LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 355, 2 August 1875, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A SONG IN THE TWILIGHT. (Dublin University Magazine.) (Continued.) But Herman had not been brought up in a school which taught faith in women ; he did not believe that it was in his power to win from Lady Emily a promise to marry him, in defiance of opposition from her mother and her friends ; and the odious scheme in hislhead was to get her into his power, and so compel her to do by force what in all probability she would have done from love, had he been patient and devoted. Once his, under circumstances which had made marriage rather an honourable concession on his part, than a mesalliance on hers, all would go well, and with his wife’s fortune, of which no indignant guardian could deprive her, and his wife’s rank, he would be ablet o go through the world triumphantly. But there was one friend, or rather acquaintance, of Lady Emily’s—Sir Everard Wilmot by name—who read Hei man’s character thoroughly, and who grew more interested than he was aware in the girl, as during his frequent visits to Netherwood Castle, he watched her becoming more and more entangled in the toils of the schemer. Sir Everard was a man of whose admiration any woman might be proud; he was distinguished not only in his own county, but in the social and political world, his age was about five and-thirty, and he had lived, as we say, all his life, sown not a very large crop of wild oats quickly, entered parliament, and became the pride and hope of his party; he was popular among men, an idol with women, but, strange to say, he went on through his gay and prosperous life without feeling sufficiently in love with one out of the many lovely creatures to whom he had devoted himself during a season, to ask that one to be his wife. Lady Emily’s great beauty had attracted him, and he liked her utter ignorance of the world and its ways, she had never been regularly out in London, but Sir Everard could see that she would by-and-by develop into a most attractive woman, and be able to take her place in society with dignity and ease. But, of course, if she fell a victim to Herman, and married beneath her station, an obscure instead of a brilliant future was in store for her; and at the thought that such a fate was possible, Sir Everard would swear internally, and feel inclined to kick the fellow out of the castle, if only it were Sossible to do so without compromising Imily. He was not the sort of man to try and influence Lady Netherwood against her son’s tutor, but, whenever he came to the castle, and he came often, he kept unceasingly on the watch, and made a few efforts to withdraw Emily from the dreaded influence. I say advisedly that his efforts were few, for Sir Everard was by temperament somewhat indolent, very few games were, he thought, worth the candle, and as he had not made up his mind to win Emily for himself, why should he bore himself by interfering with her? Moreover, she did not seem to care about talking to him as other women did, so the gaj, and hitherto everfascinating, Sir Everard, was piqued, and at the same time puzzled, to know why he hated Herman so very much ; hatred he generally looked upon as too exciting and troublesome a sentiment as to be weakly indulged in, and when, as sometimes happened, he felt obliged as it were to account to himself for the unwonted feeling of irritation which the mere sight of the tutor aroused in him, he made up his mind that it must be because he believed the man was unfitted to take charge of the young Earl. The bright spring morning which made Lord Netherwood so restless over his books, Herman, for more than an hour, had been expecting Lady Emily to come as usual for her Italian lesson, and he was as usual anxious that the boy should not go before his sister appeared : Sir Everard was at that time staying at Netherwood, and Herman had no doubt as to his feelings towards the favourite and constant guest ; indeed, his frequent presence at the castle made the tutor resolve to bring his plans regarding Emily forthwith. It is only fair, however, to the man to say that he did love Lady Emily after his own selfish fashion ; he had artistic tastes which were satisfied by her grace and beauty, and he longed to feast his eyes unchecked upon the latter, and to make her acknowledge that she loved him, and then when he grew tired of her, as he knew he should do, to make her minister to his ambition and vanity. He had been driven that morning almost desperate, from gloating in fancy over the future which he believed was before him ; he longed hungrily for Emily’s presence; he drew the chair upon which she usually sat closer to his own; he thought how in turning the pages he would touch her hand, and watch the rich blood mount suddenly to her exquisite face ; but the morning was passing, and she did not come. ‘Will your sister not take her Italian lesson to-day ?’ he said at length to his impatient pupil. ‘ Lesson !’ repeated the boy, disdainfully ; ‘ much she cares for you or your lessons, when she has got Wilmot to spoon with in the conservatory. I say, let’s shut up shop; I want to be off!’ ‘ We have done nothing ’ Herman was beginning, when the boy broke in again with a magnificent disregard of delicacy—- ‘ Don’t you try to gammon me, old boy. I’m up to your little game, you want to keep me here until Em comes, just to blind the old lady ; but Wilmot has cut you out for this day, so you may as well let me mizzle. ’ ‘ You can do as you please,’ replied Herman, harshly —he could have cheerfully knocked the precocious youth on the head—and away the boy darted through the open window. Early the next morning Sir Everard went back to town, and Emily came in the forenoon, as usual, for her lesson ; but by that time Herman had himself well in hand, and treated her with such unusual reserve and ceremoniousness, that she could scarcely hide her surprise at the change in his demeanous ; he was altogether the painstaking and exacting tutor; there were none of the half-veiled glances of ardent admiration which, against her better judgment, Emily had been wont to meet shyly, while her heart beat faster as they fell from the handsome, steady eyes, and to no love sonnets were “lent the music of his voice” in that soft, southern tongue, when the lesson was over and they were alone. So passed several day;?, and Lady Emily felt vaguely unhappy, and was almost

frightened at the persistency with which her thoughts dwelt upon her brother’s tutor. And during those blank days, for a special reason, her brother had even more than usual liberty accorded to him. A company of strolling actors had come to the neighbouring county town, and every night, making the excuse to his mother that he was going to spend the evening with his young friends, the rector’s sons, the boy would mount his pony and ride over to the town, returning about twelve or one o’clock to find Herman ready to let him in, and no servant visible to pry upon his movements. This went on for more than a week, and he then confided to his tutor that he was going to give a supper to the actors and actresses, with whom he had become very intimate, on the occasion of the benefit of the ‘ ‘ leading lady and he told Herman that, as he meant to sleep at the hotel where the supper was to be held, he, the tutor, must manage to make it all right with the Countess. Herman, who saw in this scheme of the boy’s the opportunity he wanted, for leading Emily on to compromise herself with him, assured his pupil that all should be arranged as he wished, and accordingly, between three and four o’clock in the afternoon, when the youth had already been gone more than an an hour, he contrived to let Lady Emily know that he wished to speak to hrr in private ; the old Countess was, as usual, dozing over her novel, waiting for the hour to come for her afternoon drive, and Emily went to the library to hear what Herman had to say; when they met, she could detect just a shade more of his old manner. * I am not happy about your brother, Lady Emily,’ he said, in his most gentle and winning voice, * and I grieve to say that I fear any little influence I may have had over him for good is fast disappearing. I have not liked to troublejjLady Netherwood upon the subject, she is naturally so anxious about him; but I think that you, his sister, can do something.’ He then went on to tell her about the theatrical company with whom his pupil was so much taken up, and added, that he should at the outset have used coercion to prevent the intimacy, were it not that he feared the wilful boy would have altogether broken loose, and run away to become a strolling actor himself. Emily was shocked beyond measure, and, eagerly looking up at Herman, asked what she could do. He explained that it had come to his knowledge that the boy was going to give an entertainment to his theatrical friends that night at the principal inn in the town, and suggested that she should drive in, see her brother and remonstrate with him, and, if possible, induce him to give up the mad project of the supper, and return to the castle with her. .Herman added, that he would be at hand on her arrival to find the boy for her, but that it would be better for him if possible not to appear op.nly in the matter. “ As much for your sake as for his, Lady Emily,’ he said, lightly ; but the girl was, as he well knew, too much taken up about her brother to think of herself just then. And yet she inwardly shrank from the part assigned to her with so much apparent concern. Women less delicately nurtured, and who have been early accustomed to go about alone, can hardly understand how, to a girl brought up as are the Lady Emilies of this world, it would seem an ordeal of no common magnitude to go alone to an hotel, even for the purpose of rescuing a misguided brother from the common harpies among whom lie had fallen. But Emily felt that, at any cost, the knowledge of her darling’s misdeeds must be kept from Lady Netherwood, so, telling the Countess that she had some business to do in the town, she started about five o’clock in her pony carriage, with only a servant in attendance. She had still about half a mile to drive when she overtook Herman, who was lei surely walking in the same direction, and by his advice the carriage was left at an unfrequented inn just outside the town, and escorted by the tutor, in the sight of all the townspeople, to whom both she and Herman were well known, she went on foot to the principal hotel at which her idiotic young brother was to give his grand entertainment that night. On her arrival she was shown obtrusively into a private sitting-room, which had been ordered for her by Herman, and painfully conscious of having made a sensation, and of being stared at, she went up-stairs to to take possession of it, and to await the arrival of her brother. About an hour later the passengers by the afternoon express from London drove up to the hotel, and among them Sir Everard Wilmot, on his way to Netherwood ; as he waited in the coffee-room for a carriage to take him on, he saw Herman leave the hotel, cross the street, look up into one of the first-floor windows, and take off his hat with a jaunty air to some person of course unseen by Sir Everard. ‘ What the devil is he up to now ?’ thought Wilmot, in whom a very unusual feeling of curiosity was suddenly aroused. ‘Has Mr Herman, Lord Netherwood’s tutor, any friends staying here ?’ he asked the waiter, carelessly, who came to tell him that the carriage was ready. ‘ No, Sir'Everard,’ and the man discreetly tried to hide a grin with a cough ; ‘ but Lady Emily, his lordship’s sister, came here with Mr Herman about an hour ago, and her ladyship is in a private room up-stairs ; his lordship is going to have a great supper here to-night for the ladies and gents from the theatre. Sir Everard may have felt surprise at the communication, but he showed none, it was not his way. ‘Send the carriage back for an hour or two,’ was all he said ; ‘ I have some business in the town. ’ The order was given, but it may have struck the waiter that Sir Everard’s mode of doing business was somewhat strange, for he stayed on in the coffee room reading, or pretending to read, the Times, but, in reality, keeping a close watch upon those who entered or left the hotel. It was almost seven o’clock, and the dinner hour at the castle was eight. ‘ Surely,’ Sir Everard thought, ‘ something must soon happen. ’ Meanwhile, Herman returned to the inn at which the pony carriage had been left, and told the groom that his young mistress would not require his services again that evening, so the man re-harnessed his jonies and trotted back to the castle; those who saw him drive into the yard, naturally thought that his young mistress had come back from her drive, and the youth himself, seeing nothing odd in what had occurred, made no remark. Having thus, in the eyes of the servant, identified himself still more as being with Lady Emily in the town, Herman went to

look for his hopeful pupil in some of his well-known haunts; he found him, after some time time, in a billiard room, with his coat off, his handsome young face flushed with wine, getting well beaten by the star of the theatrical company, a man who swaggered both on the stage and in private life, and who looked what he was, a thorough scamp, Herman, who liked if possible, to be always seen in good company, wondered how his well-born pupil could find any pleasure in such society. He took the boy aside, and contrived to frighten him thoroughly by,telling him thathis mother knew everything, and had sent him. Herman, to bring him home ; the boy protested, and rebelled loudly, taxing the tutor with having betrayed him, but he finally promised, if he were allowed to attend the benefit at the theatre, to give up the idea of presiding at the supper, the supper itself he could not get out of. Then Hermen left him to finish his game, but it was half-past seven before Sir Everard saw him re-enter the hotel, and heard him ask ostentatiously at the bar, if Lady Emily Hare had ordered dinner ; no such order having been given by the young lady, Herman quickly made up for the omission, and hardly had he done so, and disappeared upstairs, than Sir Everard ordered the carriage to come round, and set off for the castle. Herman found Lady Emily in a state of great excitement, if not actual alarm; he told her coolly that if she wished to rescue her brother, she must, for the present, forget herself, and she did not dare to put into words the real cause of her alarm, namely, the strange construction which she knew would be put upon the fact that she had come to the hotel in company with Herman, and remained there alone with him for several hours ; but it was too late now to wish that she had acted less impulsively. The dinner ordered by Herman was served in due time, and Emily went through a pretence of eating ; but the false position into which she had so rashly placed herself became every moment more unbearable, and yet, for her brother’s sake, she tried to make up her mind to wait on for some time longer; Herman told her that he was expected at the hotel every moment, and she did not suspect he was deceiving her. To add to her vague feeling of alarm, she noticed a change in the tutor’s manner towards her; there was a degree less of respect in it which made his fascinations sink wholly into the background, and showed him in a light that was horrible to her excited fancy. As for the man himself, believing that his hour of triumph had come, and that not from any quarter was a check possible, he became reckless and audacious; and when Emily, at last thoroughly frightened, and crushed by the dread that somehow she was in his power, and had no means of escape, started up and insisted upon at once returning to the castle, he threw off the mask, and told her his real motive in having brought her there. To be continued.