LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 398, 21 September 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

•THE PEARL, BEYOND ITS CASE. {FromLondon Society.) (Continued.) i| The morrow arrives, and the weather ik all that heart can desire. Not a cloud- is tj> be seen on the sky, and there is a refreshing little breeze, which prevents any feeling of excessive heat. Maud is in such high spirits that I forget for awhile my little trouble about the bonnet, and I don't know which of us is the merrier, as we sit in the parlour, making up endless blue ribbon bows for the decoration of our persons. After luncheon, wo go upstairs and commence the tremendous operation of dressing. Here my spirits are again a little damped by the vicinity of the looking-glass ; however, I say nothing, but rasign myself to my fate. On descending the stairs, we meet our father in the hall. He looks at Maud. ' Well! my little beauty,' he exclaims, • and how many hearts do you intend breaking with that bewitching bonnet of yours ? I don't think we shall lind many to equal our Maud there to-day ;■ ah, Helen ?' 'No, indeed,' I answer warmly. ' And what shall we say about you, my pet?' he says, taking both my hands, and looking at me earnestly. ' Nothing very complimentary,' I answer shortly; 'so it had better be unsaid,'andj give a little sigh, My father notices the words, and the sigh that follows them, and a cloud passes over his brow. ' My Helen, he says, 'has her own dear mother's face, which, in all the world, is the one for me.' ' Thank you, dear father, I answer ; ' you could have thought of no compliment that could make me better satisfied with my own looks.' This conversation makes us both a little grave during the first part of the drive; but Maud's laughter and high spirits force us to be cheerful in spite of ourselves, and I am quite soriy when our journey comes to an end, and we find ourselves drawn up in front of the entrance to Thornington House, as the Wilmots' place is called. After a few minutes' conversation with our hostess, Ave are ushered into the croquet garden, where several games are already being played. Maud is at once secured to make up a set; but, as 1 detest croquet above all other games, I take my dad's arm, and he and 1 saunter together through the grounds, and reaching the lake, we unfasten one of the boats, aud feel delightfully happy rowing about by ourselves. However, our solitude is not of long duration, for, as I rest lazily on my oars and look about me, I hear, steadily advancing from around the nearest corner, another boat. It soon comes into view, aud contains one young man, who is rowing, and another reclining at full length, smoking apipe, and looking the very picture of laziness. In another minute they are alongside of us, and 1 recognise, in the one that is rowing, Arthur Wilmot, the eldest son of the house; the other is a stranger, probably one of his London friends. The former is the first to speak. ' Well done, Miss Derrick,' he exclaims : 1 had no idea you were such a proficient in the art of rowing ; but I felt sure that you were much too sensible to indulge in anything so idiotic as croquet. Eyre and I could not stand it any longer. By the bye, allow me to introduce my friend Eyre.' (Here the young man in a reclining position raises himself, and lifts his hat.) ' So we came out here to enjoy a quiet weed, not thinking wc should also find so delightful a companion,' with,».series of, bows. I do not pay sny attention to what he is saying.;, I am..too accustomed to Arthur Wilmot's meaningless; qompliments. by this

time ; but I turn my head .ind look at his lazy friend. A tall, muscular-looking man, with brown hair, and a very sunburnt complexion, brown eyes, which look truthful ami and a moustache of a lighter shade than his hair. ' By uo means handsome,' I think to myself, ' and yet a nice face, a very nice face.' Soon we enter into conversation, during which I learn that Mr Eyre is a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and has come to stay at the Wilmots' for some time ; in fact, he is a kind of connection of theirs by marriage. The time passes most delightfully, and we are all sorry when the gong summons us indoors, where a gorgeous repast is spread for our delectation. When this is over, we—that is to say, the female part of the company —adjourn upstairs to take off our bonnets (to my secret delight, and Maud's chagrin), and to prepare for the great event of the evening, dancing ; but when I once more approach my enemy, the looking-glass, I find that the rowing, and the heat, and the conversation have given me quite a colour, and the blue bonnet is anything but unbecoming. This last discovery gratifies me intensely. ' I nope he saw it like that,' I think to myself, and then I rush to Maud. ' What have you been doing with yourself all the afternoon, Helen ?' she asks. ' Why, child, you have got quite a colour !' 'Oh ! I have had some one so nice introduced to me, Maud,' I exclaim. • You must know him ; I am sure you and he will, get on admirably together.' I consider this last speech an act of unselfishness on my own part, as introducing a man to my sister generally means relinquishing all share of him myself. However, I make the sacrifice, though not without an inward sigh. ' His name is Eyre,' I add ; 'he is a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and is staying with the Wilmots.' ' I do know him,' says Maud quietly ; ' he was introduced to me this afternoon.' ' And you like him ?' I ask. ' Very much.' ' And did he not stay with you ?' ' Only a little time. Edith Wilmot tells me is very lazy, and never takes the trouble to talk to any one.' 'Oh ! doesn't he ?' I answer triumphantly; ' why, he has been talking to ine nearly the whole afternoon.' 'Doubtless,' says Maud; 'but, you see, I cannot pretend to your superior attractions. It-is the first piece of scarcasm that Maud has ever addressed to me earnestly in her life, and it brings the tears to my eyes. 'Maud,' I exclaim, ' how cruel of you ! when you know'—and my voice falters. ' Oil ! forgive me, Helen,' she says. ' You know 1 never meant it—that I forgot what I was saying. You-believe me, Helen?' she adds imploringly. 'I believe you, Maud,' I answer, and we go down together into the dancing room. There we find all the company assembled, and the first waltz just about to begin. We are presented with programmes, Maud's commencing to fill at once, I put mine into my pocket, not thinking it will be much required. In another minute Maud is pirouetting all over the room, and I seat myself on one of the chairs, and resign myself to my inevitable fate, namely, that of becoming a wall-flower. Nevertheless, I am not very happy, although the situation is no new experience to me ; for I love dancing, and my feet tap the floor impatiently, and I feel an irresistible longing to get up and dance by myself. However, a sense of propriety restrains me, and soon I see my dad's cheerful face approaching me. ' Well, ladybird, not dancing ! How is this ?' ' No one has asked me, papa,' I say, turning it oil' with a laugh. 'No one asked you ? Dear me ! how's that ? Here, Wilmot, can you find a partner for my little ' But before he can say another word I have rushed forward and seized him by the arm. ' Pray don't papa !' I say imploringly. ' I would lather sit out, indeed I would ;' and I return to my seat, scarlet with shame and annoyance. Before my'indignation has had time to subside I hear a grave voice saying : ' Miss Derrick, I hope that you have kept a valse for me ?' ' Kept a valse for you ?' I think to myself, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. ' I wonder whether you would have asked me, did you know that I have not a single name down on my programme.' To be continued.