LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1080, 13 December 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE OF THE WORLD'S SACRIFICES. [Argosy.] Tin.', glow of the setting sun turned the yellow bedgo blossoms into drops of molten gold, as two lovers stood at a rustic gate, and talked, as lovers will talk, of every subject under the sun except the one that filled both hearts with content so ineffable Henry May, as steady and as trustworthy a civil engineer as ever held a staff, idly switched the blos>soms with a willow rod ; and Mr Strong's pretty daughter made the air musical with her silvery laugh, or grew suddenly grave, according to her mood or to the glances he cast at the blithe young girl. ' I'm going out at last, Ethel.' ' You are !' answered Ethel, in a tone of affected surprise, as she looked up to the grave face of her lover, a provoking smile on her red lips. ' You do not believe it ?' ' I have heard that threat too often to put much faith in its execu ion,' laughed Ethel. ' A threat do you call it ?' ' Have you not said the same thing, oh ! a dozeu times ? But you have not gone ; and I know you must only say it to tease me—perhaps to try me.' ' To try you, yes to tease you, no Ethel, you know what t have waited for.' He spoke with marked seriousness, and the smiles left her face, which was fresh and dimpled as that of an infant. She did know what he had waited for—for her to say, Yes, to the question he had so often put to her. And she would not or could not say it. Mr May was rising rapidly in his profession. The firm to which he was attached wished him to go out to Canada to superintend certain works of theirs of great im portance that were already in progress there. It would be a rise for him, and a lucrative one. But he was determined not to go out without his wife, the pretty Ethel—at least, if he could by any possibility induce her to go. Nothing would have pleased her better. To marry and go out there with him was her day dream ; but she cherised it in seoret, f>r her duty, as she considered, obliged her to remain at home. When with him she would treat the matter lightly, just to hide the pain an' l doubt at her heart. ' The decision is no longer in my own hands, Ethel,' said Mr May, his tender tone grave and earnest. 'Robertson, who has been in Canada superintending, as you know, is down with sickness, and when he is able to travel is coming home. I must go in his place ; no alternative is left me. I ought to be off within a week ; but if I take you with me, I can be allowed to delay my departure for one month, to give me time for preparation.' Her face was now graver than his: the dimples had left the damask cheeks—the smiles the sweet and delicate lips. ' We can be married at once, even this next week, if you will, Ethel, or we can delay it until just before we start, as you and your mother shall see fit to decide.' Ethel turned slowdy, and looked across the wide green lawn that led to a cozy farmhouse, with odd gables covered with ivy, and cool porches shaded by climbiDg roses trained up the old fashioned pillars and festooned above the quaint windows. ' Harry,' she said, in a low tone, 'you know why I cannot say it.' He knitted his broad, fine brow. ' I am growing rather tired of waiting, Ethel.' 'I know. You think me unreasonable.' ' I think you cannot care for me : at least, not as I hoped and thought you did.' ' How many years have you waited, Henry?' she asked, suddenly facing him ' Well— let me see.' Henry May paused, with a short, nervous laugh, and laid his hand on Ehel's nut-brown hair, thinking absently how bright were the golden threads in the smooth braids. ' Ethel!' he broke out suddenly, * what beautiful hair you have !' ' That i 3 not .answering my question.' ' Oh, about the number of years I have waited for you ?' he said laughing lightly. ' Well, I believe it must be getting on for two years. Hut it has seemed very long indeed to me, Ethel.' Ethel was silent. She plucked at the golden blossoms at her side, listening dreamily to the sad complaint of some belated night bird, whose mournful notes disturbed the serenity of the calm June evening. ' And now I cannot wait any longer, as you perceive, Ethel,' he went on. ' Oh, my love, my love ! why should you continue to sacrifice our happiness to a chimera ?' ' A chimera ! Henry, how can you call it so ?' ' I do call 'it so. But I will not go over the old reasonings and arguments again tonight : you may consider I have used them all too frequently. One way or the other, Ethel, your decision must be given. What is it to be ?' 