LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1206, 15 January 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FOUND IN THE SNOW. [From "Tinsley's Magazine."] (JJontlnned.) Love urged silence ; duty urged immediate action in the matter. The struggle was a hard one—the hardest struggle James Carlyon had ever passed through ; but duty conquered. He wrote a short note at once to Amy, explaining his inability to be with her until late that evening, and sent a telegram as well, and then proceeded at once to the office indicated in the " Times."

Briefly he stated the whole circumstances of his finding the little child on the doorsteps near St Helen's Churchyard, and of the story she had told Mrs Baker. ' That was how many years ago 1 ' asked Mr Deeds, a little man with keen gr'y eyes, bushy dark eyebrows, and black hair. 1 Twelve years ago on Christmas-eve.' ' And the child— is now seventeen, then ? ' ' She could not tell her age, but I imagined her to be five years when 1 found her.'

And you have brought her up and taken care, of her all the while ?' asked the lawyer, with a keen questioning look. 'My landlady took charge of her until three years ago. Since then she has been at a boarding house, at Northcote House.' ' I suppose there is no possibilty of finding out Mrs Carter, the second wife 1' 'I should think, if she were alive, she might be found,' ' iShe might not feel inclined, however, to come forward. Of course we are prpsuming that she is the second wife of this Robert Carter. You are sure he is dead ?'

' By what the little child told.us.' 'lt is a romantic business altogether. This Robert Carter was the son of a laboring farmer on my client's estate, a remarkably handsome intelligent fellow. Unhappily for Miss Keane, he rendered her a service, and made such an impression upon her that she ran away with him and married him. They were traced to Australia. She died two years after her ill fated marriage, but wrote to Sir Walter on her dying bed to ask his forgiveness. The marriage, I conclude, like all such ill-assorted ones, turned out disastrously for her. To judge by the letter she wrote to her father, poor girl, her only regret at dying was having to leave her little child, who was about ten months old at the time of her death.'

James Carlyon was strangely affected by what he had heard. Something in his heart told him that Amy could be no other than Sir Walter's granddaughter. ' Have you any recollection of what Miss Keane w:r like ?' he asked.

'Nr ; but our client, Sir Walter, has forwarded us a miniature, taken when she was a child about twelve.'

Be produced it from the drawer of his desk aB he spoke, and handed it to James Carl yon, who started back with an exclamation, 'lt must be her mother! It is her imago when a child ! ' The lawyer grew excited with interest. 'You are sure—' ' Quite,' Baid James, in a tone of voice that was anything but cheerful—a fact the sharp man noticed. ' Sir Waltor is very rich. Ho was devoted to his daughter, and her marmgo nearly killed him Her death was not half so grep.l i blow; but it :s only lately that he has r orgiven his daughter, and has tried to find out her child for hor 3ake.'

1 He ia in Northshire, you say ?' ' YO3 ; at Burnleoß.' 'lwill go down at ..once t/> him,' eaicl James, who wa3 in a fevar of e^ojjfcemont.

* Ther9 will be no occasion for that; ok' as he is, he is able to travel to town. An' before we mention the mattor, it would b dutsirabio to fiud out if Mrs Cvtor is alive.

She might be able to give us convincing testimony as to identity.' ' If Mrs Kobert JCarter, late of Australia, will communicate with Messrs Deeds and Son, she will hear of something to her advantage,' wrote the lawyers ; and a clerk, in James Carlyon's presence, took it at once to be inserted in the " Times."

That evening Amy was struck at the change in her lover. It smote her with a strange pain. Was he regretting the step he was going to take ? ' A r e you sure, Jamie, you are not sorry V she asked, ha If-playfully, half-tear* fully.

'Sorry ! Omy darling, if you could only read my heart! If I had my own way £ would run away with you this moment.' ' Then why don't you ?' she asked eagerly; for the temptation suddenly grew into giant proportions

She was silent. ' And leave Miss Johnstone without a word ?'

'To make me the happiest of men, my own darling, and to get rid of the tormenting fear, that something may come between to prevent your being my wife.' 'What could come, Jamie?' she asked laughingly, clinging closer to him as she spoke—'what but death? "Unless, dear,' she added gravely, 'you think you had better lirst get your mother's consent ; and you know, dear, how much I too wish that. I have such a dread, such a horror, of doing anything again«t your, mother. 1 think, Jamie, mine must have done something wrong.'she added, with a shudder, as she olun# closer to him.

'My darling, you shall do nothing that makes you unhappy. I will write tomorrow to my mother, and we will have her consent. She shall come to London and see you. When once she has, you will win her heart, I know. But nothing must separate us, my child.'

' Why, Jamie, you are in a strange mood to-night! What can separate us ?' she said He had it on his lips to tell her the doubt that troubled him ; but prudence checked him. After all she might not be Sir Walter Keane's granddaughter, and it would be raising her hopes only to dash them to the ground. The mystery of her mother's life had always hung like a shadow over her.

When James Carlyon left, Amy felt unj easy and dissatisfied with his behaviour. Surely he was not regretting the step ? or, worse still, his family were not trying to oppose it ? But she laughed at such a fear. She knew him better than'to suppose that he would be easily daunted. He had too strong a will and purpose of his own to care. Still, she ff It not a little saddened and humbled that he should be annoyed on her account ; and a great longing rose in her heaitthat. in some way or they might not have occasion to look down upon her—for his sake, not for her own. True hearted as she was—loving, as all true women love, with utter abnegation of self, and preferring intiuitely to look up to the beloved she was content enough. But she would spare him the annoyance and opposition he evidently was enduring, although he would not tell her so. For of course his anxiety for an early and private marriage could be from no other motive.

The next day the noon post brought a letter from him that confirmed her fears. He was going North, and should not return for a few days. He feared, too, that after all their marriage would have to be post» poned. Poor Amy 1 Her heart sank with a nameless dread ; but she summoned all her pride to her side. His letter was short, and it seemed to her, in her present mood, cold and reserved ; so the reply she wrote was in the same tono. x To he continued.)