LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1630, 12 May 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HER CHILD’S CRT. flFrom “Belgravia/’] { CoHelnded.) ‘ I had nothing very particular on hand, so 1 did as he requested. We got a sober, honest, elderly woman I knew to look after her, I found her doctor, we had a chat about her; he promised to take particular care of her, and to let me know from time to lime how the case went on. As soon as I had made all as comfortable as I could, I came back to town and called Langton, knowing he would like to hear how 1 had got on. ‘ When I arrived at Langton’s outer office the clerk beckened me and said; “ Our o.ient’s husband is inside again.’ ‘ Without stopping to know, I turned the handle and went in, Eyland’s back was toward me, and Langton, as formerly, stood on the hearth rug. This time, however, was no straddle. He stood upright, with his feet and his lips close together. He was deadly pale, and I could see at a glance in a deadly rage. Ryland was speaking as I entered ; he bowed with great politeness to me, paused, and then resumed : ‘ As I was saying, Mr Langton, the boy is now in safely—quite as safe as if he were with his mother, and I come to say that I am prepared to auswer for his safety until the money —twelve hundred pounds —is paid over to me.’ ' said Langton, with a great effort to control his rage, ’you propose charging an additional two hundred pounds upon the estate for the success of your last infamous trick, you sorry swindler ? ’ ‘As a lawyer, you ought to know that your language is illegal and —’ ‘/Take an action, and go into any court you please, and I pledge you my word as a man and a lawyer that there isn’t a jury in England but «ou:d lynch you, and not a judge on the tench hut would applaud them ; and by heaven ! if you don’t get out of this instantly, i’ll not leave the job for judge or jury, but do it with my own hands !’ ‘ Ue seemed about to spring on the man. Ryland slipped his hand behind him, backed towards the door, and said, “Don’t come near me, Mr. Langton. Well knowing the violence of your tempe, I was compelled to be a little nn-Engiish, and come—armed ” ’

‘Un-English 1’ shouted Langton, striding over to him. There’s nothing human, not to say English, in your corrupt carcass. Get out, man, or they will bo hanging you for killing ma or putting up a statue to me for having killed you. f-et out! They pay for killing venomous reptiles iu India—why not in England too? Get out, m«n, I say r , or I shall be claiming bloodmoney before night.’

‘With the revolver held across his waist coat, and pointing at nothing in particular, Hyland'gbacked out of the door and was gone.’ So far as there was anything of moment connected with this affair, I heard nothing more from t'a’rd that night i did not see Baird again till the we< k after Christmas. He then continued the history as follows : ‘For some weeks after these scenes in f.angton’s ollice they heard no more of Byland. During that time his unhappy wife continued in the same mental lethargy, repeatedly askfng for her baby, but betraying no emotion and giving no sign of violence. I looked in at her lodgings about twice a week. Her doctor, Dr. Sherwood Freeman, and I quite agreed as to the case, There was little or no hope of a mental rally until cither the child was restored or her mind received some shook which should counteract the one occasioned by its loss, In

the meantime Lanuton had. as soon as possible, instituted legal prome lings against Hyland I don’t know what the nature of those prcceMings were, hut he held out slight hope of speedy re’ief; the case, it seems, was one full of diffi ulties at best, and the block in the courts 11. led him with despair *ln about six weeks from the day I was in I flngton’s oflic ■, Rylana wrote to say the child was ill, and that he wou’d deliver it up on condition of getting a thousand pouuds, “ Ah!’ said Langt nto mo the evening he got the letter, “so the threats of law have already beaten him down iwo hn dred. The illness is a lie to force us t > terms. I shall not answer that letter,’

‘ Well, Melton, as you may gu- ss, f was by this time greatly interested in the oases, legal and med'eal. lu a week I called again upon t angt n. and to my astonishment found Mrs Rylan i there ‘The ex lanation was very simple. The child had r ally been ill of scarlet fever, all possible care had been tak n of it, hut nevertheh ss it had died, and was to be buried that day; *nd the vacaut-eyed woman was sotting off now to the cemetery. ‘ > yland would not Mow the mother to approach her dying child, but when it was dead he seemed to think hd might run some ugly risk if he did not allow the mother’s i attendance at the interment, and Langton and ohe were now gffiug. I examined her closely, but could observe no change ; the channels of her reason were frozen up, and in precisely the same condition a a on the day of her bereavement. * May I go?’ I asked. ‘ Certainly,’ said he ; and in a little while the three of us got into a cab and drove to the cemetery Ryland had named. ‘ The same unbroken shadow of mental glmm hung over the Urthappy woman. During the whole drive she never spoke a word. Her eyes were cast down most of the time. On the few occasions when she lifted them they sought Langton’s face, but there was no question, no excitement in them. It was plain from their appearance that reason Was an exile, but the land reason had left behind remained still unoccupied by anything sa t the spirit of the void. * When we got inside the gates of the cemetery, we ascertained that the body of the child had not yet arrived. * I angton turned to me and asked, ''What do you think will be the result of to-day ?” ‘“I think,’ I answered, “that it will bring about the crisis, followed by perfect sanity or violent insanity; but there is no telling which.” ‘ After awhile a mourning coach drove in. I will hot d'ag you through all the small event* of the interment. It will be sufficient for you to know that the father of the child was not present, and that during the whole time it occupied she never changed in the least.

‘ I felt greatly disappointed. I had been quite confident of the lifting or development of the affection now paralysing her brain, ‘ When it was all over we returned to the cab as sober as could be. I had been greatly deceived, and I could see that Langton’s last hope was gone. ‘ When we bad got about half-way back she suddenly looked up Into i.angton’s face and said : ‘ “ We have left something behind us." ‘Langton and I looked round the cab. The three umbrellas were all right.’ * No,’ answered Langton ; ‘I don’t think we have left anything behind,’ * Iff the cemetery ?’ she asked, ‘No,’I said. 'No.' ‘We have,’ she said. ‘ I know it, I feel it. As he drove away, I heard rny child cry. Ah, gentlemen, let ns go back and take my child up out of the wet grave. If you give him to me and let me hold him against my breast he will get warm. Ah, gentlemen I let ns go back for my darling ! My baby son ! My own I My own I’ ‘She threw her a'ffis out toward ns with the anguish of a mother’s broken heart on her face, and the knowledge of her childless fate in her eyes. Then all at once her body began swaying slightly, and with a low moan she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. ‘ She had lost her child, but had regained his image, and her brain was healed. She had lost her child and regained his image, and her heart was broken. The mad live long and howl about onr paths ; the brokenhearted creep quietly into the shadows and silently dig their own graves, and In a little while crawl into the earth with gentler smiles. ‘ There is now no heat in her poor breast to warm her poor babe. She has been dead a week. ‘Four days ago I saw Eyland buying gloves—dark green gloves, a very quiet color —in the Strand. He was looking very well, God bless me. Melton ! but sometimes this world is too much for me !’