lines of the mouth and chin more resolute and decided. The face, which had been like Violet’s, had developed more into a resemblance to Aurelius Silver. A gracious likeness, though ; retaining what was finest and noblest in the older face, yet lacking the cold and commanding expression which gleamed icily in its large and stern eyes. There were lines in Charlie’s forehead now Four months previously he had hardly looked his age ; now he looked ten years older. * Charlie, how idle you are !’ said Violet, breaking a long pause. * Hand me some sprays of holly, please. There, how do you like my wreath ?’ * Very well,’ said Charlie, listlessly obeying the mandate. ‘ What a pretty Idyll of Christmas Eve you make, Violet,” he added, looking at her. ‘ You have a gracious beauty about you, such as the spirit of the day should have. ’ ‘ Thanks! I like compliments,’ said Violet,! very sincerely. ‘ You are as goodlooking as I am, Charlie; and this wreath is destined to frame our great-grandmother yonder. How droll she looks in that powdered wig and brocaded dress, simpering at her woolly flock ! What flourishing ideas of Arcadia those dear old people must have had !

The wreath was finished. Charles Silver called for some steps, and mounted to festoon the wreath round the massive old frame of the portrait, which hung over the carved mantelpiece. Violet stood by to watch him. There was an unusual sadness in both of them to-day, for they were about to separate She resumed her seat, and began another wreath.

‘ I always detest the perfume of this burning wood,’ she exclaimed impatiently, as Ch arles came back to his chair. ‘Do you know, if Uncle Aurelius hadn’t developed an extraordinary enthusiasm for Christmas decorations, I should not have had the heart to undertake them this year. ’ ‘I can imagine that,’ said Charles, quietly. ‘Your going away is the worst of all, Charlie. ’ * It is very pleasant to know that I shall have some one to think kindly and lovingly of me when lam away,’ he observed. ‘ 1 can quite understand that quaint old prayer, ‘ Lord, keep my memory green !’ * Charlie !’ said Violet, with startled eyes, “ you speak as if you never meant to return to us ! Surely you are not going from us with that idea in your mind ? Think of your father. ’

‘ Think of you all, you mean, Violet,’ he answered, sadly. “ I cannot control fate, child. An impression seems to lie on my mind that I may never return.” ‘ Then why, oh ! why do you go ?’ ‘ I must go, Violet: I cannot stay here. Every hour lam reminded of her. There’s nothing for me but change. Heaven above knows how I loved her, and what her strange loss has been to me ! ’ Violet’s hot tears fell on the wreath. But she dashed them away with her hand, and looked at him hopefully. ‘ Time,’ she said, ‘ will bring its cure. You are so very young, Charlie ! ’ ‘ Not too young ‘ to keep my memory green ’ ’ he said, repeating his former words softly. ‘ln time, in time, I may come back again, dear. You will be a happy wife then, with children about your knees.’ He rose as he spoke and left the room, wishing her good-bye until dinner-time. She worked on soberly until her wreaths were finished, and then went up to her chamber, carrying some sprays of holly with her that her maid was to dispose of on her white dinner dresses.

But Violet was very restless. She knew why. A task, which she had undertaken, was to be performed that evening ; and she knew not whether it would turn out for good or for ill.

‘I had thought to have Daisy with me this Christmas,’she sighed softly to herself. ‘ Oh, what has become of her ? Is she in death, or in life ? ’ Her thoughts were becoming painful. Quitting her chamber, she went downstairs again. The great square hall had its Christmas draperies of green wreaths and hollyberries ; and was flooded with the crimson firelight from its wide hearth. Violet drew back into the shade to admire the effect of the decorations, which had been done by the servants.

Suddenly the house was startled by a shriek, and a cry, and a fall. Servants and others rushed into the hall, whence it came, and there found Violet. She lay on the floor, like an image of snow, perfectly unconscious, a look of intensest horror frozen on her lovely face, ‘ I never knew her to faint before,’ said Arnold Silver, quaking in every limb, as Aurelius lifted her from ground, and carried her into the dining-room. *My darling ! what can have happened ?’ ‘ Nothing,’ said Aurelius, quietly. * Because she never has fainted, there is no reason that she should not do so. Violet has not seemed herself of late. ’