'Give me until to-morrow morning,' sighed Ethel, lifting a pair of beseeching eyes to his face. ' So be it,' he replied, in a sad tone. 'But, Ethel, I seem to know what your answer will be. How is it that other girls give up home, parents, friends, for their love's sake; while you cling to everything and everyone rather than to the man you have professed to love above all the world'? s I cannot tell.' Ethel's voice quivered as she spoke, and a few hot tears fell from her downcast eyes. 'I am sure I do—care—for you well enough to go to the ends of the earth with you : I do —I do. But you know that my father and mother cannot spare me.' ' Umph !;'■ returned Mr May, looking away from Ethel and her pleading face. Jno one admired filial devotion more than he did ; but he thought it might be carried, as in this case, unreasonably far. ' Other parents willingly give up their daughters ; why can-

not yours do likewise. I have a good position to offer you, Ethel.' ' I know it,' sighed Ethel. ' But, Henry, they do not withhold their consent without a just cause.' ' You told me tint they had left the decision to you.' ' Yes—in a degree,' she sadly answered. ' Well, you must decide, Ethel,' lie re peated. ' I wish to take my wife with me. If you do not accompany me, I must g • alone ' 'Eth-fl,' came the call at this moment, in a feeble, treble voice from the house ; and Ethel hastily picked up the blue trimmed hat that had fallen at her feet. ' I mus 1 ; go, Henry ; my mother needs me. Won't you come up to the house ? : 'Not this evening, Ethel,' he replied, bending down, until his dark moustache touched the rosy cheek. ' But I will b : here to-m >rrow to hear my fate. What time shall I come ?' 'Any time. I only want to-night to think it out.' 'There I-to think it out. I knew the decision lay with yourself alone, Ethel. A good night to you, my best and sweetest; and may your thoughts and dreams be propitious to me !' 'Good night, Harry,' she whispered ; and he might have read the despairing love in her eyes. ' But stay,' he spoke, arresting his foot steps as he was turning away. ' I forgot that I have to go to Easton tomorrow, and betimes, too. I suppose, Ethel, you could not manage to come out here, say, at seven in the moi ning ? I pass down this road, you know.' ' Yes,' she meekly answered, ' I will come.' Choking down a rising sob, she ran across the green lawn, anxious to respond to the call of her mother. Never was there a more dutiful daughter than Ethel Strong. Misfortune had fallen on her home, and she thought her dutv lay in striving to lighten it. Between one and two years ago, soon after Henry May had become engaged to Ethel, Mr Strong was overtaken by a blow. In an evil hour he had become security to a very large amount for a friend ; a friend whom he had always believed to be the soul of honor. The friend absconded, and David Strong was called upon to pay. It ruined him. He could only raise the money by mortgaging his farm deeply ; the farm which had been in his family for generations, and which was to descend to his son after him. The once numerous household was discharged, one inferior servant only being retained ; the once plentiful housekeeping became poor and scant. This was obliged to be. Mr Strong took to toil out of doors almost as a laborer ; Mrs Strong and Ethel had to do most of the work within. It was a terrible trial ; it told terribly upon the old couple. From healthy people, growing rather elderly, they suddenly changed, losing strength and spirit; and now they were bowed, worn, and broken ; looking like a very old man and woman for whom the grave was waiting. How could Ethel leave them ? Mrs Strong sat in the best kitchen, knitting, as Ethel entered. The sitting-rooms had been much neglected since their fallen fortunes ; to sit here saved trouble. She had a meek, feebla kind of face, and her voice was querulous. ' Where have you been, child ?' 'Only at the gate beyond the lawn, mother,' answered Ethel, brightly : for this dutiful girl threw all the sunshine upon the house that manner and cheery speech could throw. ' With Harry May ?' 'Yes, mother.' Mrs Strong sighed. She regarded the young man with a sort of resentment, because he wanted to carry off Ethel. Perhaps misfortune makes people selfish. 1 He is at last going to Canada, mother. It is impossible that he can put it off longer.' 'He can go,' said Mrs Strong. 