LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 887, 28 April 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

K-IBS AND TRY. {From London Society.) (Concluded.") They were all silent when he ceased. Marie indeed seemed to recover herself wi?h an effort, and thanked fo.iis gently, in a tone that nearly •unro& ( niied him. e . Dear s,e I' 1 cried the lawyer : I've forgotten i had a telegram to leave at the office. Excuse me, I'll return,' Mr Delaselle accompanied him to the door, 'Something very despicable in business,' said Lord Pauline. 'Very despicable, very,'echoed the curate, ' Contact Avith the coarser natures who seek; the aid of the law must naturally upott those who listen to their '• 'I believe there 3$ great fee,*said Mr Delasello, reentering j 'let us go up to the high windows to see.' 1 The gentlemen end aunt Jane, who had a special horror of lire, followed him quickly ; and Marie was moving in the same direction, when Thurston, who had stood aside to let the others pass first, spoke her sanie gently. She paused, and iioi? she moment thoy i alone. ;

'. 'i-es,' she said kindly. ' I—l just called to say good-bye ; I start for China to-morrow night—some years before I may see you again,' said Thurston in a hurried and confused manner. 'ls this true?'

' It is, indeed, quite true. You will remember me sometimes, Marie '!' he almost .said 'my darling,' but bis courage failed. Her eyes fell; she Hushed slightly. ' Yes, I shall remember you. Stay, let

me think- hush ! Is it a fire ? ' she added, iu a different tone, hearing footsteps. ' At a great distance; no danger, said Mr Delaselle. Aunt Jane glanced suspiciously from Thurstan to Marie, and back again. He felt that he was looked on as de trap ; and confused, believing too that to stay longer would be simply to prolong his torture, wished them good night, and left what he had almost nerved himself to say to Marie still unsaid, and now probably beyond his power to say. A certain stiffness fell upon the party, and Marie seemed to have lost her gaiety, till in less than an hour Marshe returned, and she brightened up, to the great delight of aunt Jane and Mr Delaselle, who saw in this a sign of affection for him, and were reassured. Marshe was very lively. The fact was he thought he had done a clever thing. It was this. Driving to the office of the firm, Marshe, Marshe, and Copp, he recollected that he had a valentine in the pocket of his overcoat. It was a very expensive one, which he had selected with much care, containing a few love verses of the approved order, surrounded with gorgeous design, and perfumed. He argued with himself pro and con, after the manner of the judicial mind, as he drove along, whether he should address the envelope himself in his own proper handwriting, or whether he should disguise his style, or get some one else to assist him. This highly important question has agitated the hearts of valentine senders ever since the graceful old custom began. Clearly, if directed in his own handwriting, Marie, who knew it well, would recognise the sender immediately ; of mystery there would be none, and the fun would be lost. If the address was written by a stranger it was ten chances to one that she would never fix upon him, in which case the valentine might as well be thrown into the fire at once. What was to be done ? A Frenchman Avould say that the answer to this apparently trifling question decided his destiny. It was still open when he reached the offices of the great firm, in which his part was really merely nominal. In these vast businesses each partner has one department to himself, and perhaps scarcely ever hears the name of the clients of the others ; this young man, pert and fashionable in his ways, thought no more of his profession than was absolutely forced upon him. They were working very late that night; his father was sitting still, getting up a matter for a parliamentary committee— the telegram he had forgotten referred to this. ' Ah, Jones,' said he to a confidential clerk who had a room to himself, a kind of antechamber to the great man's, ' just put this letter in a large envelope, one with the firm's initials on—only the initials, mind—and direct it with the type-writer to Miss Delaselle, * * * *, Mayfair. Have it ready for me.' In this way he thought he had conquered the difficulty. The writing-machine really prints exactly like type; but the initials would leave a olue to guess by, Clever young man ! Jones, so soon as his back was turned, smiled, and smelt the letter. ' Aha! ' thought he, ' I'll have a look : it's a valentine ; I can smell the perfume.' The envelope was but just stuck; he loosened it, and pulled out the valentine, laying it on a long letter he had }BBt finished with the machine. Hardly had he taken a peep when the door opened again, and Marshe stood in the opening —still, however, With his back turned—talking to the principal. In an awful fright, Jones upset all his papers, crammed the valentine and the long letter hastily into envelopes, and wrote the directions like lightning, 'That will do—capital!' said Marshe, taking the valentine, ' It's rather an awkward looking parcel, though. Give that other letter; I'll send them both to post by the boy as I go down stairs.' He dashed back rapidly to Marie, who, as soon as he arrived, became as merry ag ever, and raised his hopes exceeding When the evening closed, Marsh.e it ought to himself, ' She has come round. I'll strike the iron is hot, and put the que§sjon to-morrow night. By the bye, that ill-favoured Thurstan I hear is off to HongKong. Glad of it; always h?„d a lurking suspicion there was something between them.' Who, in all great Loudon, should have been so happy as Marie that night ? Rich, with crowds of admirers, and sure to have a hundred valentines next morning. Would any one have believed that sho never slept all night, but passed tho Ayeary hours, thinking, thinking, and frequently shedding tears. Till Thurstan was about to leave her, in all human probability for ever, sho had never known haw much she loved him. Indeed,, sh© had hardly ever felt that she h,adj a heart; life had been one long of joyous frivolity. Now she knew tho utter nothingness of all the nicknacks of wealth. Of what use were dozens of admirers if he was not there ? She remembered Captain Williams's blunij <,Tiee-laration that the best and truest wemaa, was the one who married for lo.ye. Poor Thurstan h«d not a penny, Some of these men who eourtod Jj,er had shown such bad taste as to describe the shifts he was sometimes put to ; instinctively thoy felt he was a dangerous rival, and. thought to hold him iqj to comtempt. 4 1 know he loves me,' she said to herself ; ' why has he never said so ? It is this money ; He is too proud to have m.o think; he woos me for my money. To-morrow I shall lose him for ever. From sheer she fell asleep at last, and wss by her maid, who brought a, salve* to her bedside, perfectly heaped up with letters. Here were the hundred valentines ! Scarcely twenty hours before she had looked forward to this moment with delight ; now she pushed the heap away as a vanity and vexation of spirit. 'Perhaps Thurstan has seat one/ she thought presently, an 4 turned them over, seeking the yccU-.»evnembered handwriting. ' No, %ot even a valentine ; very likely he is jtoo. poor to buy one that he thinks good enough for me." What is this thick letter 1 "What curious writing. It's printing, I think.' Curiosity impelled her to open it. She read and read, and a colour rose in her cheeks. ' Is it possible !' she cried, and sprang up. 1 I'll do it. I will! I don't care. Hurridly she wrote a note, and despatched it to Thurstan's chambers. A bold thing doubtless ; but reflect, they had been playmates. It ran thus: ' Miss Delaselle and Mr Delaselle would like to sec Mr Bayuard early in the day,

