LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 577, 25 April 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE HAUNTED LIGHTHOUSE. ( Concluded .) ‘Come away,’ said Mrs Revel. ‘This is no place for us. Mary, you will faint if you stay here much longer; your heart is stronger than your nerves.’ I glanced at the girl, but she was gazing out to sea, watching the pale light which travelled like a gigantic wheel across the water. Was that composure a sign of terror and illness too deep for outward expression ? Had the horror of this night affected her brain ? Why was Mrs Revel so anxious about her ? ‘Yes,’ Charley Denham said decidedly; ‘wewill go. Wilmott, Lesleigh, John, and I will come again to-morrow and find the bottom of all this ; but now we will go home.’ ‘No,’ said ‘Mary;’ ‘let us stay, I am sure ’ Again the shrieks came pealing up the stairs, and this time it was ‘ Mary ’ who ran forward to try to trace their origin. Before I could follow her Charley had already crossed the lantern-chamber in her wake, and Willmott seized my arm, bidding me stay with them, as Miss Furnel might need us both. ‘ Miss Furnel ?’ was she not already out of sight ? Was it not Lily Revel who stood leaning against the iron railing in agitation, which even the darkness could not hide ? What did Wilmott mean? my brain was getting confused. ‘ There’ll be no more sounds to-night, sir. That; cry is always the very last,’ said the painter. ‘ The ladies can go down without fear now.’ M rs Revel asked him how he knew, and he told us t hat the same programme had been gone through every night since the manifestations had commenced. ‘Come, Mary dear,’ Mrs Revel said ; ‘you shall rest a bit in the light keeper’s cottage ; perhaps that kind-faced wife of his will make us a cup of tea.’ This was Mary, then-this girl whom 1 had thought to be Lily. And if so, who was my ‘ Mary ’ ? Was she the true Lily, ovei whose name Charley’s accents had faltered? The remembrance of the words I had over heard as we started from the house came over mo, and I understood everything now. There had been a lovers’ quarrel, anu that was why Charley Denham had devoted himself to Miss Furnel; that was why Lily Revel had accepted my attentions, anti showered on me the smiles which he was hungering for. And I—What hope remained for me? Could I hope to rival my friend ? or rather, could I step in where he had failed ? Some such wild questionings drifted through my brain as I followed Mrs Revel and the real Mary down those stone step which I had ascended and descended s< many times during that eventful night. Bui;, before 1 reached the open air where the summer stars were shining from the pure

gray sky, a better mood had succeeded. The beautiful vision which had dazzled my senses was not for me ; nay, but as far above me and beyond my reach as were the twinkling spheres which smiled serenely down on my hot eyeballs. Thackeray says somewhere that every honest fellow should try to * think well of the woman he has once thought well of, and remember her with kindness and tenderness, as a man remembers a place where he has been very happy.’ This, then, being an honest fellow, I would try to do. But it would be hard work. ‘ Have you unearthed the demon 1 ’ shouted Wilmott’s hearty voice as we came in sight of two figures, one with head bent low, the other with face uplifted. ‘ Did you manage to spot him that last time ? * ‘Yes,’ answered Charley. ‘That is, if not your demon, at least a private one of my own, which has troubled me a thousand times more. We have unearthed him, and he is slain for ever and ever. ’ * All very fine,’ grumbled Wilmott; being myself an old married man, I take your words with a pinch of salt. But come back to common sense, my fine fellow, and just hold a council of war with Lesleigh and me, while Miss Furnel drinks the cup of tea which is brewing in the cottage there.’

The council of war had no results. We were assured that there was no further use in remaining, for nothing more would be heard that night. We examined the building, measured it without and within, sounded the thick walls pn search of any concealed apartment where a man might have been hidden; we once more searched balcony, lamp-room, store-room, and staircase, but no clue to the mystery rewarded us for our pains. The demon of the lighthouse was invulnerable as yet, whatever Charley might have done to the demon of jealousy and misunderstanding which had haunted him and his Lily. Telling the light keeper that we should bethere again the following night, we slowly passed bej ond the charmed circle where the revolving rays were stealing along their never ending march. * One breathes more freely out of sight of that place,’ said Miss Furnel presently. * I fear you all thought me a great coward, but faintness overcame me, and I found it no use to fight against it. You were very good not to ridicule me for my weakness.’ She was leaning on Wilmott’s arm, Mrs Revel walked beside her, and I occasionally stepped on before, acting pioneer through the roughnesses of the way. I scarcely heeded the conversation which went on concerning the adventure of the night ; I felt numb and dazed ; the blow I had suffered had fallen too heavily for my philosophy to support me, even with Thackeray’s aid. Behind us, with slow and loitering steps, came Charley Denham and the girl who had been * Mary ’ to me for a few short sweet hours, at whose feet all the young romance of my life had been poured ; and my heart was lingering with her yet, although I knew that hope was gone from me. 4 His loves were like most other loves, A little glow, a little shiver,’ a cynic said long ago. The * glow ’ for me had been a golden radiance ; the ‘ shiver ’ was a blast such as often tore over the hills of Innismc re itself. So I thought it to be then, at any rate. Now ? Ah, me J It is two long years since then; and time is far more merciful than it is cruel. Mrs Wilmott had gone to bed when we got back, wisely enough, for it was near morning ; and John Revel roused himself from the depths of a large arm-chair, where he had been comfortably snoozing the hours away. He was very incredulous, and a little contemptuous, concerning our haunted lighthouse, merely saying he would go h'maelf to-morrow, and give us his opinion. Charley laughed. How happy the fellow was ! The late breakfast was yet upon the table next morning, when a message came that Richard Rourke wanted to speak to Mr Denham. ‘ Who is Richard Rourke ?’ asked Mrs Revel. ‘ Don’t know, I’m sure. 0, I say, it is our friend the painter !' He was passing the window on his way to the little room which Charley called ‘his office,’ where he was accustomed to see tenants and transact his magisterial business. ‘ Call him in here, and let us all know what he has come to say,’ suggested Wilmott. No sooner said than done. The man dotted his cap as he came in, looking rather sheepish and frightened. ‘ I’ve come, sir, to tell yez about that noise in the lighthouse. I was sorry yer hannar came to be troubled with it. I didn’t mean no harm, but ’twas myself just that did it.’ We overwhelmed him with questionings, and the fellow told us he was something of a ventriloquist; that he had been partly ‘rained to the ‘profession’ by a ‘Dublin gentleman,’ but master and pupil fell out on the subject of money; and so Richard Rourke had taken to painting instead. ‘ I frightened them up there just for tricks like, he said ; ‘ and when the quality came so far to hear it, I thought it would be more politer to satisfy them; but I come now to tell yez all about it, and to axe the leddy’s pardon if I frighted her too much. ’ He turned to Miss Furnel with an awkward bow. ‘ I hope you w on’t tell on me, sir, he continued ; at least till I’m safe out of the island ; they’d fair murder me if they thought I’d imposed on them this way. They’re certain sure ’tis the devil himself that’s in it; and the priest is coming the night with ‘ the holy water.’ There was a twinkle in the man’s eye as he spoke which enlisted us all in his favour, Charley gave him his promise of secrecy, and half a sovereign into the bargain ; and John Revel congratulated himself dryly that he had remained snugly in his arm-chair. That is two years ago; and this very morning Charley wrote me a pressing invitation to visit Inuismore again. ‘My wife bids me join her entreaties to my own,’ he says ; ‘ 1 assure you that, of all my friends, you hold first rank in her regard.’ Dear old Charley ! Shall Igo ? Well, no, I think not.