LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 677, 21 August 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

WHY ARE YOU WANDERING HERE,

I PRAY,

(Continued,.)

' Perhaps it is. It is my way, at any rate. I would like to steal yon from that old fellow, and keep you all to myself.'

'You mustn't do that,' she answered simply. • I want to do something to let him see that, though I am so very glad to have met you, I like him still, and w.'sh to make him happy if he would let me.' He didn't answer, and Julia came up to report her instructions about the calico ball. But Georgie had changed her mind about attending that festivity. Not only might it occasion a fresh collision with her uncle, but her dress, she was sure, from that afternoon's observations, could never be made to look anything like that of other girls of her age. Even if her pride woidd let her, which it would "not, ask for money, Mattie was not equal to the task of making a fancy dress.

On hearing her decided refusal, Philip's face fell.

' But you are perfectly got up for a calico ball at this moment,' he urged. 'Am 1 1 I'm sorry to hear it, for I must look very fantastic and absurd.' ;' You look charming, if you would only believe me,'

• I believe you, of course, Colonel Verschoyle ;' with a gay smile, made more brilliant by [contrast with the traces of the recent storm. ' Yet you won't be persuaded V 'No.' ' Not by the fact that you would see me in my uniform, which I was reconciled t to wearing for your sake V • Ah, I shall be sorry for that!' her eyes going up deprecatingly to his face ; ' but what can I do V ' Why put your scruples in your pocket, and come.' • Ah, I can't do that.' ' Wilful, like your sex. I begin to think your uncle had a handful with you after all.' ' We never had a difference before, and shouldn't now, only it was about you.' ' Flattering. It's lucky we are cousins, or I might resent your calling me a bone of contention.' ' Are you affronted now ?' 1 Very much. I'll never forgive you unless you promise to stand my friend when my mother and Edith come.' ' Stand your friend! Of course I will. But how can I ? The idea of my being able to help you 1' ' Oh, we can all do something to help each other. But I only want you not to deny our friendship. We are friends, are we not ?'

'Yes, indeed,' earnestly. 'I hope so, at least.'

' I hope so, too. My greatest happiness would be to have you for my best friend always; remember that. And now I'll tell you how you can help me. My mother and Edith want me to marry Julia Aylmer;' looking at "her as he spoke, and gathering from the sweet sudden flush on the sweet eager face all he wanted to know. • Julia I Why 1 ' And despite her efforts there was a ring of pain in her voice. ' Because she is rich, and I'm very poor.' ' Are you so poor ?' she asked, raising disappointed eyes to his. How her uncle would triumph! Mistaking the cause of the look, his own fell. ' Does that annoy you ? Did you think I was rich ?' • I didn't think about it: but Uncle George Jsaid you were poor, and I'm sorry in this instance he should be right. I wondered how he could tell, too, as he doesn't know you.' ' The light of impecunious families is not hidden under a bushel, but set on high, as an awful warning to imprudent young ladies,' he answered, laughing. 'Besides, he judges from analogy. He knows that there never was a Veischoyle who had a halfpenny. There is a natural antipathy between the name and money.' ' Just what he said, I must admit, only in other words.'

• And he spoke like a book. "Well, this being so, my people would like me to espouse Julia, who is made of money, and, owing perhaps to that antipathy of which I spoke, I don't want to espouse her;' with another lightning glance t ithe lovely face beside him.

' I think I'm glad of that,' responded the owner of the face naively. ' I like her so much, but somehow not as a wife for you.' ' Precisely my view of the case. I like her immensely—as any one else's wife; and what's more, I believe she would only like me as some one else's husband.'

Miss Georgie's face expressed, as plainly as face could, her sense of Julia's depraved taste.

'Don't think it's a case of sour grape3,' went on Philip. • I could almost say I wouldn't wish to marry her if there were no other woman in the world ; but perhaps that is rather strong, for she is a nice girl, a very nice girl,' condescendingly. 'Saving always her , utter want of taste,' put in the young lady, with a twinkle in her violet eyes which gave promise of some latent powers of sarcasm to be developed by time and circumstance.

' Saving her utter want of taste, as you judiciously observe,' returned Philip, with a corresponding glance. 'When I tell you that she seems to have set her affections on that idiot Chalmers, whose one object is to keep his boots clean, I think that you will acknowledge that my renunciation of all claim to her hand is sincere. Fancy confiding one's future to a girl whose ideal finds a realisation in Willie Chalmers !'

' I hardly noticed him ; but from what I saw', I should say he was the very incarnation of silliness.'

' That's just what he is. And he is welcome to Julia. Not for worlds would I stand in his light; but it would take sonie management to make my mother and Edith view this in the sensible way in which it presents itself to ourl unprejudiced minds, and it is here you can help me—' • But how ?'

' When the time comes we must think of ways and means. For one thing, you must come over ."to Beechlands, if not to the ball, yet some other time.' 'Of course I will. I must return .Julia's, call, I suppose.' ' They come on Monday' ('they' related to his nearest living relations); ' and if you could come to dinner—'

' Oh, I can't, on acoount of my dress.' ' Well, we'll see about it. If you are to help me, you know, you must be guided by me; eh?' ' I will of course do all I can. But dinner, among all those fine people, in the present state of her wardrobe ! *****

Georgia did not see ber uncle again that night, but on her dressing table—unexpected sight! ehe found a note from him. Wonderingly, and with a beating heart she opened it, and the sharpest pang she had ever felt shot through her when a cheque for fifty pounds fell out. The note was short. ' Dear Niece. —From what you said during our conversation to-day, I gather that you do not think 1 have not behaved as liberally to you in the matter of dress as you had a right to expect. This may be so ; I therefore enclose a cheque for fifty pounds, which will, I imagine, be enough to get you all that may be requisite for the present, and enable you to visit your new friends should they ask you to do so.—Your affectionate uncle, George Arnold.'

