LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1688, 18 July 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DID HE LOVE ME! [From “Tinsley’s Magazine.”] Did he love me ! Ah, who can tell ? Dead lips and closed eyes reveal not. I was a seamstress, and mother and Hived in a tiny cottage on the cliff. From our w’ndows we saw every day, and all day, the billows of the mighty Northern Ocean dashing on the shores, or in gentler moments the white wavelets dancing on the bosom of the blue deep. 1 he summer’s sun lit it up with a golden glory, and the icy snow of winter melted into it and left no sign ; the grey seagulls floated on it, aye, and so did the bodies of the dead sometimes. We were very poor ; and when mother was ill, I could not leave her to go out and work ; nor even to seek employment that I coul 1 take homo and do beside her ; so when this happened, you can think they were hard times_ with us. Bread became scarce, and had it not been for the dried fish sometimes we should have had a sorry dinner. One of the houses to which I used to go, when we were little known, belonged to the captain of the coastguard ; and I really enjoyed the day I spent helping Mrs Leigh cut down and alter the dresses and jackets of the young ladies. They were such dear, bright girls ; it was like a ray cf sunshine bursting Into the room when they came and turned over the things in my basket, ‘ to see Nelly’s loveletters. ’ What merry laughs they had, and what a tangle they made of all my cotton and tapes ? They all knew the story that had been the cause of our going to live on the cliff, and they thought none the worse of us because father had got into trouble before he died, They knew we could not htlp that; mother had told the little home I was born in, and given up evtrything she possessed, to make up the deficit in his account, and hide his name from shame as much as possible When he died mother moved to this out-of-the-way fishing village to try and forget and be forgotten. There was no money now ; nothing to keep a roof over our beads

but what she and I could earn ; so she taught a few of the fisher children to read and write, and I went out to the houses of the few gentlefolks who lived hear, to sew. How different they were, these employers ! There was the farmer’s wife, MrsAbdy, as proud and conceited as the finest lady in the land, with her silks and satins ; too grand by far to look into her dairy, or lend a hand in the cheese-room. The fiouncings and plaitings, the braidings and trimmings, of all kinds, that I put on her gowns, and yet I never could heap on enough to please her. She would come into the spare bedroom and read out bits from all the fashion papers ; and, oh dear, how tired I was when eight o’clock came, and I went homo to mother again!

Very different were my busy days at the Leighs’. I worked in the snug sitting room, while Miss Leigh played, Carrie drew, and the mother knitted socks for the captain. Ah, there was no pride about them; only good, kind hearts and bright looks ; and often did Mrs Leigh make some soup or a padding which she gave to me, saying, ‘ I am sure your mother would like it, Nelly, so just run home with it dear ; you can stay longer to-morrow.’ And off I used to run along the road, up the steep chalk cliff, and in at the cottage door, disturbing all the little ones at their reading and writing. Mother looked up ; and how her dear face brightened when she saw the cause of the commotion in the black hat and tartan shawl standing in the doorway. Then I sat down, and how fast the lessons went. Even that stupid Joe Hawkins did finally master * twice two are four.’ The eight-day clock in the corner struck ; little legs and feet scrambled about for hats and caps, and out they all ran, leaving the cottage at last to mother and me. The joy of those early home comings. I was there to get the tea ready, and mother’s eye followed me all round the room to the cupboard where the cups lived, back to the table, then away again for the teapot. O, dear old days of long ago I 1 wonder would you care to hear what our cottage was like ? Nothing pretty or romantic, not a bit of it. Just a little, long, low cottage, with two windows on one side of the door and one on the other, and the sloping tiled roof; the walls were tarred black. ‘ Very ugly.’ you are saying ; perhaps so, only I didn’t think it when I used to see the curl of the smoke from the chimney, the dark-red tiles of the roof, the black walls, the bright glass of the windows, the leaves and flowers of the few poor plants, and the flicker of the fi r e looking at me, as, tired from my day’s work, my ey ■ lighted on it as I came up the cliff. ‘ Dingy, ugly place.’ Yes, I dare say ; but it was' my home, and I loved it. When the spring osme there was a good deal to do at Sea View; Carrie was going away on a visit to her aunt, the captain’s sister, who had no children of her own, and who might, perhaps, one of thrse days, add her help to Carrie’s wedding portion. None of the Leighs had ever suggested this thought to me ; but, as she had no children of her own, I built up a little romance in my imagination, in which she was to adopt Carrie and give her all her money, so that she might marry a penniless Jack Lambert I had heard, and live happy ever afterward. I worked with a real delight to turn Carrie out as well as possible, and between us we coaxed the captain out of a five-pound note, had a great envelope of patterns from Framthorpe, and with the latter a big brown paper parcel containing the prettiest dress material you ever saw. I even went to Mrs Abdy’s and borrowed the very latest fashion book, ‘for myself;’ of course, I would not say it was for the captain’s daugher. We made the dress, and it looked lovely, and Carrie prettier than ever, if possible in it. Just in the middle of all this business, when we were working hard all day, a letter arrived saying that Ned, the captain’s son, was coming back. He had been at sea when mother and I arrived at the cottage, so I had never seen him, and had a great curiosity to behold this * sailor boy* of whom I had heard so muoh.

