LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1648, 2 June 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MILLICENT’S DOWRY. fFrom ‘ 1 Weekly Alta California. ”] The night was gloomy, and filled with wild gusts of wind that raved about the turrets of the castellated mansion and sung in the wide and dreary halls. It could have no better place than Berkeley House in which to waken ghostly sounds, for it was a rambling and disjointed buildiug, full of deep bay-windows and corners that seemed made for the delectation of unearthly beings. The old mansion was a relic from the early colonial days, and was said to represent the character of its master, who was noted for his eocentrioities, even in those days of witches and goblins grim. Disappointed in some cherished ambition or love affair, Simon Berkeley came to America when great forests still shadowed tie shores of New England, and, travelling along the eevcoast, found a hill that overlooked broad sweeps of sea, and there built him a home. Huge elm trees rose close to the massive stone walls, and where time and disuse had crumbled the casements, the branches of these had forced their way into the silent rooms, and Jwhen the wind shook them, shivered as though fear held them in a firm grasp. Below there were old orchards, wherein the warm sunlight made golden-edged shriows in the long Summer days, but which were now full of storm songs that came ringing up the hill with a strange weirdness born from the sea, for this was just below them, and its foamy waves came in on the rocky ledge that held them in check, beating them with a fierce fury that sent the spray high in air Tho building had a great hall that ran through its main p»rt, and from this two wings ran away to the east and west, these containing the apartments that ware intended for family use. They were solid, and of a peculiar construction, those in tho west wing having broad, deep windows, while narrow and strongly-barred casements gave the east wing a dungeon look, and carried one back to tho Dark Ages. Simon Berkeley married shortly after hie house was finished, his bride being a woman as strange and eccentric as himself. The result of this marriage was a daughter, who, in direct contradiction to received|tenets, was as beautiful and bright as a June morning, and possessed a soul as lovely as her body.

The mother died shortly after the birth of this child, and, with two old servants to supply their needs, the stern and pitiless man shut himself and his daughter up on the estate he had purchased, and their manner of existence became a mystery. There were many stories told concerning Old Simon as he was called. People said that he was so hard and cold that if he stood near a blooming plant, the flowers would shiver and close as though a storm was beating them. There were rumors concerning harsh words spoken to the woman he had married, and more than one whisper said that her death was caused by cruel blows from his hands. But she passed away and was forgotten, and old Simon lived on in the great house, with his daughter and the two servants for ompany. Tne girl was named Millicent, and was very beautiful This was all the few neighbors knew. They caught occasional glimpses of her golden hair, as she played in the garden lying south of the building, and sometimes heard a merry voice rippling into song among the great elms that rose about the mossy stone walls. Y ears passed, and the girl grew to womanhood. Then a young man came to the place, a stranger to all living there. Some said he was a lawyer, some thought him an artist ; but where his home was no one knew, nor did he tell. It was soon noticed that he frequented the vicinity of Berkely house, and once he was seen talking to Millicent Berkeley in the wood that lay back of her home.

Then he suddenly disappeared, and no one ever saw him again ; but the next autumn some boys, seeking nuts, t found the skeleton of a man deep in the silence of the woods back of the great stone mansion, and there were some shreds of mouldering garments lying near, which were recognised as being similar in color to those he had worn. How he had come to his death no one knew, though Simon Berkeley’s name became strangely linked with the affair, and many said that he knew more of it than he cared to tell.

With the disappearance of this stranger Millicent Berkeley ceased to be seen, and whither she had gone no one knew. A few years after this a young child was seen playing in the garden where Millicent had played when young, and this new comer had golden hair and a musical voice that were strangely like hers. Ten years after the diappearance of Millicent, Simon Berkeley was found dead, sitsing at his writing-desk, his gray hair falling about the lifeless hands on which his head rested.

His will gave the estate to the boy who had been seen about the grounds, and whom he called Wardour Berkeley. From Simon Berkeley’s death to the time of which this story tells, the building had remained in the possession of the Berkeleys, son succeeding father as generation followed generation. The estate, however, had dwindled from its once grand proportions, though a large tract of land sti" remained, heavily encumbered by a mortgage, the result of the second Wardour Berkeley’s profligacy. The old house and the orchards and gardens about it were free, the willjof old Simon having made them heirlooms in the family; but the house, though originally strong and massive, was growing ruined from want of care—the care that money alone can give. There were stories that it was haunted, severe l , people affirming that they had seen unearthly forms pacing the terrace in front of its broad hal 1 , or moving before its ruined windows.

