LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1645, 29 May 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE AUTUMN NIGHT. By M. E. Penn. [From the “Argosy.”] There is no pleasanter spot in leafy Warwickshire than Olieveden Vale. The little ‘ Olieve ’—scarcely more than a stream, though it calls itself a river—meanders thr >ugh the valley in a loitering, leisurely fashion, now winding through pastoral meadows, now making a detour to cross the main street of a sUaggling village where it is spanned by an ivy-covered bridge; then flowing onwards into the green shady soli* tude of Olieveden woods. On the slope of the valley, its Tudor chimneys just visible above the trees, stands the Hall, the residence of Sir Richard OUeveden; and on the opposite hill-side, with woods and stream between is the Vicarage —a handsome modern house, surrounded by smooth lawns and bright parterres. The baronet has Wo sons. Gilbert, the heir, lives quietly at home, dividing his time pretty equally between sport and study; his younger brother, Reginald, who is in the army, seldom makes his appearance at the Hall. ‘The captain only when he wants money,’ say the household ; and it must be acknowledged that after one of bis duty-visits fir Richard generally finds his purse lightened. Again and again the old gentleman has vowed that he would ‘ draw a line,’ and pay no more of Reginald’s debts ; but the line is not yet drawn, for in spite of his faults the scapegrace younger son is the father’s favorite.

There is constant and friendly intercourse between tho inmates of the Hall and the Vicarage. The Reverend Edgar Severne, though only ‘ a country parson, ’ is a man of good birth and ample means. He has been twice married. His second wife, the present Mrs Severne, was an heiress, and her fortune will descend to their daughter, Maud.

It is Maud Severne who, on this September evening, stands at the open French window of the drawing-room, looking out over the lawn, the river, and the woods, towards the chimneys of Clieveden Hall. Tho fading glow of the sunset lights her face } a face which, like her character, is faulty enough, if critically examined, but thoroughly lovable and attractive nevertheless, with its bright ‘ April-blue ’ eyes, equally ready for smiles or tears, its pretty wilful lips, and exquisite complexion. Maud had been standing for some deep in thought rather graver than usual, to judge f?om her face—when her mother’s vplcs roused her, * Maud,’ said Mrs Severne, looking up from her writing-table at tho other end of the room, ‘did Reginald Clieveden call this morning while I was out ?’ * Yes, mother ; at least he did not come in. I was in the garden, and he practised lawn-tennis with me.’ Her mother’s brow contacted as she closed and addressed the letter she had just finished ‘ If Reginald must devote all h,is energies to lawn-tennis, I that he would practise at home' instead of spending all his mornings here. I do not care for him to be constantly in your society, particularly daring Gilbert’s absence. However, his leave will soon expire, I suppose, and then ——’ ‘ I don’t see what Gilbert has to do with it,’ Maud interrupted, a shade of defiance in her tone, * Don’t you think Gilbert Ins a right to object to your flirting with hi« br< tlicr, when yon are engaged to himself ? ’ was the quiet inquiry, ‘ But, rxeuse mo mother, T am not engaged to Gilbert,’ she returned, coming away from the window. ‘ A month' ago, just bef >re ho ct&rted on bis Highland tour, he proposed to me, but I wouid not give him an answer then ; I told him I did not know my own mind—and it was true.’ * But previously to that you had given him sufficient encouragement to justify his thinking that you meant to accept him eventually, He takes it for granted that you will.’ ‘ He takes it for granted—: es, that is jnst what I complain o',’ Maud declared. ", He knows that you and papa are on his side, and he thinks ray consent ‘ goes without saying ’ But X don’t care to be disposed of ib that summary manner.’ ‘ That is a very unjust and unkind re mark,’was Mrs So-wrne’s comment ‘Yon know perfectly well that your father and I would never attempt to force your inclinations : if we wish to see you Gilbert’s wife, it is because we are sure that he would make

you happy. He is a loyal, true hearted gentleman ; a man whose love any woman might be proud to win,’ Maud was silent a moment. * Yes, that is quite true.’ she said at last. ‘ Gilbert is all that is noble and good—altm st too good. If ho were a litdo faulty I think I should like him bettor. Ho lives la an atmosphere too rarefied fur common mortals to breathe. ’ Mrs Severne glanced at her with displeasure. ‘ I am sorry to hear you sneer at Gilbert.’

