LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1548, 4 February 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE FATAL NIGHT. By Chaeles W. Wood, Authoe of " Through Holland." TFrom the " Argosy ] Continued, 11. A large party was assembled at Erlsmere for Ohristmas. Amongst them were my two cousins, already alluded to la a sufficiently lady-like way, they both set their caps furiously at John Wellesley. They were very pretty girls, but fast, much giverj to iiirting, and following the hounds, and similar amusements. To me they were politely indifferent, as to a poor relation who must yet bo countf nanced for the family honor. They must marry rich men, these girls Love and poverty were unknown qualities to them, no more to be reconciled than the uoles. Spread their nets, however, with all the cunning they possessed, they succeeded never in landing their prize. Among the guests were a Mrs and Miss Hayward. The mother was a widow with a jointure of £I2OO a year, and, aa she termed it, consequent poverty. She was an ambitious woman, and her hopes were centred upon her only daughter. Ellen Hayward wis to >epav all her mother's care and solicitude by a great marriage. She had had one offer already from IheLo'd Exmouth —a go »d- aturcd, foolish young fellow, who had not two ideas in his — and had refused him, Mrs Hayward had well-nigh died of grief and her disappointment and rage had really affected her health. How shall 1 describe Ellen Hayward ? Perhaps in no better way than by saying s 1 e was the exact opposite to her m.>the;\ From the first moment mv heart wont out to her. If ever 1! married. I ft It that that c'irl an 1 she a'one of all the world, must be my wife And yet what right had I, a penniless, briefless barrister, to be thinking of wife, and mariage, and things that are ony given to the rich ? I ove, however. is stronger than reason ; passion waits

not up >n Seme. Er 6 many cloys had elapsed I felt such love far Ellen H»yW»H as T tllou-i* m m y strength and flfttf emotion men had ever expc'enceci, _ But T wa? proporti nately wretched and miaerablfl Love waits not upon reason, but honor nuT-t What right had I to declare my passion for this girl ? To ask her to wait, it migh' be for years, whilst briefs c»mem and fame wealth were min< ? I could not do it. v Jore >ver I felt, even if I succeeded in gaining the daughter',-! affection—a prize too great, it seemed, to be pos ibie —I should stand no chauce with the mother. There was something about Ellen Hayward that strangely recalled my dim recollection-' of my mo'lier. Bhe was pale and gentle, and moved and spoke with that quiet step and voice that, for me, haH ever been one of woman's greatest charms. She was sensitive to a degree ; every passing emotion was shadowed upon her face. Lovely always, the fl ish of pleasure would render her almost dazzlingly beautiful. -he wa3 peculiarly animated also, at times ; and, when she would overcome a certain innate shyness of temperament, suprised one with the brilliancy of her cultivated mind. Her chief accomplishment was music. Nature had endowed her with a veice, not particularly strong, but of inexpressible sweetness, and it had been well cultivated. Music has ever been a passion with me; but no voice, no playing had ever touched me and thrilled me as that of Ellen Ha v ward. Her eyes were of an intense violet blue, her hair was of a rich, pale brown ; and she was somewhat above the middle heieht of women.

As the days went on it became apparent to everybody that Ellen Hayward had made a conquest of John Wellesley. I, with the instinct of jealousy, had seen it from the first. I watched him struggle against a passion that, if gratified, would compel him to change the whole tenor of his life. I saw that he finalJy yielded and gave himself up to the inevitable. Ellen Hayward should be the future mistress of Wellesley Rail. What a destiny for a man ! How proud he might be of hi? wife! How he might g'ory in throwing himself at her feet; his wealth, his heart, his whole love and being. And *he —how she would do the honor 3 of his house ; how grandly all this wealth would become her, and sit upon her. And yet T could see that, with it all, his love was a selfish love tie still loved himself best and thought of himself first. Of any higher love he was incapable. What wonder that I was miserable ? What chance had I against John Wellesley, with his broad aores, his town-house, his great income—for the Wellesley estate had been so managed that its revenues were con siderable. Mrs Hayward quickly saw how things were tinning. She flattered my cousin, fawned upon him, and singled him cut on every possible occasion. If anything could have cooled John's ardour, it would have been this woman's miserable folly and want of tact. But too far gone, he contented himself with disliking her heartily.

The climax came More and more, hour by hour, my deep and passionate love had grown for Ellen Hayward, That she read the truth in my eyes I never doubted. I could not control them as I control my speech. I never uttered one word of love. Vet she did not seem to encourage John Wellesley. Day by day she was more silent; her spirits became unequal: her quick, quiet step was quite still, but slow. I n«ver saw her change countenance whenever John approached her. She would glance over at her lynz-eyed mother, who no doubt gave her many a curtain lecture, and constrain herself to reply to him when he spoke. She never manifested the slightest pleasure in his society Yet I knew that she woul'l be compelled to marry him. So a fortnight passed away. One m ruing some of our party had gone out for a walk, others were in the billiardroom ; my two cousins and two young men were alternately flirting in the music room playing a quartette on organ, piano, violin and violorcello, making a furious noise but not very much music A spirit of restlessness wa-i upon me, as it ever was when Ellen Hayward was absent. She had gone out with the others ; John was of the party They were probably together, and that was enough for me. I felt that I could not bear this life much longer. I was growing dazed and giddy with misery. I would leave it all—hope, happiness—behind me ; go back, and drown myself in hard work. I strolled alone into the small blue drawing room, and shut myself in. I had taken a volume of Byron with me, and opening tHe book by chance, was musing over those lines that in their sad undertone seemed to find their key-note in my present mood. The reader probably knows them by heart, as I did. " There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. # # # # # Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest ; 'Tis but as ivydeaves around the rum'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath."

