LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1038, 23 October 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE WOMANS TREACHERY. “ Argossy.” {( ontivned.) ‘1 am ; it is a quarter past nine,’ replied Dean, good hurnnuredly. ‘ Truth is, I got an important letter from an old college chum, and waited to answer it. ’ ‘Ay ; one generally gets hindered at the wrong moment,’ ob erred Richard, with a pleasant smile ‘ I want you to get off to the station and take the ten o’clo k train for : Liverpool.’ j ‘ Are you joking Lawrence?’ 1 ‘JN ot a bit > f it. bore’s something j wrong about the cargo of cotton just in, and | you must go down to see about it. I should i have gone myself but for the governor’s ill- | ness. He is in fr a iit of the gout again, 1 and I must stay here to take his place ’ I Dean’s face wore a blank look. ‘ I w.sh I had known of this before.’ •No doubt. I knew nothing about it till the letters got in this morning. Iho governor ordered me not to bother jtiim with trifles, bu‘ I thought he ought to know something about this. “A« you ca ’t go yourself,” said he ‘‘you must send Hast ngs down, iot him be off by the first train.” So you have no time to lose, y or see ’ j Yes, his Satanic Majesty was certainly at ’ work; for it was a positive fact that this news about the cargo of cotton was no fable, and that somebody had to go to Liverpool. Apart from any scheming, that somebody would probably have been Dean Hast ngs. j ‘ When the sun sets be at the stile by the i cross road,' j It was this remembered sentence which j was troubling his mind. Dora would g<> to the I trystiug place this evening, and go in i vain. Legitimate communication between herself and h m was difficult at all tim-is ; hut now he had no time to plan for or risk it. He glanced at the clock hanging over the desk. No ; there was just time for him to dash home to his lodgings, tumble a few things into a portmanteau, and dash up to the station. ‘ Well, 1 suppose I must be off, then,’ said he. ‘ What are my instructions?’ ‘I am writing them down ter you,’ Perhaps the word ‘writing’ inspired Dean with an idea ; or perhaps it was the little delay. Seizing paper and pen, he began a note to Dora Then be hesitated, w ndering how he should get it convoyed to her. His he id seemed iu a whirl au unusual thing. R'chard was writing fast, and the m-ise worried him Scratch ! serat h ! Tick ! tick ! How that horrid clock hurri d the minutes away. If he c mid only stop it If he could only put out his hand and s-t p those i its of steel which were whirling his time away so fast If he could only stop time itself Bif. no! Then another idea struck him; and ho wrote rapidly and fas n«d up the note. ‘Here,’ said R chard, handing him a fold st paper, with some money. ‘Hood luck to you, Hastings, and don’t lose moie Line.’ Richard seemed so gracious at that moment, that Dean was wondering whither ho mi" it not trust him with the note’s dethe idea which had been floating with uncertainty through Ins mind. He looked at him, then glanced at the note, and looked again. ‘ Cau I do anything for you V asked Richard, blandly.

‘Well, yon can, Lawrence I think I can •rust you ; th-mgh I am truly sorry to give vm die to üble You know the 1 ’alioways well and or- thy Stevens the g'verness : if you’d not mind eal'ing there and putting his into her hand privately. I should be truly ob iged ”

‘ All right,’ said Eichard, holding oat his hand f-»r the note.

‘ But you must let her have it before five o'clock this aft moon : that’s‘ndispensahte.’ Eichard Lawrence nodded as he slipped the note into his poeket. And Dean Hastings male all speed for the train. ‘ Tell Mr Lawrence how sorry I am that he is ill,’ he waited to say. ‘I hope ha will soon be np again.’ As to Eichard, he found a minute to run to Miss Lawrence to report progress ; and he show ed her the note.

‘ I’ll undertake that,’ said Bella. ‘Give it to me ’ It used to be the fa-hum in no”- la of the Rosa Matilda scb •<>! to rep esent young govern' s.-es as beings of incompar d> ! e beauty, saf to c mse havoc in the heart »f iho h •use’s eldest son and heir, and trouble to everybody else in consequence. Now this had absolutely happened in the case of Dor thy SteV' ns—although she could n-1 boast of much beauty, save in her tine golden hair and sweet blue eyes, and, it may be, in an inn)cent, confiding expression of countenance l T pon leading scho 1 a situation had been f"Und fi>r her in the h use of vlrs Calloway : a rigid gentlewoman who boasted of high descent: to conduct the education of an only daughter. There was an only son as well, much older; twenty one in fact; and ho fell f irthvvith in love with the governess’s pretty eyes and hair, after the alleged custom f f these half fledged young-ters. For a long while Mrs Calloway suspected not the treason hatch ng in her s n’s heart; and sh >, confiding woman, continued to have Miss Stevens down to the d awing-room whenever she received evening guests ; for the y ung lady, <1 n’t you see, was useful in th- matter of playing and singing. Now and then Dorothy went out w th them also ; always when the daught r went. It was in the.-e social evening atherings that Mr Hastings had s-en her and learnt to love her; and she, por girl, had no nti n that anyb dy else did. Young Mr Calloway, w ho was of a basnful, nervous temperament, kept his sentiments to himself, and did not annoy Dora : she only used to wonder why he stared at her so, and wished he would not. But one unlucky day he comt to the desperate resolution of declaring his love, and penned a letter describing it. By some awkward mischance it fell into the posse-sim of Mrs Calloway instead of that or the governess; and a tine hubbub it caused. Do a, with earnest words and tearful eyes, protested that she had been in utter ignorance o' the treason ; and Mrs C llovvay, believmg it in her secot h-art, and i.ot caring to part with her, kept her on: but she spo>-e to her in very severe terms, and cmdidly avowed she should exercise a ri^id. espionage over her in future. Dora agreed t • that willi gy. he was conscious of no ill : moreover, she was a friendless orphan, and feared to throw herself out of Mrs Calloway’s situation, lest she should not find another. Young Mr Calloway was sent to the care of a clergyman at a distance, to read up for the Church, which he was to enter.

From that time, Dora found herself next kin to a prism r No more evening parties for her, no more social meetings. Mrs Calloway even exercised the right (she said she possessed it) of opening her le ters. Dora made no objection : she had never had but one letter since she entered the house, and that was from her f rmer governess. ‘ Characters are much easer lost than regained amidst young peop’e who have to earn their bread ; and I consider it my duty to take care of yours,’ Mrs Calloway <bserved to her by way of semi apology ; and Dora thought she was right (as no doubt sho was) and thanked her kindly. (To I* Continue L)