LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1514, 23 December 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

—♦ —■ ROSE CHERRIL : AN EXILE’S LOVE STORY. ( Continued.) Rose did feel that she would like to have the evening to herself, for her brows throbbed to aching. But the schoolmistress was not prompted by any feeling of considcrateness in giving her junior governess a free evening. It had merely struck her that Paul Brim might be prowling about Richmond, waiting if perchauco ho might see Rose. Men who learn that they are deeply beloved by the objects of their affection do not mako themselves scare without striving for one last sentimental interview’; and Miss Smalway reasoned within herself that if Rose and the Mosicr did meet, the latter’s secret might come out, and she (Miss S.) might learn it secondhand from thefgovernesa. She had a first rate capacity for worming out things from those who were dependent upon her. But it flashed on Rose Cherril also like a presentiment that she might possibly meet Paul Bruu. As she dressed in her little room, putting a st»aw bonnet on her bright wavy hair, ami drawing on her neat grey gloves, she mused that Paul would surely not go away without trying to wish her good-by. The thought made all the blood in her veins tingle, and her fingers trembled as they buttoned the gloves. She doubted whether she ought to go out. She would not have dared venture out of doors unless she had been ordered. For what should she say, and how would he answer, if they met ? Miss Smalway’a interference had certainly done no good; and perhaps Paul had been made angry by the things which had been said to him, and which he may have thought came from Rose herself. Oh, how much better it would have been if Miss Smalley had let matters alone ! These were the ideas which crowded upon poor Hose and made her dread to meet the Frenchman, while the next moment she shivered to think how wretched and lonely her life would be henceforth if she never more heard the voice which had so often charmed her—if it were not given her by a squeeze of the hand, a smile, a parting look —by any token in short—to feel that Paul deplored as much as (die did the fatality which was to put them asunder. Rose Cherril was a good girl as well as a pretty one. The youngest daughter of a country vicar who had many children, she had been sent out into the world to do the best she could for herself; and she knew that she had only her own character and industry to rely on for daily bread She could not afford.to mako a single mistake in life, for her relatives were too poor to help her ; hut on the other hand, she was in- 1 dependent, for they would not have objected to her marrying whom she pleased. Patient, clever, self-reliant, and conscientious, Rose was not one of those girls who need much guidance, and to whom beauty is a danger. Temptations had beset her, but she had passed safely by them in the strength of her innocency, which was full but not prudish. Luxuries and pleasures would have wooed her in vain, for her tastes were not frivolous ; but she had given her heart to Paul Bruu because he w r as even more lonely than she, and because he seemed good, gentle, and brave. It was the. old, old story. He had used no witchcraft in his suit but that of letting the simple English girl knew that he was friendless, and she had loved him before being aware that the sentiments she enter tained cowards this outlaw were such as would have induced her to make any sacrifice for his sake, and to follow him wheresoever he would for better or worse. Shall one blamo the girl if she unconsciously tried to look her best as she attired herself to go out to her trysting ? The how which she placed on her light mnslia dress was of the colour that the Frenchman loved; she gathered one of his favorite scarlet roses in passing through the garden, and stuck it in her girdle. Altogether she looked the picture of comely, winsome girlhood as she walked out alone with throbbing pulses on that genial evening, while the birds were twittering as they gathered to their roosts, and the air was filled with the golden light of a summer sunset. Chapter IL At about the time when Rose Cherril set out on her walk a mysterious meeting of foreigners was being held at a riverside house some miles from Richmond—near Chelsea. The dozen persons who composed this assembly were all well known to Paul Brun, and equally so to the police of the different countries to which they belonged. They were remarkable men every one - bearded thinkers, writers, plotters ; professed friends of mankind so far as theories went, hut ruthless as to the means by which their theories were to he practically appl ed They formed the central lodge of one of the numerous branches of the ‘Marianne,’ and were met together at the house of the ‘ head centre,’ a Frenchman named Cramoiseau, to concert measures for one of those political crimes which periodically startle the Continent, but which to their minds seemed philanthropic enterprises, as tending to the emancipation of the human race. They had a secondary object, however, which was to ‘judge’ Paul Brun, who was a member of their association. In the language of secret societies that word ‘judge’ has a terrible signification. “When a man lias been inveigled into joining a society -whose aims are revolutionary, whose weapons are craft, mystery, and murder, and whose bond is obedience, he becomes subject to a code of laws beside which the tyranny of despots is mildness. Ho must render account of his thoughts ns well as his acts; he must give not cold fidelity, but burning zeal in support of a cause which lie has sworn to serve to the exclusion of all other interests ; and if he ceases to do this he becomes suspected of treachery. Men who carry their heads in their hands, and who know that their strength depends wholly on their union, cannot afford to have a laggard among thorn. Now of late it had been noticed that Paul Bruu, who had not thrown himself into the rcvclutmnary movement with apparently unquenchable enthusiasm, Imd become tepid in the good cause. Ho gave excuses for n>t attending the meetings of the lodge, he shunned tire, company of the brethren, ho. had onoo o r twice ignored orders which ha, I been given him for the service of the propaganda, and all this at a time when the designs of the society were ripe for action. It looked like cowardice, but it might bo something worse, and the members of the lodge, who were of needs on their guard, were resolved to punish him unless he mended his manners.

