LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 656, 27 July 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A SLIGHT FLIRTATION. ( Concluded.') Arthur Armidale remained silent. An uncomfortable feeling was coming over him that he was looking rather foolish. * Is she laughing at mo ?’ he asked himself. ‘ I had better tell her all, and get it over.’ ‘lt is quite true, Miss Maldon,’ he began, in a low voice ; ‘ I do wish to speak to her rather seriously. I have seen a good deal of your sister lately, and she is indeed all that you described her to be. I ventured to say to her this morning, before you arrived—that—that ’ ‘ That which you find it very difficult to tell me,’ said Gcorgie, with a light laugh. ‘ Oh, don’t blush, Mr Armidale ; Rosie has told me all about it. Need I congratulate you on having won her affections ? Shall I not say at once how glad I am that yon two are happy ? Can I be otherwise than very glad ? For, to tell you the honest truth, Mr Armidale, I was dreadfully afraid when we parted at Rome that you were in love with me.’ ‘ Oh, Miss Maldon !’ exclaimed Armidale eagerly r , but not venturing to meet her gaze, ‘ pray forgive me if my admiration for you—admiration which I feel now as strongly as I did then—clothed itself in language which invited a misinterpretation.’ ‘ Oh, don’t be alarmed, Mr Armidale,’ retorted Georgie. ‘ I never thought you intended anything more than I intended—a slight flirtation. We are both old enough to know better. But you are not flirting with Rosie ?’ she added with a sharpness in her voice which Armidale had never heard before. ‘ Flirting with her !’ he answered —‘ oh, no ! Let me say how thankful I am that 1 can speak to you freely. I love Rosie with all my heart and soul!’ ‘ She looked at him incredulously, as who should say * How much do you possess of

either, I wonder?’ The glance wag unnoticed by him, and she then said aloud : ‘ And you wish to marrj Rosie, Mr Armidale ?’ ‘ I cannot live without her,’ he answered passionately. * She must be my wife : and you—my sister.’ He made a fairit effort to take Georgie’s hand ; bnt she sank down in an arm-chair which was beside her, and Armidale was alarmed at hearing her short, quick breathing. He fancied that he could almost see the throbbings of her heart. ‘ You are not well, Miss Maldon,’ he said hastily, ‘ Let me call assistance.’ ‘No, no!’ she panted, rather than replied. ‘lt is nothing : lam not strong, you know, and lam overtired. ’ She paused, and he watched her with unfeigned anxiety. Then she continued : • Mr Armidale, I know well what a bright, pleasant companion you can be. Can I doubt that you will make Rosie happy ? Believe me when I say that I wish you all the happiness—that you deserve.’ ‘Again her breathing became painfully laboured, but to Armidalc’s great relief the door opened and Dr Bodmin walked in. The gay smile which was on the Doctor’s face as he entered vanished in an instant, for he comprehended the situation. But he said, with an affectation of carelessness : ‘Well, I think it is my turn to have a little talk with Miss Maldon. You’ll excuse me, Armidale ?’ Armidale waited for no further hint, but hurried out into the garden. Dr Bodmin drew a chair quietly to his fair patient’s side, sat down, and took her hand. ‘You are fatigued and feverish, Miss Georgie,’ he said. ‘ Why are you not lying down in your room V ‘ Oh, but I am so much better, she returned, with an assued gaiety that was far from deceiving the young physician. ‘ Don’t you think lam very much better ?’ she inquired, looking up into his face. ‘ You seemed so at the first glance I took when you came in,’ he replied. * I need not say how pleased I am to see you again, but I think I should have been more contented if you had staid abroad.’ ‘ But you said I might come back to England in the summer. ’

‘ Yes ; but it is hardly summer yet, and, unfortunately, there is so much change in our climate. It is these sudden changes which are so dangerous to delicate women like you.’ She turned upon him with a meaning look. * You fear its treachery, doctor ?’ ‘ For some constitutions—yes. * ‘You think you thoroughly understand my case ?’ ‘ I think I do —thoroughly.’ * Shall I ever get well, Dr Bodmin ?’ ‘ Undoubtedly, my dear Georgie. There is no organic disease—simply a functional disorder ; and you have that great remedy, youth, upon your side. ’ It thrilled him to the heart to see the bitter smile that played on her pale lips when she heard him say these last words ; but he still looked cheerfully at her as she raised herself in the chair, and said excitedly : ‘ Suppose I told you that I did not care to get well - that I had no hopes for which I cared to live—that in all that I had looked forward to I had been roughly disappointed —that youth to me was nothing but the misery of blighted age—what should you say then ?’ ‘ That you were talking nonsense, dear Miss Georgie,’ he replied in a quiet voice. ‘ It is one of the characteristics of exuberant youth that it sets little store by life, and professes a ready willingness to die. As it matures, and ripens into settled vigour, it learns to smile at the paradisal theory of the blossom, and owns that disappointment is nothing but the inevitable spring tide frost whose cold grasp is forgotten in the warm embraces of the summer sun.’ ‘Ay, if it survives that frost,’she murmured, as she sank back in the chair. * Oh, Doctor Bodmin, I see that you know much; let me tell you all—my heart is broken !’ ‘ No, no !’ exclaimed Bodmin, rising from his seat, and for the moment losing his self possession; * I refuse to believe in such things. ’ ‘ But you must believe,’ gasped the unhappy girl. Dr Bodmin bent down over her, and saw a purple tiuge coming over the pallid lips, and his own face grew white. At this moment Mr Maldon, followed by Eosie and Armidale, came in from the garden. The latter alone noticed the terribly anxious expression upon the Doctor’s countenance —Rosielinclt down by Georgie’s side, and cried : ‘ Oh, you naughty Georgie ! Why have you not gone to your room? You must have rest—you aro tired to death.’ Even so, thought Bodmin, but he did not dare to say the words. ‘Yes, my dear child,’ assented Mr Maldon cheerfully. ‘Go to your room, which is now as cheerful as sunshine and flowers can make it. We will send luncheon up to you. Doctor, a word with you.’ He drew Bodmin aside, and continued : ‘ I have been studying in the library a work on medical jurisprudence, and I can’t find a single syllable that would suggest a line of cross-examination iu the case of an alleged broken heart. ‘Now, what do you say ?’ * Thus much,’ replied the Doctor, in a low, sad voice: ‘You have no need to crossexamine any one. Ask you elder daughter a few leading questions.’ ‘Ask Georige !’ exclaimed Mr Maldon, amazed, * Why what can she know about it ?’

There was that in Dr Bodmin’s face which seemed to answer him, and he turned rapidly to where Georgie was lying. * Oh, papa ! papa ! ’ screamed Kosie, starting up from her sister’s side. ‘ See this awful change that is coming over her face ! Dr Bodmin, save her !’ The Doctor approached the couch, and shook his head mournfully as he watched those frantic stragglings for breath, and he motioned Mr Maldon to raise her slightly in his arms. As he did so, her right hand sank away from a locket which rested on her bosom. Ilosie instinctively opened the locket, and then turned her eyes, full of terrible meaning, upon Artur Armidale, who stood trembling by the garden window. ‘ Go, sir !’ she said in a hoarse whisper ; ‘ you have already staid here too long.’ ‘Armidale shrank from her gaze, but looked imploringly at Bodmin ‘Go!’ echoed the Doctor sternly. ‘Why should you stay another moment here? Remember, it was nothing but a slight flirtation !’