LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1443, 1 October 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SACKING H D TO AMBITION.

By Stella.

[Tinslcy.~\

Chapter I,

The Beverleys lived in a very pretty detached house, situated a few miles from a fashionable watering-place in the West of England. The house itself hid, no pretensions to grandeur whatever, but tho gardens and flower-beds were arranged tastefully, and laid out to the greatest advantage ; in fact, that was the one idea conveyed to the mind of an observant visitor throughout the whole establishment, internal and external, that everything was shown off to the greatest advantage. Some there were—enemies of the family, of course—who said that the proud Mrs Beverley within docra st'iniod and clipped to an aiaymirig degree, for the sole purpose of pandering to her arch-tyrant—Show. Whatever truth there might be in that, her schemes were truly successful; for though no one knew anything of the family pedigree or history, excepting the fact of a longdeceased ancestor having been a lady of title, which, indeed, was communicated, vo every fresh arrival almost as goon «s ihia dust was shaken off Us boots, yet, by sime mesns or other, they had contrived to get a footing into the houses of the greatest and grandest in the county where they resided, and never was any fete or party complete without the presence of the majestic Mr.; Beverley, resplnqdent in gleaming satins o.r ;/uimi<;e + 'ing silks, which well became her statuesque figure and coldly-chiselled features; and that of her younger and _ most prepossessing daughter, a fascinating girl of eighteen, dark and gipuydike in appearance, «,nd capable of holding a whole roomful of people spoil-bound with her glowing and animated conversation.

For the rest of the family, it may be s.id that Montague Beverley, the supposed head of the establishment, was verging on his eightieth year, and was only ' tolerated ' iu the house by hi 3 queenly wifc tt nd much admired daughter FloVv.tcr,, both of whom looked n.QQQ him aa itu 'aggravation,' wlio had iiu right to live on t > be a nuisance and an impediment to nil their vagaries.

Perliaps some excuse may be made for their way of thinking, when it is said t'iat Montague Beverley had represented himself

to the beautiful Rosalind Harcourt as a wealthy and aristocratic widower! Widower indeed he was; but§wealthy! The indignant wife could have told a tale, had she been disposed, of how tbe brokers had taken possession of the house within twelve months of their marriage, a"d how the shock and upset had been too much for her in her delicate condition, resulting in the premature birth of their first-born —a girl who was afflicted with a spinal complaint, and who had been compelled to drag out her childhood, and, alas, her early womanhood also, reclining on a couch, never having experienced the blessings that had been accorded to her younger and more captivating sister. How, after that frightful denouement, they had managed to do as they did was only known to themselves; but one thing was given up, and that was their town house, and they had to resign themselves to a moie humble home in the country. After the first burst of indignation and grief had subsided, and Mrs Montague Beverley had over and over again informed her adoring spouse that she had been a ' fool' to marry such an ' old bore,' when she could have had suitors innumerable at her feet —ay, and suitors young, handsome, and rich; after many stormy interviews—stormy only on her side, for the old Benedict trembled at her threatening words, and subsided into his own gloomy thoughts on the subject—and after they had once again settled down in their new home, and a second child—a daughter who gave promise of great beauty and attainments—had been born to them, the much-aggrieved wife and mother agreed to face circumstances as they were, and make the most of them. The sole end and aim of her life had been ambition, to get into • good society ' as she termed it, and get into good society she would; for as her mother had great hopes for herself, so had she in her turn g-eat hope 3 for her younger child, Florence. The elder, Madeline, was looked upon as a failure ; and bitterly bad the mother fretted at first over her, perhaps not as a mother should fret over the sufferings of her child, but experiencing a kind of repellent disgust that she, who in her maiden days had reigned supreme in every ballroom, should give birth to one so uninteresting, with irregular features, sallow complexion, and, horror of horrors, humpbacked j—as she called her in private, though in company, when asked'after, Madeline was always spoken of as 'my poor dear little sufferer,' my patient little darling,' &c. It was this feeling of being in the way, as it were, that had caused great sympathy to spring up between the father, Montague Beverley (his real name was John Thomas, but that was Dot aristocratic), ar>d his elder daughter, Made'ino, Often when Mrs Beverley and Florence were flaunting in the drawing rooms of those who came within the circle of good society—for the young lady had not long made her debut in the fashi mable world, in which, to do her justice, she was indeed an, ornament—the invalid would spand hour after hour with her r y god father, who felt trijly rccqmpeuiod in the possession of such an affectionate child for the cares and troubles that he had brought upon his old age.

Things had been progressing very favorably for the ruling goddesses at Myrtle Down, for invitations pcured in upon them to the delight of the mother and daughter, whose on'y thought now was to make the mo3t of everything in the way of dress, turning, altering, remaking, for funds were reduced to a disagreeable minium.

In a small room upstairs at the back of the house were seated Mrs Montague Beverley and her younger daughter, Florence, while Madeline lay quietly on her couch, busily engaged in adding her contribution, in the shape of an exquisite piece of lace manufacture, to the general industry that was apparently going on by J vhs abundance of flouncingy, and other furbelows •peculiar to iemale attiro It was an early spring morning, and the sun was shining rather coldly through the white-linen blind, and perhaps imparting some of its inanimate warmth to the severe countenance of the imperial Mrs Beverley, for cold indeed was the expression in her steelly eye when raised from the piece of work that she hold in her hand. Only on.i thing was there that *,ny depth of feeling to appear in that marble-like face, only one and tha.t was when her daughter Florence gave utterance to any remark that displayed hep great qualifications, and unusually high attainments in the character of one so young. Then would those thin firm lips relax into a smile, and the hard gray eye deepen almost to a violet hue, as she contemplated with pride the dashing girl, who had already been well drilled in the arts and wilea of the world called ' sopiety.'

