LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1445, 3 October 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SAOIIIFXOED TO AMBITIOU. By Stella. [“Tinsley.”] {Continued.) To what extent Madeline Beverley’s flights of fancy led her, we will leave the reader to suppose; it is sufficient to say than an hour passed away before her wandering thoughts arrived once more on terra tirma. No time was then to be lost, for it was nearing the early dinner hour at Myrtle Down —for in that they were not strict adherents to fashion ; so with her treasures stowed away from the prying eyes of the other members of the family, the invalid turned the corner of the lane, and wheeled herself into the garden of the pretty homestead. Mrs Montague Beverly and the charming Florence wore both in unusually bad humours, for at the reception the evening before, the latter had considered herself snubbed in that tne latest arrival, who gloried in the name of the Honorable Adolphus Wotherspoon, had openly given the preference to Fannie Claverton. A greater I insult than that it was impossible for the haughty Florence to conceive, for that hete noire of her existence, Fannie Claverton, though holding her own as an heiress, had been obliged to give in to the superior charms of Florence Beverley. ‘ Surely it is sufficient to try the temper of the greatest saint,’ the ill-used Florence had said to her mother, who was equally indignant ; and indeed it was more than enough to account for the dark frown of annoyance that spread over her usually animated countenance.

‘lt’s simply shocking, mamma, to think that that Fannie should put me out! It’s all on account of my wearing that odious sea-green ! I knew what it would be! And ever sir.ee her season in London she’s been unbearable ! I shouldn’t have minded her taking little Spanker, or—or even Captain Campbell; but when she dared to trespass outlie Honourable Adolphus Wotherspoon, I—l—could have— ’

‘ Well, my dear Florence, don’t get into a rage—that’s not the way to conquer, and you know how such paroxysms affect your beauty; it certainly is aggravating, and I felt my c elf as if I could have boxed her ears —impudent, forward girl! And then that aunt, as she calls herself, she came up to me all smirks and smiles, and complimented me on my fascinating daughter, just to draw my attention to you sitting in a corner alone and looking as black as thunder. It was as much as I could bear, I cm tell you, with all my composure and frigidity of expression, as envious people call it, to sit there and listen to her bantering sarcasm on you and your charms. So do let me have a little peace to-day, Florence,’ said Mrs Beverley, in a tone of admonition tinged with supplication.

‘ Rest, indeed! I’m sure I need rest. I tossed about all night, and thought of nothing but that decitful little creature in her clouds of sapphires; and to make matters worse, I can’t help acknowledging that she looked pretty —yes, quite pretty,’ Florence bitterly affirmed, though with an air of condescension.

‘ Fannie Claverton pretty ? that’s a novel idea. What will you say next, Florence ? It is too good -1 cannot help laughing ; ’ and the mother, who was smarting from envy and a slight to her pride, laughed a short hard laugh. ‘Well, mamma, let's try to forget it. I’m s'ck and tired of everything ; and if affairs don’t alter I—l’ll go iu for love iu a cottage, there. Madeline, where have you been this morniug ? what and whom have you seen ‘1 Come, give ns a lesson in Nature, that allabsorbing theme of yours. I’m disgusted with art just now. Bah ! everything’s artificial nowadays,’ said Florence Beverley, as she took her seat at the dining table with the air of a weary woman of the world.

‘ Where have I been ? That is soon answered, for I can’t travel far, you know. Bonne-houche and I lingered about the garden, and then took a turn in the lane, as far as the turnpike road. What have we seen ? A beautiful summer's duy, and a golden sun shedding his warm rays over the yellow buttercups, and—and some lovely wild Eowcrs and a few ferns growing on the bank,’ Madeline replied, a soft expression beaming in her usually sad gray eyes. ‘All very pretty and romantic forfairyland, Madeline,’ said the more matter of-fact Florence ; ‘ but was that all that kept you a captive for a whole morning P O happy Madeline, if but the sight oJj a bit of blue sky and the scent o£ a few wild flowers be sufficient to enthral your mind in sweet oblivion ci all earthly cares and sorrows, how I, the captivating Florence Beverley, the queen of every fete and belle of every ball, do envy you—you, the —’ But Floreace’s heart was not wholly hard, for, at the sight of a tear ip her sister’s eye, she hesitated before concluding the last sentence knowing that the word she wao about to add would wound the poor invalid’s feedings.