'i'welve seerninrjy inoffensive men they were who eat round the table in M. Cr.% njoiseau’a gronnd-floov parlour, but they all of, them had that restless loolc in the eyes which belong? to conspirators and to hunted

animals, Oamoiseau himself, whoso ostensible profession was that of commission agent, was a swarthy little man whc fidgeted incessantly. He took things up and laid them down, bit his nails, glanced out of the window, talked out of bis turn, i and yet always spoke to the point, bringing down his remarks like pin?, as it were, tc stick the conversation to its proper issues, Beside him sat a bony, hard faced German, who smoked a pipe and emitted his observations with dogmatical wordiness clouded in long gusts of tobacco ; then came a well dressed Pole, whose linen and teeth were equally white, but who had the wrinkled face of an ape ; then two Italians, a Russian with soft eyes and a sad smile, another German with a sharp chin and sandy-grej hair llowing over his col'ar, and the resl were Frenchmen, Most of those brethren smoked, but they were sober, and had nc refreshment besides cold water, which they drank when their throats were dry from talking. The room in which they sat was one ol those poor, tawdry places peculiar to semigenteel lodging houses, and which bring home so forcibly to exiles the absence oi homo comforts. It was furnished with hard, angular chairs of horsehair ; the frame of the low pier-glass over the rnantleshelf was swathed in yellow muslin, to keep flies off; and the walls were decked with a few cheap bad prints from illustrated newspapers. Bat through tho open window the conspirators had a line viow of the Thames, sweeping by with its traffic of steamers, barges, and wherries. The summer sunlight made the grey waters shine like molten metal, and lent a crystal sparkle to the foam tossed up by tho ploughing of keels Now and then a steam launch glided by like a swan, witb a crew of holiday makers who hud been picnicking on the upper reaches of the river, and sang as they were coming home; and the careless voices of boys learning to row in gigs could be heard laughing as oars were piled and crabs were caught. English life in its busiest, gayest aspects could be seen by foreigners, who were plotting under cover of English liberty to do dark deeds in the vain, fantastic, foolish hope of making a new world according to their own strange dreams. The conference of the assembly lasted long, but on the main point—that of the crime to be committed—they were all agreed. The only question was whether they could venture to act so long as they were uncertain of Paul Brim’s loyalty. He possessed all their secrets, by the statutes of their society he was bound to participate in tho drawing of lots which was to determine whose hand was to deal the blow that must he struck for the common good ; but if Brun was a traitor, then the brethren were in danger, and it behoved them to put their black sheep out of the way before they embarked on an enterprise of which he was cognisant, and which ho might disclose to their enemies. The small Frenchman, Cramoiseau, was Paul’s most vehement denunciator, and he maintained that no mercy should be shown to him, ‘And yet,’ added he, as he nibbled hia nails. ‘ I have had him watched, and found nothing suspicious in him. He gives lessons ; he writes books ; he spends much of his time at a Richmond girls’ school. He chums with no enemies of our cause.” ‘ Are there any pretty girls at this Richmond academy ?’ inquired to bony German, whoso name was Hardreicb, speaking a guttural French. ‘ Thera is a pretty governess, I believe—a Mias Oherril,’ answered Cramoiseau, fldgei-ting. ‘ Ah, that is it, then,’ remarded Hardreicb. puffing solemnly at his long pipe. ‘lf Paul Brun be not a traitor, he is in love, ’ ‘ It comes to the same thing,’ exclaimed the Pole with a face like an ape’s. * Have we not all sworn to renounce woman’s love along with other joys which might make us weak and attach us to life ? We are soldiers in the A rmy of Progress, and must be ready to sacrifice our lives without being concerned by the tears of women and children. He among us breaks this covenant is no true member of our brotherhood, but an obstacle, and he should die.’ ‘Thou art right, Raczki,’ quietly said Hardreicb. ‘Do monks and Romish priests marry ? and yet they rule half the world. Can man keep a secret when woman’s lips try to coax it from him ? Hercules was a fool in the hands of Omphale, and Samson was no man when he had met Dalilah,’ (To Ic Continued.)