LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 815, 1 February 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TOO LATE TO MEND. Chapter I. ‘ Hallo ! I ought to know you ?' 1 looked up to see to whom the bluff tones belonged, in which my acquaintanceship was claimed. A big stalwart man, whose brown face was barely traceable behind a profuse growth of black curly hair, overshadowed me, damming up the stream of passenger traffic which Hows continually through Cheapside, until we stood in imminent risk of being carried away helpless and overwhelmed by the contending current; but my shaggy unknown friend averted the catastrophe by hooking me on to himself, and striking out for the doors of an adjacent restaurant. During that brief interval I turned over in my mind the tale of my acquaintance, but in vain. ‘ Why, old fellow, you look as if you didn’t know me.’ ‘ Well-er, I—l—must-er—’ I never could express my thoughts fluently, like some people. ‘You’re Cheesman minimus, surely,’ he exclaimed, placing his great brown hand on my shoulder. On the back was an anchor pricked in faintly with Indian ink. At once I recognised my handiwork, and replied unhesitatingly, ‘ Bob Stine ! Old Chalker’s ! of course !’ ‘ Of course. Come in, old fellow. Have you dined ? No ! Very well, then come in with me, and we’ll have a cosy meal and talk things over.’ This was a considerable improvement upon the solitary meal I had in prospect, therefore I readily agreed. ‘ What will you have, Cheesman, Julienne, mock turtle, macaroni? Julienne, eh? All right. Waiter!’ Whatever else Bob might have learnt during the eight years that had elapsed since I last saw him, he certainly had acquired the art of ordering a capital dinner. We were very soon in full career, talking and laughing and dining with about equal energy. ‘1 declare, Cheesman, Stine exclaimed, ‘ you haven’t altered in the slightest during the last eight years ; in fact, you might have just left old Chalker’s.’ ‘ Do you think so, old fellow ? ’ I rejoined, rather ruefully, I must confess. My hand rose nervously but now hopelessly to the smooth and sterile surface of my cheek, which had for so many years disappointed my most anxious and repeated efforts. However, I dissembled my feelings. ‘ Can’t say the same for you, Bob. Without the old anchor I don’t think I should have recognised you. What have you been doing all these years ? Did you not think of the Church ?’ ‘Ha, |ha, yes; but the Church wouldn’t think of mo. I was entered at Trinity, and remained there just three months, when they turned me out.’ Turned you out ! Why ? what for ?’ ‘ Well, it’s soon told. I had a row with a fellow there, a young sprig of a lord, and almost killed him in a pugilistic encounter that was arranged between us by the sporting community. His noble pa kicked up such a dust, and altogether it became so uncomfortable for me, that I determined to cut the whole thing; aud having, you know, a little money of my own, and no ties of any sort, the second month after the affa'r saw me ensconsed in a miniature bedroom on the top floor of a New York hotel. Henceforth I was known as No 999. No 1000 wasn’t a bad sort of fellow, also an Englishman, and being situated somewhat like myself we speedily chummed, and have knocked about in company ever since; that is to say until yesterday fortnight when he returned to America, leaving me alone to pass through a severe ordeal I have lately undergone in company with a lady, a clergyman, and a few friends.’ * What, you don’t mean to say you’re married ! ’ * A fact, old follow, to the liuest girl you ever set eyes on. She's at her mother’s in Harley street, whither I am going to return this evening. Wo have just come up from the Wight, and are taking a breather preparatory to a fling in Paris.’ ‘ Well, Stino, you do astonish me. I should have thought you the very last man to be caught in the matrimonial meshes. I must express the deepest commiseration for you in your misfortune.’ ‘ Ah, Cheesman, my boy,’ replied Stine, not in the slightest affected by my ‘ chaff,’

