LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1503, 10 December 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE VILLAGE MYSTERY. (“ Chambers’s Journal.”) ( Continued.) The season grew into autumn, and then on to winter ; still no clue to the mystery had been obtained. As the children at the Poplars were all well again, my intercourse with Miss Brown was more restricted j I had, however; seen enough of her to be aware that she was a woman of no ordinary accomplishments and refinement. I came upon her one day during the chTdren’s convalescence, the centre of an eager group of listeners, while she related awful and thrilling tales of sprites and genii, gnomes and faiiies, which held her audience enthralled; and when asked their origin, she replied: ‘ Oh, out of my head. It amuses the little ones to hear a story.’ ‘Not only the little ones,’ I answered. ‘ You ought to write them down, for the benefit of other children.’

* I intended to do so once,’ she said with a heavy sigh ; ‘ but I have changed my mind ;’ and abruptly snatching up her youngest hearer, a baby boy of two years old, she hid her face among his pretty curls. Another time, when I entered the schoolroom unawares while she was singing, I rallied her on keeping her music so selfishly fo her own amusement, declaring that I had found a treasure in her rich full voice for the cl oir and the village concerts ; but she besought me s i earnestly not to say anything about her singing, and to alkw her to remain nn molested in her obscurity, that I yielded : ‘ No doubt you have good reasons, Miss Brown, whatever that may be,’ ssid I, ‘I am only the governess,’ she said ; ‘ and do not w shed to be brought forward at all. So please, Dr. Summers, do not name my singing.’

‘Very well,’ I rejoined—‘Have you seen your little favorite lately ?’ ‘ 0 yes,’ she said, while a rosy glow illumined her whole face. ‘ What a beautiful boy he is Such a treasure !’ And as she turned her soft full upon me, I wondered where I had teen eyes like hers so lately. ‘There seems to be no clue as yet about that bady,’ I said ; but if his mother is alive, she cannot keep away long ; it would not bs human nature. Why does she not claim him I wonder !’

‘Why indeed?’ echoed Miss Brown with a sharp accent of pain ; and turning abruptly, she spoke to the li -tie ones, desiring them to put on their things aud get ready to go out.

As I left, I encountered Hilda Morton on an errand of mercy to old Jackson’s cottage, with her litt’e basket on her arm; and passing Mrs Coulson’s door in the afternoon, I saw Hilda and Miss Brown coddlicg the baby between them ; and just as I came up. the little one clasped his fat arms tightly round the neck of the latter, refusing to leave her.

‘ I declare I’m jealous, Miss Brown,’ said Hilda ; ‘ why, baby won’t come to me !’

‘Go, my pretty one,’ said' Miss Brown in a gemle cooing voice ; and as she spoke she undid the loving arms from about her neck, kissed the child hastily, and placed him in Hilda’s arms, saying, she had loitered too long and must now run home.

The child had on an outdoor pelisse with embroidery upon it of flowers and leaves delicately traced

‘ I suppose that is one of the frocks that came in the mystedons parcel ?’ I said, addressing Mrs Coulson. ‘ Yes sir,’ she said ; ‘ that is one of them ; and too good for every day too.’ I have a quick eye for colors and patterns. Where had I lately seen a strip of work like that peeping from a work-basket ? I could not remember at the moment, but felt sure I was not mistaken.

I received about this time a long letter from rny brother Tom, who was with his regiment in India. As it seems to form part of this to me eventful year’s history, i venture to transcribe a portion of it: Poqnah, November 15th.

Dear Old Boy,—Weather fearfully hot, but we are pretty jolly notwithstanding. . . . . We have a very sad instance hero of the perils of matrimony in our colonel, one of the best men living, adored positively by all ranks, and yet his life is made miserable and wretched by a woman. In feed, I can think of nothing else just now, as somehow, although so much younger than he th« dear old man has chosen to confide his troubles to me, and I have given him all my sympathy, and only wish I could help him more. The facts are these. Last spring, or rather eaily summer, he was forced to rejoin his regiment out here His wife, to whom he had been manied about a year, and whom he describes as the very quint essence of all that is lovely and lovable in womankind was not strong enough to accompany him, but was to follow after the birth of their child. She, it appears, was a native of Australia, and had no relatives in England. He h ard from the lady friend with whom she stayed the safety of his darling and the birth of a beautiful boy ; and for several consecutive mails rapturous letters reached him describing the joy of the mother over her treasure and delight at their speedy reunion, to which she looked forward with the utmost eagerness. When the expected ship was due he wont to Bombay to meet her; but neither wife nor child was on board. He telegraphed to his agents in f onden. The answer returned was concise. The order for the cabin had been countermanded by Mrs Beauchamp. He telegraphed to her. No answer. All inquiries have proved fruitless from that day, now five months ago, to this ; he has failed to discover any clue to the whereabouts of his wife or child. In his despair he came to my quarters last night and unburdened his sad story. You must forgive my filling this letter with its repetition, I can think of nothing else, and of course I do not wish to tell it to all the men out here, some of them are not the sort to appreciate it. Our colonel goes home by the next mail to prosecute his inquiries himself. Should you come across him, which is hardly likely where you are, you must make yourself known to him, and you will, I know, find him one of the most noble, unselfish, lovable characters you ever met. What the woman could have been about, I don’t know. I cannot think she is any good, and only bitterly regret that, she ever had the opportunity of throwing away or making sport of the happiness of so good a man. Mr Nixon, our collector and magistrate, goes home also very seen. He only came out to finish his term of service, and will retire, lucky man, upon his penn on in dear old England. Don’t Iwi h I could go with him ! God bye; take care of yourself and your heart; and and believe me your affectionate brother,

Tom Summers.

So, I thought to myself, Mr Nixon ia soon coming home, and will perhaps be hero in a few Tom aaya he is about to start

soon I will go up the Poplars and call; perhaps my n v wa may be later than Mrs Nixmi’s. Accordingly, 1. call'd about luncheon time, and found that Mrs Nixon had likewise heard from her husband, but that he feared he would not be able to reach homo f >r Christmas, hut hoped to be with thorn by the first or second week- in January. ‘1 have perm ad ed Miss Brown to remain with ns over Phustniog,’ she said ‘as I really am so excited and nervcim at the idea of my husband's return, that 1 feel as if I.

should never get through the time without some one to talk to; and Miss Brown is kind enough to postpone her holiday for a time,’

‘ My brother in former letters describes Poonab as a charming station, ’ I remarked, ' although just now the weather is unseasonably warm. ’

‘ Yes,’ said Mrs Nixon; ‘my husband always liked it; and so did I, as long as my health continued good. Ho says they arc fortunate just now in ha'iug a remarkably pleasant of officers of the 140th Regiment quartered there. They are particularly gentlemanly men; and their colonel, my husband admires almost more than any one he ever knew. Lately, however, he says he seems so down-hearted and sad, and no one can imagine the cause. His wife was to have joined him ; but he has never alluded to her or the cause of her detention, and of course no one likes to ask ; but my husband thinks something must ha very wrong.’ *My dear Miss Brown, I am afraid you feel ill. Are you faint ?’

( To ho continued. )