‘ Indeed, mother, I am not sneering, I have the greatest respect and affection for him, only—Only ’ ‘ Only ho has not Reginald’s handsome face and flattering tongue,’ her mother concluded ‘ Ah, Maud, take care that you do not throw away the substance |for the shadow, and find out your mistake when it is too late. ’

The girl made no reply, but her lace clouded with a doubtful, anxious look, as if her mother’s warning had given expression to some unacknowledged misgiving in the recesses of her own mind. She returned to her old place at the window, and after standing there irresolutely a few moments, passed out on to the lawn.

Twilight’s ‘ gradual dusky veil ’ was deepenmg over woods and fields, and a pale halfmoon gleamed faintly in the darkening sky. In the dim light the flowers in the garden bods looked pale and unreal, like the ghosts of departed blossoms. Maud crossed the sloping lawn at the side of the house, descended a steep path which led down through the plantation to the river, and paused by a rustic bridge, connecting the Vicarage grounds with those of the hall. Just above the bridge a little waterfall came dancing down out of the wood to join the river ; a few yards lower the stream widened into a miniature lake, whose unruffled surface reflected like a mirror the woods and sky. Close to the margin of the pool stood a picturesque rustic pavilion, called the chalet, built from a design by Gilbert Clieveden, who spent much of his time there in the summer, The upper room, which overhung the water, and was supported on piles, was his study ; the space beneath was used as a boat-house. The baronet’s eldest son was not only a clever amateur artist, he had make his mark in literature, and was a contributor to several high-class reviews and scientific journals. A thoughtful, studious, scholarly man; as great a contrast as could be imagined to his brother Reginald, with his frank contempt for intellectual pursuits, his shallow mind, and fickle heart. Maud leaned against the rail of the bridge, looking towards the opposite bank. The shadows had gathered thickly under the trees, but the rising moon cast a long, tremulous line of light across the lake. At this shadowy silent hour the place was mournful in its utter solitude.

Presently from Clievedon woods came the sound of a musical tenor voice, singing * Come into the garden Maud,’ And in a few moments the singer, Reginald CKeveden, emerged from the shadow of the trees, and crossed the bridge to her side.

‘ She is come—my clove, my dear !’ he quoted, as he kissed her hand. ‘ I should not have cnme,’ Maud hastened to assure him, ‘only I had something particular to say to you.’ ‘ Something pleasant, I hope P If not, lot it wait. I have just passed a mauvais quart d’heure with my father, and I want you to smooth my ruffled feelings, and pour balm on my wounded spirit. *Oh, Reginald, are you in disgrace again ? ’ ‘ Even so And pretty deep in it too. The pater swears ho will have nothing more to do with me. He has ‘drawn a line’ at last.’

‘ Put you know he always says that,’ Maud reminded him, consolingly. ‘ He always says it, but this time he appears to mean it,’ her companion returned with a significant nod, pulling his moustache.

‘ You don’t mean that he refuses to help you ! ’ she exclaimed. ‘ Positively—except on one condition, and that’—he paused, still thoughtfully caressing his mous'ache. ‘ Such an easy way out of the difficulty, if I dared,’ he muttered. ‘ What is it ?’ she enquired, but he made no reply. ‘lf Sir Richard does not relent, what in the world shall you do ?' asked Maud, after a pause. He shrugged his shoulders, * How do I know ? I can’t look so far into the infinities, The true philosophy is to take short views of life. Let us change the subject. What was it you had to say to mo ?’ She hesitated.

