LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1082, 17 December 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

'KRIN.' | 'Temple Bar.'] Out of the blazing summer sunshine into the cool room comes Krin, with her waving masses of chestnut hair as untidy as usual, her lips warm and parted. Her muslin dress of pale azure is slightly crumpled, while two dark stains, that shine conspicuously upon it, betray her visit to the strawberry bed. ' Corinna, my dear ?' protests her mother, perfectly aghast at her appearance. ' Yes, darling ?' says Krin interrogatively, and glances suspiciously up and down her attire until she too descries the fatal marks, when she blushes the daintiest crimson. ' Where have you been ?' Mrs Crofton goes on when she has recovered breath, ' and what have you been doing ; You hair is all over your head, and your drees . But let me introduce you to your cousin, Lord KowdeD, who has como to spend a few days with us.' Pbccbus Apollo has been making free with Krin's adorable eyes to such an extent that up to this the drawing-room has appeared to her immersed in semi-darkness, and she has remained totally unaware of the stranger's presence. Now indeed, with a faint start, she turns, and, peering through the imaginary mist, sees nim standing on the hearthrug, regarding her with amused scrutiny. He is a tall fair young man, decidedly goodlooking, but with a very slight tinge of the fashionable boredom about his face and figure. He has large indolent grey eyes, a steady mouth and chin, and an irreproachable brown moustache. Be haa been watching firm's entrance and general deportment with languid interest up to the present moment, but now comes forward with coniething liko eagerness in hia manner to receive the hand she shyly offers him. He is about to speak to her when Ehoda's voice, sweet ml lagplxaG, riegs iu bttwesu

them ; their hands part, and Corinna falls back a step or two. 1 Corinna,' says Bhoda, mild wonderment in her tone, • where have you been, dear ? Your hair is utterly wild, and untidy hair is so unbecoming to you.' Krin blushes—such a sudden sweet transition of color as it is - and puts both hands to her head in a vain endeavour to subdue the refractory locks. With her arms so raised, and bbe startled half-ashamed expression on her face, it occurs forcibly to Saxon how more than pretty she is. ' I often think,' he says in his slow quiet way, 'how much more comfortable and—and natural a woman must feel when her hair defies fashion, and falls into disgrace. I have rather a fancy for rebellious hair myself.'

Corinna, sinking into a chair, smiles in voluntarily, and looks pleased. Bhoda smiles too, but docs not look pleased. ' Have you ?' she says mildly. ' I think eventually you would tire of it. It may be becoming to some styles, but ' 'I think it is becoming to Corinna.' says Lord Kowden, still slowly, and in a tone that but for its calmness might be obstinate. 'Well perhaps so,' returns Bhoda critically , 'it certainly softens her face, and—ah—how do you think the Hall looks, Saxon ?'

' I can hardly judge as yet. I got but a bare glimpse at it this morning, still it struck me as being considerably out of repair—that is, great pai-ts of it. It should have been more closely looked after, but my uncle was always careless. 11 appeared to me gloomy too, and dark, almost unwholesome. Now this place, Mrs Crofton, is so infinitely more cheerful in every way.' ' Moorlands is the prettiest place perhaps,' says Mrs Crofton complacently, 'if you can put a very ordinary house in comparison with a castle ; but then we have no grounds worth mentioning. Rowden Hall ought to be the leading place in the county, Saxon. I should think a very little trouble would set it to rights.' ' I wish you would try and help me," says Saxon suddenly. 'lf you would all come, and look it over, and suggest—a woman has so much better tasto than a man.'

' We shall be delighted,' says Bhoda prettily. ' I have often longed to see the Hall, aud now my wish will be gratified.' ' I have been all through it,' declares Corinna. speaking almost for the first time, 'over and over again.' ' Have you really ?' exclaims Saxon with awakened interest, turning towards the window where she sits half hidden;'do you mean to tell me you ever cared to enter the dull old place ?' 'lt is not dull to me. I love it. Old Simon and I are fast friends, and many hours he and I have pas ed together in the picture-gallery. I think I could tell you now the histories of every one of your ancestors.'

' You are fond of pictures ?' asV s her cousiu, thinking in his own mind what a charming picture she herself is making at the present, with her ruffled hair and large short-seeing eye 3, and muslin dress and strawberry stains and all. ' Very—especially the old portraits. They seem to speak to me. Of all in your gallery I like little sad-eyed Millicent Bowden the best.'

