LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1412, 24 August 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE HOUf<E ACROSS THE STREET. A Storv in Two Chapters. ["All the Year Round. "J (Continued.) It was early spring. There was a soft balmy feeling in the air. The bare branches of the almond-trees were dotted over with iny rose-olored buds, a few brave primroses were thrusting ud their pale yellow blossoms out of the dark brown mould Women were crying "Hyacinths!" in the street, and tempting passers-by with baskets heaped with their odorous clumps of white and pink and creamy bells. There were birds twittering in the square, and a stir of new life and freshness all through the world; but Mr Robarts was not so well. He had be ,: n confined to she house for several days; and I went over to sit with him one afternoon, bo that Magdalen might get out for a little fresh air. ' You won't leave him till I do come back,' she said, linge ing even after her bonnet was on. ' Promise me, doctor. He is so disobedient to orders that ho is not to be trusted by himself ; but if you ' ' Yes,' I said, 'I will stay, don't be afraid. I can promise you that or—anything else that you ask.' The exceeding loveliness of her face had struck me even more that day than usual. I could not take my eyes off it till she was gone; and then, as I turned back to her father, I met his fixed on me. They were keen grey eyes; and in their hard scrutiny I read that which told me without any words that something in my face or tone had betrayed me, and that my secret was no longer my own. Well, 1 had naught to be ashamed of, and after the moment's shock I was man enough to meet his gaze fully and calmly. He was silent for a little; and then said: ' I have just found out something. Do you know what it is, Dr. Elliot ?' 'I think so. Isn't it that there are more fools in the world than you were aware of a few moments back? You have discovered that I care for your daughter. I have known it myself for some time back; but what does it matter ? I hoped no one would ever gues3 it; and, after all, it is not my fault' To my unutterable surprise he put out his hand to me, smiling. ' What is not your fault ? To tell you the truth, 1 have once or twice before suspected your feelings for Magdalen ; and I am glad you have owned it You call it a folly, though. In what way ?' ' Only that it is a folly for any man to stake his whole heart on something he has no hopes of winning.' ' Hem ! You are modest; or—may I ask if Magdalen has already convinced you of the hopelessness of your affection ?' ' I have never so much as hinted at its existence to her I should have thought you know me well enough for that, Mr Robarts. Indeed, I fancied that you ' « Wouldn't have heard of it ? Well, to be frank with you, when the idea first flashed acrops my mind, it did startle me; but I have thought over it since then ; and I don't mind telling you that, if I were to give my child to any man, I would rather it were you than another.' I was struck dumb with astonishment. He smiled again and went on : ' It is simply this—l know you. You are an honorable and kind hearted man. I believe you are in a position to keep her in the style she has been accustomed to ; and also that, if she were your wife, you would be good and faithful to her. Am I right, or not ?' I rose and answered—— Well, well, what do the words matter now ? But I must have made my meaning plain at any rate; for he pressed my hand kindly. ' There ! You are a good fellow, doctor, and I believe you. There is one stipulation, however, which I must make. Will you agree to it ?' ' You have been bo wonderfully generous to me, Mr Robarts, it would be hard if I did not agres to anything you asked.' ' Dou't take my child away from me then. I have a fancy I am not here for very long ; but I could nut live without her. You will promise me ' I knew she would not have left him ; but I promised notwithstanding. ' Thank you; and —don't say anything to her yet awhile. I do not believe that she cares for you at present, or guesses at; your caring for her, or I would not ask it; but overhastiness might only up3et her peace and damage your own cause. Leave her alone for awhile.' I assented; and meanwhile I will tell you what I did. I set to work to beautify and refurnish my ugly old house from garret to ce'lar, and I got together pictures, and old china, and quaint brasses, and I cunningly persuaded Magdalen—old Robarts laugliing in his sleeve all the while—that I had little ta te and less time of my own for such things ; and so won her to lend me hers in the choice of nearly ail I purchased; being wishful t'>at they sluuld be all according to her own taste, so that the home, to wbich one day I hoped to bring my darling, should not