LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1403, 14 August 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SNATCHED FROM THE BR'NK.

(Argosy.) Time—five o’clock on a BuH r y September afternoon ; the air is close and oppressive, the sky covered with clouds that threaten a storm. Sc ne—the p easant shady flowerscented drawing-room of a pretty oldfashion d house in a suburban road just outside the town of Leamington. The room has two occupants, one of whom —the middle-aged lady presiding at a dainty little “five o’clock t a” table—is the present writer, Miss Catherine Dane. Tue tall, dark-eyed girl in white, who stands at the open lawn window is my niece Sidney, the motherless child of my brother, Colonel Dane, now in India, but shortly expected home on sick leave.

‘ Don’t you want any tea, Sydney ?’ ‘Tea? oh, is it ready?’ she answers ab sontly, and moving from the window, subsides into a chair mar the table. ‘I was looking for the postman. He is late thi* afternoon ’

‘Do you exocct a letter from India by the mail that is just in ?’ ‘Yes, I daresay papa will write.’ ‘ We shall have him with us brfore Christ mas, I suppose ?’ ‘I suppose so,’ she assented. Her tone was certainly not one of joyful anticipation, and the words were followed by a suppressed sigh. It pained, but did not su -prise me to it, for I ha l ! discovered long ago that Sidney dreaded her father’s return, though for what reason I could net even conjecture, The girl was almost as much a stranger to me now as she had been six months before, when first I received her beneath my roof. My brother had written to mo requesting me to take charge of her till he returned to England, as her health required an immediate change of climate. I readily consented, but s mn found it was no light responsibility I had accepted ; I had neither power nor influence over the haughty headstrong girl, who knew no law bnt her own will, who received homage as a right, and repelled rympathy as an impertinence In spite of her faults, however, I learned to love my niece, and her waywardness and caprice only served to add compassion to my affection ; for some instinct told mo that they were but the outward signs of a deeper ill, a heart oppressed by some hi ! den trou ble. <vnd a nature at war with itself What could the trouble be ? Anxiously I aske I myself the question as, after hearing that significant sigh I watched her cloudo 1 face. But the beautiful face kept her secret aud told me nothing

A sound of cariiage wheels approaching swift'y a l ong the road caused Sidney to desist her idle occupation of breaking a biscuit into fragments, and look towards the window. The next moment'‘here swept into sight a uony carriage-and-pair containing three ladies, two young, a d one (who was driving) was very youthfully dressed and a gentleman, a handsome soldierly looking man of thirty, with bo’d dark eyes, and a sweeping tawny moustache. The ladies catching sight of Sidney, kissed tin ir hands to her effusively, and the gentleman raised his hat, as the carriage dashed by and disappeared in a cloud of dust. ‘ Were those the Lightwoods ?’ I inquired as she turned fro n the window, her cheeks flushed her eyes unusually bright. * Ves, they have been to the flower-show. Mrs Light wool has a rival exhibition in her bonnet. Hid you notice it ?’ ‘ Her brother, Captain Forrester, is staying with them still, I see ’ Sidney only nodded in reply as she banded me her cup to be. replenished. ‘ How long are they likely to remain at Leamington ?' I asked. ‘ 1 don’t know, I’m sure. Mrs Tightwood a house for three months, I believe ; thev have been here more ihat two already.’ ‘ Hid you know them very intimately in India ?’

‘ Well, yes, I ns n d to visit them very often when they were living at Madras. The widow, Mrs Lightwood, has always professed a great affection for mo. though I fancy she But that reminds me, Aunt Catherine,’ she broke off, leaving the first sentence unfinished ; ‘ they are going to have a littie dance to-night, and they have invited me.’

‘ Again !’ I exclaimed. ‘Do you know that you have been th<-re no fewer that six times during the last fortnight?’ ‘ What an accurate reckoning you have kept!’ she returned laughingly. ‘ Well, tonight will be the seventh time, for I am going with your permission of course ’ The last clause was so evidently pro forma that it would have been almost more gracious to have omitted it altogether. ‘ I wish Mrs Lightwood would n t keep up her “ little dances” to such a such a late, or rather, early hour/ y replied ; ‘and I am sure, that so much waltzing is not good for you, with your weak heart.’ ‘ Particularly when my pa r taer is Captain Forrester,’ she added, looking at me with a half smiie. ‘You had better be candid, Aunt Catherine ; you know it is not the dance, but the partner you object to.’ ‘I object to both; the partner chiefly, perhaps.' ‘ I wonder why ?’ drawled Sidney, lazily examining her fan.

I was provoked into answering plainly. ‘ liec iuse he is a b Id, unprincipled, dangerous man That is why, Sidney.’ She bhii-hed, and seemed about to make an angry reply ; but, thinking better of it, answered coldly, after a pause: ‘lda-esay lie is very much like other men : neither better nor worse.’

‘ I should bo sorry to think my circle of acquirin'ance included many men of his stamp,’ I observed. ‘ Oh ! I am su-e it does not,’ she returned, with a little laugh ; * you may be quite easyon that score, Aunt r 'athe ine.’ * And I should be still more sorry,’ I went on, ignoring her remark, ‘if 1 thought that he cou ! d ever bo more to you than a mere acquaintance. Heaven help you, Sidney, if you restored your heart on such a man!’ She shut her fan, aud looked up with a sudden change of expression. ‘ Bestow my heart!’ she echoed, in a tone half angry, half scornful. ‘ You talk as if hearts were “bestow*d,” like prizes as a reward for merit; as if love were a thing to he given or withheld, subject to the approval of parents or guardi-ns. it does not occur to you that a woman’s hea't may be won in spite of her?-that she may love against her will, against her judgment, against her duty ’ She stopped abruptly, and the color rushed over her face.

‘ tA hat rubb'sh we are talking !' she concluded with a shrug, as she rose and returned to her old post at the window A few minutes afterwards the front gate closed behind the postman, who advanced up the winding towards the house. Somewhat to my surprise—for she bad her full share of Anglo-Indian laziness Sidney gave herself the trouble to go and meet him, took a letter from his hand, and returned slowly across the lawn, a tall, elegant figure, in trailing summer draperies, with a yellow rose in her dark hair.

‘ A letter for you, Aunt Cathie,’ she said, ‘ with the Southampton post-mark. It why—good heavens! The word died on her lips; she stood looking blankly at the letter in her hand. ‘ What is it?’ I asked. ‘What is the maDer ?’

‘ It is para’s handwriting !’ she answered, in a whisper of amazement.

‘And the Southampton post-mark!’ I exclaimed, and hastily tore it open, Siduy looking over my shoulder as I read ‘ Hadley’s Hotel, Southampton, ‘ September 6th.

• My dear Catherine,-—You will see, from the heading of this, that I am already in England I landed from the Cheetah last night, and I should have been with you today (Tuesday ; but my old wound in the shoulder has broken out afresh, and will keep me prisoner here, the doctor rays, f r the next forty-eight hours at least, if not for several days. 1 have just learned that the Lightwoods are living in Leamingt n, and that Mrs L.’s brother, that scamp, Fred Forrester, is with them. idney ha*, never mentioned thair tames in her letters to me;

but I have no doubt that, in spite of my prohibition, she has renewed the acquaintance which was br ken 'if before she left India. I have now a still stronger reason to object to the intimacy : and I trust you, Catherine, to sve that she does not set foot in tkir house, or hold any sort of communication with them till I cocre. I reserve explanations until I see you. In the meantime, believe me, “ Yoor affectionate brother, “ Fravcts Pane.”

I folded the letter in silence, and looked at Sidney, who stood motionless, gazing straight before her. ( To hp. continued. )