LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 921, 7 June 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ZANETTA, A CREOLE.

By Mrs Alexander Fraser. ( Continued, ) ' Not if we can help it, though it would be the most pleasant bivouac in my life. Will you hold my rein a moment ? Perhaps if I climb that hill yonder, I may see some thing to guide us.' He dismounted as he spoke, and brought up his horse to her. As she took the rein she urged him to haste; for she had been long enough in the tropics to know that the sun would sink in a few minutes, and that darkness would almost immediately follow. He went off at once, breaking through the luxuriant undergrowth, dashing over the torrent, and springing up the precipice down which the cascade tumbled. She soon lost sight of him, but she could hear his voice when he spoke ; and now and then a huge stone fell ci'ashing along the hill, making her tremble for his safety.

Suddenly the sun went down, sinking like a shot into the expanse of ocean; the fanlike foliage began to stir with the breath of the land breeze ; while the chorus of the insect tribe rose up from the earth.

At that moment Zanetta heard a shout that made her look eagerly upwards. She saw Mainwaring on a point of rock far above her head, but his voice sounded clear and distinct.

' I can see nothing,' he said ; ' nothing but mountains and sea.'

' Are there no dwellings in sight ?' the girl cried anxiously.

'Not one.' ' Do you mean to come down where you went up ?' * Necessarily, since that is the only practicable point. It is confoundedly slippery, too. I hope I shan't break my neck— tat would be very unpleasant for you !' She shivered in the warm evening air. ' Don't!' she said —' don't talk so heedlessly. For heaven's sake take care !' ' And for your sake, my love ?' ' For mine !' ' Can you see me, Zanetta ?' 'Yes, quite plainly.' ' Kiss your hand to me. then, and wish me bon voyage.' ' God guard him 1' she murmured, half aloud, while her heart throbbed fast in fear.

He waved his hand and then swung himself over a point of rock. After this she could see him no longer; the luxuriant foliage hid him from her sight. Then the horses began to grow restive, and she had some trouble in quieting them. Before she entirely succeeded in this there came a sound that chilled her blood —a sharp exclamation or cry—an ominous crushing of a heavy body through the dense undergrowth—a dull fall-a deep groan, and then an awful silence. For one moment the Creole sat stricken with horror. Then she raised her voice and shouted his name, but no answer came. Another instant of horrible dread, suspense, and mortal agony ; then she sprang from her saddle, let the horses go where they willed, and plunging recklessly into the thicket, made her way to the spot where Mainwaring had ascended.

It took her some time to do this, for her long habit was in the way and the watercourse intervened ; but on she went wildly, desperately through the prickly shrubs, over the foaming water—forward, despite all obstacles—despite her torn dress and bleeding hands, until at last she reached the foot of the hill.

Here she paused and gazed around. Even at noontide the spot where she stood was dark and dim with the shade of overhanging trees. Now in the dusky gloaming the shadows that were gathered there were almost unfathomable. Still after a while her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and she could distinguish in form at least the surrounding objects. On one side was the silvery sheen of the waterfall; on the other a g'gantic banana rose above everything, and flung its cool broad leaves against the sharp treacherous rocks.

Zanetta called again, and a faint low groan answered. Guided by this, she sprang forward hastily once more, and in a second was kneeling by a prostrate figure that lay on the verge of the stream, half in and half out offthe foaming water. The silent depths of the tropical forest echoed weird distinctness the wailing cry that broke from her lips as she bent down a n d lifted in her trembling atms the stricken head.

'My love ! my lo\ r e !' she pleaded, in tones that might have waked the dead. 'Can you not speak to me? My God ! Are you killed ? Are these lips silent for evCT V And she pressed to them over and over again her own cold and quivering mouth. But there was no response; no kiss answered her own ; there was not even a groan. The head which she supported fell heavily over her arm, and the form lay helpless and motionless with the heavy weight of insensibility. Mad with fear, she bent down and put her ear to his heart At lirst she could not tell if it beat; but gradually she caught a long slow throb, and the knowledge that life still held the citadel was like an elixir of vitality to her. She looked round; cordial there was none, but Nature's restorative was close by, and she sprinkled the water plentifully on his face. Then she plunged her hand into his pocket and found a small flask containing spirit, and she poured a lijtle down his throat. In a few moments the effect was visible. He drew a struggling breath, languidly opened his eyes, strove to raise himself, then fell back with a sharp cry of pain, and lay still, panting heavily. At last he spoke slowly, ' Zanetta, are you there ? Are you near me?'

' I am here, my love, my darling !' said the girl passionately, with her arms round him, and with sobs choking her as she kept

them back, so as to be able to answer him calmly. ' How did you'—a pause and a gasp — ' reach me ?'

' I don't know. I heard you fall, and I came here somehow ; that is all. Are you much hurt? Oh, do you think you are much hurt?'

