LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 588, 8 May 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LORD MERVYN; OR, NOT IN THE PEERAGE. Chapter ll.—Trove Treasure. {Continued.) What could it all mean ? Had they mistaken me for somebody else ? I took up a newspaper that was lying on the table by the window. It was the Mosqnehat Berald of the previous evening. I glanced over it, and found the answer to the enigma in the LIST OF PASSENGERS BY S.S. SULTAN. Arthur, Captain J. W.—Scotland Baker, Mrs Mary—London Chatrain, M. Jules—Paris Diedermann, Baron—Frankfort Mervyn, Lord—England &c, &c. So they were really under the impression that I was a peer of the United Kingdom. Excellent! By a rdieulous blunder on the part of tlie printer, I had received my title and its concomitant advantages. What would the smart man in black say when he heard that Lord Mervyn was, after all, only plain Mr Mervyn —lord of theatrical celebrity ?—for I may here observe that, for certain pressing reasons of a pecuniary nature, the urgency of which had become sufficiently obvious on the eve of my departure from England, I had thought fit for the present to retain my histrionic nom de guerre. It was requisite, however, that the erroneous impression as to my exalted rank should be immediately removed, for, otherwise, it was impossible to say to what perfection in the art of self-development I might not find my hotel bill progressing in the course of my sojourn at the Grand Seraglio. As it was, I entertained but very little doubt that the expenses attendant on my princely disembarkation would show in the ' note ' a close approximation to the cost of the whole passage from London. I started, therefore, for the ' Bureau ' with a view to clearly explaining matters, when, as I was descending the grand staircase, the head waiter, meeting me, observed in a loud voice, ' Your Lordship's breakfast will be served in five minutes.' Exactly at the same moment a young lady dressed in black passed by. I could scarcely believe my vision. It was—Clara Vescy ! I did not pay my intended visit to the Bureau. The apparition, as if by magic, of the very being whose memory and image had been for a whole month past stamped upon my mind, so startled my nerves that I thought no more for the time of my errand or its object. I retraced my steps to my room, and pondered *over the unex] cated occurrence. The whole of the bitter past came crowding back upon my recollection.! Each satirical look that her fair faco h d worn, each ironical remark she had uttered, were engraven in my memory, and returned to plague and humiliate me now. Above all, I remembered with indignation the expres-

sions of abject devotion I had used to a woman whose encouragement of them had been prompted by a rooted contempt for the infatuated speaker. And now I was near her again ! She passed me by like a stranger. She would have none of me. I had afforded her amusement, and she had finished with me. Oh ! that I could retaliate Was the Professor, then, right ? Was she indeed ' devoid of conscience ?' Would that I could yet let her experience such bitter selfabasement as she had inflicted on me

At last the confusi n in my brain began to subside ; ideas again became arranged, and a scheme of mingled ravenge and discovery suggested itself to me. Ihe truth was, that, notwithstanding the past, I stil hadayearning affection for her, which, weak as it may seem, I would fain have found justified and reciprocated. As may we 1 be inferred, I had thought deeply of her of late ; and, being of a philosophical and inquiring disposition. I had often tried to explain to myself some of the many inconsistencies in her behaviour during our drief acquaintance, which my close examination of it had revealed to me. The result of these efforts on my part was to induce me to consider that there might possibly be in the disposition of this girl some intense idiosyncrasy prompting her actions towards me, entirely distinct from a tendency to flirtation or reckless trifling. Sentiment, I fancied, floridly or passionately given utterauce to, must seem to her nothing short of bathos wilfully misrepresented as pathos. In the formation of this idea, I had been partly ij | rluenced by the recollection of many of her l*oks, actions, and tone of voice—trivial evidence by themselves, but, looked at as a whole and in conjunction with her words, an indispensable element in the correct estimation of her character.

It was after breakfast, as I was strolling through the hotel grounds towards a small grove of cypresses that edged a cliff overhanging the harbour, that I met her again. She had a Jbook in her hand; and as she passed she raised her eyes to mine and smiled. It was the same ironical, amused expression that, at Beacham, had so misled me. She was evidently undecided how to act; for I saw at once that if I had given her the slightest encouragement, she would have immediately renewed the acquaintance; but I did not. Beyond a formal bow, 1 made no response to her advances, continuing my walk towads the cypresses. But what was Ito think now V What inference did that Bin le carry with it ? 1 had little difficulty in deciding. It was a tribute paid to my supposed title. Clara Vesey could evidently meditate an alliance with Lord Mervyn, though her nature was ' utterly uusuited' to that of Mr Mervyn Lord. I lighted a cigar, and ensconced myself in a secluded arbour off the main path. My design was soon formed. Nobody knew me here, nor was I called upon to disclaim the distinguished rank with which I had beeu involuntarily credited, until it was directly and openly imputed to me. My plan was, then, to renew the intimacy between myself and Miss Vesey, maintaining, for a few hours, the assumption as to my peerage, and in that character to once more offer her marraige. If she were to accept me without further explanation, I should be satisfied as to her baseness, and revealing who I was, would release her from the compact, and see her no more.

Presently the silence that reigned around was broken by a footfall in the main path close by. It was light, slow, measured. How my heart beat! 'Twas she ! As she hurried along, shutting up the book she had been reading, I saw that she was pursued by a tall stout Italian, about five yards behind her, win, as she was passing the spot where I was concealed, quickened his pace, and was just on the point of clasping her round the waist, when I emerged from the bushes, and offered her my arm. The dear deep blue eyes, just a little frightened, looked up so thankfully, and the little hand held so fast to my arm, that I was very much inclined to relinquish all my schemes for testing her character there and then. But, fortunatety, I did not ; and, whilst the obnoxious individual who had been following her slunk off again between the tree 3, by design on my part and tacit consent on hers, we turned into the bypath leading to the secluded arbour at the edge of the cliff. ' Who was that man ?' I asked. ' I don't know. A great stupid who is always making grimaces at me.' ' He seemed very anxious to gain your acquaintance. ' ' Only that he might make a greater idiot of himself. . She looked very pretty. Dressed in black, her costume assisted her beauty by its striking simplicity. She wore a white straw hat, turned back at the edges and bound with a broad black ribbon. The book in her hand was a volume of Swift. I was not slow in availing myself of the opportunity thus auspiciously afforded me of commencing the application of the design I had so receutly formed concerning her. . ' I scarcely expected to meet you again so soon,' I began. 'We prefer, that is, mamma prefers, the hotel to a priva e house.' ' Excuse me. I did not suppose that I should have found you in either. What I meant was, that I scarcely expected to meet you in Turkey.' ' Didn't you know we were here ? she sa ; d, surprised. ' Certainly not. lam here on business ; our meeting is therefore quite accidental.' She did not reply, but looked at me as if some sudden discovery had flashed upon her, then turned her eyes towards the harbour with the same look of abstraction which I had oft n noticed before, fixing them finally on the blu3 waves. Afterwards her manner was differ(nt. 'Do you like this place ? I asked. ' No ; I hate this horrid big hotel ! Everything is so formal. It is better, though, than May in London.' 1 Where should you like to live ?' ' In Paris or Italy ; in the midst of art and brightness. Shall you stay here long ?' « That depends entirely on circumstances,' T replied. ' We leave to-morrow for Corfu. < A plcasaut place. You will prefer it to this.' * I suppose you know a good many people here ?' she said. ' Not a soul but yourself.' * You will find it very dull, then.' {To be contirmed.)