LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 761, 28 November 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MISTRESS EUPHEMIA. Chapter I. • But, fairest Euphemia—' • But 1 No buts, sir ! All I have said is, that I am not responsible to Mr Templeton for my actions, and that I am not aware who appointed him censor of my behaviour.' There are some women who have a marvellous talent for putting an adversary in the wrong; Mistress Euphemia Walwyn was one of them. As she walked along the narrow path of the shrubbery, her brocade rustling, her cheeks crimson, and her eyes flashing fire and anger, poor William Templeton, following humbly behind her, felt that he must have behaved in a most presuming and overbearing fashion, and that the lady had good reason for her indignation. ' Mistress Euphemia !' he said imploringly. But Mistress Euphemia would not listen 5 she walked on in front with a toss of her head, apparently betokening intense anger, though an observer who saw her face might have noticed a certain smile of triumph lurking in the corners of her pouting lips, and a lurking gleam in her eyes, that betrayed a knowledge of her power, and a determination to use it. ' Adorable Euphemia !' ' Adorable, forsooth! Do you call it adoration to be as jealous as the Moor in the play-book, and as domineering as—as I don't know what ? No, sir jI am not your slave yet, nor of any man.' ' Heaven forbid you should ever be aught to me, madam, but my queen and mis tress !' Having brought her lover down to the proper pitch of humility and abasement, Mistress Euphemia felt she might relent a little; she turned round with a smile : ' A pretty speech, but one somewhat stale, Mr Templeton.' ' A true one, nevertheless.' Despite his utter subjugation to his fair despot, William Templeton looked every inch a brave gentleman as he spoke. Even Mis • tresss Walwyn, looking at him, was fain to confess he was the ' properest figure of a man' she knew of, as he stood there, his fair rather sunburnt face lit with a glow of eagerness, and his air of submission becoming him well, perhaps the better because he was over six feet in height, with shoulders broad in proportion. ' Then,' said Mistress Euphemia, with a delicious smile, ' then you will no longer play the malcontent to your sovereign ?' ' Never, if she will but pardon me this time.'

' Here is her hand in pledge of it;'. and he kissed a hand, such as is seldom seen—in very truth the hand of a queen—long and white and shapely, yet with strength and power mingled in its lissom grace. Mistress Euphemia Walwyn wasanheiress; her father had died when she was a child, leaving her to the care and guidance of her mother; a fair gentle woman, with little strength or ability to cope with her daughter's imperious nature. Before she was sixteen Mistress Euphemia was the toast of the county ; before she was seventeen she had lovers by the dozen, admirers by the hundred ; indeed it was no wonder, for besides her fortune—which was the largest of any lady's in Devon—she had beauty, wit, and withal sweetness enough for twenty women; she was no Sophia Western or Amelia Booth though ; rather a Charlotte Grandison, with a temper stronger than many a man's, and a face as fair as that of any woman that ever lived. Many ladies sighed over her, and pitied the man who should win her; indeed it seemed as though no ordinary mortal would be needed to take the fair, proud, defiant creature, who dared the world so lightly, riding rough shod over its prejudices in a manner that caused many of her female friends to stand aghast with horror.

Nevertheless she had a thousand charms ; she was generous and open and true, with a frank daring and chivalry resembling that of an ardent boy ; her laugh alone sufficed to make a .nan fall in love with her ; it was the sweetest ever heard, clear and soft, yet with a ringing merriment that made the hearts of those thajgheard it glad as they would have been at the song of a thrush. But it is useless to describe her; one moment she was haughty and cold, a queenly Artemis; the next, gay, unrestrained, and free, with the bright gladness of a Hebe. But, charming as she was, to confess the truth, the adorable Euphemia was an arrant flirt. She was a flirt; it seemed as though she could not help herself, and that her flirting was part of herself. Indeed, for what reason had Nature given her that creamy satin skin; those smiling pouting lips, redder than any rose ; those laughing hazel eyes, with their long lashes and clear arched brows, if not to employ them in subduing the whole of the male race, or of as many of its members as she might chance to come in contact with ? If she were to confine her charms to the conquest of one individual, she might as well be plain Nell Gower of Tolgarth, who, despite her squint and brown skin, had married as comely a young fellow, with a good fortune, as was to be found in the whole of the West country. No, Mistress Euphemia felt that her beauty was given her to use as a weapon against the whole race of men, and use it she did most unmercifully ; the only dauger was, that one day she might chance to wound herself. Mr Templeton was one of her humblest adorers, and, as a consequence, one of the most ill-used; yet he was a lover many girls would have been proud of; handsome, young, his own master, with a fair fortune and a sweet temper, the very mirror of honour and truth ; a man who might make any woman happy provided that sho loved him.

