LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 589, 9 May 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LORD MERYYN; OR, NOT IN THE PEERAGE. Chapter II. — Trove Treasure. (Cant hived.) ‘No,’ I replied ; ‘ like you, I begin to like solitude occasionally.’ * You said you hated it, at Beacham.’ ‘ I said a great many things there which I never meant.’ ‘ Indeed!’ ‘ Yes. When we have an object to gain, as I had then, we often say things, in our eagerness to obtain it, which, upon reflection, we must at least admit the stupidity of. ’ She was silent. ‘ You have done so also at times,’ I went on, boldly hazarding the accucsation. ‘ I suppose I have,’ she said. ‘I am sure of it; and therefore you can scarcely be surprised that I imitated you. ’ ‘ But I had no object to gain,’ she retorted. ‘ Then you were so much the more to blame, since I had one.’ She appeared a little disconcerted at this. It was evidently a new aspect of the matter to her. ‘ What was your object ?’ she asked, a little saucily ; and I could just discern a slight reappearance of the old sarcastic look in her eyes, which she kept fixed on the water. However, I was now on my guard, and she did not find it so easy as before to enjoy an exhibition of sentimental imbecility at my expense. ‘My object you are aware of,’ I said quietly, ‘ as well as the method I employed to accomplish it.’ ‘ Did you, then, employ any very extraordinary method ?’ ‘ For me, a very extraordinary one. ’

She was very interested. 1 had touched a very responsive chord now. ‘lt is possible,’ she was thinking, ‘ that I have mistaken this man ?’

I saw her stealing a side-glance at me, though my eyes were fixed straight in front; but 1 took no notice. Presently she said : ‘Pi ay may I ask why you should have employed a method that was so unusual to you ?’ ‘ Because I thought that, with you, it would be most efficacious. ’ * But you did not know me.’ ‘ Precisely. I was mistaken; I judged by appearances. ’ ‘ What made you think I was so sentimental ?’ ‘ I did not think you really so. ’ ‘ What then ?’ * 1 thought—how erroneously, I now know —that you wanted to get up a flirtation. I mean the sort of flirtation which consists of unlimited flattery, with a soupcon of romance, a good sparkling of wild sentiment, and a dash of honesty, the whole served up by a devot d slave, whose common sense should be nil.’ She smiled at this, and the ironical expression and tone of voice entirely vanished. Her real and inner nature was gradually unfolding, slowly proving the accuracy of my hypothesis. ' ‘ Why did you fancy I wanted a flirtation ?’ ‘ Because you threw that stone at my ankle. ’ A t this remark she fairly laughed, saying, ‘ I never threw it.’ ‘What.’ *lt was a boy, with a catapult, in the castle.’ This was rather a check for me ; but, to gain time, I said, ‘At all events it seemed to amuse you very much. ’ ‘lt did; and it would have done so much more if I had known then that you were my Lord Mervyn.’

‘Why? ‘ Because you were sitting there in such a dignified manner, as if the whole world belonged to you. And the absurdity of a little street-boy putting all your magnificence to fight would have been so much increased.’

She was just now perfectly genuine—enjoying the rare indulgence of airing her favourite ideas; too innocent to perceive that I had detected and was making use of them—only luxuiiiating in escaping for a time from the necessity of satire and of conforming to conventional opinions. I determined on a bold step. I wanted to see the eilect of a sudden piece of sentiment. In the most tender and languishing manner I could command I said, ‘ I dreamt of you last night.’ The genuine look vanished instantly. The soft, natural, happy expression changed immediately to one of cautious amusement. She felt she was back again in a world that was not hers—a world which, for the time, she must pretend to be of, nevertheless, for form’s sake.

The outward expression of all this was a desperate attempt to compel her wayward,

disobedient eyestoassumea look which they poor servants of an unreasonable mistress were utterly unable and unaccustomed to wear. A look, as at Beacham, of deep, soulsubduing passion, which was just about to terminate in the usual merry laugh, when I said, * Such an absurd, fantastic dream !’ Its effect was as if she had suddenly been checkmated. ‘ Do tell it me !’ she said. ‘ I was on board the steamer, and, the night being beautiful, and the saloon crowded, I slept on deck. Of course there were all the usual accompaniments of the most approved sentimental and romantic pattern ; the inevitable floods of pale moonlight ’ * The requisite harmony of the surrounding scene,’ she put in. * The undying memory of the fair absentee. ’ The blue eyes brightened up, and a little ecstatic laugh showed the reality of the amusement which the description gave her. ‘Presently,’ I continued, ‘instead of sweet sleep encircling me with her taper arm ‘ Yes !’ ‘ —l fell into a sound doze. From the depHis of ultramarine there rose ’ ‘ To the sound of a fairy chorus, or a German band ?’ she asked. ‘To the first, of course. There rose your form on my enchanted view.’ ‘ Was I a pale, transparent shade ?’ ‘ You were.’ ‘ And what did you see ?’ ‘ The figures of Romance and Sentiment doing their utmost to encourage you.’ ‘ Did I obey them ?’ ‘Of course you did. You forget that I was dreaming.’ ‘Oh yes ! What did I say ?’ * You said—let ine see, what were the exact words? These ridiculous things soon fade from recollection: “I am not what I seemed. You will never comprehend, if you don’t know human nature. Not cruel—not false !’ ‘ Cruel! false ! You never thought me that ?’ she said anxiously. ‘ You don’t seem to remember that all this was a nonsensical dream.’ * Yes —I know ! But - you dreamt it. ’ ‘Of you. That is, it was a distorted image of the mistaken character I had invested you with at Beacham. ’ ‘ I do not quite understand. ’ {To hr continued '.)