' I never knew of these expeditions of yours, Corinna,' says Mrs Crofton. ' I don't know that you had any right to go there, my dear. The house was not open to any one. I fear, Saxon, she has been taking rather a libe ty with you in your absence.' ' A liberty!' repeats i the young man warmly; ' nay, rather she has done me an honour. I shall like the old place better now I can imagine her form flitting through the closely shuttered rooms, with only here and there a fleck of light to guide the way, and with so old a servitor behind. Were you not afraid some ghosts more real would rise to challenge your approach V 1 1 am not nervous,' says Corinna, with a slight shake of her head, and a shadowy gleaming smile. A week, a fortnight, three weeks pass away, and still the slight repairs going on at the Hall do not complete themselves, or else Lord Rowden feels no disposition to quit his aunt's comfortable quarters. Day after day he lingers, as though unwilling to tear himfelf away ; and into the heart of the Hon. .Alicia Crofton has entered the delicious thought that time alone is required to see her handsome Rhoda installed mistress of Rowden Hall. This arrangement would be in every way desirable, as though the income attached to Moorlands is sufficient to enable the family to keep up a showy establishment and every outward appearance of wealth, still it barely covers the yearly expenses, and leaves nothing wherewith to carry on a London campaign, or even a visit to those fashionable watering-places which eligibles are supposed to haunt. The girls therefore have nothing but their faces to depend on, and such chances as the neighbourhood may afford, and certainly their cousin Rowden is by far the richest parti that has as yet come amongst them. Mrs Crofton, seeing all this with painful distinctness, yet like the wise mother that she is, contents herself with watching the battle from afar, and shows no inclination to interfere or assist matters in any way beyond encouraging to make his stay with them last as long as possible. Meantime July is drawing to a close, such a warm oppressively sultry July as has not been felt for many a year ; and as the clock strikes four on one memorable afternoon Saxon strolls into the drawing-room at Moorlands.

'I think I will go up and see how they are getting on above,' he says, indicating hia own home by a lazy movement of the head. ' I have not been there for some days now, and they want rousing.' ♦Then ride, my dear Saxon,' say a Mrs Crofton, ' the heat is intolerable.' '■ No, I shall walk. It is barfly two miles from this, «ud wood for the most part Oh, for the frost and snow !' says Saxon, smiling, and raising both arms indolently until his hands reach the back of his head ' Rhoda, how do you keep so provokingly cool ?' ' I don't know,' answers Rhcda sweetly; 'by keeping quiet I fuppose. If, instead of going for this long stupid walk, you would come and sit here in this shady room, you wood soon learn the secret.'

But Saxon will not see the pretty invita tion,

' I am too restless a being for such charming reposo,' h« says ; ' I must be always up and doing, and conscience tells me 1 should look more closely after my affairs. Good bye, Rhoda, keep me in your memory while I am absent from you.' ' I will try.' murmurs Rhoda tenderly, and with a fiicndly uod my lord dopaxti

He has not been gone five minutes when Krin enters the room, bright and animated.

' Mamma, have you seen the peaches lately?' 'No, dear.'

