LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1288, 6 May 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CUPID AT SEA. (“Tinsley.”) June, 18, IS—. ‘ Re Mrs Sevan’s Settlement. 1 Dear Sir, —Agreeably to instructions we write to remind you that the quarterly payment, as per deed of settlement, to Mrs Florence Sevan, falls due on the 21th current, * We are, dear sir, • Y ours truly, ‘Law, Tricks, & Co., Sols. £ ’ToJEdward Sevan, Esq.’ This very business-like communi*- ition from his lawyers was put into the hands of Mr Edward Sevan, as he sat down to bis breakfast in the snug I ; t G sitting-room oi his cosy bachelor chambers in the Albany. Though in bachelor chambers, he was a married man, and, of course, tho * Mrs Sevan’ referred to in the lawyers’ letter was his wife. There is no riddle in the matter. It was the old story of a little mistake—of incompatibility of taste, temper, ftc ; perhaps of a wife spoilt with a little too much honey, and no domestic vinegar or trouble to vary the too-dazzling happiness of early married life. Mr Bevau was a man of average good appearance, with a modest little income of some £2OOO a year, was of agreeable disposition, and had been considered a ‘ good catch.’ Mrs Florence Sevan — nee Flo, Russell—had been the pet of her family, the admired of the gentlemen visitors, and the merriest, brightest, and most wayward of girls, before Fate and her own mother brought Mr Sevan to her side. It may be that, sought after as he had been always, deferred to by manoeuvring mammas, and his word taken as law (before marriage), Air Seven had grown somewhat too exacting as to women. Perhaps his ideas of general matters were too fixed for the merry and mischievous girl Fate had thrown in his way, and her mother had thrown into his arms. At any rate, after she had become Mrs Sevan the bluesky happiness of the first year had several small clouds on the horizon, and before the second was over there had been one or two small breezes —‘ cat’s-paws,’ as a sailor would say —on the previously unruffled surface of the matrimonial lake. The third year opened with the presence of ‘ my mother-in-law’ in the house, and the breezes grew at times to storms—like the storms of the desert, it is true, of short duration, but still storms ; and when the signal was up, Mr Sevan put on his hat and drove to his club. He did not love his wife any the less tenderly, and it would be difficult to say that she was less in love with him; but * my mother-in-law’ stood on her dignity, the happiness of her ‘ darling child ’ was at stake, her rights should be protected, and— And so the deed of settlement came about. Of course they loved one another just tho same, but it was through the medium of the deed of separation. They communicated with one another at intervals, but through ‘my solicitor,’ And so it was that two persons, each with a capacity for making the other happy, leavened their intercourse, which should have been a mutual pleasure, with parchment deeds and settlements, and and kept up a cold, Arctic-fishy sort of love, through the refrigerating medium of a lawyer’s blue bag. The deed of separation had, at the time of commencing this little history, been in force six months, and tho letter from Messrs ‘Law, Tricks and Co., solicitors,’ notified that the payment, in advance, for the third quarter was falling due, Mr Sevan read the jnote, by that time duly entered in his solicitors’ books as ‘ advising you of payment falling due, 3s 6d,’ while he buttered his cold toast; and somtthiug like a sigh—or it might have been a piece of toast going the wrong way, which caused an extra gulp—might have been heard. ‘Three years ago,’ he said musingly, ‘I cut the club life without regret, hating the wasted days, the feverish nights. Home comforts I asked for whan I got married, and sought a wife’s lore instead of lukewarm friendship. Bab. \ I jumped at r- shadow. J. wanted a happy breakfast tr-b’o, now I put up with e mo’-ri,,gbrandy npd-ucdn spd, 'old toast. * The letter dropped on the door at his lest, and his eyes watched the faces that seemed to dance in the sunbeams as they shone, in through tho window, ‘ Jove! ’ ho exclaimed presently, ‘I wonder what she is doing now. If I dared, I’d go and see. If I dared ! Well, I mean if I thought she wouldn’t see nie-Tooking at her.’ It was an odd notion, that of a husband not liking his wife to know that he was looking at her; but then he wouldn’t have it said that he was so ‘infirm of purpose’as to desire a reunion after the deed of separation. Whatever his secret longings might be, he felt that ‘ man should be made of sterner stuff.’ Yet, strangely enough, the cheque for the quarterly allowance was not forwarded to Messrs ‘ Law Tricks and Co.; ’ and more strangely still, the chambers were shut, and letters for ‘Edward Bevan, Esq., lay for two following days on his table unopened. His club knew him not during that period ; but men were not dull without him, though when a champagne dinner or heavy 100 was on the zovls, many men would have

