LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 358, 5 August 1875, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE ATHELSTONS OF MORTE d' ATHELSTON. (From the Dublin University Magazine.) (Continued.) At length, after five childless years, there was once more rejoicing in the house of Athelston, for a daughter was born to live ; but all too soon the bells of joy changed their tone for the wail of woe, and the poor foreign mother, smiling faintly on the frail, tiny infant, so longed and prayed for, paid the penalty of its birth with her own life ; and after ten years of outward magnificence, but inward yearning for the love and friendship she had never found, once again the great doors of the tomb were opened, and she was laid beside her babies to mingle her foreign dust with the untainted clay of the Athelatons. That this poor Lady Athelston had been so lone and friendless was really not altogether her husband's fault. A silent, selfcontained, undemonstrative man, he did love his wife with all the depth of a strong nature. He was not to blame in that he did not understand the vehement, passionate temperament of the Eastern woman, which yearned for the outward demonstrations of affection, and could not bring herself to the calm, English fashion of taking it all for granted; and when this last blow came, he mourned with a grief that, for all it was silent, was nearly akin to despair. For long the little feeble infant for whom she had died, was a sight unendurable to the bereaved husband ; till at length one day he came unexpectedly on the child, now old enough to crow and laugh when he spoke to her, and the whole tide of his nature turned; from henceforth she became the idol of his heart, and her baby lispings the sweetest music that could fall upon his ear. As time went on she became his almost inseparable companion. No advantages or pleasures that money could give had been denied this "sole daughter of his house and heart." And no whim or caprice of hers had been too exacting for the over-indulgent father to gratify. And now after having travelled through Europe, and been for two succeeding seasons the reigning belle of London, the Lady Rowena had consented to accompany her father, and ruralized for the summer at Morte dAthelston. Once more the longdeserted house was opened, though just at present it contained only a small family party. Not long before leaving London, the Earl had encountered, unexpectedly, an old and once dearly loved friend, a hale, heartylooking clergyman, with his fair-haired daughter leaning on his arm ; he would have passed Lord Athelston, nor even recognized in the bent and broken man before him, his quondam schoolfellow and college friend. • Norman Oharnleigh, have you forgotten me ? or have I, in my f oolish pride, so utterly estranged my early friend that he can never forgive me ?' For a moment the clergyman looked bewildered. Then grasping j the Earl's outstretched hand, "Dear old friend,' he said, and the two stood looking at each other, hand locked in hand, both too much overcome to speak. These men, who for five-and-twenty years had never met, were nevertheless brothers. It was for this Mr Oharnleigh, that Lady Eleanor had so long ago left home and kindred; and now when Lord Athelston thus unexpectedly met his old friend, with his daughter on his arm, his only sister's child, tears choked his voice as he tried to speak, and all bitter memories were forgotten. Mr Oharnleigh, to whom the loaves and fishes of the Ohurch had not been awarded with over abundant liberality, was in London with his daughter, who, for the first time in her life, had left her distant Yorkshire home away amongst the dreary wolds, and endless commons, to visit the metro{)olis; and see the last of her eldest brother, a ieutenant in the Navy, about to sail for some far-off land ; and the mournful part of the visit being now over, the young lady was putting her father through a course of sightseeing that was no doubt enjoyable to her!self, whatever it may have been to her respected parent. Lord Athelston was charmed with this pretty, unsophisticated country girl, and would not hear of her returning with her father to her nothern home; so, after a written consultation with mamma in the distant parsonage, it was decided that Sybil was to remain with her uncle and cousin, and accompany them to Morte d'Althelston, and highly pleased was the old Earl with this bright young friend he had thus so opportunely secured for his companionless daughter. Chapter 11. The great heat of the early September day was nearly over now, and a soft breeze had sprung up from the western sea, the shadows of the tall trees were lengthening upon the well-trimmed lawn, and all was fair and beautiful to look upon ; but the fairest sight in all that fair scene, was the Lady Rowena Athelston, as she stood in the deep oriel window gazing listlessly on the picturesque landscape which lay below. The soft lace curtains which fell round her in graceful drapery, seemed a fitting frame for her pure Saxon beauty ; her yellow hair was drawn back from her low white forehead, and plaited in heavy braids at the back of her head, the pale monotony of its hue being relieved by a broad band of mauve velvet; her dress, too, was of the richest silk, for her ladyship liked well to deck herself in vivid, almost startling colours, and I rich heavy materials, which, though generally bo unsuited to so young a girl, seemed in her case to harmonize well with her queenlike bearing, and stately grace of manner. Lady Rowena was scarcely of the middle height, perfectly formed, rounded and full in her figure, by no means the slim and shadowy style common amongst young ladies. Her white hands lay idly before her, soft white incapable looking hands, hands made apparently for no possible use from whose nerveless graap everything slipt and slid, albeit beautiful to look upon ; her face was soft and almost infantine in its rounded beauty ; and her eyes large, shapely, almost colourless, had at times a strange weird look as of some dangerous animal, as they seemed to dilate and darken into black. Truth to say, they were curious eyes, and their expression sometimes hardly a pleasant one. Just now they seemed to glitter like cold steel, and her white brows were knit, while her nerveless pinl. fingers worked restlessly. There seemed little in the beautiful scene which lay before her to cause that strange expression on her ladyship's brow ; Nevertheless, she evidently saw something which pleased her little, as she

watched a small white gate, at the end of the straight gravelled path slowly opened, and a girl sauntered leisurely through, followed by a tall man in a shooting costume of rather a fanciful description; he carried a gun in one hand, and a game bag hung on his shoulder, but judging by its appearance his sport had not been very good. ( To be continued.)