LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 425, 22 October 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A WELCOME WINDFALL. (From Chambers’ Journal.') Continued. Tired, and miserably anxious as he was, Mr Vivian decided that they must go, if only for a short time. So they went. _What a scene of splendour and magnificence it was, that brilliant throng, with their gorgeous dresses, glittering diamonds, and their smiling animated faces ! All seemed happiness and radiance. Every one was cordial, every one was kind. Alice was surrounded at once; and during the short time they remained, the Vivians only saw each other at a distance. Alice’s eyes were constantly looking towards her husband, while his sought hers as constantly. At last, heart-sick and weary, they departed, thankful to find themselves rolling rapidly homewards in their own luxurious carriage. The next day Mrs Atwood came to spend the day with her sister, and having announced her wish to remain until dinner-time, Alice found herself alone with her, after Mr Vivian had set off for the City. No sooner had the door

closed upon his retreating figure, than Mrs Atwood remarked: ‘ You are indeed a lucky girl, Alice. Charley to grow daily more devoted, and what a house you have!’ ‘ Charley is everything to me, ’ replied Mrs Vivian in a low tone, at the same moment bending over her embroidery, to hide the quick flush that mounted over her fair face at her sister’s words.

‘ Fred says he is a perfect millionaire,’ pursued Mrs Atwood. ‘ Does he ? ’ responded Alice faintly. ‘ Suppose we change the subject, Clara ? ’ * You are a curious being, Alice,’ exclaimed Mrs Atwood. ‘ I don’t think you know when you are well off; but I won’t enlarge upon your good fortune, since you don’t like it. We want you and Charley to spend August with us in Scotland. Fred has secured the shooting he wrote about, and he would rather have Charley with him than any one else. Do you think you can promise to come ? ’

‘ I must ask Charley,’ answered Alice. ‘lt is very kind of you, Clara, and you know how much we should both enjoy it.’ ‘ Then, I shall consider it settled,’ said Mrs Atwood. ‘ I am sure you need a change, Alice. 1 heard you were looking shockingly pale last night, and even Charley does not look as if such a gay life suited him. How nice he is ! ’ she added, reflectively. ‘I am really very fond of him myself.’ Then she indulged in many self-gratulatory remarks on having been the promoter of Alice’s good fortune, whilst the latter quietly acquiesced, hearing the unmeant shafts, which Mrs Atwood’s innocent allusions to her husband’s prosperity inflicted, as she best could. Two nights afterwards, the Vivians’ house was the scene of a splendid entertainment — rich and noble guests thronged the brilliantly lit drawing-rooms, and amongst them their fair hostess moved with a glow on her cheek of almost unearthly radiance. Never had she looked more lovely, but never had her heart been so bitterly wrung as on that last gay evening in the house in which her brief reign was now over ; for, before the first guest had arrived, Mr Vivian had heard fatal tidings—and he and his wife both knew that the worst had come. It did not look like it. Those magnificent apartments, the signs of wealth in every direction, surely did not mean ruin; but the words rang in Alice’s ears. As each arrival was announced, the pictured their faces on the morrow when they should hear of the Vivians’ ruin. * Ruin ’ was written on the walls, * ruin ’ rang out above the voices of the multitude, ‘ ruin ’ seemed everywhere to poor Alice. Only one mortal eye guessed her secret—one honest heart felt for her, and that was good John Upton, her father’s friend, who had known her from her childhood, and loved her as though she had been his own daughter. John Upton had always doubted; and he resolved to watch over the fate of one whose interests he had always tried to guard. With a sad foreboding, he regarded Alice and her husband alternately. But ominous as his fears were, the reality far surpassed his worst suspicions. Alice had always been fond of Mr Upton, but now she avoided his kind and penetrating glance. She had invited him frequently to her house, and included him on this occasion more because she did not wish to omit him, than from any idea that he would really come. She was surprised to see him ; and if he had known how keenly his fatherly manner towards her touched the heart of the unhappy girl, he perhaps would have been less gushing in his greeting. But at last the entertainment ended :

The lights were fled, the garlands dead, And all the guests departed. . Mr Vivian and his wife were alone now; and in her ball-dress—such a mockery it seemed—she sat by him until another June morning shone brightly forth, corroborating the fatal particulars of the previous evening’s information. They were ruined, utterly and completely ! It was only a nine days’ wonder, and then it was forgotten, except by those who had lost money by it, and who in consequence heaped the strongest censure upon Charles Vivian. Fortune makes friends—ruin loses them; and when it became known that the Vivians were absolutely penniless, it was marvellous to note the change that came over their summer and self-constituted friends. It is useless to describe the ordeals through which the unfortunate Vivians had to go, and only painful to detail their departure from their luxurious home, which they quitted, of course, immediately. Mr and Mrs Atwood did come to see them, but neither assistance nor even temporary shelter was offered ; and during their visit, the unhappy Alice had to endure the most painful part of her trial, that of hearing her husband’s conduct called in question, and terms applied to him in her presence to which no wife should be called upon to listen.

Late one afternoon Mr Vivian and his wife set out upon a dreary quest for lodgings—very humble ones they would have to be, for their money was all lost. Only one little pittance could be relied on, and that was the despised one hundred and fifty pounds a year, which the wisdom and forethought of John Upton had secured beyond the probability of loss for the daughter of his old friend, Miles Annesley. To the north of London they went, and, after a fatiguing walk, for which Alice especially was little able, they decided upon an abode, whose principal recommendation consisted in its cheapness and cleanliness, in addition to the pleasant face of the landlady. The latter was evidently at a loss to imagine how two people of such apparent position could condescend to so humble a dwelling. However, after giving Mr Upton as their reference, they secured the rooms, and departed, promising to take possession on the following day. Their few remaining things were easily packed up; all their superfluities were left behind, to be sold ; and, early the next morning, a cab conveyed them from the scene of their prosperity t© the little lodging which, for a time at least ; they would have to regard as their home. But if fortune had frowned on them, and friends had failed, the love which in brighter days had been precious, in no way diminished now ; and the darker their prospects became, the more they seemed to become to each other. {To be continued.')