LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1472, 4 November 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

PROCTOR'S CASE. By Mks. Cabhel Hoey. (Continued.) ' The yonng man has been here several times,' Mr Nimmo said to me, 'and he seems very discontented and ill-conditioned. Proctor has made a great mistake in letting those boys of his idle about.' ' A very common mistake for men to make, who have worked hard in their own time. Of course you lefer to young Bernard ?' ' Yes—l know no harm of the other; unless philandering with Miss Hartletop is to be counted as harm, and I suppose his father doesn't think so, or he would have put a stop to it.' ' ludeed,' said I. ' Has it come to that 1 I should have said Proctor would not have liked anything of the kind, and that Lady Hartletop would have liked* it still less, Besides, Richard is nos much more than a boy.' ' 1 suspect you and I thought ourselves a good deal more than boys at his age. He's twenty four, if 1 am not mistaken, and a right good fellow ; not in the least like his brother. That is a young man I don't quite make out. He showed a good deal more curiosity about his father's business matters, while Proctor was ill, than I approved of. His affectionate anxiety to ascertain whether all his 'temporal affairs' were fettled, so that he might not have any ' mental dpquietude,'struck me unpleasantly; in fact, I believe him to have been simply fishing to find out whether his father had midc a will. Of course I did not understand him. He was anxious to know when you would return ; and no doubt he will ask you the question point-blank.' ' If he does I shall give him a very unpleasing answer.' The next day I happened to see both the brothers. I have not paid much about them, and may as well sketch them here. Bernard was remarkably like his father in face ; not ill-looking, but sullen in expression, and lacking tlie openness and gaiety that rendered hiß younger trother attractive. He had never taken to anything more arduous in the way of work, than was implied in his having joined a militia regiment; and he lived at home for the most part, and, as was pretty freelv said of him, waiting for a dead man's sho°s. Richard also lived at home, but be had early developed a taste for art, to the astonishment

