LITERATURE

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 958, 21 July 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE

THE WHITE HOUSE. By the Author of " The Witch-Thorn.") ( Continued.) Prom the time of this unhappy parting with her, he had never seen either Mis* M'Carty or her aunt, as if they persistently kept to the house to avoid him. It happened, however, that one evening as he was wandering in the glen, he caught a glimpse of a figure which he recognised as Caroline's She was standing motionless in a little open glade in the centre of the valley, her arms clasped above her head, her attitude indicating deep distress. With no definite purpose in his mind—for he could scarcely have thought of speaking to her after what had passed —Bo wring hastened forward ; but on reaching the spot, which, for a few moments, had been concealed from his view, sh« was no longer there, and he caught sight of her brightcoloured scarf moviug among the trees farther on. Increasing his pace, he followed. That m'oment, however, ho lost view of her behind a rock that jutted across the path. Brought up in a land, the very bead-quaitoi-s of all weird, romantic, and fantastic superstitions, Captain Bowring could not be uninfluenced by what he had heard. Prom his boyhood, the idea of the Double had always struck him as one of the darkest and most mysterious of superstitions ; that an ordinary individual, leading a daylight existence like those around, should have a mysterious counterpart, that committed actions of which the real person was altogether unconscious, and that were totally contrary to the nature of that person. Of course, .whatever his early faith had been, it had long ago been scornfully rejected by his reason, though its influence, doubtless, yet tinged his imagination. The explanation, howevtr, that now for the first time entered his mind, was scarcely less terrible, that Caroline was subject to fits of insanity. He debated with himself whether he should once more visit the White House, and seek an interview with Mrs Stevens. Did Caroline know of the belief respecting her, he wondered. If not, better that she should never learn it; for if she should put any faith in it, what might not be the consequences ?

The same evening Mrs Stevens and Miss M'Carty were sitting together in the twilight drawing-room. The elder lady, leaning back in her chair, the fancy Avork on which she had been engaged, dropt upon her knee, was indulging in a doze. The younger was at the harmonium which she had opened at her aunt's request, for, of her own accord she rarely of late touched the instrument, even to awaken sad symphonies. When Mrs Stevens slept, she ceased, and now, with her head bent on her hand, seemed lost in reverie. The faint, wan moonlight streaming through the enclosed window, rested on her forehead, and showed how much her features had lost of roundness, and how deepened was the sadness of her expression. Suddenly a faint, cool air seemed to sweep through the room ; Mrs Stevens awoke, and sat upright, trembling from head to foot, and gazing towards the door, with a look of the utmost alarm. On the threshold a figure stood —Caroline, one would have said, only that there at the other end of the room Caroline sat, her head still bent upon her hand, sunk in reflection. Yet Caroline's self it seemed, though so shadowy, so airy and unsubstantial, that it might have been her image formed by glamour out of the moonbeams that shone through the room.

With a gliding motion the shape moved forward, till it stood in the centre of the apartment, Mrs Stevens watching its motions with silent fear and alarm, but its eyes were fixed on its human counterpart. For a moment it stood thus, then, fl.itti.ig backwards, jjassed with the same stealthy motion from the room, and nvght have been seen gliding swiftly up the stairs, treading in the moonbeams, as silent as they. Suddenly a loud scream resound d through the house, and the servant maid, Honor Kelly, dashed along the hall; tearing open the house-door, she rushed down the avenue, uttering inarticulate shrieks, and broken seatences in English and Irish, confusedly intermixed. The Double had passed her close by on the stairs, and wasn't she ' the unloocky crature ?' and wasn't this ' the onlooeky night ?' Her shrieks and exclamations did not cease till she had left the grounds behind her, and sank down at the door of the nearest cabin. Then she managed to compose herself sufficiently to pour her tale into the sympathising ears that were eager to hear it. CHAPTER VI. THE DOUBLE. What Bowring had heard increased tenfold the sense of unreality and mystery which seemed to envelop Caroline, and to shroud his own life at this time. Sleeping or waking, her shadowy image was ever before him, regarding him from dim recesses, or some remote vista, with her strange mischievous smile.

He did not immediately put into practice his idea of seeking an interview with Mrs Stevens. He felt reluctant to enter the White House, for had not Caroline, with a calmness that did not consist with alienated reason, told him to go, that she loved him no longer, and that their engagement was at an end ?

Two or three evenings after that last described, he was again wandering in the hazel glen, thinking, as usual, of Caroline, and the dark superstition respect ing her, which consisted so singularly with the peculiar feeling he had experienced on each occasion when she had appeared before him in her changed aspect, almost as if he were in the presence of a creature of another nature, between whom and himself an unsympathetic and impassable barrier existed. The same half-clouded moon shone this night, as on that when he had last seen Caroline. Its rays dimly illumined the little solitude, and the valley was so overcharged with watery vapour that it scarcely seemed like solid ground. He had come in view of the open space where he had seen her standing in the moonlight; and there ! was it possible ? in the centre of the glade, sitting on the whitened trunk of an old tree, was Caroline ! But was it herself, or, as—like the yeasantry- he involuntarily phrased to himself, the other, the Double ? He had paused for a moment to assure himself that he saw aright, so thin and transparent was the form that it might have been the moonbeams glinting on the old trunk, or the silvery mist which filled the

glen, that seemed to have taken a human shape. Now, once for all, he determined to fathom the mystery, and ascertain of what substance was the being that he beheld. As he approached he saw the coloured scitf. Save for it, she was all in white, with white flowers twined in her hair, as if decked out for anmn festive occasion, lie was within a few yards of her, in another minute he would have reached he side, when she rose up, and, liftiug her hand, beckoned to him, with her peculiar mysterious, and half malicious smile ; then glided swiftly onwards. He followed. Every moment h< thought he should lvaeh her, but still she receded from hi<n, smiling and beckoning him on.