I had thrown myself into a lounge in the deep bay-window, behind the curtains drawn across the archway, and was quite concealed. The room led into a conservatory, of which the inner door was open. I had glanced in in upon the delicate ferns and beautiful hothouse flowers, thiuking, with all a lover's rhip-ody, that my love wai purer than the opening rose, more queenly than the regal camellia. Suddenly, with my eyes bent upon the last ver.se of the lines, I heard the outer d r or of the conservatory open—and close. Two persons entered the room : my cousin John and Ellen Hayward. He was talking rapidly. ' Ellen—Miss Hayward,' he cried in a voice in which there was much astonishment and a little pain : " you do not mean what you say. This cannot be your final answer. I will not take it.' • Indeed, indeed you must,' she murmured in a voice agitated and broken by conflicting emotions. ' I am sensible of the honor you would do me, Mr Wellesley, lean never be your wife. I hoped my manner to you would have spared us both pain ' ' Think what you are refusing,' be returned ' A lot that almost any girl would envy ; a position few occupy. Everything that wealth can command shall be yours.' 'Wealth and position can never bring happiness to me,' replied Ellen. ' I have betm taught to dread, almost to despite poverty; but there is a fate I dread more than that. There was a moment's silence. What could I do 1 I was hidden behind the curtains, a most unwilling witness to the interview. It was a trying moment. I felt half guilty of treason, yet unable to help myself It was impossible to come out upon them, I dreaded lest they should discover me. The whole thiug had happened so suddenly that I bad not time for thought or action. Had the window beside me been open, how gladly would I have escaped into the grounds. But it was closed aud fastened. John opoke again. 'Can you give me no hope?' he asked ; almost bitterly. In my heart I almost felt for him. ' No hope even for the future?' 'None,'she replied ' None Mr Wellesley, now or ever. I can never ma i ry you ' 1 could hear that she was crying silently. ' You speak confidently, Miss Hayward.' Then after a moment's he resumed : ' You could not speak thus certainly without a cause. Tell me this, "at Jleast, |iu mercy. Do you love any one else? ' I felt, for I could not see, that her hands went up to hr-r face. I pictured the crioison tide that the words must have called up I heard a half-broken murmur : ' You have no right to ask me that.' And my heart sank within me '1 am answered,' ho sain, most bitterly'Truly, I see that there is no hope for me. Till me, Miss Hiyward. oh! tell mo that my rival is not my cou in George Anything sooner than that. By heavens! I would

«oii nn j no j» nhe int erupted. 'Never! iI'ST t .- M never tell you that! How never l I • , or* « , i . "oil ask me ? Do you can yon, lv->w dar© >- , u • a. »/r ii < ih« v ou are hiiminut s p e Mr Wellwiey tna* „ , !• , o t ,i -, r you. hat, ngmfi? Leave 'he room, IK j ' enve me to myself ' She must have pointed *o the" door. He could only obey. One moment *■ hesitation, a half-uttered word, a step towards b<r, and" the door closed bebin<! him. She was alone —• et not none At mention of my name I had well righ betrayed myself. I could almost have come out and soumed him for his unmanly, ill-considered question, find yet, with it all, I pitied him. '"as In t myself snfferiog tbe same exqnito pain—a thousandfold intens ; fied, according to our nature 1 ?? The door closed behind John Wellesley. Ellen Hayward's self-control gave way. She sank to the floor, with he- he id upon a low ohair an*? broke Wo passionate sobs. And then, I c u'd not tell how or why, there was a sound in those sobs thai for th" hVt time awoke h pn in my h>-art. at cod Ido ? How dec'a e mys If to h i ? Moments that seemed »n age. pa* sed by. Quietly I ca-ve out of my place and w nt up to her. She must have thought I had then entered the room. NVther then nor ever after was she undeceived. I spoke but one word, too agitated to say more,

'Ellen.' , The sobs ceased, For a moment she looked up : then, with a half scream, hid her face again in the chair. "Ellen.' It was unneccasa'-y to add anything. That one word told her all. Slowly she rose and turned to me, trembling as a delicate fern, her lovely face all tears and blusheß, like a rose in the early morning. In a moment she was clasped within my arms, her face concealed on my shoulder. I shall never forget that first moment. When I felt she was mine; mine in poverty ; mine, chosen before all the wealth and rank that might have b'?en hefs, And I there registered a vow that my first duty in life should be to make her happiness : to place her first in every thought of my heart. Then came the reaction. What had I done? What would Mrs Hay ward say? Her consent would never be gained. Nor could this be a matter of wonder. Who or what was I, com fared with those who sought the hand of Ellen Hay ward? ' Ellen,' I cried, clasping her yet closer to me ; 'you will be lost to me in spite of all. We shall never gain your mother's sanction. How, indeed, can I in honour ask her for you in my present position ? My love, my love! to what terrible trouble have I brought yon ?' ' I do indeed dread my mother, murmured Ellen. ' I cannot marry without her consent. But, George'—fhe whispered my nami shyly—' on the other hand, she cannot force me to marry against my will, If I owe her a duty, I owe one to myself also. I will wait for you, even if it be until we are both old.' We were disturbed by the laughter of many voices. They were returning from their walk. Ellen escaped to her room. I heard an enquiry for Miss Hayward and Mr Wellesley. They had lost them in the Fellowes wood, just beyond the shrubbery. (To be eontinned.)