LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1036, 20 October 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE WOMAN’S TREACHERY. “ Argosy.” ‘ When the sun sets, to morrow, be at the stile, by the croa* road.’ The people were pouring out of St. James’s Church ; the chief church of the large town of Eichborough The organist was playing some sad, fitful chords, something from the Messiah ; and under cover of their melting sweetness, the audacious whisperer, a young and handsome man, had bent forward to make this appointment. The two young ladies, to one of whom he had spoken, were walking down the aisle side by side. Dorothy Stevens, for whom the whisper was undoubtedly intended, glanced up a mule look of assent through her golden curies. But it chanced that the other lady heard it, too, for her ears were subtle, and a dark cloud drifted over the sunshine of her face; her little hand clenched itself spasmodica’ly under the rich lace of her shawl. She fell back a step, and glanced coldly into the gentleman’s face. He was holding his hat in his gloved hand, and he bowed ceremoniously as his eyes met hers. At least, as ceremoniously as one can bow, coming out of church. * Good morning, Mi*s Lawrence,’he said, distantly; and just then they emerged from the aisle to the vestibule Miss Lawrence held out a tiny hand, which he could not do otherwise than take

He released it immediately, notwitbstand ing her clinging tou h, but the little hand was not to be so repulsed. It fluttered to his arm, and rested there, just one finger being on the c r, at cuff. ‘ There is such a throng,’ murmured the young lady in an entreating tone of apology; ‘ and people never mind where they put their feet, lam sure my flounces will be in rags. ’ Mr Hastings perhaps anathematised first the crowd and next the perishable flounces ; but what could ne do, save take the girl under his wing? Dorothy looked back and saw him coming down the steps with the beautiful heiress hanging on his arm in that, frightened, appealing, clinging manner, which she knew so well howto put on. But Dorothy only smiled and nod <ed brightly : she felt perfectly secure in the love of Dean Hastings, after that sweet whisper. Each of these three people, when once in the op-n air, went their way homeward in the mellow and bright October sunshine. But not before Miss Lawrence had detained Dean Hastings for a chat. ‘ Are you particularly engaged this after noou, Mr Hastings ? ’ ‘ Yes, I am. I am going out of town at once to see a sick friend, and shall not be back before nii e o’clock.’

‘N'ne o’clock?’ she repeated musingly. ‘ Well, that will be time enough. Papa wishes to see you, if you can calk’ ‘But I—oh, very well,’ broke off Mr Hastings ‘ Tell him, if you please, that I will endeavor to come ’ Within the shade of her own chamber, Annabclla Lawrence t rew off her hat, and grasped at the lace collar around her throat as if it were choking her idle paced up and down ; then, pausing before the pier-glass, she bent forward and looked at herself long and earnestly. Her dark hair was silky, her black eyes fla-hed fire. * Youth and beauty,’ she murmured. ‘lt is said that youth and beauty will work winders for their possessor But what have they done for me ? They cannot win for me the love I need ; the love he gives to that pale, spiritless working girl. Ah !it makes me sick to think of her ! I know he cares for her—and does he think I do not see that he cares not for me? It is her fault. But for her, he would turn to me and love me. Uh, Dean. Dean, I love you ! Why do you not see it! —or do you see it, and yet will not respond to it ?’ She threw her arms up with a passionate gesture of sorrow, and then bent her head on her hands in pain. ‘lf I find if 1 find,’ she resumed, lifting up ner pale face, ‘ that he cares for her seriously-that he neglects me for hrr, I swear that b"th shall suffer - he as well as she. I-swear—it 1’