lie had been one of Mistress Walwyn's train of adorers for the last two years, and yet had never dared to speak of his love, except in the stock phrases of gallantly of that day, that might mean everything or nothing according to the will of the person addressed. Mistress Euphemia chose that they should mean the latter, yet she did not loosen the hold she had on Mr Templeton, and would have been very wrathful had he shown any sign of breaking from his allegiance. The quarrel of to day was an almost unprecedented event. As a rule, i William Templeton was so utterly her slave, that he never dared to murmur at aught that his mistress chose to do; but it happened that at a ball the night before, Euphemia, after promising him the first minuet, had broken her word, and danced the whole night with Lord Wreford, a London beau who was paying a visit to his brother-in-law, Sir Henry Smeaton, turning

the heads and conquering the hearts of all the women within twenty miles by his town graces, and, as a natural consequence, driving all the men into a frenzy of anger and jealousy. Still Mr Templeton would never have dreamt of grumbling or remonstrating with his fair imperious tyrant, though he had thought of this dance for a week before, and ordered a new crimson-velvet suit and white-satin waiscoat, laced and flowered with gold, expressly for the occasion; though he had lain awake at night, pondering the pretty speeches he would make her, to which she might at last return a gracious reply. Still, I say, he never said a word, though every smile she gave the blase London lord stabbed him to the very core of his honest heart. But because he did not sit, silent and thinking, in a corner, as his despot would have liked, but actually danced with pretty Lucy Fairfax, who was only too glad to have him for a partner, Mistress Euphemia, forsooth, chose to be mighty offended, would not speak a word to him, and the next morning, when he rode over to Walwyn Manor to see her and make his peace, she taxed him with inconstancy, falsehood, and many other hard words, that were too much for his spirit. ' Why, madam,' he cried, 'what did you with Lord Wreford ? You are free,- but if I dare to say a word — This was too much ; it was rank rebellion, and must be treated as such. So Mistress Euphemia turned round upon him, asking him with huge disdain who gave him the right to question her conduct. Which speech gave rise to the conversation set down at the beginning of this history. The quarrel being ended, the conqueror felt as gracious as a conqueror can afford to do, and resting her hand lightly on the arm of her captive, strolled with him through the sweet old-fashioned garden, along the turf paths bordered with strawberry-plants, behind which grew tall white lillies and columbines, and clove-pinks and damask-and-musk-roses, under the shadows of the trees of which last you could stand ; carnations drooped their tall heads, heavy with fragrance; and the long hedges of sweetbrier and honey-suckle sent forth their mingled scent, that ' came and went in the air like music' It was the sort of garden that must have inspired the time honored distich:

' The rose is red, the violet's blue, Carnation's sweet, and so are you.'

A compliment of somewhat the same nature floated mistily through Mr Templeton's brain, but before he could array it in words, a sudden turn in the walk brought them face to face with Lord Wreford.

Mr Templeton cursed his unlucky fate : never had Mistress Walwyn been so bewitching and gracious as during the last ten minutes, and now it would all be changed. ' What, you, Lord Wreford f she said, with a laugh. ' I did not know you London fine gentlemen could rise so early, far less be up, dressed, and have ridden five miW May I take t.hA aai-iincao or your visit as a compliment to myself ? 'To what else can you ascribe it, madam, but to my devotion to you ?' ' That must be great indeed, if it can induce you to ride five miles to see me on a fair June morning.' The touch of scorn was scarcely perceptible, but Lord Wreford felt it, and it made him lower his voice to a tenderer tone as he said, ' And had it been five times five miles, and the morning the darkest in winter, instead of bright and fair as your own sweet self, I should still have been here. Do you not believe me, Mistress Euphemia ?' ' I do not know, my lord.' Mistress Euphemia had as yet never fenced with an antagonist worthy of her skill; all her victims had been so poorly versed in the art of coquetry that their conquest was easy; but now she was engaged with a swordsman more skilled than herself, and one whose bold unexpected strokes took her so aback that she could not at once parry them, as she could the movements of less adroit fencers. Lord Wreford understood this perfectly well. ' Ah, madam, it is the wish of my heart that you should.' ' Do what, my lord ?' ' Believe entirely in me.' ' Believe entirely in a man's word ? No, my lord, my faith is not large enough for that.'

Meantime Mr Templeton had fallen back, with a very gloomy look on his face. Mistress Euphemia noted it, and could not withstand the delight of tormenting him still further, and the darker his countenance grew the more she flirted with Lord Wreford.

