LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1547, 3 February 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE FATAL NIGHT. By Chaeles W. Wood, Autiioe of " Through Holland." TFrom the " Argosy ] ' You have never ceased to repay me,' returned my uncle, almost severely, for he rarely allowed his feelings to be seen 'But I was about to observe, George, although I regard you almost as my son, I must not forget that John is so in reality Justice is justice, and he will inherit the bulk of my fortune To you I intend to leave £'o,ooo and no more This will place you above actual independence upon your profession, and yet not make you indifferent to it. n'ou will still have to work and make your way. Could I live to see it I know what that will be. But,' he added, alluding to himself for the fii'flt and time in bis life, ' I feel that I have not many years before me. Even now it behoves me to be setting my house in order ; to be squaring up my accounts for the Great Day of Reckoning. It comes to us all in turn.'

The £lO 000 seemed to me, who had never had a-y tangible turn of my own, though my uncle hid l-ept me liber*Uy supplied both at school and college, a fortune in prospective t any rate, if. would, as he observed, be a findl independence. I was called to the bar. As my aunt had died almost at my entrance upon school life, fo my uncie di«d when I commenced my public career. It was my first great grief [ had bren too young to realise the loss of my parents My unule had been, in every sense of the word, a father to me But now a strange circumstance arose. Vy uncle's wi'l had been made six months before his death. In it, as he ha-1 pr mised, he Wt me £IO,OOO. But whether hs mind had become less clear through illne-s, or whether, the legal difficulty arose through the stupidity of the lawyers who drew up the document, it was f-o worded that the executor, try cousin John Well'sley, couJd avoid paying it if he The wish of the testator was perfectly clear. In every feme the rxecutor was morally, though not legally, hound t■> carry it out John availed himself of the flaw. He declared that he would not fay the legacy. He had himself como into a fortune of five hundr d thousand pounds, besides the magnificent estate of Weilesley HaU, in Suffolk, with its nine thousand acres, which my unule had purchased. Yet the of avarice so possessed him that he found himsulf unable to part with a fraction of the wealth he had inherited He threw consc'eace to the winds. By a peculiar logic of his own he persuaded himself that he wai doing right. He offered me a compromise. He would make me a present of one thousand pounds, to keep me going, as he te r med it, until the briefs came In. This I indignantly rejected. I would not take a tenth portion *s a present of that which was mine by right. It was a blow, undoubtedly. At the outset of my career the m 'ney would have been of the utmost use to me. But I resolved to live it down. J left the house in Portmai square, took up my quarters at my chambers in the Temple, resolved to work hard, and to succeed.

Though I left my cousin's houße I did not break with him. He was having his day. He bad revenged himself upon me for having become an interloper in hi* house. All the world was before him to choose as he would. Yet I felt that my day would also come. And somohow I never envied hiin his wealth hia position or the smiles of the wor'd. Nay, I would not have change! places with him. One December Jr.hu and I were invited to spend Christmas with the Earl of Norwich. The Earl was now an old man of eighty, Three of his daughters had married, three had grown into old maids ; pleasant genial women, never:heless, with traces of faded beauty and disappointed hope in their faces J> hn, no doubt, had been invited on the chance of his falling in love with one or other of the two grand-daughters then staying in the house. He was one of the best matches in the kingdom. I, simply because it would have been too painted to leave me out.

We the invitation. My briefs as yet were conspicuous by their absence. I had found no royal road to success. I mußt bide iny time. It was hard lines, sometimes, after the life of luxury I had been used to. I now spent on my dinners what once I had spent on my gloves. But the world knew nothing about that ; and I would tooner have turned olerk t'j an attorney than have borrowed of my cousin. We went down together into Norfolk. Erlsmere, my grandfather's place, was ten miles from the station. A carriage await' d us with powdered coachman and footmen, and all the outward symbols of pomp and pride. Had I been alone, although the Karl's grandson, I should probably have f u; d a dog-cart in waiting, and been equally grateful. Love of splendour was never one of my besetting sirs. All this was inttnded for tiie master of Wellts'ey, aud the possessor of half a million. The glorious dty was now drawing to a c!o:-e The sun was sinking westward. The air was bright with fr.'st. Bn>w had fallen, and the Stanches of the tree:} wore white with crystals that glitter d in the sunlight • 11 natur , far us the eye could ro'ich, was clothed in the same cold tiue. The sky was now clear, nave for a few \\'. ite cl"uds that Hoatttd here an 3 there. As tho huh dipped, it flooded the whole landscape with a rosy light inexpressibly lovely and charming. The BpJt'D .id iiorst-s stepped briskly over the hard road, exhilaration io. the very sound of their sharp echoing hoofs. The sparkling crystals on the hedges and trees recalled to my mind

John's mania. It was S ngnlar that ho never wore ornaments of any sort beyond a signet ring, ana a locke 1 ; to his watch chain containing bis motiiOr's miniature. «Do yon still keep < in T our ]n , ve fo !" "'*" mnnas?"' I a-sked, on the impulse of the HMimanti. * M >re than ever ' was the brief a^^tv' ver • •And still collect them?' 'More than ever/ho reppated. 'I am now able to go in for my mania, if yon choose to call it so. I have the largest unset private collection probably in the world ' •The" they muit b« worth something.' I ob'prved, 'if *hev are nil of thp first water.' 'Of the very first wafer.' he replied. ' I Rhonld never of collpcting any otber. must bo worth n't ie s than a hundred thousand rounds ' I think I realised in that morrrnt, as T had never ye* done, the of wealth and its extent That a mm, without moving a muscle of his face or changing a shafle in the tone of his voice, could thus npeak of so large a sum, or of s\ich a col'ection. ' Folly I' I exclaimed, after a moment's pauae given to amazement. '\fadne o sann!folly! Yon are not only sacrificing the Interest of this immense sum, but aV> running the risk of losing the diamonds. What if they were stolen fr 'm you ?' ■for an instant a slight »hndder passed throngh him. Then he smiled in selfconfidence. 'I culd as soon suppose the Mint robbed,' he retorted quietlv. ' They are too well secured to be easily found ' ' At your banker's perhaps ?' 'ln my own house. Be ea«y, George. They are safe I will tell you where ' ' Not for worlds ' I intermpted. ' T will not be the repository of such a secret. If they were lo3t you might mispect me of having stolen them. * ' Scarcely,' he replied, laughing. "We bear a name to shame unknown." Perhaps I thought differently. (To *« enntinved.')