Anything more vindictive than the tone of her emi haiie words, tnan the expression of her pale face, was never seen or heard. Bella Lawrence was not a girl to be crossed lightly. Her face, sufficiently beautiful when she was at rest, or in her tender meds, was half diabolical now. Her great dark eyes dashed fiercely, a hot flush burned on her soft round olive cheeks, and through her full red lips her sharp pointed white teeth gleamed craftily. It was no fable that in her school days she had been nicknamed ‘the cat,’ and that her companions had given her full credit for all a cat’s spiteful nature when angered. She and Dorothy Stevens had been educated at the same school; the one was a rich heiress, the other was to be only a governess. Dora was in a family now, and Miss Lawrence condescended to speak to her now and then when they met. Bella walked to the window, and stood looking thought fully out, What a lovely scene it was ! The house stood on the outskirts of the town; hill and vale lay stretched out before her, and waving woodlands tinted with autumn’s unrivalled colors. Along the line of the river, spires and clustered chimneys marked the site of her father’s factories—milestones on the road to wealth ‘lt is all mine,’ she murmured. ‘ It will bo mine in time, and 1 would give it all to him with this ’ —lifting her hand. ‘ I would give it to him, and ho rejects it.’ Yes ; if Miss Lawrence could read signs, Dean Hastings would reject her hand were it offered him. But she was not sure : not q ite. .Again her quick mood changed, The liush died out of her cheeks, and tears crowded into her proud dark eyes. ‘ I’can, ■ <ean, I would give you the tenderest, truest love a woman ever proffered. Oh, why do you despise it ? ’ And yet, who was Dean Hastings ? Nobody. tic was a gentleman by birth, it’s true, but he had no means save what he earned as one of the chief clerks in this very factory—that of Lawrence and Lawrence. Uis cuubiu was a baroubt iu au adjoining

county ; and I)ean was in the best society that Kichborough afforded. ‘So absurd, so incongruous,’ thougnt Bella, ‘for him to notice that stupid governess Who’s that?’ she >ather sharply cried out as a ta • was heard at the door. ‘ Ch, what do you want, Pauline ?’ The lunch wared. 'io Miss Lawrence went down with finger on lip Her mind was hard at work.

Do you think the father of all wickedness is in league with such of his children a« would forward his evil designs on earth ? Does he make the way smooth for t em when they abandon themselves to working out th* ir fierce pas-ions of hatred and revenge ? f'ur forefathers used to believe in these alliances of earth and the devil ; and we are at times fain to believe that if the devil be not in league against us, the good angel who we love to think watches over us is at times far off very, very far. The clock was striking nine that night when Dean Hastings was shown in Bella received him in a small favorite apartment that she often sat in, and liked best. The fittings were of pink silk and lace, the ornaments scattered about it were rarely beautiful. Mr Lawrence was out For that little command of her father’s, transmitted to Dean in the morning, had been an invented fable of her own.

Sh f> held out her hand to him, and bade him take a chair near her. His handsome eyeswtr fixed deferentially on her f »ce as he obeyed; but there was no warmth in them ; there was not one shadow of tenderness towards her in his manner, Bella’s heart grew faint aud her lips cold ; but still she hoped against hope ; she would not give up all without a struggle. This night shoul d decide the uncertainty ; leave her to happiness or to despair. The interview lasted about half an hour ; and what passed between them was kn >wn. Probably, in her desperation, Annabella Lawrence let him gather unmi-takably that her love was lus -and she did love him with a 1 the terrible passion of her fierce nature : and he on his side may have allowed her to see that he could not accept it. He may even have hinted to her that his true affections were given to Miss Stevens, the poor girl-governess, so nr justifiably despised by the great heiress. Any way, when Dean Hastings quitted the rich merchant’s house that night, Bella knew that her hopes of happiness were over, that despair had set in. She resolved to live henceforth only for revenge. Annabella had seen a good deal of Mr Hastings. It cannot be denied that he paid her some attention ; that he met her advances, if not half way, at least part of it. But be never cast a thought to anything serious; that great heiress, his master’s daughter, wa= not for him to aspire to ; and it was only lately, when he had begun to detect S"mewhat of her true feelings for him, that he had drawn in, and become cold t<> her with a purpose. Between that time and this, he had met Dorothy Stevens, and learnt to l"ve her. And now, in her bitter heart, Mi-s I awrence was staving to hate him as much as she had loved him. She believed ho had deliberately played her false; and, as Shakespeare tells us, Hell has no fury like a woman scorned. [T<> he Continued .)