The letter was sent off from Malta, so he might soon be expected home. What preparations they made for his return! He was the only son, and you can well imagine how fond and how proud both the captain and wife were of him.

The * bunk,’ for so the captain had christened the room Ned was to have, was fresh papered; loving hands worked all kinds of pretty things, from slippers upward (they were made and placed ready for use when he should arrive) ; Carrie painted a big cardboard flag to look like a Union Jack, and in gold letters wrote a huge * Welcome’ on it, which she hung up in the little hall, and the whole family lived in a constant expectation of / Ned’s homecoming. How the wild waves beat against the cliff; how the wind sighed and moaned as we sat there in the cheerful sitting-room at Sea View! Carrie was going to-morrow, and there was still a lot to do ; so I had asked mother to let me stay there until Guy Weeks, the old fisherman, should pass the captain’s on his way home late that night, and he was to call for me and see me safe to the cottage door. My needle was flying along as if spurning the snowy muslin under it, and Norah was making the buttonholes on Carrie’s new bodice, when the bell rang. Out they flocked into the liny hall; glad, loving voices were lifted in greeting ; and a few moments later they all osme back into the sitting-room, bringing with them Ned—-curly-heady, brown-haired, sun-burned Ned. How handsome he looked as he stood there ; his pilot-jacket buttoned over his chest, and the little cap perched a wee bit on one side of his bonnie head I

‘Nellie, this is onr Ned.’ ‘ Isn’t he a darling !’ ‘There, Nellie, that’s something like a young salt.’ ‘My dear old Ned, how glad I am to get you home again!’ How many more loving words and looks and greetings ! And as he stood there, with one hand on the captain’s shoulder and the other round his mother’s waist who could doubt him ? He looked to well worthy of all their loving worship. * Come and see your room, Ned,’ cried Carrie.

’ Did you see the big flag, my boy ?’ Inquired Mrs Leigh. ’ ‘Come along, Ned; come along!’ And Carrie put her arm through his, and dragged him, half unwillingly, up stairs. Then they had a private hugging and kissing outside the door again; I heard them ; and then up went Ned, two stairs at a time, and Carrie after him. ‘ What do you think of him, Nelly ?’

I said something stupid I suppose. How foolish I was ! I absolutely felt left out in the cold, with all this welcoming and loving going on around mo. Norah evidently thought my praise constrained and cold, for she laughed and said : ‘O, Nelly, I am sure you are jealous at not having him for a brother yourself 1’ Presently Carrie and Ned came down ; he glorious in the new slippers I had helped to make. Yes, I had helped, though that was a secret between Carrie and myself; for she had got the wools all wrong, and I helped her unpick the pattern and set it right again. So ho sat there and told them of all he had} done, of where he had been, of the queer sights and sounds of the far-eff lands ; and when old Guy Weeks called for me, Ned and the captain had begun singing a a lot of old sea-aongs ; and as I closed the door the last thing I heard was something about ‘little Billy 1’ And I went with the old fisherman out into the dark tempestuous night with the refrain of ‘ little Billy’ ringing in my ears. Mother was anxious enough when I reached the cottage, and took many a good look at me to assure herself there was none of mo blown away by the winds or washed away by the rain. ‘ Come in a minute, Guy, won’t yon V • No, I thank you, missis; it be main tempting ; but I’ll just go on home.’ ‘ Well, thank you for bringing Nelly; good night.’ ‘ Good night, neighbor.’ We hoard the plash, plash of the old man’s boots as he trampled on in the wet mud. Mother took off my hat and cloak and gave me a cup of tea ; then she sat down on the other side of the fire to hoar the nows.

• Is the captain’s son come, Nelly V Mother has asked this question every night for the past week. ‘Yes, mother, ho came this evening.’ • What is he like, dear ?’ • Oh, big and brown, and curly-haired «wd sunburned. •That’s a queer description, Nell. ‘ Well, mother, it’s tiue.’ (lo be continued .)