LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 735, 27 October 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

EVE: AN IDYLL. ( Concluded.') The air is fresh, the sky is clear, the green leaves cast a flickering shade, wild-flowers spring up among the grass, sweet sights and sounds are everywhere; but one thing is wanting to make the scene perfection—an Adam to our Eve. He does not come.

She quite forgets that she has risen with the lark, that ’tis but six o’clock ; and who could suppose a maid of any degree, unless obliged by stem necessity, would be afoot at such an hour. Unreasonable woman ! She was furious that he was not first at the rendezvous. All the fair landscape took a leaden hue, the birds sang out of tune, the river seemed to stagnate in its course, and, after half an hour’s loitering by the stream, indignant and amazed, she proposed to return to the cottage and find some means of going straight to town. Prudence, no way surprised at such sudden change of plans ; to which, indeed, she was too well accustomed; turned her steps to go, when suddenly a man sprang through the copse, looked up and down, the stream, and, with a cry of joy, advanced towards them ; a handsome rustic, with just enough refinement in his air to set his beauty off to beat advantage. And now, whether the previous disappointment enhanced the present pleasure I know not, but certain it is that the fair Countess felt a sudden rush of joy no courtly compliment of knight or squire had ever caused. And truly, what are the gratifications of vanity to the raptures of love ? Her face beamed with the joy of her heart; and never, perhaps, in all her life of loveliness, had the Countess of Millamant looked so beautiful as now.

The young man’s admiration spoke in his eyes and trembled in his voice; and Prudence, too experienced to need a second glnnec to tell how matters stood, discreetly withdrew out of earshot. Oho thought her lady acting wendreua foolishly, but know too well how useless would bo advice or remonstrance to attempt either j and, indeed, felt herself little fitted to c-nr-ct the part of Marplot in Love’s drama. The talk between tho two flowed cntfcen unrestrained, mingled with loving looks and sly hand pressures, j * How different art thou, fairest love, from the fine ladies I see when I go about with my lord, and oh ! how much more lovely ! ’Tis strange, but thou remindest me of one I’ve seen but once, who is thought the fairest of them all—and yet what difference I Her face is all one mask of paint and patch; one can scarcely guess what the reality may be beneath. And then her mincing airs might suit a monkey on a vagrant’s organ, but not a woman who is to be a wife and mother ; whilst thou, oh beautous Eve ! art all simplicity and truth. Yet, sooth to say, I see a wondrous likeness.’

* And what,’ cried the Countess, ‘ may be the name of this much praised, and yet much dispraised fair one ?’ ‘ The Countess of Millamant. All know her. She is the toast of half the town.’

She no doubt expected the answer, and yet she coloured, looked confused, and then indignant, and yet half pleased. Did she at once take the lesson to her heart ? We cannot tell. She said, { That lady wore much flattered could she hear you.’ 5 She would not heed the warning, I tell thee. Eve. I would not wed one of those court ladies had she a queen’s dowry.’ 1 Nor I court gallant,’ cried she, stung to retort. * What are they all ? Things made of patches, pads, and perukes. Their brilliancy all in their gold embroidery, their refinement in their lace ruffles, their grace in their red-heeled, diamond-buckled shoes, their brains—but no, what need to find a place for that which is not.’ £ Heyday, you seem to know them well, and art mighty severe upon them.’ The Countess saw she had forgotten her part, and hastened to say, * Oh! I have seen them when I went with my sister to the town, but speak no more of them; speak of ourselves, of thip sweet scene, the sunshine, and the flowers, and, what to do to-morrow.’ And so they prattled on, as lovers do, while half-spoken words and sighs filled up the pauses in the talk, till poor Prudence was ready to fling herself into the river with impatience, hunger, and fatigue. But loyers know no such vulgar wants, and it was long erq they resolved to paijt, with many i promises to meet again to-morrow. And so they did. The tryst by the rirerqiflu* wpb often renewed in the *w««t

weather. The Countess lingered on at the cottage, while the temporary eclipse of its brightest luminary filled the town with wonder and regret; and, must we add, with scandal too, for many a tale was invented to fill up the void caused by the lack of real information.

