LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1350, 12 June 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HUSHED UP. ["London Soeiety."l {Continued.) Then he thought of that second report. When there was no one to accuse it had not mattered how many barrels were loaded; but now ? What if one of those reports had been a shot fired at hia lodger ? What if he had seized that gun in self-defence ? Very cautiously and as he thought kindly, Farmer Byles broke the subject to Mrs Fietcher-Baldwyn, who took up Mr McDonnell's defence with a warmth which added to the Yorkshireman's honest doubts. The deceased had died intestate, and the bulk of his property went to his sister and her children. Well, here was the man directly benefited by hia death acting in the most suspioious manner ; and here wai the widow (who from affluence was plunged almost into poverty) defending him defending one who was certainly about to deprive hrr of her home, and perhaps had committed murder to do so.

Farmer Byles made Mr McDonnell understand very plainly that if he did not give him a satisfactory explanation of his conduct in private he woul 1 have to offer one before a magistrate in open court. Mr McDonnell became greatly agitated at the threat, and then t ied to pooh-pooh the suspicions by which it was prompted. This only strengthened them. Indeed things went so far that doors were locked, a horse saddled, and a laborer called from his work to ride into the next town for a policeman. • Anything but that!' cried the widow to her supposed accomplioe. •We must trust him; and, 0 air' (turning to the farmer), ' you will keep her terrible secret—you will respect the memory of the dead ?' ' I tell you frankly,' Byles Replied, • there's many besides me that are asking questions.' ' Then it must all come out!;' gasped the lady, wringing her hand. •I expect it must,'growled Byles. * * * * * # * 'You'would not believe a word I said,' McDonnell began, ' if I were to place before you the chain of causes which led to my poor Hbrother-in-law's death. He must unwind it himself.' 1 HimseH !' exclaimed the farmer. ' Yes. It is contained in a part of his diary which I found ia his valise.' * And secreted from the coroner ?' 1 And secreted from tho ooroner. When you have read it, you will know why ; and will not I hope, blame me. But I did not bring it Come home with us—l am sure'Mrs F etcher-Daldwin w iH second this suggestion—as our friend and guest. As for me, you can come also as a constable, if you iike, and not let me out of your sight till I have satisfied you that I am in no way to blame.' So Mr Byles, like an honest bulldog, went with them, and read the diary of the late Fletcher-Baldwyn, from the 4th of 1870, from the day after his return from the West Indies (where he had been employed, until his father's death made him head of the firm in England) down to his own mysterious end. This again I must edit, so to speak, leaving out all that is not connected with the main points before us. Extracts from the Diary of Edwartj Fletchbr Baldwin. Feb. 4th, 1865. I dreamt tho tame thirjg twice on my passage home, but never gave it a second waking thought till to-day. I often repeat foolish dreams. I dream lam dressing for some engagement and cannot find my boots ; when 1 have got them, I miss my coat, and si on. Aga-n, I fancy I am a boy once more, riding a pony ('ong since gathered to his fathers) through a stream divided in two by an icland in which a huge oak-tree growq. I can shct my eyes now and see the shallow water rushing over the golden sand, and the long green flagweeds waving in the deeps. And yet there is no such place —at least no such that I know of. I suppose dreams come reflected from dreams, just as they come from realities ; but how ab ut the first rlream of an uurca'ity? The realityjis always distorted or confused in the dream. It is only the unreal that comes back, time after time, clear and consistent with itself. The dream which comes back s > strangely to me now was repeated incidoi t for incident, and word for word fr m \fct\i

