LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 817, 3 February 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TOO LATE TO MEND. (Continued.) An old county family had for long been in possession of Bramblebury Grange before ■Stine bought it, and possibly they had had a Banshee in attendance, which he had bought in with the rest of the family fixtures. The sound rose and fell with a remarkable regularity, and I had closed my book to trace it, if possible, to its source, when a movement in the far corner of the room—as it appeared reflected in the glass doors of the book-case—caught my eye, and at the same time the mysterious sound ceased. Here was light! Without altering my position I continued to observe, had at length the gratification

of seeing what I had hitherto supposed to be a cushion with a shawl thrown carelessly over it rise from the sofa and shake itself into the semblance of Mrs Dukke, who then crept stealthily out at the door, under the impression, no doubt, that she had escaped notice. She had scarcely disappeared when I remarked a little roll of pap r, tied round with string, lying on the carpet by the sofa. The string came untied as I picked it up, and four old letters fluttered to the ground. Without any distinct intention of perusing the contents, I allowed my eyes to pass over the first as I picked it up. The writing was a woman’s, and commenced ‘Darling Bob.’ Concluding it was from Stine’s wife to himself, I gave way to a strong impulse, and looked for the signature, to find written, * Your loving wife, Lucy.’ The second, third, and fourth I found each addressed to ‘My darling Rob,’ and each signed respectively, ‘Your loving wife,’ Arabella, Joanna, and Esther. Here was a frightful discovery ! For a moment I was perfectly stunned, and looked vacantly at the tell-tale scraps of paper as they lay scattered on the floor where I had dropped them ; then the step of some one approaching from without brought me to my senses, and immediately I collected them and thrust them into my pocket. The door was opened, and I stood face to face with Mrs Dukke, ‘ Ah, good morning, Mr Cheesman. ’ * Cood morning, Mra Dukke. I hope you find yourself pretty well to day.’ * Pretty well, t’->ank you. You see I hold a very responsible position in this establishment ; so large, and with such a young married lady for its mistress. One has to keep one’s eyes open, I can tell you.’ Mrs Dukke nodded two or three times very sapiently. Whilst she was speaking I could see her eyes wandering furtively round the room, but it was no go for the good lady. ‘ Ah! ’ I replied, and racked my brains for something to say that would cover my retreat with a little grace. After a great mental effort I remarked, ‘ Beautiful afternoon, isn’t it 1 ’ ‘/> h, lovely. It was just such an afternoon as this, some eight hundred years ago, when my great ancestor, dmiral Van Boost Dukke —you’ve heard of Van Boost Dukke, of course ? ’ * Oh, yes,’ I answered, in a voice broken with emotion; ‘ I knew him quite inti mately.’ I was getting desperate. ‘But sucli Ja beautiful afternoon; hadn’t you better go out ?’ Mrs Dukke was speechless, and looked at me as if she thought I was going to put her out. There was nothing else for it; so I smiled, and bowed, and fled. We did not meet again till the dinnergong sounded, when we all assembled, Mrs Stine included, around the * festive’ board, Once or twice I caught her eyeing me with a glance which hinted as plainly as possible at my being non compos, and she shuddered every time I raised my knife ; but I was too distraught with the strange, not to say suspicious, letters I held in my bosom to take much notice of Mrs Dukke. Stine was in remarkable good spirtis, and kept up a running fire of humorous remarks the whole time, every now and then exploding into a loud laugh at his own jokes I watched with increasing wonder. Could that great, simple, laughing fellow be the villian those letters would indicate? No. There must be some innocent explanation of the mysterious affair. A practical joke, or what not ? But what could have brought them into Mrs Dukke’s hand ? There was no getting at the bottom of it. I determined at length to hand them over to Bob himself at the first opportunity. It was very clear that they ought not to remain in my hands. ‘ Cheesman 1 ’ exclaimed Bob, in a voice that made me jump, * Ida wants to know if you have fallen suddenly in love this afternoon'? ’ ‘ Nonsence, Robert,’ exclaimed Mrs Stine; ‘ how can you tell such stories ? I never said a word. Pray excuse him, Mr Cheesman ; he is such a silly fellow, you know.’ She actually smiled towards him, and the poor fellow looked as radiant as a schoolboy at an unexpected half-holiday. I saw at once whence his unusual glee arose. They must have made it up. We had arrived at about the third course, when a loud ring was heard at the front door, followed by the entrance of a lackey with a card, which was handed to Bob, who was in the act of dissecting a plump pheasant. He no sooner caught sight of the name than, with a start, which passed all round like an electric shock, he shot the entire bird into a corner of the room, ‘My dear Bob, what’s the matter?’ exclaimed Mrs Stine. * N-nothing, my dear; nothing at all. M-my hand slipped. How very awkward of me ! I really must apologise. ’ He sat down as he said this, and wiped the perspiration from his brow. Then turning to the footman, who stood aghast as near the door as possible, he said, ‘ Tell Mr Runkin we are at dinner, and—and ask him if he would like to come up now, or— ’ * I’ll emne up now, of course, Bob, old chum. Ain’t I always ready for a snack?/ Mr Runkin, unaccustomed, I suppose, to the ways of polite society, had followed the footman upstairs, and thus was enabled to answer for himself. ‘ Well, Dick, yon do astonish me,’ exclaimed Bob. * I thought you in California by this time. Let me introduce you to my wife. My dear, Mr Runkin ; au old friend. ’ Ida bowed very stiffly indeed. We were each presented in turn, and received a familiar nod from the new-comer in response. Then Bob, excusing himself to us, took his friend off, ostensibly to show him a room; a procedure which struck mo as being very unnecessary, as a lackey could have done it equally well. I took Bob's place in his absence, which lasted half an hour. They were in close conversation when they returned, and Bob placed him next himself at table The meal, which was much pro longed, at length came to an end ; and Mr Runkin opened the door to allow the ladies fco withdraw, with an extravagance of gallantry so ludicrous as almost to upset my gravity. Stine, however, looked very grave. ‘Now, Bob,’ Runkin observed, closing the door and drawing in his chair, ‘ we’ll make ourselves snug,’ A result to be attained apparently by the drawing close to his elbow of a full decanter of Bob’s nuttiest sherry, the lighting of a huge cigar, aud the extend iug a pair of long thin legs over a couple of chairs.

* Fine place you’ve got here,’ he continued. * Very different from the sort of life we’ve been used to across the pond, eh, Rob ?’ ‘Yes; a fellow can’t spend all his life knocking about, you know,’ Stine answered carelessly. ‘ Well, no. If it cornea to a matter of choice, old chum, I think I should prefer £6OOO a year, with a country seat, and a fine ■vi fe each as you’ve got. I say, though, Bob,’ ho continued, in a would-be confidential tone, and with a not quite sober leer, she’s an improve—’ ‘ Pass the claret-jug, Cheesman, will you V in erposed Stine. Although it was getting dark, I could see a fierce gleam in Stine's eyes as he shot a sudden glance at his friend. Bunkin laughed and said, jerking his thumb in Bob’s direction and addressing me, ‘ He’s a funny fellow, our noble host, isn’t he? We’ve enjoyed many a rare joke together,’ ‘ Indeed 1 ’ I replied. This interesting gentleman must be none other than Bob’s American friend. To bo continued.