At last, on a little eminence, she hovered for an instant, and beckoned to him again, smiling that mysterious and meaning smi'e, which seemed to sav, 'The place i* not yet reached, come and see.' Where was she leading him 1 He felt like one in a nightmare dream. A horror unutterable was upon him, which every argument of his reason was powerless to dispel. It was as if what he had felt on previous occasions had reached its climax now, and the moment for some frightful consummation was come.

Still on and on she flitted, through the silvery mist sleeping in the valley, which made it appear like a river, over which she skimmed, light and unsubstantial as it. She was near the old castle now, and soon her form vanished among its ruined columns and arches. He arrived in time to see her flit up the spiral staircase, turning again, as if to see was he yet following, and b-ckonng still, as if she would lead him oat of the world.

He sprang tip the stairs. In an instant he would be beside her on the frail little platform overhanging the abyss, where there was space but for two, and then she could no longer flit before him. His heart beat yet quicker as the moment arrived. He gained the top, and saw her standing on the verge of the precipice. And once more her eyes met his, with that peculiar mirthful expression still on her face, as if some jest, some fantastic freak worthy of a witness were about to be played by her. Then she flitted forwards, forwards into the empty air, and sank from view, swallowed up in the frightful abyss ! The next instant beheld Bowring hanging over the brink of the chasm. For the moment he was mad, and with a wild determination to perish with her, to die before he should have time to think of what had happened, he was about to iiiug himself downwards. The roar of the cataract rose up, and a sound like a dying groan. Other sounds, too, were in the air, voices that seemed crying aloud. He did not hear them, only that faint moan, mingling with the dashing of the waters, sounded in his ears. But had he heard, it would have seemed but natural that the whole universe should be in commotion, and that shrieks should echo around.

' Caroline,' he cried, and opened his arms, as if to clasp her when he fell. Some force held him back. A strength almost superhuman was exerted to drag him back from the edge of the precipice. He struggled desperately to free himself from the grasp that was about him. He turned, Caroline's face met his, Caroline's arm encircled him. Dizzy and bewildered he tott ;red back, and fell, half swooning, against the rock. * * "" * *

Bowring afterwards learned the following circumstances :

Colonel M'Carty—Caroline's father, who was a retired officer, had set out on a travelling tour, accompanied by his two daughters, and, previous to going to Italy, took up their abode for a time in one of the Swiss valleys. Before setting out, Colonel M'Carty's daughter Isabel, had made the acquaintance of a young officer, betweeu whom and herself a strong attachment was formed. The Colonel, however, vehemently opposed any engagement between his daughter and Lieutenant Weldon, who was somewhat inferior in point of family, and fortuneless. Tie wished to see Isabel united to a gentleman named Tyrrel, who to further the plan, had accompanied them abroad. He was not aware that the vicinity of the very spot where he had fixed his abode, Weldon had also arrived. Yet so it was, and soon communication was resumed between him and Isabel, and stolen meetings were arranged. Caroline was the only one who was aware of these interviews, but Isabel did not confide to her all her secrets. She knew that her sister warmly sympathised with her devotion to the man who had won her affections, but Caroline's counsel was, that the pair, continuing true to each other, should yet remain apart, and, in time, Colonel M'Carty, seeing his daughter persistant in her refusal to become the wife of any one else, would give his consent to her union with Weldon. Such a course, however*, by no means commended itself to the headstrong and wayward Isabel, who, though the fac-simile of her sister in appearance—they being twins—was totally unlike her in temperament.

At length, unknown to Taroline. an elopement was arranged between Isabel and Weldon. On the day settled for it, Isabel M'Carty set out and proceeded to a shepherd's cabin high up among the mountains. Here, in the evening, her lover was to meet her, and they were to Hy together. As the approach to the cabin was dangerous and intricate, along rugged pat' s by f earful precipices, Isabel placed a light in the window to guide Weldon's steps. So she had been in the habit of doiug. for this was their usual rendezvous. The shepherd's son was stationed outside, to give warning in case of any surprise, if her absence were discovered sooner than she calculated upon. Suddenly the boy entered, and, to Isabel's consternation, made the announcement that two persons were coming. One, he knew, and it was her father; the other, he had not seen distinctly, but thought to be a stranger. Isabel at once ilew to the conclusion that it was Tyrrel, her detested suitor, who, having ascertained her place of con cealuient, had come with Colonel M'Carty to force her back. ' The light, the light,' she cried, beside herself with hurry and agitation, and, uying to the window, she removed it, with the idea that thus her father and Tyrrel might miss their way in the darkness, and pass the cabin. {To be continued.)