LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1207, 16 January 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FOUND IN THE SNOW. [From “Tinsley’s Magazine.”] ( Con 1 i uved.) Part IV, Two weeks later—the same week that the marriage was to have taken place—Amy wa waiting with trembling limbs and beating heart in a private sitting room at the Gros venor, waiting the enhance of her grandfattier, for there was no more doubt now of her identity. How would lie receive her? The ordeal was a most trying one. If only James Carlyon had been by to give her courage! But he, alas, had behaved so strangely ever since she had been claimed as

"ir Walter Kean’s grandchild. Be had onl} once been to see her, and then but a few moments. All the happiness she fell at belonging to some one was clouded by bis coldness.

So she stands .alone near one of the windows overlooking the crowded thoroughfare below, very pale but very lovely, dressed in white, with a pale blue bonnet that shows off her rich brown hair.

The door opens and she starts and turns round. A tall gray-haired old gentleman, upright as a dart, and looking every inch a soldier, comes forward with a cry. In that brief moment he has gone back twenty year s, and he sees his own daughter before him, the child he had idolised, who had chosen another, to leave him for a stranger. *A my I ’

His voice trembles as he utters the name ; there is a cry of anguish, love, and longing that reaches the heart of the young girl and stirs it to its depths as not even James’s love has stirred it; a bbght seems suddenly lifted off, and the daik cloud rolls away that has always obscured her young life from her first memory. It ssems as if the mother lived again in the child ; that the curse laid upon her, and transmitted into the child’s being, was removed, and the dead mother pardoned through the living daughter. In a moment she was in her grandfather’s arms, and soothing him with all the tenderness of a loving daughter ; for the strong stem man was weeping like a little child. ‘ You are her image, my child ! U God, I thank Thee that Thou hast raised up a likeness of her I’ he murmurs, and then eyes and forehead were again covered with showers of kisses.

Over and over again she had to repeat the story of her life—how she was found and taken care of; but when she came to the last few weeks of her life she was silent. Something warned her to be still, although she longed to tell all. ‘ A very good noble fellow, this Carlyon. Of course, my dear, I shall repay him for all he has done. I could not think of remaining under such a debt of obligation to a stranger !’ A stranger ! This was the first cloud in the horizon. The word jarred upon her ears ;it went like a stab to her heart. He, her guardian angel, her love, her life—a stranger 1 ‘He is not a stranger, of course, to me,’ said Amy, -with a slight flush. ‘Mo, no, my child, I quite understand; but he is one to me and to my family, and the Keans are a very proud race, my dear, as you will find. I saw Mr Carlyon, and he seems a very gentlemanly sort of fellow in his way 1 shall never he able to repay him for his goodness to yon, I know; still i cannot lie under an obligation to him. It must have cost him something to educate you, my dear . for I hear you have received the best education.’

‘ He will not take any payment, I am sure, if that is what you mean, dear. I hope you will not offer it even, for my sake,’ said Amy, in an agony of dread that he should do so.

Sir Walter looked sharply at her, and rose from his seat with a frown.

‘My dear child, you do not understand. I know perfectly how to act in the matter. Whether Mr ('arlyon likes it or not, 1 must remunerate him for all he has done ; but we will not talk about him at present The lirst thing you must do to please me, will be to provide yourself with everything necessary for a young lady ; then I must look for sou e middle-aged chaperone for you, and you shall see something of the world-our world.’

And Sir Walter’s eyes glowed with pride as he pictured to himself how well she would grace and adorn it. He had been cruelly disappointed in his daughter, but now his granddaughter would wipe away all that.

Poor ‘ Aime’ (for by her mother’s name Sir Walter insisted that she should be called), she was anything but contented or elated at the prospect before her.