But all must come to an end, even the bliss of lovers. One morning about ten days later, Prudence appeared before her mistress, her face full of excitement, her month full of tidings. ‘Oh ! madam, oh !my lady—such news, such glorious news ! I give you a month of Sundays to guess it in; hut no, you’ll never hit upon it. What think you 7 Our peasant lover, our handsome clown, he is no clown, nor peasant either, no Ralph, no Stedman. He is the famous travelled beau, new to the town—the young Marquis of Eiverdale, heir to the Dukedom of Broadlands, and the wealth of the Indies besides. His man has just been down at the inn, and told us all! And he——’

But she paused astonished. The lady, instead of being overwhelmed with joy, burst into tears, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

* Why, madam, what is this ? Have you not understood ? He is a man of quality, a nobleman, and you can marry him at once.’ * I will not marry him! I waken from a blissful dream to dull reality. He is no better than the rest. What! he’s been laughing at me, playing a part intending to deceive a country girl. Where shall I go ? I’m sick of the town, now of the country too. Ah, me 1 the world is wide, but holds no happiness.’ ‘ No happiness ! not when I tell yon you can wed your heart’s choice without reproach or blame ? Sure, madam, had he been Ralph Stedman, the bailiff, you never would have sunk so low as to have married him.’ ‘ I would, and lived with him, ’mid fields, and trees, and flocks, and cooing doves, for ever and for ever.’ * Oh ! my lady ’ But she was interrupted by the entrance of the culprit himself. He entered high in hope; beaming with joy; but instead of the sunshine he expected, beheld a stormy sky. ‘What,’ cried my lady, ‘is it possible you dare appear before me? I am amazed at your audacity.’ * Dear love, what is it ?’

‘What is’t, indeed! I know it all—l know your deceit, your falsehood, your base intentions—oh I do not attempt to deny—what else could be between a man of your station and a woman of mine !’ * Alas I I see that some ill-fortune has betrayed my secret before I intended it should be known, but,’ and he knelt before her, ‘ hear me. It is quite true that when we first met, as I loitered here for fishing in the river, I concealed my rank, thinking to amuse myself at the expense of so fair a maid—what more I thought, or hoped, I will not say ; but listen to a penitent. Since I knew you, your sweetness, your purity, and truth, worthy the highest sphere, all such ideas vanished from my mind; and now I offer you .my hand as well as heart, my rank, my name, and fortune, only too proud to call you mine, if you will have me. Sweetheart, answer me.’

‘ Oh ! my lord, my generous, noble lord, my every hope and wish is now fulfilled—l have met with one to love, and worthy of my love ! But hold I’ She paused, and mischief sparkled in her eye. ‘ Alas, your generosity is all in vain. It cannot be. Evs cannot marry you 3 you are too far above her.’

*Oh ! do not say it; you are above me as far as one human being can be above another. Oh ! Eve, my love I’ 1 Now stay. I said Eve could not marry you, but suppose that Eve is naught—suppose in place of her yon see a vain court beauty, the very vainest and most frivolous of all that vain and foolish throng, one whom you would non wed had she an angel’s beauty, and the dowry of a queen ? Alas ? alas! that it should be so.’

‘ Why, what means this ? Who are you, then ?’

‘ I am that thing of paint and patches, of airs and affectations— the Countess Millamant—you. would not wed her. Kvs cannot marry you. What’s to be done V

‘You arc the Countess Millamant S Then I was right. I saw the likeness through the change of dress. Oh! more dear than ever ! I know you now. What I then saw was but a mask concealing the most lovely thing on earth 1’ And then“=muct it be owned —these two high personages kissed and hugged each other, as though they werejbut the rustic pair they had seemed.

What more is there to tell ? Prudence and all the town were regaled with a brilliant wedding, and the lovely Marchioness of Kiverdale still sometimes deigned to reign as queen of fashion, though with a different court.

They spent the greater part of their time in the country, surrounded by contented deEendanta and a growing family; showing y their example that moderation in all things is the best road to happiness.