sworn that the thing was impossible without ‘Old Bevan. 3 Such is human nature. And Mrs Bevan? Had she any secret longings to .see her husband once again, even if he did not see her ? Perhaps ; bat if she owned such it was only to herself. Her mother, who had taken up a permanent residence with her, now that the ‘ dear child ’ war, ‘ deserted by her natural protector, ’ would have set her face against any such un« dignified longing. How many men know what ‘ setting her face against it ’ means from a mother in-law ! ‘Nshe said, ‘it is due to myself and you to maintain our ground.’ She did so—and her daughter paid the bills. June saw daughter and mother comfortably established in a pretty little villa at Southsea, the mother taking carriage-airings, and making afternoon trips to the pretty island opposite; the daughter in the house during the great heat of the day, engaged in the numerous nothings of a little lady’s life, or, morning and evening, strolling along the beach, watching the people throwing stones. What a strange capacity the City man exhibits for throwing stones directly he finds himself at the seaside, with the great waves rolling in at his feet! It seems as if he were impelled by au irresistible impulse to do it. To me there was always a charm in the skilfully hurled stone, in watching it skim the waves, in marking the number of times it cut the water, till, losing its force, it sunk in out of sight I always seemed to breathe more freely after my exertion. 11 was certainly very hot at Southsea that afternoon of the 19th of June, and the charming Mrs Bevan sat busy with a book in a lazy contented fashion, yet wishing that some one would come and read to her—it was too hot to do it for herself, she said—when the door opened, and the domestic of the house announced, * Miss Pelham, ma’am ; ’ and Miss Pelham entered. Who shall describe her ? She was a Quakeress, and walked into that room in her neat dress of gray silk, * fixed up,’ as the Americans would say, with simple white round the throat and sleeves, and fitting so as to show the outline of a figure which was nature itself, and in the moulding of which art—which is an apology for a fashionable modiste and tight-lacing—had no share, and so was beauteous in its perfections. I confess that, for me, there has ever been a great attraction in Quakers, especially the ladies. I know nothing more hideous than the style of dressing, pursued to the extreme, of the, present day, with its distortion of nature from the head to the heels. Exception might be taken, perhaps, to the Quakeress bonnet, as hiding too much of a pretty face. But to return to Grace Pelham—and grace she was in name and in nature. She slipped quickly and lightly across the room to the side of her lazy friend, and she laughed a merry mischievous little laugh, which rang like notes of music through the room. ‘ Hot,’ she said ; yes, * and so thou didst not expect me. But we Quakers keep our promises, and I said I’d come.’ A.nd then she laughed again. Dear me, dear me, what a laugh it was, and what a light pure heart it must have been 1 She had slipped off her little bonnet of gray by that time, and disclosed a headdress of curls of shining nut-brown hair ; she had patted her white-lace cuffs into place and kissed her friend, and then she said again, ‘ And so thou didst not expect me ! ’ * No, dear,’ replied Mrs Bevan : ‘ but I’m glad you’ve come. I envy you, you look so cool and nice.’ ‘Thou must not pay me compliments, dear,’ replied the little gray beauty, soberly. ‘ I am as Nature maae me,' ‘ Take my advice and keep so, dear. Marriage is an art, and the greatest spoiler of nature ’ ‘ That is a bitterness with thee, I know, dearie: but why didst thou ever let thy husband leave thee ? I thought thou wast to be always with him—“in sickness and in health, till death did thee part ” “Joy and sorrow,” you know,’ said Grace, soberly quoting. ‘ That is all very well, dear,’ answered Mrs Bevan, ‘but a husband has “joys” away from his wife; in “sickness” he’s glad enough to have her with him.’ ‘ “ When pain and anguish wring the brow A ministering angel thou,” ’ again quoted Grace, who knew Walter Scott by heart. And so they talked, Grace principally though ; and 1 am bound to say she somewhat lectured her more mature friend, and to show her that woman’s business after marriage was not to think solely of dress and amusement, or to indulge in real or fancied sorrow, but to try and remove it if it existed. For herself, she said, she didn’t care how soon she wasj married, because she fully trusted her own power to keep captive the heart of the man she might choose. As they talked it was wonderful how alike they grew in thought, —they were not unlike in height and feature, —and Mrs Sevan’s vexed spirit seemed to become much more calm, though aLe resolutely refused to listen to the arguments of her friend, made to induce her to write a letter to her husband and bring about a reconciliation. ‘ Ma,’ she said, ‘would never allow it.’ Ha’f a voice whispered Grace to advise it being done without ma’a knowledge ; but the sincere little woman could not have reconciled it to herself to give such advice, for she was as open as the day, and hated secrecy. Still *ma ’ was a thorn in her side; and when that all-important lady returned, and had greeted their visitor, Grace, at the dinner-table, broached the subject, and urged that Mr Beven should be sent for. * W hat! ’ exclaimed the matron, in indignant surprise— ‘ what ! send for him ? My dear child, I can forgive the notion ; but you are young and— ’ ‘ Foolish,’ she was about to say ; 1 but she swallowed the word from a ser se of politeness only, and substituted ‘ romantic. ’ ‘You do not know,’ she went on, ‘ what a woman’s dignity requires. My dear child had three years of misery with him. She has been parted from him six months]; that means six months of happiness. Do you agree with that ray dear ? ’ she asked her daughter. ‘ Yes, ma,’ responded the daughter, but with a mildness that more plainly said ‘ No.’ ‘Then,’ continued the matron, ‘would ycu have her send for her tyrant ? have her hold out her arms for him to put on the chains again ? ’ (To be continued .)