LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 667, 9 August 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HAD SHE BUT KNOWN. (Continued.) She had been rather a pretty girl, two years ago, more noticeable, perhaps, for a certain refinement, an air o£ unmistakable good style which eluug about her, than for actual good looks. Now, at four and twenty, she was simply a beautiful woman, beautiful even without the added charm of birth and cultivation ; and she knew if ; knew it as well as did any of the idle gazers on that fashionable lounge, and valued it—well, valued it less than she did the greenishwhite pebbles glimmering through the cool water under her feet, or or the fragment of seaweed flapping idly to and fro at the will of that same water. What was beauty or grace to her when she was all alone ? Two years ago—even now, looking back, it seemed like ten to her—she had been wont rather to fret because her hair was not as curly, her cheeks as pink, and her eyes as blue as other girls'—girls Will used to admire at the theatre or in the Row. She wanted to be pretty for Will's sake, juat as she wanted to be rich, just as she thanked God for her talents, her good old name, and the capabilities for good she felt within her. They were just so much to give Will, and for that reason they were precious to her, and not for any other. An orphau, with neither brother nor sister, living with a wealthy stepmother, and, while enjoying every comfort and even

luxury in that lady's house, fully aware that of her own she had only the prospect of a modest hundred a year, and that contingent on her not marrying without Mrs Jernicgham's permission before her twenty fifth year, perhaps no human being felt more solitary than did Mazie at the hour we are contemplating her. There she sat, thinking, as she did often —much too often —of that parting in ITyde Park under the old archway. She never could quite recollect how she had got home afterwards, and what came next, though she could remember well that, just after Will had sprung up the bank, master Jack had leapt on the foremost of an approaching girls' school, splashing her with water from his tail, and she (Mazie) had to go forward and apologise, in her pretty, ladylike manner, for the accident. She could remember that trifle, and also a very red pimple on the very large nose of a baldheaded old gentleman who sat opposite to her at dinner that day; but everything else, thought, feeling, and surroundings, seemed like one dark blank to her until she found herself lying face downwards on the floor of her room, with the door bolted, and the moon looking curiously in on the tempest of sobs and tears which was tearing her slight frame with the violence of its anguish. He was all she had, her own, her love, her husband |in| all but name, the very heartspring of her existence, and she had torn herself away from him. No one, not even herself, could have told how deeply and passionately she loved that idle, good-for-nothing young sailor, with his handsome face and winning manners. She only learnt it now when he was gone from her for ever ; learnt it, as we learn most things in this world, too late. Are all women such contradictions, I wonder ? Do all of them know their minds, or rather their heai'ts—for when do mind and heart go together in a woman—as little as Mazie Jerningham ? No girl could have appeared more cold, more passionless, more unsympathisingly hard than Miss Jerning ham when reasoning coolly with, and as coolly dismissing her loving, passionate, half-desperate suitor. Now, that prudent, sensible woman of the world was rocking herself to and fro, her eyes blinded with tears, her face, her hair soaked in the same scalding rain, her hands twisted together, her breath coming in fast, strangling sobs, her white, parted lips quivering with hopeless gasps of sheer heart-broken misery. And Lieutenant Travers, where was he ?

