LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 705, 22 September 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A DILEMMA. ( Continued .) ‘Yes,’ Emile answered. ‘And this, Mr Duhamel, is my friend, Marco Castelli, who, like myself ‘ was a friend of Eugene Bertand.’ ‘ Any friend of Eugene’s is welcome,’ answered Mr Duhamel. ‘ You, I fancy, Monsieur de Bellechasse, are a very intimate friend, though I don’t remember to have heard your name from him.’ Emile felt his task grow harder as he looked at the arch face of the old gentleman. He glanced at Marco, but it was evident enough that his comprehension had left the conversation at its very beginning. 4 1 was his most intimate friend,’ he began gravely. ‘ I bring very sad news, Mr Duhamel.’ ‘ From Brazil ? ’ ‘ Yes. We landed yesterday. Eugene met with an accident which resulted in his death, just before the time we had all fixed for leaving Brazil together.’ ‘ Dear me ! what a sad story ! ’ 4 ls he mad ? ’ thought Emile. 4 One would say he was rather pleased than otherwise. ’ ‘ Sad indeed,’he went on aloud, 4 for me, who have lost my best friend, and still more for your daughter, to whom he commissioned me to break the news. ’ ‘He wished you to tell Claire yourself, did he, poor fellow ? ’ asked Claire’s father, still with the most imperturbable goodhumor. ‘He did. But I should be thankful to be spared the task, if you, sir, will undertake it.’ 4 Not I, indeed, Monsieur de Bellechasse. Claire will bear it much better from you. I will fetch her. ’ ‘ Good heavens ! Marco, what does it mean?’ cried the bearer of bad tidings, as they were left alone. But Marco could give no information. Mr Duhamel, shutting himself into the drawing-room, gave way—to the utter aggravation of his daughter, to a fit of the merriest laughter. Claire ran to him, pinched his arm, implored him to tell her what had happened. Anne pushed away her workbox, and looked on in silent wonder. Was it really Eugene ? 4 O Claire, Claire ! what did I tell you ?’ were the first words they heard. 4 You’ll break your heart, my child —you’ll never get over it!’ 4 Papa, don’t talk in riddles 1 Tell us, is it Eugene ?’ 4 O no, my dear, only M. Emile de Bellechasse, a very intimate friend of Eugene—so intimate, my dear, that they are quite inseparable, ha, ha ! And if you don’t see Eugene to day, Claire, you will never see him, depend upon that. Come and ask M. Emile if it is not so.’ Claire drew back from her father while he spoke, and clasped her hands together with a pretty gesture, half doubt, half joy. She drew one deep breath, then slipped her hand through Mr Duhamel’s arm. 4 Let us go to him,’ she said. ‘Take care, then,’ her father answered. ‘ Don’t spoil his pretty romance—and yet he can’t expect us to be taken in by it. He will tell you a terrible story, my dear. It is well to warn you beforehand. ’ By this time they had reached the study door. Mr Duhamel opened it, and led Claire, trembling now, and changing from white to red, straight up to Emile. ‘Monsieur,’ he said, ‘let me present to you the fiance of your friend, Eugene Bertaud.’ Claire, hardly knowing v/hat to do, put out her hand, and Emile took it. Neither of them found anything to say, for her heart was beating with stifling quickness, and his ideas were all thrown into confusion by the sudden vision of loveliness that flashed upon him. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he stammered, after a moment, 4 it is a cruel fate which sends me to you.’ 4 1 can hardly think so, monsieur,’ she answered, trying not to smile, 4 or why yield to it ? ’ 4 You do not guess, then, what my business is ? ’ 4 How can I ? Except that you come to see us.’ ‘What shall I say?’ Emile questioned himself. ‘ How can I tell her ? ’ and then his puzzled glance fell on the face of Mr Duhamel, who stood, beaming with smiles, a little way off. 4 Mr Duhamel, I have a packet of letters to deliver to your daughter ; will you give them to her for me ? ’ he said in despair, drawing a small parcel from his pocket. ‘ Letters ? ’ Claire repeated, and for a moment her face darkened, but a look from her father reassured her. ‘ Whose letters, monsieur ? ’ she said. ‘ Your own, addressed to my poor friend, Eugene Bertrand, and entrusted to me by him,’ he replied, giving her the packet. ‘ A great trust,’ she answered him, halfsmiling, aa she took them. 4 And my likeness ? ’ 4 ls here,’ he replied, as he put into her hand a locket like the one she herself wore. She held the things altogether in her hand for a moment, and then laid them ou the table close to him, 4 Why did Eugene bid you bring me these? ’ she asked. ‘ I was his dearest friend. I knew all the story of your engagement—and—l was with him when he died.’ Claire’s cheek turned white for a moment. Again she looked at her father, who nodded approval and comprehension. ‘ Since you are so deep in Eugene’s confidence,’ archly pursued Claire, ‘you may keep those things, monsieur ; I do not reclaim them. ’ ‘ I, mademoiselle ?’ ‘Yes; at least, if you will tell me one thing.’ 4 Whatever you will, ’ he answered, giving up the problem as unsolvable. 4 Did Eugene really care for me ?’ Claire asked very gravely, but with rose-red cheeks. 4 Par more, mademoiselle, than I should have thought it possible to do for a lady one had never seen.’ 4 And do you think that seeing me would change him ?’ 4 Mademoiselle, if he could have been more utterly devoted to you than he was, he must have been so from the day of your meeting.’ A suppressed sound of applause from Mr Duhamel greeted this speech, spoken with a quite involuntary amount of fervour. Claire’s eyes shone like stars; nothing less like a widowed bride could possibly have been imagined. Emile felt his senses deserting him, and stood dumb.

