LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1230, 12 February 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

BLACKMERE HOLLOW. By H. Barton Baker. (Concluded.} There was a pause. Then Mrs Clifford's sharp querulous voice said, * Why don't you tell him at once it is a gentleman whom Jsabe l is going to be , married to ? It can't make any difference to him ; he can never claim her.' ' So, so, my worthy pair, you a r e going to add to your other peccadilloes by a little bigamy,' cried the stranger ' But not with B lla's knowledge,' interposed Mr Clifford quickly. • I imposed upon her a belief of your death. Come, come, Walter, as Mrs Clifford says, yon can never claim her ; it cannot make any difference to you and it will render her happy.' ' What an infernal rogue you are, Clifford ! If I deserve fourteen years, you deserve hanging. Well, be >t so : you sold her to me, I'll sell her back to you j but I shall want a good stiff price.' At this moment my attention was o"is t'acted from the dialogue by a sound behind me. I turned my head ; there was no light in the passage, but I could perceive a white object standing at t*>e foot of the stairs. I stretched out my hand andgraseed another, cold as ice. No need of light to show me to whom it be'onged. I threw my arm round her jn&t in time to prevent her falling. I carried the fainting form up to my room and laid it upon a couch, struck alight, and used such restoratives as were at hand. In a few moments she opened her eyes and looked wildly about her. ' Take me to my room,' she whispered. I could see the reflection of my face in the glass opposite ; it was as white and ghastly as her own. ' You have heard all ?' I asked. 'All!' she answered. ' Drees yourself quickly,' I said rapidly, ' let us ily at once ; we can leave the house while they are engaged in conversation.' She shook her head and murmured, 'lt is all over now!' ' This must not, shall not, make any difference to our plans !' I cried impetuously. ' Had this wretched man ar ived two days later- nay, even had you slept soundly tonight, you would have been unconscious of his existence Will you suffer such petty chances as these to destroy the happiness of two lives ?' While r spoke she sat staring into vacancy, with a face as rigid and colorless as a statue's A hard sob and another head-shake was her answer. I catt myself at her feet; I clasped her hand. ' I will not lose you !' I cried. ' Vou are mine ; no powc on earth shall» us ! has united our hearts; He only shall dissever them in death.' 'Ay, death severs all ties, does it not?' she said vacantly. Her looks and tones frighten d me more than would have the wildest despair ' Let me go to my room,' she wi nt on; '1 feel faint and drowsy. I mu«t have sleepsleep ;' and sha attempted to rise to her ftet, but fell back again. What was to be done ? Sh« must not be discovered in my chamber in so equivocal a position ; to talk to her in the present paralysed condition of her faculties was useless. And what restorative so likely to prove efficacious as sleep V What greater blessing could I pray to fall upon her at such an awful crisis ? And so I led her to her room. As she crossed the threshold she turnefl bick and kissed me, and said 'Oood-nisjht, dear,' as calmly as though nothing had happened. I caught her in my arms and kissed her passionately ; then she closed the door, and I saw her no more.

I had scarcely got back to my own chamber when I heard a stir beneath, then the outer door softly open. I again extinguished my light, peered cautiously out of window, and saw a dark form glide up the road. He was gone, then. 1 sat down and endeavored to realise my position, to think it out, to fo>m some plan of action ; but I found myself to be incapable of collected thought; all was confused and shifting. Could I also but obtain a little forgetfulness it might compose me, brase up my unstrung nerves. I would try : but first I would ascertain whether Bella was asleep. I cautiously opened my door. I could hear a low murmur of below; Mr and Mrs Clifford doubtless talking over the events of the night, i crept •>o the atttirs w>d listened,

at Pella's chamber: all was quite still within. I tapied gently: no answer. I tried the lock : it was fastened. I placed my ear to the keyhole ; I fancied I culd hear the regular breathing of a sleeping person. Thank Heaven 1 slumber had come to her I went back to my room, closed my window, and threw myself upon ih<- bed without undressing For a 1 ng time I tossed about hopelessly wakeful; but at length drowsiness crept upon me, and I slept. But what a sleep ! Worse than the wakiDg, disturbed as it was by the most terrible images that a fovered imagination could crea r e. It was a saturnalia of h rrors, whi h presently resolved in'o a sequen' virion so homogeneous, so awfully real, that even to this day, now thirty years distant, I can scarcely believe but that my soul quitted for a brief interval my slumbering body and a reality. I was sitting upon the rock upon the margin of the lake, our t ysting place. It seemed to me I was waiting for Bella. The sky was bla«k as ink, the mountains were buried in a mist a thick darkness almost tangible was about me, a darkness that weighed down upon the «arth like a shroud, save where a di«o of dazzling light;—coming I knew not whence—made one spot upon the surface of the waters luminoup. Suddenly a long wailing cry, followed by a heavy splash, broke upon my ear. It was Bella's voice; and my own echoed it as I sprang to my feet and looked wildly around ; and there, floating on the luminous disc, I saw a form cl thed in white, hands uplifted in prajer, and Bell's marble face turned towards me with a farewell look of love. The next instant the waters had closed over ic. I uttered a shriek of agony and tried to spring after her, but some invisiblH force held me back. In vain I struggled and cried; an iron power held me to the earth.. Then I heard a voice—it was that of the convict—close t» my ear, saying, • You are, too late; she is dead !' With the words ringing in my earl awoke and sprang from the bed. The cold gray dawn was j'ist stealing through my wind >w. I stared about me. Where were the lake and the darkness and the man? for the vision was mo-e real than the awakening, an'* for a moment I almost fancied that this was the dream, that the reality. In a few seconds my consciousness was ful y restored, but the hcror of my vision was intensified. Was Bella safe? That was my first thought. I crept up the stairs. Her room-door was ajar; and she was no 'onger there. The next thing I remember is hurrying bareheaded along the road. As I reached the wooded path which led down to the lake, a man came suddenly against me; his face was white and scared. He would have hurried past had 1 not stayed him with the que tion, « What is the matter f He stared at me or a second, and then seemed to rec gnise me ' You are too lata,' he muttered, in a hoarse voice. ' Too late !' I eohoed. ' Yes ; she is dead—drowned in the lake !'