His bonny brown eyes bad been full of tears—tears wbicb were no disgrace to bis manhood —when he held his hard-hearted love on his breast, and, as he strode away, his brain seemed almost on fire with wrath and despair : but ere he got into Piccadilly, he met a naval friend, who greeted him with warmth, told him he looked awfully seedy, and asked him to have a glass of something at the Club ; and Travers assented, and had, not one glass, but several of something which cleared his head for the moment, and gave him artificial spirits; and afterwards he dined and went tojthe French play with the same friend ; and after that Well, I don't think we need follow him any farther. He had told Mazie that she would send him to the devil: and therefore it was probably her fault if he took a long step in that direction the same ni^ht; or if, while she was praying and wrestling with sorrow and love and remorse for her lost lover, that lover was making a fool, and worse than a fool, of himself somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Haymarkct. ' Telle est la vie !' and my dear Messieurs and mesdames, you and I were both young once, was it so very different in our day ? A good old Frenchman once said, ' 11 y a toujours un qui aime; et vm qui tend la se laisse aimer—un qua baise ; et un qui joue.' Will had been eager enough to ' baiser,' but Mazie had not even ' tendu la joue ;' it was his turn now. She had never seen him since; and she had never told any one of her trouble. It was a short-lived folly, as she had said, that sad little romance; and it was ended now. If everything in life seemed ended too, that could not be helped. It is not the fashion to die of broken heart nowadays, and she could live it down. People had lived down worse things. Yes, Mazie, so they have ; but that same process of ' living down' is a worse martyrdom than many a death; and all the more that to weep over the victim is the cruellest aggravation that we can offer. Mazie gave no one a chance of weeping over hers; let fall no word which could give a clue to her sorrow. She had a heavy cold, she said, and so she kept her room for a couple of days, and the blinds were drawn down, and a white face and swollen eyes were quite admissable even in Mrs Jerningham's opinion. But after that she came down-stairs, took up her usual role of home and social duties, and was the same graceful, dignified, intelligent M iss Jerningham as of old; the same clear-eyed, courteously cheerful girl to all outward appearance as she had ever been; how changed within none but herself and God knew. People talked a little at first, and wondered why that charming Lieutenant Travers was never to be met at the Jerninghams' now. There had certainly been a strong llirtation between him and Miss Jerningham—though she seemed so proud and unimpressible in the usual way—but, after all, every one knew he had no money, and was always flirting Avith some one ; these sailors were so proverbially fickle. And then some one said he had gone to sea again ; and it was suggested that Miss Jerningham had refused him. Mrs Jerningham, of course, would not dream of such a miserable parti for her elegant step-daughter, and every one knew how devoted Sir Edward Bartlett had been in that quarter of late. So wagged the tongues for a few days; and then the subject was forgotten for some more interesting piece of gossip; and Mazie was left to herself. Not utterly heartbroken after the first few weeks. There was a great clement of justice in this girl's character; and before that stern goddess Will's wrathful speeches and despairing threats melted away, and were condoned on the score of the provocation which had evoked them. ' If he had not loved me, he would not have been so angry,' said Mazie to herself; and the thought brought a sudden warm pulse to the poor bruised heart, a soft mist over the punful brightness of the brave grey eyes. His last words, too, how couldjshe forget them, she, a woman, and a woman so passionately in love ? Common sense and logic would have told her at once that it was absurd to lay stress on one word more than another, when both are \ittored in a moment of great excitement; but then girls are seldom noted for either extra common sense or logic ; and

well for us they are not! for on the strength of that one sentence, ' I love you hetter than any living woman; and I'll win you yet some day,' Mazie quietly consecrated her whole life, heart and soul, present and future, (to waiting for that day. Sir Edward Bartlett was sent away discomfited, and so were one or two other men of good means and good standing, whom most girls would have only been too willing to accept; and still Mazie Jerningham kept Will's angry kiss sacred on her lips against the wonder o? the world, and the grumbling of her step-mother, who being a kindly, managing woman, was anxious to see her daughter well established in life. It is not to be supposed, however, that Mazie confessed to herself that she was waiting for, or even [expected for one moment, a renewal of the offer she had repulsed. She told herself with stern decision that it was all over for ever, and that it was well for both of them that it should be so ; but all the same she made a willing sacrifice of her whole inner life to Will Travers; kept herself single for him, prayed for him, and dreamt of him with the entire, single-hearted devotion of a loving wife. Every day she read evei-y word of the ' Naval and Military* column in the Times, and