LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1605, 12 April 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE GIPSYB’ SECEEf. [“Danebury News ] Continued, ‘The man cast one searching glance at Edward Mowbray, hesitated, and then walked away Without a word. ‘ We were now following a track on the side of a hill, partly hedged in and culti- \ ffed and partly wild. A winding path soon brought us to the summit of tho hill, overlooking first some wild ground and then a park. ‘ My companion stood still, ho was dead’y pale, and leaned against a tree. * I saw that his eyes was fixed on a halfruined tower, at no very great distance, surrounded by trees. * To think,’ b»» muttered in a tone not intended to be heard, but which fell on my ears distinctly, that that should bo my home. ‘ Why, is it not Edward Mowbray ?’ said a shrill but commanding voice. ‘ We turned, and there was the Queen of the Gipsies, standing erect and majestic before us.

‘ Woman !’ he cried, with dilated eyes, ‘if you know ’me, how dare you speak thus to the outcast—the worse than outcast ?’ * Because it is not so, I knew how it would end, when you went away like a madman, without Inquiring into the truth ; the stars told me you would come back—you hava come.’

‘ From pure accident/ was the reply, in a in a tone of anguish, * I thought all had forgotten me.’ * Zara never forgets,’ the gipsy woman went on. ‘ but, Edward Mowbray, will you trust her? ) oyou wish the false raye to lord it f ,'rever in your ancestral home, or will you hurl him from his foul eminence and resume your own again ?’ ‘ Do not set before me delusive snares/ he cried. ‘ Woman, bo silent!’ * I had stood back somewhat, gazing out at the landscape, and heard only disjointed words.

‘ I now saw the gipsy lean forward, touch his arm and whisper something. I knew afterwards what it was, that is, when ho told me.

* Jn ten days more the timid lily will be wearied of resistance, and will marry the false traitor. Will you not save her from this ?’

‘ Can I ?’ ho cried, with fierce luminous eyes. ‘ You shall I I swear/ and she mentioned a gipsy oath, not generally repeated. ‘ Meet me in the sand quarry to-night, and all shall be made clear.’

‘ The hour 1’ he gasped. * One hour before midnight!’ she continued. Come alone - except your friend. I can see that in his faoo he can bo trusted. ’

‘ I will come,’ he answered. ‘ You will find the “ Stag ” comfortable, as usual,’ she went on on. ‘ And now, fail me not.’

‘ With which she disappeared. And still Edward Mowbray did not speak. Still he assumed the office of guide, and, without remark I followed.

‘lt was a lovely early morn ; a good deal of dew had fallen in the night, and as the sun, which had not yet pursued its bright course far up tho arch _of heaven, poured tho flood of its morning light upon the stunted blades of grass covering the waste, all would have seemed crisp with hoar frost, but for some larger leaves which had fell, from the influence of the sun twinkled like stars.

‘ All this I noticed, because I was silent and had nothing better to do. ‘ Presently Kdward Mowbray struck into a winding pathway across tho fields, and suddenly we found ourselves in a quiet hamlet, with a comfortable, though smali, inu, towards which we at once made. ‘ Edward Mowbray’s manner was most feverish and stalling. He gave an order for a copious breakfast (we had just breakfasted), and bade it bo brought to a small private room. ‘ His orders were promptly obeyed by a middle aged man, who glanced narrowly at him. Still, ho said nothing. *“ Do not let any one disturb us,” remarked my friend, “we shall remain the day. ” ‘ The man bowed, respectfully. ‘We sa v . in silence some time, my friend gazing over a wall that was bounded by a splendid park, ‘ ‘ Garstone,” he said at last, ‘‘will it trouble you much, if I make you my confidant ?” * “ If it does you any good,” I answered, ‘‘l shall only be too happy. But do not sneak to satisfy any curiosity yon may think I feel.”