The general description made these a stern old man and a beautiful, golden-haired woman; but, strangely as it may seem, though many people residing in the neighborhood testified to having seen these, they were never visibie to the inhabitants of the house. At this time the owner of the old house was named Millicent Berkeley, a girl as beautiful and bright as the one whose strange disappearance, two centuries or more before, was still a mystery. She was the daughter of the last Wardour Berkeley, a man who had let his passions rale till they sank a noble genius in the ruin of a drivelling drunkard, and the great cause of wonder was how one so pure and so sweet and womanly could come from such a father. His wastefulness had left the lands belonging to the old estate burdened with heavy claims, so that when he died the halfruined house was all that the daughter could call her own. His funeral drew together many of the family—off-shoots that had carried the name to far away places—and among these came one Simon Berkeley, a young man just graduated from college, proud, handsome, courageous, talented, generous, ambitious, and wai.n hearted, but poor. Ho had used up what little money he ;n----heiited in obtaining an education, and now stood ready to enter life’s fight and bravely battle up to victory. He had never mingled much with women, for he had lost his mother when a babe, and no sisters had been given him; and knowing that his success in the future depended on himself alone, he had kept steadily at his studies, and carried off the highest honors of his class. Then came the funeral of Wardour Berkeley, and Simon met Millicent.

She was like revelation to him, so lovable that his soul went out to her in a great cry for love ; and when the obsequies were over and the other members of the family were gone, he lingered on at the old house, striving aU the many powers he possessed to make Millicent happy. That he succeeded can easily be imagined, for Millicent had led a k nely life, and her sunlit days had been very few. The days of his stay grew into weeks, and these lengthened out to months. But he was not idle all this time ; he could not afford to be. He read law for hours, filling his mind with a store of knowledge to help him in the future. Autumn came, aUff with it tho settlement of the estate, thus showing Millicent that she was almost penniless, for she could not sell the house or land near it, and neither were productive of an income. At this time of trial her cousin was of great service, and they were drawn closer together. They were we’king in the orchard one bright October afternoon, when the beauty of nature, clad in her varied splendor and rich with warm floods of sunlight, filled their souls with that subtle sympathy that awakens love.

It would have been impossible for any man of a generous nature to refrain from doing what Simon Berkeley then did. In their walk they came to a terrace that overlooked the sunlit sea-reaches, where the white sails shone and glittered as they filled and swayed in the wind. They had been talking of Millicent’s business, and she was troubled when they reached this point. They stood silent a time, and then the fair girl, suddenly stretching out her hands imploringly to the ocean, said—- ‘ Oh, that we might have the power to fly from trouble as easily as those ships glide through the sea!’ How could any soul stand unmoved at such a time ? It would have taken a hard and storm-tossed man to withstand the pleading in her voice, and Simon Berkeley was not a person of this kind. He took the outstretched hands reverently in his, and looking into the clear, sweet eyes, said, ‘My darling, will you let me try to keep this trouble away, my love ?—for I love you.’ She could not doubt this, there was such a great light in the deep, gray eyes looking into hers ; and, as she saw this, a sweet rest came to her soul, and, with a low, glad cry, she nestled in the clasp of the arms so willing to take her. So they stood for a long time, holding that holy converse that love brings, and then again walked slowly through the orchard aisles. ‘ I should like to keep the old acres,’ said Millicent; I so many of onr family have called them theirs, and lived and loved among them, that it seems like a sacrilege to let them go.’ * Thev shall not go,’ answered Simon; ‘ we will save them, for I can work now, and to him who works with a brave soul all things are easy.’ He was hopeful and strong, for love and sunshine are the great powers that give the soul hope and gladness. * Yes, I feel that we can and will keep them,’ she said, ‘for we can help each other.’ ‘ And I must not stay here much longer, dear, for when the work is ready and the hands willing, there should bo no lingering by the way.’ * I know, and yet it is so hard to let you go, just as I seem to have gained yon,’ and her little hfcnda clung close to his arm. (2o be continued.)