LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1204, 12 January 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FOUND IN THE SNOW.

[From “Tinsley’s Magazine.”] (Continued.) ‘ Are you glad to see me, Amy ?’ ‘Why must you ask? Have Iso many friends that I should look upon a visit from you without being glad ?’ she said reproachfully. * I ought to have come long ago, child; but somehow the time has slipped away without my noticing. When I look at the change in you, I see how it has gone.’ ‘ Am I so changed ?’ * I should not have known you. But—and yet, let me see : those eyes are the same, and your voice too. So you are promoted to he a teacher ? Do you like teaching?’ he said, suddenly releasing both her hands, and turning away. ‘ It is scarcely a question of liking ; but I do not hate it or detest it,’ she said playfully, ‘ as I hear some of the girls declare they do their lessons. Beggars cannot be choosers, Air Carlyon ; and I ought to be so thankful, and I am, that I need not go out into the world, as I told you in my letter.’ ‘ And you look forward to spending all your life within these walls! Bright prospect, truly, for a young girl of seventeen 1’ ‘ Not exactly bright; but lam contented. I should be very wicked, in my position, if I were not.’

‘ Ami you never make any plans for the future, Amy ?’ ‘No; I have lived my happy life. Such happy times will never come back to me as 1 had in the dear old days.’ ‘ln St. Helen’s Churchyard? 0 Amy I poor child ! -hoAv little of happiness must content you if you can look back upon those days!’ ‘ They were very, very happy. I do not wish for happier. Of course you cannot understand, because you have plenty to make you happy; but for me it is so different, and school-life is not home, you know. ’ ‘Then you are not happy,’ I*fear. Why did you accept Miss Johnstone’s offer if you were not ?’ ‘ I am contented. "What more should I expect ? Miss Johnstone is very good to me ; all the girls are fond of mo ; and the masters are so kind. The music-master insists upon giving me music lessons for nothing, and so does the drawing-master. With all this kindness, should I not be Averse than ungrateful if I were not contented V ‘ And you have bad no holidays—no going out anywhere ?’ • Plenty of holidays,’ she said laughingly. l As for facing out, the girls are very kind in asking me to their homes ; but visiting involves dressing, and I cannot exactly afford that you know ; nor do I want my friends to be ashamed of me.’ J ames Carlyon looked at her. She wore a plain black dress of some soft material, with a pale-blue ribbon round her neck, and white collar To him her dress seemed faultless. But then what did he know of dress or fashion? ‘No one bo ashamed of you,’ he said warjnly.

*I hope notand Amy laughed. *Do you stay long in London ?’ ‘lt depends upon circumstances. First of all, howev r, I am going to take you to see a few sights in London.’ ‘ But I cannot leave my duties,’ she said, looking up at him with a glow of bright light in her eyes. ‘ Oh, leave that to me. I shall talk to Miss Johnstone.’ ‘No ; you must not indeed do that. She would give me permission at once ; but I could not put her to the inconvenience.’ ‘ Are you right to have no consideration for me. Amy ?’ he said impatiently, ‘ I did not understand you. Of course, if it is to give you pleasure ; but I thought it was to please me only,’ she said, with downcast eyes. ‘To give me pleasure, too, child. I did not know until now how much I have missed you all these years. Mow 1 know why I drew upon myself the disapprobation of my friends as an unaimable fellow.’ There was a silence for some moments ; but Amy’s heart beat so loud she was obliged to lay her hand upon it to still its beating. * May I ask Miss Johnstone to allow you to go out with me to-morrow for at least on day?’ ‘ Not to-morrow, but the day after. Then I shall have more leisure.’ ‘ Then you shall go with me to the opera. I will ask Miss Johnstone to go too,’he added quickly. That night, when James Carlyon left his ward, he was startled by a revelation that had long dawning in his mind. The poor little waif he had saved from the cruel cold—the little girl who had sat on his knees, and would never go to bed happily unless he kissed her—the young girl he had given lessons to in Latin—was his queen, the love of his heart; and he had taken all these years to find out the truth I The next night he called at Northcote House for Miss Johnstone and Amy, who, hs thought, looked the loveliest picture that he had ever seen of a young girl. In her white muslin dress and the pale-blush rose she did certainly look very pretty. So too did a great many others think who saw her at the opera. The stately little old lady, dressed out in the stiffest of black silks, drew attention too, so that James felt quite a novel sensation in being the centre of attraction. But he did not care at all to see the opera glasses levelled full on Amy; and, indeed, the young girl did not care for it either, as no modest delicate-minded girl ever does. Coming out into the lobby, one of the impertinent fellows who had been staring hard at Amy all through the evening followed closer than James cared for; and, to Amy’s surprise, she found her hand suddenly drawn through Mr Carlyon’s arm, and held tight there until she was put into the carriage. He had intended driving only as far as his club with them ; but he changed his mind, and drove all the way to Northcote House He could not resist the temptation, as he assisted Amy from the carriage, to lift the little hand hs held in his own and kiss it. What Amy thought of the act my readers will imagine when they read farther on. ‘You will have a dreary ride back,’said Miss Johnstone. *lt was so good of you to come all the way with us.’ ‘ Too good to give myself the pleasure of your society ?’ And he glanced at Amy, who stood just under the hall-lamp, with the light falling on her little head and white figure. But her eyes were veiled with their long black lashes, and he could not see their expression. They had not met his since he had kissed her hand. Only when he bade her good night, and held her hand again in his with a lingering clasp, as if not liking to part with it; and then he read the secret she had been carrying in her heart so long, and which he, poor blind mortal, had never guessed. v To he continued,')