Why did James remain away and leave her to light the battle before her alone ? He knew how she loved him. It was cowardly, cruel, she cried, in the bitterness of her heart. She waited patiently for two weeks, and then when she found be did not come she resolved to write to him. She shrank from the deception; for she enclosed the letter in one to Miss Johnstone. How her heart pondered over the happy days that were spent at school! She would go mad if she did not hear from him or write to him. She implored him in the note to come to her ; and he came the next day. They were at luncheon, and a** friend of her grandfather’s was with them. ‘Mr Carlyon ! ’ said (Sir Walter, looking at the card. ‘ltis an inopportune time for calling ; but ask him into the drawing-room ’ Aime’s face turned red and white by turns. Mr Chapman, sitting next to her, saw the changes in the pretty face, and grew suspicious.

‘ Will you r.ni go and see him, grandpapa, at once I'■ asked Aime, seeing he made no sign? of moving, " Well, no, my dear. If people will call at this unearthly hour, they must be really good em ugh to wait.’ ‘ Then 1 will go and see him*’ said Aimo, with, a resolution and a dignity that surprised her grandfather, and made him feel very much like a man who gets a slap from a little babv-hand.

Had they been alone Sir Walter would have objected, but as Mr Chapman was present he c uld say nothing, and both gentlemen arose to let her pass out. ‘ M r Carlyon is an old friend of my child’s, ’ said Sir W alter; ‘ indeed, the friend who brought her up from infancy; ’ for the proud old man did not choose to let every me know the whole truth.

‘Ah, one of her poor mother’s Australian riends, I suppose? 1 ‘Something i>f the kind,’ said Sir Walter, •vith a departure from the truth that is Charitably * termed ‘white lying.’ ‘Oi

course I cannot cut off her old associates immediately, poor child. It will take time to do that. Carlyon is a very decent fellow.’

‘ Is he one of the Haddington Carlyons ? ’ ‘ I don’t know,’ said Sir Walter shortly. I He is a barrister, and I believe a very clever man in his way.’ ‘ The Carlyons are a very good family, I believe, if be belongs to the same.' When Aime quitted the dining-room she almost ran into the drawing room. James Carlyon was standing with his back to her as she entered, and as he turned round to her, even in her joy at seeing him, she noticed his white haggard face She flew into his a' ms with a cry of delight and reproach. ‘ O Jamie, where have you been 1 Cruel, cruel ! ’ she said.

‘ Cruel to you, ray darling ? Do you think [ have not suffered? Look at my face, child ? Ido not think since I last saw you I have slept an hour together. Don’t call me cruel, child. I am acting for the beat.’ ‘ But why don’t y-u speak to grandpapa, and tell him everything?’ ‘ I have, my darling, and he has forbidden me to mention the subject.’ ‘Then I will ! ’ said Aime defiantly.

‘ No, darling, we must wait; but I think it is rather hard that he does not ask me to come to the bouse as a visitor.’

‘ Jamie, listen ! If 1 must choose between the two, I will choose you. My heart will break if he tries to separate us,’ ‘ N r>, darling, you must be brave. Think of ynur poor mother.’ ‘ But 1 do not owe him anything; I owe you all. And and he talks of paying you ! 0 Jamie, I could sink to the ground with shame when I think of it.’

‘ I know, darling. Sir Walter has paid me,’ he said, with a smile. ‘He has ? He dared ? ’ asked Aime with flashing eyes. ‘ Don’t look so fierce, my darling. I couldn’t corni el him to lie under, what he chose to consider, an obligation ; so I accepted it. But what do you think I did with the money, child ? ’ ‘ How can I tell ? ’ said Aime in a choking voice.

‘ I bought an annuity with it for your friend. Miss Johnstone. So now, if she chooses, she can retire from the “ scholastic field ; ” at all events, she will not have the fear of coming to want ’ Aime was crying silently, and hiding her face in the sheltering arms that gave her such a delicious sense of security.

‘Listen, ray darling. Might and day I have been thinking an - ! wondering how to act for the best, and I have come to this resolve, and you must be brave, and help me to keep it: we will wait until next Christmas to gain Sir Walter’s consent, and then, if he does not give it, you choose between us.’

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