erf his father, to whom all the arts were alike incomprehensible, and to the delight of his mother, who chiefly understood them as sure safe occupation*, which need not necessarily part mothers from their sons-. After a prolonged tour in Italy, he had returned to the old town, which has always had a peculiar charm and inspiration for painters. Between the brothers there was but little intimacy, as theie was no resemblauce ; each went bis separate way. The el 'er brother called at our office, and very soon let me see that Mr Nimmo had been correct in his surmise. ' My father has had a bad illness,' he said, ' and I don't believe he is so much better as he and my mother think, By no means out of the wood yet; and of course it would be well that his affairs should be all in order.' ' I never knew a time wheu your father's affairs were not in order,' was my curt reply to this speech, and it disconcerted him for the moment. He rallied quickly, however, and asked me the point-blank question I expected. 'That is satisfactory,' he said, 'and no doubt it includes future arrangements. I conclude you have drawn up my father's will ?' ' Excuse me, Mr Bernard,' I answered, 'if I decline to inform you on that point. You are of course not aware of it, but it is the custom among lawyers never to answer questions of the kind.' ' Indeed ! I was not aware of it. Have you had a pleasant trip ?' And the object of Mr Bernard's call was not again referred to. We spoke of Richard, and the grudging nature of the elder brother came out strongly then. 'He is constantly at Lady Hartletop's said Mr Bernard, 'making a fool of himsdf about the girl; as he has done ever since the day he picked her up, and I caught her pony; which, by-the-bye, was much the more difficult feat of the two. Jt's no business of mine, if they all think it all right, as I suppose they do, or Lady Hartletop would not have him there. Richard is the only man who visits at her houee, and my father and mother are as much in love with Miss Hartletop, to all appearance, as he is. Everyone to his taste 5 it is a queer one, to my mind." ' Don't you admire the young lady ?' 'No, not particularly, 'She's well enough, but she is a mere child, has no manners, and no money. Besides, the daughter of a disreputable bankrupt, though he was a baronet, and a foreign woman, wtiom nobody knows anything about, is not the sort of person I should have thought my father would have liked even his younger son to marry.' He gave me a quick but sea-ching glance here ; 1 was, however, prepared for and I baflled it. *I cannot d f:-nd Sir Frederick's memory, but Lady Hartletop is one of the most estimable women I ever knew, and I cannot agree with you on a single point, except that there's no money on the lady's side ; and, do you know, I am rather surprised Lady Harlletop should like it—if it is really to be —becauseshe was always so proud in all her poverty, and so exclusive ; and you know it is your father's boast tbat he is a self-made man, and has no notion who his grandfather was ' 'Yes, he talks of lhat, and I am very much of his way of thinking. Ancestry is rubbish, but respectability, just one generation bick, is not Richard has that advantage over Miss Hartletop at all events, though her ladyship would not see it in that light. You have hit her off pretty correctly, but not quite. If I, instead of Richard, had been in question, she wonld have been in a fine fluster on the problematical-grandfather head ; but she believes in art, and its " aristocracy,", and is quite satisfied, because Richard daubs canvas, and see* more than bricks and mortar in an old house, and more than so much timber in an old tree. It is to be hoped he will be able to make some thing of it by-and-by. It has only cost money up to the present ; but, of course, my father grudges nothing to Richard.' ' I should not have thought he grudged anything to you.' I pould not help saying this; there was such ill-will m the young man's tone, and such greed in his cold eyes. 'I never said he did," was the sullen reply ; 'but there's a difference when one is an eldest son.' Very little more was said, and after office hours I went to pay my respects to Lidy Hartletop. At her house I found Richard Proctor studying, in Mis 3 Sybilla's company, the effects of the sunset. The young people looked very handsome and very happy, and Lady Harlletop seemed to have wakened up to a new interest in life. Richard Proctor and I always liked each other's society, though we wore on different levels in life, and we walked away from the house together He gave vce some details of his father's illness, and added that ho was very glad I had returned, as his father had repeatedly said he wanted to see me, ' I believe.' said Richard smiling, 'he thinks Mr Charles, as he always calls him, knows nothing about business, and that you are the real, original, and only genuine Nimmo." • He is so accustomed to me,' I replied, ' he associates me with his business matters since long before they were the important affairs they are now. But, have you not a little business of your own to talk to me about? I think you have.' ' Ah,' said Bicbard, with a pleasant embarrassmf nt, which became his handsome maniy face right well. ' someone has been talking to y o u already There's nothing settled, you know, only- we understand each other. It's wonderful, isn't it, that Lsdy Hartletop shou'd be aatistitd with a nobody like me, and that such a girl should like mer" I did not think either circumstance very extraordinary, but it was pleasant tc eee the real humility of true love in the young man, and I did not contradict him. They had not said anything to his father, yet, it appeared, on account of his illnesß, bat his mother knew all about it..

' And she, (Jod bless her !' continued Richard, ' bas no doubt it will all come right, though ho will not take it quite as she When he is all perfectly well again, she is going to speak to him herself.' The further plans of the joyful young lover were as vague as such plans usually are. They included nothing positive except perfect happiness, and the resolution to achieve an independence.

Among the business communication* of the following morning, was a request from Mr Proctor that I would call on him in the course of the day. I did so, and found him bo much changed in appearance tdnce I had last seen him, that I felt anything but certain that his convalescence was so far advanced as his family beh'eved it to be. He was thin, shrunken, and many years older in appearance, ar>J the hard concentration of his expression had given place to a peevish feebleness. He received me in the small room on toe ground Jloor of the spacious and handsome house, in which the Proctors had mK resided for many years ; a dingy, but comfortable apartment, which had been expmpted from the "now f angling " that he permitted in every other part of the nouse. Mr Proctor occupied his invariable well-stuffed red morocco-covered arm-chair, but hecmld no longer bo said i 0 fill it. He scanned my countenance with that curious and always ominous eagerness of a siolt man, to detect the real impression by his appearance, he said, as ho sank back in his chair with a sigh : ' You did not expect to find me so cut up, did you, Forrest ?' Than he added testily : ' I did not send for you to waste your time in discussing my looks however ; J 'm glad to Eee you again. And now we'll get to business.' (To br, continued.)