So the meal passed over; but the younger sister could not forgot her grievance of the previous evening, and at last made up her mintl 'to a plan ; and that plan was to make the Hon. Adolphus Wotherspoon jealous, by playing off Captain Campbell, if he would be played off, and if not him, why, little Spanker, in the absence of a better. Charter Ilq. The weeks rolled without any important chaiwe in the state of affairs at Myrtle pnwu.’ 1 ' How the summer passed no oue could say. Florence did her full share of grumbling and her mother of scheming, but all to no purpose; tie Hon. Adolphus Wotherspoon was invu'nerable, and would not propom in spite of the dashing coquette’s flirtations with her other admirers.

A rumour had got abroad that he, the wealthy aud autocratic bachelor, was eu-

tangled in an intrigue of some kind or another, and that accounted for his impregnability ; but, notwithstanding all such gossip, Florence Beverley and Fannie Claverton continued to display their charms to the utmost advantage while he remained in the county. Mrs Beverley, though of a most sanguine temperament, especially where her younger daughter’s powers of fascination were called into play, had, towards the latter part of the Hon, Adolphus Wotherspoon’s stay, almost relinquished the idea of her ever claiming that distinguished personage as her son-in-law, but nevertheless was determined that Miss Fannie, ‘who, out of mere spite,’ Florence said, ‘had grown quite pretty,’ should not come off victorious in the conflict for that would indeed bo adding insult to injury.

Madeline had been obliged to lead day by day, throughout the hot summer months, an undisturbed uneventful existence, for no young prince did come to her as to Cinderella, to arouse her and carry her off to enjoy the good things of the earth. No, she had to be content with a kind word or two, when her mother or sister was jubilant with success; but oftener, much oftener, was it that she was made a kind of target, at which they shot their potty jealousies and annoyances, for, as Florence would say, when in one of her best humours, * Madeline, poor dear, is so delightfully cool and phlegmatic, like an iceberg that requires the scorching rays of the sun to melt it,’ Florence herself being the • sun ’ of course, and the * scorching rays ’ those bursts of passion to which she was subject, and which alone caused the poor sufferer to tremble and murmur a complaint.

But when the Hon. Adolphus suddenly left the neighborhood Florence was frantic, and actually refused to leave her own room for the next few days; and when she did make her appearance again, to her inexpressible disgust Fannie Claverton had taken up with a young Guardsman, and was looking as bright and unconcerned as possible, Christmas had come and gone, and a grand ball was to be given at the Town-hall in aid of the poor who had suffered great distress owing to the prevalence of a hard winter. This ball had been patronised by ‘the nobility and gentry ’ of the county, therefore it was necessary for ‘everybody,’ according to the refined signification of that word, to put in an appearance. It had been a hard straggle for the Beverleys, and many were the snippings and clipping in the domestic arrangements of the family that had to be resorted to. But they managed it, however, and managed it well, for Mrs Montague Beverley looked as majestic and queenly as ever woman did or could look, and a proud flush of satisfaction suffused her usually cold passionless features, when she beheld her daughter Florencelookinglovelier than ever.

‘ Florence, my darling, you’re beautiful ! you have reached the climax this time ! your dress is simply perfection! Come, my pet. let me kiss you,’ said the mother, with heart full, not perhaps of love so much as gratified pride. ‘Perfection! Yes, I think it is; but, there, don’t kiss me, it will disarrange something, Now, mamma, I mean to have my revenge. Do you know Mr Wotherspom is here again ?’ asked Florence, her dark eyes Hashing with more than usual brilliancy. *Mr Wotherspoon ! You don’t say so, Florence Why, how do you know ? Who told you ?’ ‘ I met the oostman at the gate this morning, and, as he handed me the letters, he dropped one, I caught sight of the name and address—“ the Hon. Adolphus Wotherspoon, Lampton Hall.” He’s staying with the Addingtons, I suppose’ * Staying with the Addingtons, is he ? Surely he won’t go and marry one of those old maids.' said Mrs Beverley, a new fear arising in her far-seeing brain ; for those ‘ old maids,’ she knew, were well gilded, and therefore not unattractive.

*He shall marry me or no one ! ’ Florence replied, with a determined set of her pretty mouth.

‘That’s as I like to hear my beauty talk. Ah, Florence, you are a noble girl. All will be your humble slaves to-night, and I shall live over again in my charming daughter. I am rewarded at last for the sacrifice that was made of me. But surely I hear the sound of wheels ; so come, my darling; ’ and the mother and daughter, drawing their delicately-tinted cloaks around them, made their way to the carriage. {To he continued .)