LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1252, 12 March 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

,*> —— A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. By the Author of “East Lynne.” Continued. Mrs Ordie heard these footsteps in the silence of the night, and her eyes instantly glanced at her watch. Twenty-five minutes after eleven. Who was it, at this late hour? But, even as the question passed through her mind, an expression of astonishment rose to her face; her eyes dilated, she drew her breath and listened intently. If ever she heard the footsteps of her husband, she thought she heard them then. Yes, yes! It was impossible to mistake his sharp, firm step, which sh« had never heard since she left him in Calcutta, it was very close now, nearly underneath her window. With a cry of joy she arose and opened it. ‘ George, dear George ! I knew your step. Whatever has brought you home?’ There was no answer. The footsteps were still advancing, and Mrs Ordie leaned out. He had come in at the further gate, had passed along the front of the house, and was now underneath her window. She saw him distinctly in the light cast on the path from the kitchen. There was no mistaking him for any other than Captain Ordie, and he wore his regimentals. He lifted big face, she saw it clearly in the light, and looked at her. Then he went on and stepped inside the porch. She called to him again. ‘George, did yon not hear me. Don’t knock, baby’s ill. Wait a moment, I will let you iu.’ Closing the window, she sprang to the door. Her lamp was not suitable for carrying, and she. would not stay to light a ta[ er : she knew every stair well. But she was awkward at the fastenings of the front door, and found she could uot undo them iu the dark, so ran into the kitchen. The cook, sitting up iu obedience to her orders, was fast asleep and snoring. A large fire burnt in the grate, and two candles were alight on the ironing hoard beneath the window, one of them guttering down. Servants will be wasteful.

‘Martha ! Martha !’ she exclaimed, ‘rouse yourself. My husband’s come.’ ‘ What!’ cried the woman, starting up in affright, and evidently forgetting where she was. ‘ Who’s come, ma’am 2’

‘ ('ome and open the hall door. Captain Ordie is there.’ She snatched one of the candles from the table, and went on to the door again. The servant followed, rubbing her eyes. The door was unlocked and thrown open, and Mrs Ordie drew a little back to give space for him to enter. No one came in. Mrs Ordie looked out then, holding the candle above her head. She could not see him anywhere. ‘Take the light,’ she said to the maid, and stepped beyond the portico. ‘ George ! ’ she called out, ‘ where are you ? The do r in open.’ But Captain Ordie neither appeared nor answered. ‘ Well, I never knew such an extraordinary thing! ’ ‘ Ma’am,’ said the servant, who began now to be pretty well awake, * I don’t understand. Did you say anybody was come ? ’ ‘My husband is come. Captain Ordie.’

‘ From Mrs Beecher’s ? ’ asked the woman.

‘Mrs Beecher’s, no ! What should bring him at Mrs Beecher's? He must have come direct from Portsmouth.’ ‘ But he must have come to the door here from the Beechers’,’ continued the servant, ‘ He couldn’t have corno any other way. The gates arc locked, ma’am ! ’ In her wonder at his appearance, this fact had not struck Mrs Ordie ‘One of them must have been left unfastened,’ she said, after thinking. ‘That was very earless, Martha. It is your place to it, when Hiehard is out. Papa once turned a servant away for leaving the gates open at night.’ ‘ I locked both the gates at sundown,’ was the woman’s reply, ‘And the key’s hanging up in its place in the kitchen.’ ‘ Impossible,’ thought Mrs Ordie. * Where is Susan ? ’ —alluding to the other servant at &ome.

‘Susan went to bed at ten o’clock, ma’am.’

‘lt is not possible that the gates can have been locked, Martha The captain came in by the upper one, the furthest from here. I heard him the minute he put his foot on the gravel, and knew his step. You must have thought you locked them. George! ’ added Mrs Ordie, in a louder tone. ‘ George! There was no answer. No sound whatever broke the stillness of the night. * Captain Ordie ! ’ she repeated. * Captain Ordie ! ’

The servant was laughing to herself, taking care that her young mistress did not see her. She believed that Mrs Ordie had dropped asleep, and had dreamt she heard someb dy on the gravel. ‘I know what it is,’ cried Mrs Ordie, briskly. ‘He has never been here before ; and finding the door was not immediately opened to him, has gone on to Mr Beecher’s, tninking this the wrong house.’ She ran down the narrow path as she aroke, which branched off round by the kitchen window ; the maid followed her. It was a light night. But nothing was to be see of George Ordie. The curate’s house, a small one, presented the appearance of a dwelling whose inmates are at rest; the blinds were drawn before the windows, and all was still. Mrs Ordie ran over probabilities in her mind, and came to the conclusion that he could not have gone there. The Beechers were early people, and had no doubt been in b-d an hour ago. Had her husband knocked the>e, he would be waiting at the door still, for they bad not had time to come down and let him in.

‘ It could (only have been fancy, ma’am,’ cried Martha.

‘Silence,’ said Mrs Ordie. ‘How can it have been fancy ? I heard my husband, and saw him.’

‘ Well, ma’am, I argue so from the gates being fast. He couldn’t have got over ’em, because of the spikes ’ ‘The gates cannot be fast,’returned Mrs Ordie, * and it is foolish of you to persist in saying so—only to screen your own carelessness.’

‘I wish you’d jest please to look at the gates,’ retorted Martha. ‘I will,’said Mrs Ordie, anxious to convict Martha to her face ‘ltis an utter impossibility that Captain Ordie can have come in at a high, locked gate, with spikes on the top ; he would not attempt to do so. He would have rung the bell.’ ‘ That’s what I say,’ answered Martha. ‘ I dreamt t’other night,’ she muttered, as she folowed her mistress, ‘that a man came down that there path with lovely gownd pieces to sell: I might just as well have riz up the home, and had him looked for.’

They gained the broad walk, and proceeded round towards the further gate. It was locked. Martha sniffed.

’ Why, it is like magic! ’ uttered Mrs Ordie.

‘ I was certain about its being locked, ma’am And that’s why I say it must be fancy.’

Mrs Ordie was indignant, *ls this gate fancy ? ’ she said, shaking it, in her anger. ‘ Don’t tell me again that my husband is fancy. How could I have seen and heard him if he were not come ? Captain Ordie I ’ she called out, once more. * George ! where can you have gone to ? ’ ‘Come to the other gate, Martha.’ They retraced their s eps, Mrs Ordie looking in all directions for a gleam of scarlet, and reached the other gate. It was locked. Mr Beecher’s gate was locked. Then she went about the garden, and looked and called ; but there was no trace of Captain Ordie. 'The servant walked with her, half amused, half provoked. ‘Can he have slipped in doors,’ murmured Mrs Ordie, ‘while we went round to the Beechers ? ’ And she went in to look, taking the oppoitunity to glance at her child. But Captain Ordie was nowhere to be seen, and she had never been so much perplexed and puzzled in all her life. ‘ Then he must have gone on, as I thought, to Mr Beecher’s,’ was the last solution of the enigma. ‘ They were possibly up, and let him in directly. And they are keeping him there till morning, that he may not disturb us, knowing that the baby is ill ’ ‘ But about the gate,’ interrupted the servant, returning to her stumbling-block, ‘ how could he have sot through it ? ’ ‘ T know he did get through it, and that’s enough,’ responded Mrs Ordie, disposing summarily of the difficulty. ‘Soldiers are venturesome and can do anything. I will go and fetch him. You stop here, Martha, and listen to baby.’

v 7b he continued .)