‘ you must see my wife, and then yon shall commiserate me if yon can. Let me see,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘ the day after tomorrow we start for Paris, where we shall remain at least three weeks; two weeks more for a run down to the Tyrol, then a week to recover at Shankbn or Ventnor, and for home. You must know I’ve bought a little place down in Hampshire. It was going for a song, and I thought I couldn’t better invest my little pile than in becoming a respectable landed proprietor. Of course, you will come down when we’re settled ; they tell mo there’s some capital shooting to be bad in my woods, so that you will have something else to do than criticise the newly-married couple.’ Stine might have altered in (personal appearance, but otherwise he was just the same noisy, headlong, impetuous fellow that he had ever been, full of thoughtless enthusiasm, led often thereby into great faults, ever followed by the wildest and most evanescent contrition. ‘ Then it will be somewhere about the middle of August before you have settled down, which would make it rather too long beforehand tojjcome to any definite agreement now. At present I don’t see any obstacle to my running away from town for a week or two about that time. Perhaps you will just drop me a line, if you are still in the same mind : and if circumstances permit, I shall be very glad to make your wife’s acquaintance and renew our schoolboy friendship. ’ ‘ Very well, old fellow ; then that’s settled. Let me fill up your glass. ’ ‘ N ot a drop more, thanks, ’ I exclaimed ; there were already two empty bottles on the table, and the hand of Soberness was raised in warning. ‘ By Jove, though, it’s getting on for eight o’clock ; how the time has sped !’ exclaimed Stine, ‘I must get back to my wife as speedily as possible, I was due at seven. I don’t know how ever I shall make my peace.’ Stine wouldn’t hear of my paying a farthing, but met the not very modest demands without (linching a muscle. Evidently he had sung the song of dollars and dimes to a good tune, or else he hadn’t yet learnt the value of money. He was only six-and-twenty. Having lighted our cigars, a hansom was hailed, and we sped swiftly westward. I dropped him at Harley street with a parting shake of the hand that almost dislocated my right arm, and proceeded to my bachelor den in the north-west district. No doubt there are many capable of envying my condition. Somebody has written somewhere a line which may bear a distant resemblance to my recollection of it, which is, ‘ Never a deep, but there’s a deeper still. ’ Only upon the strength of that asseveration could I entertain such a possibility. It is not that I am hard up. I daresay I make six hundred a year, and my tastes are not expensive. I don’t owe more money than is necessary to keep up appearances, and I never get more than three or four notices in the year as to the inadequate state of my banking account. Nevertheless, though seated in the most delightful of rockingchairs, and attired in all the luxury of Eastern neglige, with a gorgeous hubblebubble at my feet, I am not happy. In my ears there rings a hateful sound that is ever recurring. Or rather the ghost of a hateful sound, which haunts me day and night, becoming almost inaudible in the toil and turmoil of the day, but waxing wildly, fiendishly audible so soon as my hands and brain relax, and I seek to enjoy the ancient heritage of labor, rest at eve. What though I strove with the titanic power of a Locke to analyse my mind and regulate my thoughts aright? Unbidden there arises before me the fairy landscape of the Isle of White Undercliff'. It is early morning, and a blue haze swims before me and the beautiful stratiform face of the cliff above. Below, the broad smooth sea laps with a lazy murmur over the loose shingle. The counterpane of clouds is not yet swept away, and the long smooth rollers are scarcely awakened from their summer night’s swoon. I am not alone; oh, that 1 had been! With the springy step and regal carriage of a sylvan goddess, a beautiful maiden steps at my side. Her little sister is scrambling about, a restless speck on the yellow shingle far below. Thus we had passed the long summer days together, joyous and laughing, recking nothing of the future. Oh, what a beautiful charm had the present for me! What though each day was a golden link which bound me to the maiden at my side ? Christ’s martyr embraced not more eagerly the swathing flame than did I the molten links which burnt with ever-increasing intensity into my heart. Why did no friendly spirit interpret for me the light laugh and the free glance of the dancing eyes, which