‘ “Garstone,” he replied, “we have bsen thrown together under peculiar cir urnstances. We have become friends, I hops fast friends, for life under a series of events, which seem incredible I have come back hero to have all my sorrows re opened, I am about to ask you a great favor!” ‘ “ Command me, my dear boy !” ‘ “ Before you undertake to aid me in, what I believe you would call, a forlorn hope,’” ho went on, “ you must be made acquainted with all the reasons which, for two years, have made me a wanderer on the face of the earth.”

“‘But if it hurts your feelings?” I insisted.

‘ '‘No, my two years enforced silence has pained me much more,” ho continued ‘Then he closed his eyes and thought ‘ “ My dear Garstone,” he began, turning his head away, bo that I might not see his face, “ I was born heir to yonder fine estate, the glorious inhabitant of Mowbray Hall, I lost ray mother at an early age. My father was a studious man, not at all fond of children, but absorbed in his books. Nc t that he was unkind, but he seemed to ignore their very existence. Still ho did his duty in the way of education. Ho sent for an aunt, a good worthy homely woman, but of high breeding and good tastes. She took ray mother’s place in the house, and devoted indeed was her love for me. She was a widow and had never had any children, which made her only the more tender and land to mo. She watched me as she might have done a delicate flower; had everything done for me that was possible ; only parting with me, however, reluctantly f* >r school ami college. At nineteen I was pretty far advanced As my fortune was made, a 3 I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, it was not absolutely necessary that I should be over learned ; but 1 'iked study, and although not so devoted to books a-i my father, still considered them one of the greatest joys on earth. This went on until I was nineteen years of age, when a great change took place in our existence. My f .ther, one nr ruing, was noticed to be very uneasy at breakfast. The uneasiness had evidently been caused by a letter. My father looked annoyed, and yeo there was a deep gleam of sorrow on

t.ia taco, wsdeh we „li noticed wuu some anxiety ‘ Anna,’ he said to my »• mb. 1 I haw received fcsie painful yet nst n..<Lng new * Colonel MuOjjmve and Ids wife have been both suddenly carric I .v(F )>y cholera, with out time to make any disposition for their daughter.’ ‘ Mary dead !’ cried my aunt, shaking as with" tho palsy ; it was her favourite sister, ‘ Yes !’ said my father, suddenly ; ‘ and they have snt the.r daughter to mo. She wl 1 bo here to-morrow. Can you bo ready ?’ ‘Of course she could bo ready, and the matter was settled in a satisfactory way; father then retired to his library, and became ht once absorbed in his books. * I was very much surprised, I did not know my age, but I thought it would be a great change for the house. It was a largo half-ruinous place, with more rooms than one could count, or than one person had ever seen; and the nresence of some one fresh and young would surely lighten up and warm the old place, ‘ I was no sluggard on the next day, but keenly on the look out. 1 She came at breakfast time, and never had I been so surprised or interested. As I saw her clear, fine forehead, her beautiful eyelids with their long dark lashes, her white mirbelled chiselled nose, her light and beautiful form, her glossy, golden hair, I felt that I had seen my fate. ' I was always rash and impulsive, and decided on most things on the spur of the moment. ‘ She was very grave, shy, and reserved, but that soon wore off under tho influence of kindness.

* The sudden an 3 painful death of her parents had been a great shoik to her, and it took much time and great attention to remove tho cloud from her brow.

‘ For six months she smiled but rarely ; still the sunshine came back by dearies, and finally her sweet face was restored to its real natural beauty. ‘ Before that time I was over head and errs in love with my cousin Emily Musgrove, ahd, though no word had passed, I believed I was not indifferent to her.

‘ That time passed away swiftly enough, and I was really happy. ‘Often did I think of speaking to my father, but a certain timidity as often restrained mo.

‘About this time we began to receive the visits of my cousin Roland, a young man of dark complexion and handsome appearance. He was, however, gifted with a sinister smile, which was not much of a passport to public favor. ‘ Failing me, he was heir to the estates, and my father never having had but one child, I dare say he often calculated the chances.

‘ But I never thought of such things in those days. I was happy, secure in love. ‘ Emily appeared to me, shortly after the arrival of Roland on a visit, to change in character. She was always shy, but she appeared shyer than over now. • VYe were quite as often in one another’s society, bub she spoke less, and seemed restrained.