there she read that he had gone to sea again a fortnight after their parting ; later on, of his promotion to the rank of commander ; later still, a brief account of Captain Travers' gallantry in saving the life of a sailor washed overboard in the outer harbor of Rio de Janeiro; and ah ! how the pale cheek glowed and the beautiful eyes sparkled on that day ; but after this came a long interval of silence, when, except for the testimony of the blue ' Navy list' in Mazie's desk, Captain Travers might have dropped out of existence altogether. She was thinking of him now, as I have said, while sitting on the pier on this pleasant July evening; thinking of past pleasant days, with a sort of sad smile on her lovely face, which showed the Laureate in error when he declared ' sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things;' trying not to think of a certain dim picture of a happy meeting, a warm, loviDg reconciliation far away in the hazy future. So lost was she, indeed, in her dreams, that she never felt the warm rays of the setting sun as they kissed her cheek, never saw the golden glitter in the water, or heard the steady dip, dip, peculiar to the sweep of man-of-war oars, till the sharp rattle in the rowlocks, and cry of * Oars in !' startled her into a sudden recollection of her whereabouts; and looking down into the boat, she saw—the very man she had been dreaming of, the lover so long parted, just springing on to the steps of the pier. What she meant to do, what she was going to say, Id) io ; know; but, like one in a dream, she rose to her feet, and made a step forward with great, wide, glistening eyes, and parted, quivering lips. If he had seen her then, and taken her to his arms before all the geople on the pier, I don't think her propriety would have been much startled, for the moment; but as it happened, he was stayed at the gangway by two ladies, who seemed to be waiting for him, and whom he greeted familiarly. One of these ladies Avas a friend of Mazie's; the other a tall, fair, German-looking girl, rather coarsely built, and dressed with more attention to showiness than good taste. They stood a minute talking with Captain Travers, and then all three came forward; and Mazie's friend, a lively, good-tempered dame, who was very proud of ranking • that charming Miss Jerningham' among her acquaintances, saw and saluted her with great emprcssement. Mazie's lips moved, but no sound came. Her eyes had never left Will's face. They rested there still with a sort of mute, eager appeal, strangely pitiful in its forgetfulness of all else; and before that look Captain Travers' face flushed with a sudden recognition; flushed, too, with the recollection of the last time he had seen that face, for there was a little natural embarrassment in his manner, as he said: 'lt is so long since we have met, Miss Jerningham, that I suppose I can hardly expect you to remember me.' The commonplace civil speech startlod Mazie back to her senses. She turned as white as snow, and gave a sort of gasp for breath, when her friend most opportunely struck in: ' Did Captain Travers know Miss Jerningham, then ? How nice ! Old friends, she supposed, since he had only just arrived in England; and what a pleasant coincidence to meet, wasn't it V ' Yes ! very old frienls,' Captain Travers answered, his eyes still on the white wistfulness of Mazie's face ; and then, with a sudden friendly cordiality, the old manner she knew so well, he took her hand, and added, 'lt is indeed pleasant to meet you again. Have you been well since I saw you last ? You do not look as strong, I think. And how is Mrs Jerningham ? But first let me introduce my wife to you. She will be so glad to make your acquaintance. Bertha, Miss Jerningham.' His wife ! . . . Did he mean that ? The blonde, uninteresting-looking girl standing by in pretty inane apathy, Will's wife ! . . . Poor Mazie! a great shudder ran all through her slight, shrinking frame ; and then that wonderful power of self-command, that art of ' making believe' which is so great in some women, came to her aid ; and she shook hands with Captain Travers, and bowed gracefully to his wife, and showed her pretty pearly teeth in a gentle little smile as she made some cordia l , commonplace speech about being 'so glad—such an unexpected pleasure. Did he command the frigate that came in last night 1 and where \vas Mrs Travers staying ? Mamma would certainly call if she was able. No time to slay and talk now;' and so good-bye and away—away from husband and wife and crowded pier; and on to the cool, breezy common—not alone, though. The friend, with that unwelcome friendliness people sometimes show when least wanted, must needs leave ' her dear Mrs Travers' to see her dear Miss Jerningham' home. Surely she was not well, she looked so pale ! And so she knew Captain Travers ! Was he not handsome, and so popular too : such a line, manly fellow. Did Miss Jerningham think his wife pretty ? Not much in her. Those big blonde women seldom had. Oh, yes, nice hair, and tine blue eyes ; but no style, and very likely to grow coarse and unweildy. German-looking? Of course she was. A Dutch girl bom and brought up in the Cape. No, not very well matched ; but sailors were always so foolish. Will had fallen in love and married her nearly a year ago. He always was a pet with women, you know ; but it was a foolish thing to do. They were terribly poor. Indeed he never had any money, as Miss Jerningham might remember. [ To be eojitinued.il