After reading it Georgie sat down, feeling stunned. How could he do such a thing ? What had she said or done that he should thus wound her ? For more than an hour she remained unable to think or move ; then when that sensation, as if she had received a blow on the head, passed away she resolved what to do. She would return the cheque, have a full explanation, and come to some sort of understanding with her uncle, [To be oontinu

was situated on the third floor of one of the inside blocks of buildings. The machinery was as soon as possible brought to a stand, and while some endeavoured to stamp out the flames, others ran for the small fire engines or extmcteurs kept on the premises. Meantime information of the outbreak had been conveyed to the police office, and the fire brigade were called out with the utmost alacrity. When the brigade araved the flames had made their appearance outside the building. The men with tie utmost haste applied their hose to the various plugs within reach, but to the intense disappointment of these interested, as well as the onlookers, the supply of water was found to be greatly deficient. With the bope of strengthening the pressure the supply was ■hut off from part of the town ; but still the engines were unable to raise the stream to any height. In these circumstances tie fire raged comparatively unchecked, and made sad havoc. It was, however, confined as yet to the building in which it oi iginated ; and what added to the terrible suspense of these few minutes—for what we are describing occurred in so short a time—was the fact that all the workers had not yet escaped from the burning mill. Indeed, a number of girls clinging round a man, evidently in the extremity of terror, had just been seen at one of the windows of the topmost fiat, or rather the garret. They were making * frantic efforts to attract atteniion, and calling piteously for help. Already the fire had all but reached the fourth storey, and was beating upwards fearfully fast. Help seemed in vain, so fiercely were the tongues of fire shooting from every opening in the wall underneath. Before many minutes had elapsed the roof gave way and fell with a crash, and with its fall vanished the last hope for the escape of loved ones. HEARTRENDING INCIDENTS.

The sad story of Catherine McKinnon, six-

teen yearsjof age, is one which will loner live in the memories of those who witnessed the heartrending effort which she made to save her life. Between eleven and twelve o'clock in the forenoon, when the crowd surronnding the burning mill was at its largest, McKinnon and two other females were seen to come from the room in which they had been working and to proceed down a staircase, in ignorance that the lower portion of it was on fire. Men and women shouted to them in loud and warning tones not to venture down the stair, and cried to them to break the glass of the window and jump to the ground, They seemed to hesitato to follow the advice which meant the performance of such a daring feat, and no one knows the agony of doubt which they must have suffered for a few moments. On the one hand, there were the scorching flames and the treacherous staircase, threatening an inevitable and painful death ; on the other, a leap from a window three storeys high. The as emblage of upturned pale and anxious faces must have tended to increase the horror of feeling with which their minds were filled. At last Catherine M'Kincon was •seen to break the glass, and many sturdy arms deposited on the ground underneath the windows bags of wool and other soft materials with which to break the fall. M'Einnon sprang from the window, and a shudder ran through the assemblage and an awful doubt as to her fate. The fears entertained by the crowd were all too fully realised; the poor girl alighted just at the feet of the Rev Mr M'l'nnes, whose sympathetic and kindly heart had prompted him to take an active part in the efforts which were made to save those who were supposed to be inside the burning buildings. Catherine was at once conveyed to the hospital, where it was discovered that her skuli was fractured, both arms were broker:, and hat she had received severe internal injuries. No hope was therefore entertained of her recovery, and after lingering in un consciousness for four hours, the injuries which the unfortunate young woman had .suffered resulted in death. A little girl, whose Obrist'an name was Maggie, was observed shortly after the fire broke out, to rußh frantically from the crowd in the street, after having beea pafelv escorted from the department where she had been employed, into the mill again. Several persons ran after her, and atti mptcd to dissuade her from p'uuging into the fl anes, but ■he cried in agonising tones, wbioh smote the hearts of the bystanders, "I maim gang up the stairs. I want to save my sister." She succeeded in freeiug hersolf from the grasp of those who vainly tried to hold her back from the performance of a deed of rash, yet noble, heroism. She sprang lightly through the doorway, and at once disappeared ; but her voice for a momeat or two was heard amid the roar of the flames, and the crackling of wood and the fall of stones, crying aloud for her sister Mary, Not the least melancholy part of the story is, that while poor little Maggie fell a victim to her leal-hearted affection for her sister Mary, that much beloved sister was saved from the fate which cut off so many of her companions. The fire is supposed to have originated through the devilling apparatus in the teasing department becoming choked with wool, and thus getting overheated. The total loss to Btock and property is roughly.esiimated at £IOO,OOO, which is partially covered by insurance in four offices By the fire 400 people, consisting of 160 carpet weavers and 230 women and children, have been thrown idle. On Wednesday a few of the weavers ■ucceeded in recovering a considerably quantity of calcined bones and ashes. These were carefully gathered together, and will be interred together. The total sum received for the relief of the sufferers now amounts to about £I7OO.