that they may wish him farewell. They will feel much hurt if he does not come.' ' Good Heavens !' she thought, 'if it should not reach him; if he should not come !' Thurstan, indeed, did hesitate, feeling that to see her again would be a severe trial. But love, all-powerful love, would not be denied. He went. She had so arranged that he found her alone in her boudoir. ' It's extremely rude of you, sir, to force me to write to you.' Now he was there, she could not resist the temptation to play with the mouse she had caught. ' Why did you not tell me before that you were going 1 ' Thurstan, unhappy and downhearted, could not meet her light tone with answering raillery. He stammered some excuse. ' And why are you going, sir ?' ' I must obtain a living somewhere.' ' Why not in England ?' ' The competition is so great. And everybody despises me because I am poor.' ' Stanny,' said she, using an old familiar abbreviation, and placing her little hand on his broad shoulder, ' Stanny, you're a big man—a giant—and O, so strong ; can't you push your way in the crowd ?' ' I've tried,' said he simply. ' No, you haven't. I tell you what, Stan —l'm not afraid of you, though you are so big—you're a coward ! There—O, don't flash your eyes at me ! You're afraid, and so you are running away. You'll cry next, I suppose' (this was very cruel). ' You're not half so brave as I am. Men are not half so brave as women ' (her voice sank lower, and she looked at him, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears, though he, gazing away, did not see it). Do you know what I should do if I were in your place ?' Something in her tone made him glance at her with a strange sensation in his throat. * What wonld you do if you were me ?' he said. ' Kiss and try,' she whispered softly, letting her head droop against his shoulder. He did it. There are no words by which so sudden a revulsion of feeling con be decribed. The half-hour that followed was the happiest in his life. Suddenly he remembered himself. •lam so poor,' he said. ' Forgive me—they will say it was your money.' ' Are you sure you are so poor?' ahe said archly. ' Quite sure.' ' Then read that;' and she put Marshe's valentine into his hand. H e tried to, but he could not take his gaze from her ; and the letters seemed confused. ' Listen,' she said, and read it. Slowly the truth dawned upon him. Jones, the clerk, in his hurry, feering to be caught peeping, had put the letter and the valentine in the wrong envelopes, or rather confused the addresses. Marie got, instead of a valentine, a long letter from Copp, the second principal of the firm, which had been really meant for Thurstan. The valentine went Heaven knows where. Of course, how it happened was not found out till afterwards, but there was no mistaking the contents of the letter, Copp in formal phrase informed Mr Thurstan Baynard that by the terms of the will of General 6ir Frederick Baynard, just deceased a distant relation who had never previously owned him —he was entitled to a very large sum in consols, and still more valuable estates ; provided—ah, whenever was there a blessing without a back side(?) — provided that within the space of twelve months he married a lady possessed of not less than a given amount, upon whose children the whole was to be settled. The old man was a miser, and it had been the work of his life to rehabilitate the fallen fortunes of the family. Casting about for a means of keeping the money he had painfully amassed in the family, he had hit upon this odd but not unreasonable idea. ' So you see,' said Marie, ' you're richer than I am. Perhaps you won't have me now?' His answer was a Iresh embrace. 'Ah,' she said, mocking his previously mournful tone, I'm so poor now compared to you, think it was your money.' 'lncorrigible,' said he, kissing her. 1 Incorrigible, indeed,' cried aunt Jane, who had entered unseen. 'This really is shameful —most ungentlemanly.' 'He is richer than—everybody,' cried Marie, laughing. * This is the most beautiful valentine, I ever had.' ' And this is the most beautiful one I ever had, or ever shall have,' said he, laying his hand on her shoulder with an air of posses sion that horrified aunt Jane. Matters, however, were soon explained, and her objections melted away, as did Mr Delaselle's. They were married early in May, Captain Williams being Thurstan's best man. 'I was certain she loved you,' he said. I can understand now what she meant on St. Valentine's eve when she looked at me so meaningly, when I said the best and truest woman Avas the one that married for love. She loved you when you were poor. You ought to be grateful to St. Valentine all your life.