He laid her very tenderly and gently on a couch, touching her cheek caressingly with his fingers as he did so. ‘ She is reviving, ”he said quietly. ‘Stand back, Arnold. Give her air. ’ ‘ Oh ! father, I don’t know what it was,’ wailed Violet. ‘ I —l think I must have fallen into a dream. If you will take me up to my room, I’ll lie down till dinner time.’ Arnold Silver took her, and charged her maid not to leave the chamber. Chapter IV.— Violet’s Story. ‘ And so, it being Christmas Eve,’ said Violet, * and just our own four selves here, I will tell you a story’ It was after dinner. The dessert was on the table : wine flushing redly, a glow of rare exotics in a great silver basket, fruit blushing in dainty Sevres dishes. Saucy pages of the same priceless ware held aloft baskets of grapes, glistening like amethysts and emeralds in the wax lights. The Silvers had drawn from the table and were gathered round the fire, which burned royally, as a Christmas fire should. In its full glow sat Violet at her father’s feet, looking, in her white robes with their dainty green and red sprays, like a lovely Idyll of the season, as Charles had phrased it. She was quite herself again, had apparently forgotten the fainting fit and its cause; and the holly-berries, gleaming in the glossy coronal of her golden hair, were not more vividly crimson than her cheeks and lips. Her eyes were starry, dilated, wonderful in their rapid changes of expression, as she glanced from one to the other of the group. She looked at Aurelius Silver, as he sat on the opposite side of the hearth, his noble face and head thrown finely out by the ruby velvet back of the deep chair in which he sat, and she smiled as she spoke. She held in her hand a fan of white feathers, the handle of rubies and dead gold, and when she drooped her head, its shade fell across her face. ‘A story !’ said her father, smiling. ‘And why not, my dear ? It is a time-honored custom at Christmas-tide. Do you remember Aurelius, how our poor father and mother used to tell us youngsters Christmas tales, in this very room ?’ ‘ I remember,’ said Aurelius Silver, quietly.

* And how we had Mere Margaton’s tales of the Loup-Garou and Feu-follet, in the nursery !’ continued Arnold, and how frightened 1 used to be ? You were not. You never feared anything during the whole course of your existence, I do believe, Aurelius. ’ Aurelius Silver started very slightly, and looked at his brother ; but his answer was spoken in his usual composed tones, * Let us hear Violet’s story, by all means. It is not likely to be very fearful, is it. Pussy ?’ ‘ No,’ cried Violet, eagerly, *itis a story about people like ourselves. There could be nothing very fearful about us, for instance ; could there. Uncle Aurelius ?’ ‘No,’ said Aurelius, smiling strangely, as he looked into the fire. *We are anciently respectable, commonplace members of the community. Far above comment. Infinitely beyond temptation. ’ ‘Go on, Violet,’ said Charles, breaking the silence and glancing at his father, whose voice had a curious ring in it. Indeed, of late, a certain strangeness had crept into the life and manners of Aurelius Silver, which those about him had not failed to notice and wonder at. Until this winter, Arnold Silver had been alone in the almost princely benevolence which had made the name of Silver revered and blest amid the poor : but lately the elder brother had outdone him in generosity. If possible he was quieter, more reticent than ever, though at times a strange disturbance seemed to reign in his soul, and he would retire from the society of the family, remaining secluded for many hours at a stretch in his library. Who shall say what phantom of remorse sat by his board, visible but to himself? Who shall tell the anguish of such a soul as his, reflecting on the moment of temptation which had been sufficient to hurl from its high place of arrogant security that cold and jealous integrity, that stern rectitude and honor, which he had erected into a deity and bowed the knee to idolatrously ? Its crest had towered to the skies, its feet of clay were on the shifting sands. There be no such mighty Iconoclast for your idol of self-security, as temptation; a truth Aurelius Silver had waded through a sea of fire to learn and understand. How often the memory of that starlit and peaceful night, when he had turned his back upon the lake, and on one drowning there, had flashed upon his remorseful soul! The secret of that temptation lay buried within his own breast; buried, he hoped for ever. This Upas-tree memory had borne some good fruit. When he found Charles firm _as a rock in his determingtion to remain faithful to the memory of Daisy Leighton, he had not urged him to break that determination, or threatened, or disowned him, as moat assuredly he would have once done. He had not even opposed his son projected dedeparture, which was to take place at the New Year, but quietly watched the preparations for it. * Wait until the year is out,’ he said to Charles, emphatically and firmly. *lf you retain the same mind then, I will say no more. But until then, stay where you are. You are very young Charles, and youth is the changeful April time of a man’s life. Wait.’ (2b ho continued .)