' I cannot tell Wait a moment ; let me lift myself and see. Darling, hold my shoulders ; help to raise me if you can There ! Now -0 my "od !' It was no mere exclamation, this last : no mere utterance of an ordinary appeal; but a soul's great shuddering cry over an agony too keen for utterance. After it there followed a dead stillness, and Zauetta knew he had fainted again. She did not faint herself ; she did not even shed a tear. Indeed in that moment she proved the heroism of her love by the strength it had over her weakness. She knelt by him, chafing his hands, bathing his brow, pouring spirit between his clenchvd teeth, and striving by every means in her power to revive him ; but no sound came from her pale lips, no throb of anguish found outward expression. Once only she paused and looked upwards. Through the drooping plume like foliage the brilliant constellations of the southern heavens gazed down, shedding their mellow splendour even into that dark spot, and shimmering fitfully over the silver cascade Save the rush of water, all around was full of the strange awe and silence of the night—that silence in which we seem to hear the great heart of Nature deeply beating. Sounds there were, but they could scarcely be analysed or described—distant fitful voices of the forest that deepened rather than lessened the significance of the solitude.

The Creole felt that she was utterly alone —alone with none but God to aid—and out of the very desperation of despair came courage. The brave soul rose up to face the exigence, and after that it never faltered even to the end.

At last Colonel Mainwaring slowly came back to consciousness, and once more opened his eyes into those that, full of wistful pam, gazed so tenderly at him. ' Darling !' he said, 'bend down.'

She bent down, and he kissed her trembling lips thrice, as passionately but more softly than he had kissed her hands the night before. Then he bade her lay his head on the ground. ' Why ?' she asked, wounded at this. ' Why may I not hold it in my arms ?' ' Because you must go back to the house. When I was up there,' he glanced at the hill near them, ' I saw what our best path woul i be; and I think there is enough starlight f o*you to try and follow it, I cannot move. You must place me here, and send for me. Listen ; I will try and explain the route.' But she would not listen; she cried out at once on the cruelty of this. ' I will not go,' she said firmly. 'lf I could find the way a hundred times, I would not go ! How can you bid me do so ? How can you dream that I would leave you here, suffering and a»one ? If I could bring help, it would be different; but it would require hours at least, and you would be all alone here '

She looked around and shuddered, as the thought that he might die there all alone stabbed her soul.

' Nothing will make me go. You are cruel—cruel to try and send me from you like this !!

' My dearest, it is for'—he stopped as he was about to say, 'your own sake.' He knew that was the last argument in the world to move such a steadfast nature as hers. So, after a minute, he added, 'lb is for the best. Do you think it is not happiness to me to know that you are here, to feel your dear arms round me, and your hand upon me ? But it must not be. Zanetta, my own—my own—you must go V She understood him.

She understood how he thought o; her good name even in his extremity ; and how, for fear of the world's censure on her, he was willing to die alone in that great weird forest. Who could tell but that a vigil of death lay before him ! At this thought her spirit nerved itself for any endurance. ' You are thinkiug of me,' she said calmly and quietly, |* but there is no need for it. The world is nothing to me, while you are all 1 If I could help you by going, I would force myself to leave you, but there is no question of that. The best help I can render you is to stay by you. Derrick, be merciful, and let me stay.' He smiled faintly ; his whispered name in such loving accents fell like music on his ear, and the Creole's beautiful face, her pleading, passionate eyes, were powerful auxiliaries in her cause. He had said his say, and was too weak to urge her further, especially since her voice and touch were such unutterable salves to his bitter pain.

' Stay with me then, dear one,' he murmured, ' but I fear it will be a hard trial for you.' After this the time went slowly on, broken only by such strong wrestlings with pain as would have torn the girl's heart if she had seen a stranger suffer them, yet on which she looked now without flinching. She held the quivering form, wiped the cold brow, moistened the dry lips—all without a single falter. Then at intervals, when he could talk faintly and jointedly, she listened and answered more like a ministering angel than a woman. Love made her, for the time being, almost divine; endowing her with a strength, a wisdom, a tenderness, that in horse!f she could not claim.

In those few hours of mingled agony and bliss the Creole lived her life—all that was ever grauted her. He was dying. The summons had come in the full glory of his manhood. The dark blue eyes were glazing, the bright chestnut curls were dank, the stalwart figure crushed to the earth. He was going—he was almost gone into that realm of dark shadow, where only faith cm pierce, and only love can follow !

(To he continued.)

In accordance with the report of M. Viollet-le-Duc, it has been decided that the " substructions" of the Hotel de Ville, Paris, shall he entirely demolished. This involves a complementary outlay of 400,000 f. in addition to the proposed outlay of 21,000,000 f.

At Soclgley, when a young man was being buried in the parish churchyard, a publican j named 33udpo came forward and poured a ;bottlo of spirits on the grave, saying that jas the deceased had been fond of spirit? r when in life, he should have some now ho was dead. For this he was fined 255, the I charge against him. being that of desecrating the churchyard.