LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1278, 24 April 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SUNSHINE AND SHADE. By F. Garrett. [Tins/ey.] ( Continued.) ‘ I was not saring, mamma ; I could no.t help seeing what was clos e beside me ; and besides, 1 Is new all about the window befuie.’ Mary felt aggrieved. Mrs Can tuare’s admonitions were not always wisely administer* d. ‘ You ought to care more for the improvement of your mind, my dear, than for the appearance of any chance st ang-r you may happen to meet. I have no doubt that young man thought you a very forward girl—that is, if he thought you at all’ So, as usual, poor was snubbed into silence; but none the less nad she her own thoughts about the stronger who had interested her. After thoroughly inspecting the cathedral, Mr'and Mrs • autuare and their daughter came to the little side door by which they had entered, utsule on the step Mr Hunton was standing irresolute. He raised his hat to the ladies, and again a dressed Mr Can tuare. ‘ 1 beg your pardon, but could yor. direct me to some place where I can get hunch-on ? ight seeing 13 hungry wbiltthis last was sy.d with asmi e' which lighted up his whole face, and made Miss Mary begin to think hith quite handsome. Mr Cantuare too evidently liked the young man’s frank, honest expression, for after

half a minute’s hesitation he said, to his wife and daughter’s inte se surprise, ‘ We are proc°ed>ng now to get some refreshment ; wiil you accompany us ?’ They descended the steps together, and after threading several narrow streets reached a confectioner’s shop, in the hack premises of which they partook of under done mutton chops, stale buns and had beer, which hunger alone made eatable.

There was not mu h conversation either to season the repast; for Mary, remembering perhaps her recent rebuke, kept closely and silently at her mother’s aide, and Mrs Cantuare. always formal, was not willing to ex tend the right hand of fellowship to a stray wayfarer, whose name even she did not know. So it was left for the gentlemen to exchange a few remarks about the weather, the crops, and such general top ; cs, and th -n the sailor, again expressing his thanks, went; his way into the st eet.

Would their diverse paths through life ever cr ss again ? Throughout the rest of their day’s shopping and sightseeing Mary kept on the watch or the young man they had twee so strangely met, and who almot unc msciously to herself, would obtrude upon her thoughts. When at last they reached th > station on thrir homeward way, she had quite made up her mind that they would see the stianger no more, aud b hold I the

next instant there l e was standing among the cr-ow l on the platform. This time be crnie boldly up to them, and said, with his plea ant smile,

‘Can it b. possible that you are travelling by this train ?’

‘ ' es,’ replied Mr Cantuare ; ‘and yon ?’ ‘lamon my way to tandrop I believe this is the last train there to niuht.’

‘We a r e going there as well Will you take a seat in our cam >ge ?’ said Mr Can tua-'e, as he helped his wife to climb ti e high steps

fSo they all got in together, and Mr Can tuare, inqu ring ttie name of his new ac q aintance, introduced him to the ladi- s and then pulled the day’s ’ n imes ’ out oj his ioc et and settled himself to read. Th monotonous movement of the train soon

lul e < Mrs Cantuara to repose, and Mary and Mr Himtou w re 1> ft to improve their "cq’.ia nt-auce need we say to their mutual satisfacti-n ‘ How very short ttm joumev has been !’ thought Ma y when they stopped at the brilliantly lighted etition, wh re Mr autuare’s carnage awaited them. Thought the soling officer, ‘I wmder wh ther I shall oversee ihat nice girl again?' And ih i, came the bust!-* o' aligoti g, and 'ast «-W----oights ; but this time Mr Hunt on ear ied away with him into the darkness th- permission to cad next day at Mr Ouituarebouse The carriage rolled off and Mary shivered a-> she l-mc back in her ■•orner. an I dr w her wraps ra -r closdy about her. Mr Cantu are was al o leaning back in his sea uior. than half us e p ‘ How very ugly and uninteresting he

1 Hiked 1’ thought his un’utiul daughter who felt extremely fi g ty ami quit- awtke Yet she was not on - whit inclined either t lend an attentive ear to her mother’s talk

abou-, sundry i urcha-es they had made m Y >rk, amt she gave not ver. gneious answers; until at I st Mrs Cmt'areex pressed h r su-prise hat Mary was nor more gra eful for her day’s pleasure, ami suggested that she -hould remain at bom for the future, and al ow her sister to takhe pi ice. Po r Mary fidgeted and fretted, and fi rally to 'k rehtge in sullen silence, wonder

ing whatever mado her so cros-, and w shing it was to-morrow—why, she scarcely acknowle Iged even to herself. She Jittie knethat to-night had begun for her tha romance which so n> r or later changes all lives.

