LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1343, 4 June 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FROM JOY TO SORROW. [“ Danbury News.”] Chapter YI. ( Continued .) Towards the close of the service I look back once more. What I see makes me blush, and pay more attention to my prayers. I see Kenneth Griffith sitting in a pew all by himself a little way back of onrs At last the service is over and the congregation dbperses. Fanny bids me good-bye after making me promise her a visit the next day. She joins her people. I see Uncle Seth whisper to Aunt Leah, and then we quit our pew. Under my drooped eyelids I see that Mr Griffith remains seated. I fear I blush as we go slowly down the aisle, I have not the courage to run the gaufltlet of his eyes. As we near him lam thunder stricken at what my uncle does. He actually goes and holds out his hand to Mr Griffith and talks to him ! And Uncle Seth introduces Aunt Leah to him, who shakes his hand most cordially. Am I in a dream? After my aunt’s introduction Mr Griffith offers me his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. * Your uncle has invited'me to dine with him,’ he says, as we leave the building, * and I am much obliged to him. I have been wanting to know you for quite awhile. I met your uncle yesterday. We had a long chat together. That house of yours is very old and quaint, is it not ?’ ‘Yes.’

* How did you like my book!’ ‘Well, I cannot say as yet. I have not read it. The pictures are very fine. I found a name on the fly-leaf—is it yours V * Yes.’ ‘ Pieaso teil me what is meant by “of Ingle wild.” Ido not understand it. ’ * Oh, that is our estate. My mother lives there.’

* I should like to see it. What is it like ?’

* I cannot give you an exact description. There are a great many trees there, a lake, orchards, flower garden, &c. To me it is very dull.’ ‘ Who is Cicely Edgware ? She says she is your friend. Is she pretty ?’ He laughs. ‘ I suppose you would call Cicely pretty. She has clear blue eyes, pink cheeks, and yellow hair.’

I do not like his answer, * Have you any brothers or sisters ?’ I ask. ‘No.’

We walk on without, a word. We have left the village back of us ; the house tops and the church spire stand out in bold relief against the serene blue sky. ‘ You have asked me questions,’ he says, breaking the silence, ‘ and I have answered them. May I ask some in my turn?’ ‘Yes, as many as you care to ask.’ * In the first place, tell me your name.’ * I have not got a very pretty name,’ I say slowly, ‘it is Vivian Derrick.’ ‘ I like it,’ he says quiety. ‘lt is just the kind of name you ought to bear. & ow, tell me, are your parents living ?’ ‘ I was sitting opposite my father’s grave that day in the church-yard. My mother is buried at Mtlkaham.’

‘Thank you. You have answered my questions most kindly, and I am very grateful, believe me.’ We quicken our pace. We got to the house of Uncle Seth and Aunt Leah. I fling my hat aside and begin to assist in pre paring dinner. At first I feel somewhat embarrassed to have Mr Griffith looking on ; but that soon wears off, and we are soon seated at the table in the best of spirits to enjoy our repast.

Chapter 111. When the meal is over, Uncle Seth and the guest have a friendly smoke together out on the porch. I long to join them, but Aunt I eah keeps me dose at her side to assist her. Presently lam released, and I run to where the gentlemen sit. ‘ Would you like to take a walk, Miss Yiyian ?’ Mr Griffith asks, flinging away his cigar, * Indeed I should enjoy a stroll,’ I say brightly. Uncle Seth pats me on the cheek and says I am not to ask him to go also, for he is going to have a nap. I got my hat, and Mr Griffith and I set out together. “ Where shall we go ?’ I query, as we come to two roads, one leading to Leigh, and the other winding through flowery meadows on to a bustling town. ‘I do not know,’ he says— * take me where you will. lam too lazy to have a decided choice.’ ‘het ua follow this road,’ I say, turning into the one that runs through the fields ; ‘ I like it, it is so quiet ac d pretty. When Aunt Leah does not want me I generally come this way and wander in and about the meads. These he iges you see on each side of us are great favorites of mine. In the summer when it is hot I come to one of these fields throw myself down the clover and watch the tops of the hedges sway to and fro in the low wind. So reclining I dream the lazy hours away.’ * Tell me what you dieam about.*

Ah! I cannot. T - you my chateaux en cspayne would present a very airy and absurd appearance. Do your ever dream ?’ He starts.