‘Fearing to speak out until the matter was settled, I determined to consult my father.

‘ I sought him at the library, and saw him reluctantly put down a book. ‘ “ My dear sir,” I began; you have always been the kindest of parents. I have come to beg that which will make mo the happiest personage in the world.” * “ Bpeak,” he said ; evidently fidgeted and annoyed ; “what is it? Money?” ‘ “ Stay your hand, sir,” I answered, as he fumbled for his cheque-book ; “it is something far above money,” < Far above money ?’ he remarked, with something of a sarcastic smile. ‘Father, I love Emily, and wish your consent for her to be my wife/ I continued.

Sir William Mowbray rose to his feet, with a look of bewildered astonishment on his face.

‘ vou want to get married ?’ he gasped, lifting his hands up with apparent horror. ‘ Impossible!’ ‘ Why ?’ I asked. ‘ Pshaw !’ he said. ‘ Why? you are only a boy ! You must not think of such things at present. ’ And he buried himself in his books. I went away alarmed, bewildered, angry. I could suspect no cause You are aware that I am of a painfully sensitive nature, and I did not choose to brook another such refusal. But I determined not to relax in my attentions to Kmily, the more that X soon became aware that I bad a rival in my cousin. Probably appreciating my nervous and sensitive character, Emily did not tell me how offensive his attentions were. I believe now that he annoyed her very much, and that she, from delicacy to me, never spoke of it. That she was not so happy as before I could see. Our mutual love was no secret; but as I did not venture to speak to my father again, there was nothing like an engagement Still, all who saw us together, were fully aware of the state of our feelings. * My aunt highly approved of the proposed alliance, and when I confessed to her what had passed between myself and father, simply laughed. ‘ My dear Edward, she said, ‘your father has so long been lost in his books and studies, he regarded you as a boy, and was only annoyed.’ ‘ I shook my head and could not believe such a feeling could have excited him so much.

‘ Weeks and months went on, until I was a little over twenty. I was determined to bring matters to a climax as soon as possible. I saw with anger and disgust the insidious approaches of my cousin. I saw how secretly paiu'-d Emily was and determined to put an end to the per sedition. 1 Kariy in the morning I rose and went out into the garden to rehearse my speech to my father. There was no fear of him in my composition ; but the rebuff rankled in my heart. As I moved up and down, speaking to myeslf, I heard voices and hurried away, to avoid whoever it might bo. But at that instant I recognised the speakers. ‘ Emily 1’ cried Roland in a hoarse tone, ‘ you shall never marry that man ’ ‘ Hewa-e 1’ answered Emily, in a low tone of concentrated anger ; ‘ beware how you provoke me too much ! I hive put up w;th your infamies, your calumnies, your falsehoods, too long. I shaff bear them no longer’ • You know tho consequences,’ was his cold and bitter response. ‘ His life will not be safe.’ ‘“Coward!” she gasped. “Your unmanly threats have alone prevented my speaking; but I can bear it no longer. Love yon, Roland Mowbray !” she said, in a hysterical tone —“ I hate you !” ‘ “ Take care!” ho hissed between his set teeth ; “ take care what you are about !” ‘ And he av>proached as if to clutch her wrist. Next instant he lay sprawling on the green sward. * 1 caught Emily in my arms and looked at my fallen foe. ‘ lie rose slowly, with such a malignant expression of countenance as I never saw on a man’s face before or since.

‘ “ You will repent this,” he said, and walked away. ‘ But the same day he loft the house. ‘ My darling was ill for some days, and then she slowly recovered. ‘ I now noticed a change in my father. Ho appeared to be restless and uneasy. I soon fuuud that it was business that bored him.

‘ After some difliculty, learning this fact, I ollered to attend to it; with suspicions ardor and eagerness ho accepted my oiler. ‘ Wishing my dear girl a short farewell I started for London. As my stoy was to ho brief, it was md considered worth while to correspoui. But my absence was very protracted, and I had occasion to "and say so. (lo he Continued.)