'And so much the better {for you, Ethel, I am sure it distracts you mind like anything. ' Oh, mother ! Why do you object to him ?' ' We don't object to him in any way ; you must not think that; neither I nor your father. He is steady, persevering, and his position will be very good in time. But, Ethel, we cannot spare you.' ' No ?' was the faint answer. ' It might be better for you to give him up at once. I suppose he has asked you to go with him to this Canada V ' Yes ' ' Then, child, it will be better for you to give him up. Before he gives up you.' ' He will not do that, mother.' ' He will, though. It will be years before we can spare you, for you can't leave us while we are in this world ; and he wil- grow tired of waiting for you and of being out there alone.' The spoken provision was so exceedingly like what Ethel's own conscience foretold, that she turned sick and faint. Her mother saw her agitation. ' He wants to take you ? Urges it strongly, I suppose?' ' .H e wants me to be married at once, within a month, and to take me out. Yes, mother, he urges it strongly.' ' And you will go ?' ' Not unless you and my father can spare me.' ' But bow can we spare you, Ethel ?' ' Biddy is a steady, willing girl, mother, and is getting to be a good, servant. And you have always Roger, you know. And Harriet lives only a mile away, and would often come over to you.' ' I see what it is—you mean to leave us,' cried the poor mother, fractiously. ' Well, you are of age, Ethel —two-and-twenty this year—and we can't stop you.' 'Mother, you need not speak in that way,' said Ethel, with a rising sob. ' 1 only said I would go if you and my father could spare me.' ' No one can ever fill your place to us, Ethel. Biddy—Harriet—what are they? Just a heedless servant; just a heedless neice, who has her husband and her baby to take up her time and thoughts. And, child, there's another thing ; we have not a spare shilling to purchase you an outfit.' Ethel had put hrr arms on the table and bent her head on them, not caring that her distress should be seen. Mrs Strong was sobbing deeply 'Oh, Ethel, my child, don't go from us!' she pleaded. ' Your father's health and strength are falling ; Roger has his own pursuits in an evening and is out on the farm by day. What comfort would ho be to me ? what good ? Don't add to our dreadful burdens by abandoning us now !' Mrs Strong sat with her hands clasped despairingly in her lap. Ethel dropped!

down on the sfonl at her mother's feet and began to weep bitterly. 'Don't cry, Ethel,' sa ; d Mrs Strong laying her thin hand on Ethel's nut-brown hair. ' The night is always darkest before dawn. You have been a faithfu' daughter, and Gad will reward you for it; it may not be in this world, but it will be in the next.' But Bthel could not be contorted. Sho loved her parents ; to see them have to work in their old age was a bitter grief to her : she laved her only brother. Bat she loved Henry May also, with a different and passionate love, and her tender, womanly heart clung to him, as the drowning cling to some frail plank that bears them to life and safety. ' So, mother, you think I cannot go !' she sighed after a tii of agonised weeping. ' Not for a little, while my child— not for a year or two, if Henry May will wait. Who knr;ws what a year or so may bring forth? And, my darling girl, there's the supper to lay ; your father will be in.' Ethel made no protest of any kind. Drying her eyes, she arose to set about her work, and Mrs Strong took up her knitting again. Bhe loved her daughter, and desired, above all things, to see her luppily settled in life. But circumstances were against it; as they are against many who sit in the shadow of ill-fortune and patiently wait for some brighter day to dawn. 'Poor Ethel !' sighed her worn old father, when the evening's conversation and doubts were repeated to him. 'My child's happiness is dearer to me than all the money in the world ; but the Mays are proud people, and Ethel cannot go among them like a beggar.' ' A beggar, David ?' 'Yes, wife, what else would it be? I could not even buy her wedding dress. Ethel, child, for how long a time does Harry expect to go out ?' 'He does not say, father. It is of course uncertain.' ' Not very uncertain, I fancy,' spoke Mr Strong, his feeble voice all in a quaver, as it generally was now. 'An enterprise such as that cannot be accomplished under eight or ten years, and T conclude he will have to see its completion.' {To he continued.)