I was, walkin: along a road through some beath or common, evidently in England, and J the sun was setting. My way was uphill, a | rather steep hill, and the surroundings some- | how b ave me the idea that I should get a view of the eea from the top. I pushed on, and hcc me aware of a man standing on the summi', with hi° back towards me. He was dressed all in black, and the red glow beyond him threw his figuie out very distinctly aga ust the horizon. When I was about to pass him he turned round and stretched out his hand as though, we' were old friends, and he had been waiting for me by appointment, seemed to me that this was uuite natural, and we shook hands with- | out a"word, Then he took my arm, and in a tone as though one would say, ' Come and take a stroll,' to an intimate, • Come,' and I will show you your grave.' Again his conduct seemed reasonable, and I suppose I should have walked on with him for miles if necessary. But the scene changed; we entered a houso., a niquare, itatfronted, reel-brick, bjuo-tiled, ugly, and respectable mansion, such as you may find in the outskirts ofj any country town, and l which is generally occupied by the doctor or j the leading attorney, if it is not a boarding school. We passed through the usual oakflporod hall into the usual dining room, with its usual Turkey carpet, its usual formal sideboard (with the usual portrait of the owner over it), and the usual array of leathern-seated chairs drawn up in hollow squares around the walls. But where the table ought to have been, with its usual red and black cover, was very unusual. There stood, a tomb !• A marble tomb, rising out of the floor, j half above it, and half below, on the slab of which was this inscription— SaoRKD to run Memory EDVYAKD FLTCTCHER-BALDWYN, Oi- Cauldrrwolde, WHO Died December 31st, 1870, Aged 34 Years. Now the man on the hill had said, ' Come, and I will show you your grave ;' but this one was that of some one else. My name is Fletcher, not Fletcher Baldwyn, and 1 bave nothing to do with Caulderwolde whatever that is, or wherever it may

be. I never heard of such a place. Thus I reasoned in my dream, and turned round to ask for an explanation ; but the man was gone, and the house was on fire, and the shock produced by the double surprise woke me. Dreaming this the second time, it seemed to come with all the force of novelty. I had no knowledge of what was to happen first, or what would follow. I woke in suspense at the end, as before, and, as I have already written, did not give it a second waking thought. I landed at Southampton yesterday evening, took the first train for London, and arrived at our (I may not say my) house so tired that I went straight to my room, begging Emma to make my excuses to McDonnell when he should arrive. This morning I was up as usual, early, and made for the breakfast-room. When my hand was on the lock of the door, and before I had opened it, before I saw that there was a man dressed all in black standing with his back to me on the hearth rng, with the red g 7 ow of the fire beyond him, my dream flashed back ! I knew he would turn round and hold out his hand as though we were old friends, and he had been waiting for me. I knew I should accept his salutation as quite natural, and that we should "shake hands without a word. And so it was. He turned exactly as I expected, and I saw the man who had shown me my grave in my dream ! This is what makes me recall it, and really there is something very odd so far. Feb- s.—After reading over what I wrote last night, it strikes me that there isn't anything so very odd after all. It is nonsense to think that I saw McDonnell before I opened the door. It was his black back and the fire-glow which put me in mind of that silly dream ; and then, when he turned round, I fancied his face looked like that of the man on the hill. Now this is the way to test it. If I had asked myself ten minutes before our meeting what the face of my dream-man was like, could I have described it 7 I could not. That settles the point. How simple these ' odd' things become when you examine them. McLonnell was in mourning for my poor father out of respect for us. He was warming his hands at the fire because it was cold, and consequently had to turn his back to the door. We had never met ; but he knew I was the only other man in the house, and I knew he was the only guest. It would have been absurd if two future brothers-in-law had stood on the ceremony of an introduction, especially when one of them was in his own house, and the other his guest. Of course we didn't talk about graves, and of course we shook hands without a, word. He says that lam not at all the sort of man he expected to find in Emma's brother. The truth is, she wanted me to make a favorable impression on her lover, and therefore did not flatter me in her descriptions. She played the same game on him, and we are mutually disappointed—agreeably. This shows that he has not been dreaming about me. Feb. 11. I have had that dream again, and the face of the man on the hill is McDonnell's. Have I made it thus by thinking, or was it always so ? ( To- he oowtinnfid )