LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 344, 20 July 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A LAST LOVE AT POENIC, ( Concluded.) De Malmy, sitting at his writing-desk, bowed his head slightly, in token that thus far he 4 followed’ Philip Rutterby, and that his friend might be assured of sympathetic attention. 4 Madame de Malmy, if you consulted her in the matter, would probably give her vote for me, and not for this young man. You, yourself, are an old friend of mine, and it would be pleasant to you to have a tie binding us very closely together; and again, you would not unnaturally feel more immediate confidence —I do not say more permanent—in giving your daughter to a very dear old friend, than to a young man of another generation almost a stranger whose thoughts and ways would never be like yours and mine, De Malmy, since ideas change every year, and you and I belong, as we know very well, to an old regime. . . Well, then, Ondelette, with whatever secret and unacknowledged misgivings, would probably assent. Well, well, then. , . , it is I who refuse. Let her marry thisyoung man, as the natural thing is. ’ 4 1 understand you imperfectly,’ said De Malmy, apologetically. 4 Let her marry this young man, as the natural thing) is. As to means, you know, they will have between them eight hundred a year, which will do for the present. Afterwards But the vital point is just this, De Malmy : she was born to make the happiness of some life that has a Future. Well, the Future is for this young man; the Past is for me. No, no, it is not all self-sacrifice, by any means, if I go away. You remember two-and-twenty years ago Cannes not forget the Past, Why speak of that ? You look at me, really, dear friend, with a very civil surprise, as if you would believe in some self-sacrifice after all, though you know I have not generally in life been a man called upon to make it. If this is almost my first opportunity, let me take it, then, if you will have it so. One must not regard oneself and one’s own life as the centre of everything. That is the thing we rich men have to guard against—the world revolves round us, we think. Even if my own happiness were in question—which perhaps it is not—wouldn’t Ondelette’s happiness be of more importance than mine? ’ He put his hand into De Malmy’s, and shook it silently, for good-night. He came down early in the morning, very pale and tired; he had seen from his window that Ondelette, with fresh morning gown, and hair in a twist of gold, was busy in the sunny garden with the grey-red chrysanthemums. 4 1 am going to say a word to Ondelette,’ he whispered to De Malmy, as he met him on the stairs.

‘ Say what you will. You are a flue, brave fellow, Eutterby. 'Whatever you say she will hear considerately. She always would do that, of course: but last night I told her specially what a very fine fellow you were, Eutterby. There no one, dear friend, whom she likes better than you. Speak to her.’ _ She heard his step coming towards her in the garden, and lifted her head,(flushed with stooping. Did she, too, come, as her favourite flowers, like love in winter ? ‘ Ondelette,’ said Philip Eutterby, ‘I have one quiet word to say to you before 1 go.’ ‘Yes,’ she answered gravely, laying her hand on his, struck with his face. ‘ The young man who is coming here today conies here to ask for you to bi his wife.’ She took her hand away suddenly; but Philip Eutterby took it back again, and did not flinch at all as he continued. ‘ The young man, Jules Gerard, is worthy of you, my child. A manly fellow, as you and your father know, better than I do. In due time you will be his wife —you will both be very happy. lam going to start this morning, and you will think of me sometimes among my works of art—my pictures - that talk to me. And you must not pity my loneliness, you know, after all,with that companionship. For pictures are the better voices of great men. But sometimes —sometimes you will think of me, my sweet child V

He kissed her very gravely. She looked up, with many feelings. ‘ Mr Eutterby,’ why are you going away?’ she asked, very earnestly. He did not answer for a minute. Then he said only, * I have heard and thought of sad things—sad things, Ondelette—which I need not tell you.’