‘Yes, I suppose I do—sometimes. I dream when. I am at Inglewild.’

* What do you do in London ?’ * I idde in the Row at one o’clock ; after which I go to my club to see the fellows. ’ * What is the “ Row ?” Is a club an inn ?’

He looks over the peaceful meadowland into vacancy bef *re replying. I fancy I see his mouth twitch under his moustache. However, I may be mistaken, for as he turns towards me bis grand face is in perfect repose. ‘ The Row,’ ho explains, ‘sa a fashionable drive in Hyde Park, The full name of it is Rotten Row. A dub ia a large mansion where gentlemen meet each other, and talk, and, harve nice dinners and suppers. ’ ‘ What do you talk about when you go there V I ask it because I am interested in him, and should like to know how he talks and of what. He does not answer. His face is turned from me. I bend forward and peep at him. His face wears a deep flush. Have I displeased him ? I catch his arm. * Are you offended V I ask timidly. ‘ I am very scurry if I have offended you, belieyo me.’ He turns to me with radient face and a wonderful shining light in his beautiful 4 Oh, no; I am not offended. What makes yon think I am ?’ ‘ Because your face was flushed and you would not answer my question.’ ‘You asked me a question I could not answer. I cannot tell you what the young fellows talk about.’

Why did he emphasise the * you ?’ Am i so stupid that 3 cannot comprehend his town talk ? ‘ I -would like to know,’ I say, persuadingly. ‘ !>o tell me ?’ ‘ I cannot, so do not ask again,’ he says i"at a bit sharply.

I draw myself up and walk along with him without a word. I am the offended party now. Presently he says, almost tenderly * I hope you are not angry ?’ His voice is so sweet, so pleasant, I hesitate to speak. Proudly I walk along with averted gaze.

‘Please say you are not* (very pleadingly). ‘Oh, no, I am not!’ I cry gleefully, ‘I was only feigning. Come, let us go out into the field yonder, and rest ourselves. Here is the stile.’

He gives one leap and is over it. He extends his hand to assist me.

‘I do not need assistance,’ I say, and before he drops his hand I am at his aide. * This is a grassy place, let us sit here.’ I seat myself, and he throws himself full length at my feet. ‘Now talk to me,’ I command.

1 What about ?’ * Anything you can think of that is agreeable Cicely Edgware for example. Tell me who she is, what she is like, &o. lam curious. *

* I see you are. Cicely is my mother’s companion and friend. She is the child of my mother’s cousin. She is the pet at Inglewild,’ ‘ How old is she ?’ ‘Twenty,’

‘Three years older than I. Which is the prettiest, she or the girl before you T’ I pluck three blades of grass and commence to braid them,jmy face downcast. * The girl before me is the prettiest,’ he says, slowly. I smile to myself. A pause * I am going to be bold,’ I say, dispelling it; * I want you to grant me a favor—will you V

‘ A thousand, if you will.’ ‘ Please tell me -your lore story,’ I say, hesitatingly ; ‘ I know you have one, lam sure you have been in love.’ * How so V ‘ Your eyes are tell-tale.’ It is not much of a story, but as you are kind enough to wish to hear it I will tell it. There is a lady in London of whom I was enamored. Just before I came to Leigh I proposed, and was refused. She was very, very sorry, of course, but she was to be married in June. That is all of my story,’ ‘ Have you gotten over the blow ?’ ‘ Yes, entirely. I was miserable enough when I came to Leigh, I confess, but I have regained my senses now.’ •You do not regret coming to Leigh, then ?’ ‘ No, lam glad. I came to hide my wound from my friends. I could not enendure their commiseration.’ The sun has disappeared in the west and stars are twinkling in the serene heavens. *lt is time to go,’ I say, with a faint sigh and springing to my feet. He rises reluctantly, and then we walk home slowly in pensive mood. We find Aunt Leah and Uncle Seth sitting on the porch, watching the streaks of sunset glory that linger in the sky. Mr Griffith, at our earnest request, remains to tea. That is a very pleasant evening. I sit in a shadowy corner and attentively listen to Uncle Seth’s questions and Mr Griffith’s answers.

(To he continued.)