ever answered to my tenderest adjurations ? The sun rises higher in the heavens, and a leafy nook by the wayside invites ns to tarry a moment, and view the magnificent transformation scene about to take place. A light breeze sweeps over the sea-surface, leaving myriads of tumbling wavelets in its wake, the white coverlet of clouds is rolled away, the great sun looks down upon the scene, and lo ! every dancing wavelet is wreathed in diamonds, leaping and flashing in all the exuberance of its new-born splendour. Within our shady recess the coolness of the past night lingers still, and the starry dewdrop glistens amongst the dark foliage. Now, thought I, as i gazed upon my sylvan queen, now art thou fitly framed, my love ; it is well that the divine masterpiece should bo set in the creation’s brightest glories. Though we were silent my gaze was eloquent, as her changing color warned me. But why should I withhold that which my eyes had already confessed? I strove no longer, but poured out my pent-up love in a torrent of passionate words at her feet. * * Oh, that hateful sound ! A laugh light and unconstrained rings in my ear. Bright and keen, like a delicate blade of steel, it pierces to my heart’s core, and the wound will rankle ever; for the blade was poisoned—contempt was in her laugh 1 Chapter 11. The month of August was drawing to a close, and I felt like a guilty thing as 1 crept over the hot pavement during the broiling afternoon. But even the painful feeling of couspicuousness which oppressed me as I trod the now deserted haunts was better to bear than the awfulness of my rooms. Never for years past had 1 been in London at this season, and there was a something uncanny about all my surroundings. Ihe eyes in all pictures of which I had rather a nice collection seemed to follow me about with such unusual intensity ; curious rustlings behind

wardrobes and curtains, and unaccountable shadows across the room, were continually startling mo into a cold prespiration. In fact, I felt like an intruder; as if my departure would be the signal for all the eerie sprites and demons who inhabit deserted places to rush wildly forth, and disport themselves after the manner of their kind. No doubt they were waxing impatient, but what could Ido ? To go and bury myself in some miserable ‘ countrified ’ spot was abhorrent to my very soul, and somehow the sea-side had lost all charm for me. Not that that affair at Bonchurch has anything to do with my repugnance to the sea. lam not a likely man to fall in love in a hurry. The fact of it is, I came across rather a pretty girl whilst]! staying in the Isle of Wight last year, to whom I had been introduced in town, and there ensued a furious flirtation, which of course came to a natural end with the holiday, when we parted very good friends. In vain I had called at the familiar doors of my friends Eith, Jarwoon, Bones, and Sobinson. The answer was monotonous in the extreme—‘Gone out of town, sir,’ — delivered mostly in an aggrieved tone, and with a stare of astonishmentj atj my appearance. Having sauntered about till my head ached miserably, and finding myself opposite the club, I thought I would drop in and rest a bit, and was crossing the road to do so, when I was startled by a frightful yell, and discovered on looking round a gleaming set of yellow teeth and a pair of big bloodshot eyes within a few inches of my head, a horse having been pulled up with a smartness of which a hansom alone is capable. * Now then, yer lazy beggar, why don’t ycr go to bed and sleep? What do yer s’pose my ’orse’s mouth’s made of ? ’ &c. Knowing that my vituperative powers were no match for those of an insensed cabby, I was about making off with as little loss of dignity as possible, when I caught sight of the hansom’s occupant, and to my surprise beheld Stine—for from the day when I left him at Harley street to the present moment the thought of him had not once entered my mind. The recognition was mutual, and he at once jumped out and dismissed the cab, ‘ Why, Cheesman, is that you ? ’ he exclaimed. ‘ I think so, old fellow; but I shall be able to tell you more confidently presently, when I have a little recovered myself. ’ ‘ By Jove, though, that was a near touch ; I never saw anything so neat in my life as the way in which that man pulled up. Why, you walked straight at us.’ ‘ Did I?’ I answered. For the life of mo I could not have given a more ample rejoinder. Stine looked hard at me a moment, and then said, ‘ Do you know, Cheesman, I do think you have got a tit of the blues. It’s high time you left this vast stewing-pau. I have been racking my brains for the last fortnight to think how I should find out your whereabouts : for, if you recollect, I never asked your address. At last I determined to put an advertisement into the agony column of the Times , and should certainly have done so if I had not almost bowled you over so fortunately.’ ‘ Humph ! So fortunately, I think you said,’ ‘ Well, it was a narrow shave; but you are all right now, and I have got hold of you. This time I sha’n’t lose you out of my sight till I have landed you at my place. What are you going to do to-night ?’ ‘Oh, nothing particular.’ ‘ Have you any engagement for this next week ?’ I never trust memory with anything; so I pulled out my note book. ‘ Let me see, to-day’s Monday; tomorrow I was going to Johnson’s place, but I’ve had a line to say he has accepted an invitation to Scarborough. Wednesday, tea party at my aunt’s—mem., send an excuse. Thursday, have my hair cut—tut, tut, tut 1 No, there’s nothing particular, Stine, old fellow.’ ‘Well, then, there’s no obstacle to your leaving town with me to-morrow morning, is there ?’ ‘ N-no, I don’t think there is.’ ‘ Then that’s settled. Is this your club ? ' ‘ Yes. Come in and dine, and v/e’ll knock the balls about afterwards.’ We passed a very pleasant evening. Stine had become a wonderfully entertaining fellow, rather noisy, but full of fun, and as light-hearted as a lad of twelve years. I got to my chambers rather late, and packed up a few things, as I discovered on the following morning. Amongst the few things were a counterpane, a blanket, two odd boots, a few of the chimney ornaments, with the tongs laid carefully across the top. However, I got things straight at last, and galloped all the way to Waterloo Station, where I just succeeded in popping into Stine’s compartment before the train started. This was an express ; and within an hour and a half it stopped (the guard having been instructed) at Little Bramblebury, and we alighted. A neat dogcart, with a splendid animal in the shafts, awaited our arrival. ‘A liveried groom took charge of my ‘ Gladstone and S'ine taking the reins, off we dashed, leaving the man to scramble up and secure a seat in the course of our journey home. ‘ I hope Mrs Stine won’t be startled at your bringing home a stranger in such an unpremeditated manner,’ I remarked, as we neared the lodge gates. ‘Oh, no,’ he answered. ‘I told her I should bring yon back if I found you. But what do you think of my mart ? She has brought us along in splendid style.’ ‘ I think it’s a very nice horse, I answered, * though I don’t know much about them.’ The gates having been thrown ope 11 beforehand, we entered unchecked, and dashing through a fine long avenue of trees, pulled up in grand style before the front door of a handsome stone-built house. Before I could take any observations Stine had pushed me into the hall, where I stood helpless, feeling very unsafe on the slippery surface of the beautiful mosaic floor, whilst Stine made the place echo with his stentorian orders and inquiries after the mistress. ‘ What’s become of you all, Santou ? ’ he exclaimed, addressing a sombre portly baldheaded personage, whom I supposed to be the butler. ‘ t can’t make anyone hear.’ ‘No wonder, as your first arrival was enough to stun the household.’ That is what the man might with truth have rejoined, but did not. His actual response, given in great humility, was,

* Indeed, sir, very sorry, I’m sure. They are all about somewhere, sir.’ ‘ A lot of lazy rascals ! Well, see that Mr Cheestnan is made comfortable. Do you like a big room or a small one, Ghees man ?' ‘I don’t mind, thanks,’ I answered. ‘No. 3, Santon. Did you say your mistress was in ? ’ The butler answered in a low tone, and with a mysterious manner that seemed to me very remarkable. ‘ The mistress retired to her room after lunch, sir, and said would you excuse her this evening, as she had a bad headache.’ ‘ Very good, Santon; that will do.’ Stine’s manner became suddenly more subdued; and turning to me, he said, * It wants just an hour before you will hear the dinner-gong. I shall see you again then.’ To he continued.