The servants at Donnerbroek ue ha been trained by a careful mistress, an t they were on the alert this evening for, before the carriage stoppe’, the do r was opened and a fl od of light stnamed across the outer darkness T-e hall 1 >oked wa man c tmfortahle af'er the cohl drive, -nd a cheer

ful well spr* ad t a-tible greeted the tra velle s as they entered the dioi g room. Tnere to > the other members of the family were awaiting them—two sturdy schoolnoy' of thirteen and fourteen, and the elde-t daughter Jane, a quiet, demure looking dam-el, as great a contrast outwardly to her s rightly sister as could well be imagined She prepared to pour out the tea this evening for she * was sure dear mamma must be tired after her journey and Mrs antuare re axed into a r oleum smile, as a raward for her daughter’s consideration, and was very gracious to Jane, who was also her favourite

The short evening soon wore away, and the two girls were at last alone in their bedroom, a bright cheerful apartment enough with two pretty brass bedsteads hung with chintz, and curains of the same, ail ever rosebuds, at the windows.

Mary sat down in her own special low chair, and began undressing by kicking off’ her boots.

‘ I t'-'.nk I would me my hands to them, if I were you,’suggested the more canfu Jane ; ‘ You wilt soon spoil your boots that way.’

‘ Oh, never mind, it’s too much trouble t< sto ip d -wn ; and you don’t buy them, s please don t worry. I can surely do as i like with my own things.’ Ja te kept a somewhat offended silence for a few minut s; then her curi sity got the better > f her wound- d feelings, and in a dl, wonderin g what had made her sister so cross, she rein ;rked,

‘ I suppose you have had a pleasant day?’

‘ Wn 11, yes, I think so on the whole. Of course 1 had never been before, and it is aiwa* s phasant to see a fr sh place.’ * I like that o d minster b tter than any building I ever saw. Did you stay for prayers ?’ * jSo, papa said we should not have time, «nd F did not care much about it And () Jane I’—here oune the event of the day with a insh—' we m t sueh a charming young sailor ; and he went and had lunch with u«, and papa said he might cffl here to morro w. ’

‘ '’ana said he might call he e! he actually said so!’ This in great a tonishmint.

‘ Well, why should ho not ? lam sure be was very nice. If you like, 1 will tell you all ab ut, him.’

* About papa?’ suggested Jane mischievously, as she slowly let down her 1 n. hair, and b gin >o brush it. ‘Mo, about V-r Hunton, of course; bur perhaps \ou don’t ca.e to bear.* ‘ «*)i, yea, J d<>,’ repli d J no. And tnen the new acquaintance was tboroggfly discusses by the two girls ; and when h« liad b en as it were, so completely shaken inside out '• hat nothing more emained to be said, Jane wound up the conversation, as she stepped into bed. by wondering whedit r ‘ anything would come of it. ’ ‘ What evejf <V> J'Oft wean? inquired Mary from the safe shelter of her rosebud curtayng.

Weil, you know papa never did such a thing bef re, and it almost seems as if—rs if— Perhaps some day, Mary, you and he may get engaged ’ 4 Nonsense ! what rnbb'sh you talk Jane ! Mr Huutou is not at ail o.y hero. !he man 1 marry must be tall and handsome, and have dark flashing eye* and a long mous tache, ’

* 1 don’t ij’ink any one like that will eyey taka to you ; you are not half pretty enough' ‘Then I’ll aevey marry any one,’ sad Nayy, with a prut. ‘lam sure ola maids can bo very happy, ond I a n in no hurry to leave yu all You speak as though you wanted to get rid of me, Jane.’ To this insinuation Jane returned ap, energy tic denial, sitting up in bed tq, give force to her words.

‘ You are very pniam'l, Mary, to say so You know f< jd not mean that.’ And then there was a little scene of reconciliation, for triese tw r o sisters were very fond of euh other. After which silence settled down 05. the pretty chamber, and kept the company until morning,

_ Mr Himton called next; day, and was gra ciously enough received by Mr and Mre Pantuare, made great friends with he echoqjlheys, and was especially polite to Jane

and Mary ; and, as time wore on. he became quite intimate at Hounerbrook House Miny an hour he spent in wandering about the green lanes and hedgerow.*, or strolling around the garden piths. until at last Mary’s foolish little heart b'*gm to long f>r his coming, and to flutter in a most ridiculous fashion when he arrived.

As usual, however, the parents were the last people to perceive the consequences I kely to result from all this constant intercourse, To them Mary was still the child they had rocked, not so many years ago, in her cradle, and Mr Hunton was merely a young man whom they were rather sorry for, he being without any near relations, and having to pass his leave with a whimsical old bachelor uncle, well known by name at least to all dwellers in S androp. But gradually even their blinded eyes began to catch a glimmer of light. Neither father nor mother had any wish fo? a son-in law, except one of their own i h msing; and so, though they certainly knew n thing to Mr Hnnton’s discredit, Mrs Cantuare though; it expedient to lecture her diughter on her ‘forward manner with young men,’ and Mr Cantuare showed the young fellow in various small ways that he preferred his room to hia company. (To h/> cnntinne/l )