' Heigho ! I really don't; know whether to wear the pink or sea green to-night, mamma; they both look pretty well, and my pearls would suit either. My pearls ! ugh! how I hate to have to wear them always! I'm sure the Clavertona are sick of seeing them ; they always smile in a meanhig kind of way. and I feel my cheeks burn with rage, for I know it's only because I always wear those abominablo pearls! Oh, $ I were only an heiress Hke Finnic. Clwurton ! It's a shamo that ah ugly girl like Fannie should have the best of everything, and a beauty likelike me should be sheered at. It makes me wish J wave doad, and hate the world and everything in it. There, mamma, you must finish my dress, for I've worked myself up into a rage, and—and—'

«Florence—Florence, my darling, don't distress yourself so. Think of to-night, and of your eyes that every rne admirea so much ; don't, pray don't excite woaiaelfj and give way to tears, far my beauty must not have red ey.3. Gome, dear, I heard Lord Busiaoo say last night that he didn't like to seo a pretty girl decked out in jewels. So, supposing—supposing for once, Florence, you decide on the sea-green, and without without any ornaments whatever—to try the effect, you know, love,' mildly sufrgeaied Mrs Montague Beverley, gently her way, for she was aware $E bet easily aroused temper 'No jewellery at all! Why, I should be a laughingstock 5 and those nasty girls would crow, bedizened in their brilliants and sapphires. No ; I would sooner brave out their sneers in my pink and pearls than that; and _ besides, _ I know Captain Campbell admired me immensely last tin>e J wore them—not that he shall know it's the same dress done up though. Fd sooner not go at all than any oho should think that' ' Captahi Fiddlesticks ! Don't give way to f,olly of that kind, Florence. Please to remember Captain Campbell is only a halfpay officer, with no private fortune at all to speak of; and you—if you play your cards well, as I intend you shall, under my tuition, —you must rot stoop to anything under ajj ' honourable'—l mean an Honorable' - omobody—not a Nobody— I don't see why you. with your charms-., should not be successful lord It's true you are no.t &n heiress ; but with tact and good bait, both of which you possess in fascination and good sound common sense—'

' Ah, I'm sure I ought to after my schooling ; but at times I feel half inclined to give up,' began Florence, with t a w.eajry sigh, for she was dowr.-hoavtvd about the pearlg. ' £{iy« v»p J' her mother exclaimed. ' Don't be a fool, girl! Give up, indeed, before you have been out your first season. Now listen to me, Florence : all my ambition and hopes arc centred in you, and to you I look for the fulfilment of them both ;so don't—oh don't let me be balked Again—balked as I was, when my mother married me to a man enough to be roy grandfather. \ should go mad—l I should.'

' Well, I suppose I must do my best; and there, it <?o niy fault if I don't carry oil a ]),,u&. 'it s awfully wearying, though. x<ian— l wish—l were you, Madeline,' said. Florence peevishly, turning to her sinter.

'Wish ynu M'cre me, Florence? Ah, don't say that; you don't know what yon are wishing for, Luc never mind, dear; I've got e, for you. I've worked hvd every evening for the last few, weeks, and am just finishing the last piece of lace,, which, makes in all ten yar<&s 4 >ju.fjjejeiit tw

trim the amber silk that you had been so disappointed at not being able to wear. Now, if I may give advice, I should say, wear no jewellery, but a single damask rose in your beautiful black hair ; and, with your crimson cloak, you will make a lovely gipsy queen, said Madeline, raising herself to throw the lace into h?r sinter's lap ' 0 Madeline, you're an angel!—just when I was beginning to think of not going at all, too. Thanks, thanks! Now won't I eclipse Fannie Claverton ! Oh, won't it be glorious to see her envious looks, and to have all the gentlemen, from Lord Eustace down to little Ensign Spanker, jealously striving to outvie «>ach other in their attentions to me. It will be a second edition of Fergusson's ball, though I shouldn't wonder if this end in a duel ; it would if didn't live in stupid, matter-of-fact old England. By the bye, mamma, cannot you manage to take me on the Continent this spring ? I—' ' Florence, how absurdly you talk ! Did I not tell you I could not even afford a season in London ? You know I would work my ringers to the bone, so long as people were not aware of It, to give you pleasure, and a chance of making your fortune ; but it really cannot be done, and T is almost a London by the sea, though people do say ' ' Oh, never mind what people say, mamma—that lace has given me fresh energy, I'll be off and bring the amber silk; and you must do it, mamma ; for I must lie down, or I shall be haggard and worn out for to-night; and—and you have such excellent taste, you know, ma dear—'

' Now, Florence, no blarney. Bring it child; I'll do my best; and do not blame me if you are not the belle. Madeline has good ideas, and can arrange the wreaths and flowerß. And you, my darling, try to rest, and do not give way to fits of passion ; and, Florence, while you are away just peep into your father's room, and see that ho is doing no mischief.'

But Florence by that time, having heard it was nothing of any importance to herself, had bounded upstairs, exulting in the idea of the numerous hearts she was of a certainty to make sore, and the delightful sensation of knowing that she, without an ornament of ever so trifling value, would be far more sought after than others who prided themselves on their magnificent display of jewels. (To he continued!)