* You are not going, Mr Templeton V she inquired, in a tone of great surprise, as when they reached the bowling-green William made as though he would go. ' I am afraid I must,' he said. ' Nonsense; lam your queen, and command you to stay.' 'My queen has many servants,' he replied quietly, ' and I am not of much account. If I could serve her I would stay ; as it is, good-day, Mistress Euphemia.' He bent again to kiss her hand, with a courtesy that was not servile, but manly. She had never liked him so well before, and fur a moment she was angry with herself for having put him to such pain; then she turned away, saying lightly. l As you will. I will not detain you against your own wish. Lord Wreford, your arm.'

Lord Wreford—who during this dialogue had been intent on teasing Mistress Walwyn's pet pug-dog, an animal equally valuable and hideous—now came forward, and he and she sauntered towards the house. William, turning at the end of the bowling-green, saw them thus—he toying with the pomander ball that hung from her side, and she, with her slightly bent, listening to what her companion was saying ; and the lad—for lie was little more—went away with a bitter storm of rage and love in his heart. As to Mistress Euphemia, she was not going to care for her swain's discomfiture; if he chose to be so sulky, it mattered nothing to her. So she argued to herself, and as she could not shake off a certain uncomfortable feeling at heart, ascribed it to ' the vapours.' Walwyn Manor was a stately old mansion, in the early Tudor style ; and as Lord Wreford looked up at its ivy grown gables and massive red-brick walls, mellowed by time and lit by the morning sunlight, that filtered through the great elm trees shading the house, he thought that, after all, a man might do worse than live there for the six months of the year that London was empty, if he gained with it the beautiful creature by bis side, and a clear rental of five thousand,

He was forty, deeply in debt, and it was really time that he should settle down; anyhow, it was worth thinking of. As to the fair mistress of the manor, aha was rather weary of Lord Wreford's society; she did not know why, but she felt just a little bored by the cynical tone of his talk that had at first so amused her. Still he was a lord, with the chance of one day succeeding to an earldom, and she supposed that if, as seemed probable, he proposed to her, she must say yes ; even the remote chance of a countess's coronet was not likely to fall in her way more than once. He stayed to dinner, which was at two o'clock, and afterwards sat in the with-drawing-room, listening to Mistress Euphemia singing. She had a noble voice, clear and deep, and the rich sweet tones rang through the room, now full and satisfying, and then in soft low whispers, so perfect that they stirred even the fibres of what Lord Wreford called Iris heart, but what was in reality the pleasure-loving part of his brain.

Madam Walwyn, Euphemia's mother, sat by the bay window over her tambour, noting what passed, but making no observations thereupon; she liked to hear her daughter sing, was fond of her, and proud of her beauty, but it would never have occurred to her to influence Mistress Euphemia's actions.

Still when Lord Wreford had gone., she did say, ' I thought you would have asked William Templeton to stay to dinner, Euphemia.' Euphemia was walking up and down the room, her hands clasped behind her, her face somewhat thoughtful. She turned round as her mother spoke. 'Mr Templeton followed his own choice. I was not wanting in hospitality ; it was he that did not choose to avail himself of my offer.

Madam Walwyn said no more ; she understood the case perfectly well. 'I am tired,' said Mistress Euphemia at llength, 'and have the vapours. By your seave, Madam, I will rest in my room till upper.' She went to her own pretty sitting-room, and stood by the window looking out on the wide park richly wooded, where the deer were feeding, and the fruitful land beyond. ' And all this will belong; to whoever gains me,' she said, with a smile, as though feeling her own importance. Did this lord wish to buy her and her lands with his title and his languid, polished, roue self 1 And was he indeed a good exchange for her liberty and queendom—and freedom to love where she would ? There, it was unpleasant to think of. She did not know. She would not decide till she was obliged to. So her thoughts ran; and then came others that caused the color of her cheeks to deepen, and lips and eyes to light in a halfhappy, half-ashampjl smile; only for a moment, however; she drove them away with an impatient exclamation, as though scorning her weakness. She resumed her walk up and down the room, but came to a halt on catching sight of her face and figure reflecting in a long pier-glass; indeed the picture was very lovely. She had arrayed herself in full dress for dinner, and her sacque of the pale lilac, then known under the name of stifled sighs, was brocaded with silver, and trimmed with lace of the same—a dazzling dress, and one that became her well, causing her eyes to appear still more lustrious and her skin more brilliant, yet soft; as did her hair, which was drawn off from her fair forehead into an enormous toupee, and thick curls that clustered round her lleck, making it appear ivory-white by the side of their ashen-gray softness.

' Surely this face should achieve something more than a mere country squire !' she said, smiling at the brilliant reflection in the glass. ' And yet he is so good, so true.'

The last words broke from her as if against her will, and the thoughtful look on her face deepened into a frown. ' They call me a coquette/ she said at last, ' and I will prove worthy of my name; but a coquette had better not stop to think.' f To be continued.]