* I was going to ask you,’ she began, ‘ not to come quite so*often to the Vicarage—at any rate, for the present; my mother does not approve of it; at least, she thinks Gilbert would not. She says that I am treathim unfairly, and I am afraid she is right,’ ‘ That depends If you are engaged to him ’ ‘ But I am not ; at lea t— ’

‘ Then I fail to see what right he has to control you, 7 or why you need|bauish me, to gratify him. It is mo you are treating unfairly—cruelly, Maud, knowing what I feel for you.’ ‘ If—if I were sure you cared for me ’ ‘ You must be blind if you doubt it, • Care for you’—what a feeble little phrase ! I love you as I never loved in my life; and you know it.’ ‘ You never told me so till this moment,’ she murmured, plucking a handful of leaves from a bush near, and dropping them one by one into the stream.

His face darkened suddenly. ‘ The words have been on my Hpa a hundred times within the last three weeks, but a scruple kept me silent. Don’t ask me what it wag; it is connected with an episode in my life that I hate to think of.’

He bent his handsome head to hers, looking into her face with that dangerous tender gaze which few women could resist. ‘Speak to me,’ be pleadedj ‘say one word, or if the word won’t come, put your hand in mine. I shall understand.’

Flattered, touched, thrilled by his ardent look, carried away by his earnest pleading, the t irl silently placed her hand in his. There was an expression of triumph and relief, touched by a certain vague remorse, on the young man’s face, as he lifted the little hand to his lips. ‘ Now that you are quite sure that I * care for you’ just a little, you won’t talk of banishing me, will you ?’ ho said presently. ‘ Tell Mrs Severne that if anyone is sent to Coventry it must bo Gilbert.’ ‘ Poor Gilbert I’ Maud sighed, penitently. ‘ I wonder what he will think of me when he learns ’ ‘Ah yes, I shall be curious to see how ho takes it,” Reginald answered, equably, examining a ring on her finger. ‘He never dreamt of me as a possible rival; I must look out for squalls.’ She looked uneasy. ‘I hope there will be no quarrel between yon,’she said anxiously; ‘X should never forgive myself if *lf there is it will be of his making,’ Reginald interrupted; * but I should think h,e has enough wisdom to take his defeat quietly. By the-by, have you hoard from him since he left home ?’ ‘ Y s j he wrote last week from a place called Glenfalloch, where ’ ‘ Glenfalloch !’ he repeated in a startled tone ; ‘ are you sure that w r as the name ?’ * Quite sure. It is in the Western Highlands. Do you know it ?’ There was a pause before tho answer came. His face bad a Wank, dismayed look, and the color had left his lips. ‘ I—l have heard of it, ’he said, at length, looking away from her. ‘Well,’ he continued a'tcr a moment, making an effort to regume his usual manner, ‘to return to ourselves, When may I speak to the Vicar ?’ ‘ Papa is gomg to Leamington to morrow, to t*ke Mr R ’a duties for a fortnight.’ ‘ Then, Maud, I will ree him this evening; at once. I want it to bo all safely settled before Gilbert appears on the scene. Are you coming in now 2’

‘Not with you. In a few moments.’ ‘ Gilbert at Glenfalloch!’ muttered Eeginald, as ho ascended the path; l it looks like fatality, and if I were superstitious - bah! after all, nothing may come of it; at any rate, I shall not throw up the cards till is lost A pres cela, le deluge!’ Very grave grew Maud’s face when she was alone Doubts and misgivings crowded into her mind, and would not be dismissed. Her mother’s warning haunted her : ‘Take care that you*do not throw away the substance for the shadow.’ Had she really done so, and would she live to repent her rashness ? It seemed to her that she was beginning to repent it already. She thought of Gilbert as she never had before, tenderly, regretfully, with a remorseful consciousness of his worth ; with a tardy appreciation of the value of that faithful heart which she had flung aside so lightly. She tried to assure herself that he would soon recover from the disappointment, and return to the old brotherly intercourse, but she knew his nature too well to believe that he could so easily forgot. She remembered his words, spoken on that very spot, a month ago : ‘ I have loved you all your life, and whether you accept me or not I shall love you still. ’ Absorbed in her reflections she did not hear an approaching footstep, or notice the figure of a man advancing along the path which skirted the stream, on the opposite bank. On seeing her he paused, looked at her doubtfully a moment, then came quickly across the bridge to her side; and Maud, raising her head, saw before her the very person who had been in her thosghts—Gilbert Clieveden, {To he continued.)