—J- *** ‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Mr Duha me . * you are very welcome to England, am my house, as I have told you already, ai hope you have made arrangements to i with us some days at least,’ ‘ We have taken rooms in the villa; Emile answered; ‘we did not, cert air j expect so cheerful a welcome.’ ‘ Ah, I daresay not—l daresay not. W< give up your rooms, and come here.’ ‘No,’ said Emile to himself; ‘ that w never do. The whole family must be ma And besides, in an hour’s time, I shoul find myself making love to Mademoisell Claire, who seems nowise unwilling. No 1 must get away at once.’ But this was not so easy. Matters ended in a compromise. The two friends would go back to their inn, where they were expected, but they would dine with the JDuhamels, and perhaps to-morrow change their lodgings, Mr Duhamel, chuckling, accompanied them to the door. ‘Eugene—l mean Monsieur de Bellechasse,’ said he (and Emile thought he had never heard his own name pronounced with so much emphasis), ‘ you are a very clever young man, and a capital actor. But you should have been warned that some people can see a little further through a stone wall than their neighbors. It is not such an easy thing to make me shut my eyes. Au revoir; seven o’clock precisely.’ Still laughing at the stratagem of his intended son-in-law, Mr Duhamel followed f Claire back to the room, where Anne Burton had waited impatiently for some account of the newcomers. ‘ And you are satisfied ? ’ were the words Anne was saying as he came in. ‘ Ay, my child, tell us now, are you satisfied ? Has your old father chosen well for you?’ For all her answer, Claire threw her arms round his neck, and hugged him heartily. ‘ls he like his picture? ’ Anne asked again. ‘Not very,’ Claire answered. ‘But I always was certain he must be ever so much nicer than that. Oh, he is delightful, Anne. I know now exactly what I wanted him to be like, and I never was quite sure before.’ ‘ Happy girl! ’ laughed her cousin. ‘ I hope he is equally pleased.’ ‘I do not think he is—at least he looked like it— Didn’t |he, papa? But I think he was a little put out because we seemed to guess his trick.’ ‘ He’ll forgive us,’ said Mr Duhamel. ‘ But we shall see if he keeps up his character this evening. They are coming to dinner, Anne, so then you’ll see them.’ ‘ Oh, what shall I wear ? ’ cried Claire, as she ran up-stairs to her room, whence, through the open windows, she could be heard singing from one of her favorite French poets : Si vous n’avez rien a me dire, Pourquoi venir aupres de moi ? Chapter 11. The two young men were fairly off Mr Duhamel’s ground before they exchanged a word. Marco Castelli did not often begin a conversation, especially in English, and Emile was fairly at his wits’ end; at last he spoke. ‘ What am I to do ? I believe the best way would be to leave here at once, and when we are safely back in France, write to Miss Duhamel, and tell her the whole story. Neither she nor her father would hear it today.’ ‘ Yes,’said Marco, who had simply come to England because Emile did, and who had no desire to stay there— ‘ yes, that is best.’ ‘ But then—poor Eugene—l say, Marco, what a beauty she is !’ ‘ Very pretty,’ assented Marco. ‘ Pretty ! She is perfection ! We should be fools to go away without seeing more of her. And yet, she cannot have cared a bit for Eugene,’ ‘English people have no hearts,’ said Marco drily, delighted at being successful in remembering that favorite calumny. ‘Nonsense, my friend,’ answered Emile sharply. ‘ Besides, she is not English. She was born in England, and had an English mother; that’s all. Otherwise, as pure French as I am.’ Mr Duhamel was impatiently looking for his guests when they reappeared at seven o’clock. Claire, lovelier than ever, was flitting about, and saying a word now and then to her cousin about Eugene. The June evening was still light and warm; and the flowery drawing-room, with its abundance of color and perfume, was a fit shrine for such a dainty nineteenth century nymph. So Eugene’s representative thought, as his eyes greeted her, and a pang of envy—envy of his lost friend—went right through his heart, and shocked him. The puzzle of the morning was not solved. He had told Mr Duhamel, and Claire herself, that Eugene was dead. Either they were glad of it, or they did not believe him. But if they did not believe him, why did they not treat him as a rogue, an impostor ? And how could Claire be glad of her freedom, she who had written those letters, full of innocent girlish affection, which his dead friend had bidden him read ? ‘ I will let things go,’ was Emile’s last resolve. ‘lt was a midsummer night’s dream, and I’ll make no further effort to break it. ’ It would have been pleasanter, perhaps, if Mr Duhamel had not seemed to take such a singular pleasure in calling him by his name. He could not even say : ‘ Monsieur de Bellechasse, will you take Claire in to dinner ? ’ without