' Then I can tell you they are really splendid. I have just been examining them, and they are such a size ! 1 think McDonnell is the Jbest gardener we have ever had—don't you?' ' Yes, dear,' sleepily. ' And th'3 grapes, they will soon be ready for table. I could hardly keep my hands off them to-day ; such a sweet delicate perfume as they have spread all over the house!' 'How you do run on,' says Ehorla pettishly, ' and the day so warm too ! Do you never tire, I wonder—do you never feel usedup or languid ?' ' Never,' answers Krin with a gay laugh. 'Then I think it would be all the better if you did. A little languor would be preferable to the hoydenish manner you affect. There is nothing so unpleasant as too great an exhibition of health in a woman.' ' You will exhaust yourself if you say much more,' says Miss Krin demurely ; ' mamma, will you come out with me ? ' ' No, my dear, it is too warm; and now Saxon is safely out of the way, I think I shall enjoy a little doze.' ' Where has Saxon gone V ' To the Hall, to see how the work there is progressing. ' Oh ! I shall take a book and sit in the verandah then, it will be cooler there.' So saying she once more seizes the hat she has discarded, and, arming herself with a volume, retires from the room. Running down the stairs with her usual impetuosity, she almost precipitates herself into Saxon's arms, who, to her surprise, 'she finds standing on the lowest step. ' You here ?' she cries. ' Why, I thought you were at Rowden by this time.' ' I got as far as your entrance gate, when I repented myself and came back for something—guess what it was.' ' Your pipe ?' ' No, you. It is a delicious walk, and the sun is going down We can go almost the entire way through the ao put on your hat and come.' Krin puts down her book without a word, adjusts her hat, and cheerfully prepares to follow him. So, together, they pass into the glowing golden sunshine, and taking the side avenue escape the drawing room windows, and are soon out of sight and alone. Through the hot parched grass, across a flowery lane, over a stile they go, into the deep green woods. Their words are very few, but they saunter on contentedly side by side, and when the stile has been crossed, Saxon retains her hand in his, so that palm to palm they continue their way. Yet it cannot be said that he is making love to her, as he does not so much as press the hand he holds, only keeping it always in the same firm clasp; while Krin is conscious of nothing but that it is a blissful summer's noon, and that in the sky above her not even one faintest leaden streak dims the deep exquisite blue. Before them, half hidden by the giant trees, rises a tower, old and ivy-clad. ' That tower has always had a fascination for me,' says Krin, stopping suddenly to regard the old pile before her. ' Who built it, and how long ago ?' 'Oh, hundreds of years possibly.' 'lt must have been uncomfortable as a residence at the best of times with all those great open slits for windows, through which the wind must whistle. What is inside it, I wonder?' 'Dust and spiders, I should say. Some day we will get the key from old Simon, and reconnoitre. By-the-by, talk of somebody—here is old Simon. Simon, have you the key of this place about you ?' 'Ay, master—my lord—l alius carries it here,' returns old SimoD, diving into one of his numerous pockets, and producing a huge key, that is almost bright from constant friction. ' Will you be long here, master my lord ?' he goes on wistfully, as he hands the key to Saxon, ' I was on my way home, and ' ' Then continue it,' says his master kindly; ' I will keep the key until we meet again. Do not let me delay you.' ' I shall be at the house again to night wi' a message; mayhap if you're going there you would leave it wi' Mrs Mason for me,' says Simon, as though anxious to regain j the treasure he is parting with for so short a time. ' I will, says Saxon, and with mumbled thanks the old man shambles off through the woods towards his cottage, where his ancient dame is faithfully awaiting him. Rowden turning the key in the massive lock, the tower door swings easily back wards, and they enter. Within all is dark and gloomy, though a few threads of light stream down from the openings above, and there is not so much dust nor as many spiders as they had imagined. ' Ugh I how dreary,' shivers Krin ; and together they ascend the narrow winding stairs that lead into the only other room the tower contains—a bare desolate apartment, void of all furniture beyond a stone bench that comes out a fixture from the wall. ' I confess I am disappointed,' says Krin, laughing. ' Now for what purpose was it built?' ' I hardly know ; not as a watch-tower certainly, as it does not rise sufficiently high to betray the approach of foes I suppose they must have thought it would look picturesque amongst the trees.' ' I would like to put in windows, and oak chairs, and tables,' says Krin reflectively; ' it would be a charming place for tea in the summer, and ■' A 'loud noise, followed by a decided click, interrupts her speech. ' What is that ?' she murmurs faintly, alarmed. ' The door closing, I think.' ' Oh, is that all ? How loud it sounded ! Co rue, the place is uncanny, let us go on to the house.' But Saxon's face is slighted clouded. ' I hope the lock has not shot into its place,' he says uneasily : ' it has that trick I know, though I forgot all about it until now.' 'Nonogense, do not let us imagine evil,' Krin exclaims nervously, running down the stone steps, while he quickly follows her. But when, they reach the door they find it fastened and locked against them beyond all doubt-—the key being on the outside. ' Now what i* to be done, T should bko t know ?' waks Krin, with a white face and f right ened eyes; ' how are we to get out'?•I don't know,' says. Saxon, and then, th - absurdity oi thi situation striking him, h? burets into laughter, sudden and irrepres* :;il>le. For a rucmont Krin disapproves this.

line of conduct, but presently~being young, and her own laughter ever near—she too gives in and joins heartily in his merriment, forgetful of the awful consequences. What will mamma say when they arrive late for dinner ? How will proper Rhoda look ? ' Of course somebody will come directly to let us out,' she says, with conviction in Jher tone. ' uf course. You remember old Simon said he would be back here again to-night, and night with him meant early evening without doubt.'

"Then let us go upstairs again, and wait for him above It is so dismal here.'

But waiting does not briug him. An hour passes slowly away. The shadows grow longer and longer. 1 What o'clock is it now ?' asks Krin in a low tone, and for the hundredth time Saxon examines his watch.

' A quarter to seven,' he answers reluctantly.

(To hfl (wnt.inved.^