repel her by ita unl.keuess to that she left I remember her saying to me one day that she should quite lo k on it as her house when it was finished; and I hardly know whether the words gave me most pain or pleasure. Would she have said it if there had been auy feeling in her heart akiu to thut in mine for her. And yet the took such a frank and eager interest in it all ; and was so warmly cordial and trustful with me 1 I knew a'u least, that she liked me, and how often is not liking only love's prelude ? I had muoh secret doubt and tear and anxiety about that time ; but I look back ou it now, and know that 1 was very happy in it a ! l the fame. The end came sooner than any of us expected. Mr Robarts was taken saddeuiy worse one evening early in May A sueoes pion of fainting fit& followed ; and though he rallied from them, it was only to pain too keen for las exhausted frame to bear. Hefore midday on the morrow he was dead; and Magdalen knelt weeping by the bed where a few moments back he had tried to clasp our two hands in his dying fingers, and had whispered in hoarse, gasping tones : ' Take care of her, Elliot. I trust her to you. Magalen, remember, I —leave —you— to his care.' Ahmel it was more than "care" that I longed to give her then, my poor darling, in the first hour of her desolation; but no one save an utterly self-engrossed oward would have spoken to her of love and maniage at such a time; and it was enough that she did not repel the affectionate authority which, for her own good, I felt bound to use to her ; and submitted to be ruled and tended by me with a meek, childlike passivity which made her more than ever dear and precious to me. 'I will wait a week,' I said to myself. 1 One we; k more, aud then, after tne funeral, I will speak to her I do not think she will sena me away,' and I did not. There was something in the look of her eyes when she thanked me, in the clinging touch of her lingers when they rested in mine, which, through all sense of my unworthiness, made me hope at last. Mr Kobarts had few relations, and no near or tiusted ones, He had left a written request that I would take charge of his papers, burn all that were not of importance, and arrange the funeral and legal matters. It would spare Magdalen somewhat; and she was to write to an elderly cousin in Scotland, who had long ago agreed to come to her in the event of such a contingency ; but her letter found the elderly cousin ill and unfit to travel for several days, and Magdalen not go to her or leave the house till after the funeral; neither had I the heart to urge it. * You are here, and you do all that I want, or that anyone could do for me. I am muoh happier alone,' she had said with a pitiful quiver about her beautiful mouth ; and I took her hands in mine and answered : ' My dear, you shall do just as you like. If being alone is a comfoit to you, no one shall disturb you,' and certainly I did not 1 had to be there every day on basinets ; but

very often I did not see her at all, Iwm busy with the papers I have mentioned; and she rarely left her own. room. The little garden on the leads was gay with spring flowers, and the ivy was putting forth all ita fresh green shoots ; but she never went into it now, and it had lost all its beauty for me. I was over &t the house one evening turn* ing out the old oak cabinet, where her father had once told me he kept most of his private letters. It was a wearisome task enough, for they had all to be looked through before being destroyed; but I was glad to do it, for I knew that many would have pained Magdalen sadly ; and in course of time came to one, set aside in an old pocket-book by itself, and without an envelope. I had glanced through it and had seen the signature before I realised that it was not written to Mr Robarts at all, but to his daughter, from one Guy Latham—the letter written by Magdalen's lover, which had never been suffered to reach her. I don't know muoh about love-letters, and I suppose this waa not different to the generality; yet I felt that I would rather die than that she should see this, the passionate appeal of a young man desperately in love, and furious at the cruelty which had separated him from his object. ' I know you lore me,' he wrote. ' Be true to me ; and neither time or absence shall shake my fidelity. Your father has behaved like a brute and a tyrant to us ; but only wait for me, my angel, til I can make a home for you, and we shall be happy in spite of him,' and I, reading it, wondered whether, if she had seen it, she would have granted the prayer, and gone on waiting for him till then. It was a question which wm very terrible to me, and I shut the cabinet, and sat down to ponder over the letter, lhe doubt was what I should do about it even now. (To ht eontiuved.)