a pomp that made it sound as if he had said ‘Monsieur le Marquis de Carabas;’ and he looked so excessively mischievous and knowing, that he was a most embarrassing host. Miss Burton looked a little puzzled too, and evidently examined both the guests with some curiosity. She made herself very agreeable to Marco, who, finding that she could speak Italian, ventured to disregard his leader, and refresh himself with his native tongue. After all, however, other people might be or do what they liked, they could not much affect Emile’s happiness. Claire sat beside him, Claire smiled upon him, Claire talked to him with the grace and gaiety which he had found in her letters ; Claire was rapidly daszling the young man into that condition of blissful folly sometimes heard of as ‘ love at first sight. ’ She was so happy herself ! She had quite forgotten what the story was with which her Eugene had introduced himself. He was pretending to be somebody else—perhsps to test her constancy to his imaginary absent self—and her clever father had found him out; that was enough for her. Since he was everything he wished in other respects, that one little whim might be forgiven. The test was easily stood. f To be continued,']

X>Jg FENCE op the colonies. m Argus says “ The necessity for ™afc ing further provision for the defences of nftu C0 *‘ ony has been under the consideration Rr * Government, and it is the intention of xv' 6 a Q isurer, Sir James McCulloch, to forar<* ty y the outgoing mail an application to e . perial authorities to allow an exP riea c e d engineer officer to come to Victoria Ph'ir V ise a scheme for the defence of Port 1 If i and the other harbors, and also to pern itend the construction of the works b00.,- 8 thought that it will be possible to e the services of Colonel Scratchley, v nj . 0 ’ 1 lot only as an engineer officer of repute, of , one well acquainted with the resources e colony, should be well qualified for position. Colonel Scratchley has for •olnr ' years acted as a military adviser to the nr ■ .y, and has on more than one occasion hpj shed reports on the works required for il * lefence of the Heads and Hobson’s Bay. s ,. subject is one in which he has always l g bited great interest, and could we obtain }v- - services we might hope to see a well'j ised scheme carried into execution. onel Scratchley’s term of home service y I shortly expire, and it is believed that^he , aid be very willing to accept the position •e. A vote will be submitted to the House a few days to enable Parliament to exass an opinion on the subject. The New uth Wales Government had determined to ake a similar application, but they were >le to secure the services of an experienced ficer resident in the colony.” Concsrning „e new appointment, the Sydney Morning Jerald says “ Considering the part which irtillery would play in case of actual d - fence, the great importance of having not only the permanent artillery force, but the volunteer artillery also, under the immediate command of an officer who has received a special and thorough scientific training, which can be obtained only at such a place as Woolwich, and by actual service in the Imperial Artillery, has long been urged, and in appointing Major Roberts to the command of the Artillery, the Executive Council were, we are infoimed, guided to a large extent by some suck considerations. In order to secure the services of such an officer, it was at first determined by the Government to ask his Excellency to telegraph to Lord Carnarvon. In the meantime, however, Major Roberts, who has resided in the colony for some time, offered his services, and the original intention of telegraphing home would appear to hava been abandoned. Major Roberts was on active service in the Crimea; was twice wounded, and received the Crimean medal and clasp, and Sardinian and Turkish medals. He was also employed in India in command of artillery with the field force under Sikkim ; he was mentioned under order by the Governor-General for his services, and granted the brevet rank of major.” Sheffield Liteeaey Institute,—The last meeting was held on Wednesday at the reading room. In the absence of the president Mr Stringfellow was voted to the chair. Mrs Sherson read an interesting communication from her brother in the Euphrates Valley, and describing the ruins of Babylon and the neighbourhood. Short readings by Mrs Syramans, Mr R. Pole, Miss Cooper, &c, followed, and the meeting closed. Doyleston. The Star of Ellesmere Lodge, No 22 L.0.L., held its first monthly meeting on Wednesday evening last, at the Town Hall, Doyleston. About thirty brethren were present; Bro D, H. Christie, W.M., in the chair. Three new members were admitted, and four proposed for election at next meeting. After the transaction of business the lodge adjourned for refreshment, when the usual loyal and patriotic toasts were duly honored, and the brethren separated after spending a very pleasant evening.