LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1779, 3 November 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE SNOW-DRIFT. ; A Stoky in Two Parts. i Past I. (Continued?) 'This is my child, Sir Archibald, my ' little Mayflower," said the justice, as he lovingly stroked the beautiful head. Golden brown hair, soft gray eyes, a low, square forehead, and perfect month and chin, May Morgan was beautiful indeed. There was a child-like vivacity about her, an inexpressible freshness and purity, that constantly made me turn to her as one would to look at some rare and loving flower. We were soon great friends, and with the justice and May for my audience, I use i to revisit many a foreign land, and go through many a past scene in the short winter twilight. I have not said much about Justice Morgan, and I have not much to say. What he might have been in early years I know not, but to me he was all that a warm friend could be. I could fancy that he could be severe and harsh when crossed; but that May never did in any way. ■ Now, Sir Archibald,' said May, one morning, soon after our introduction, coming into the little sitting-room with a handful of hyacinths, ' while I arrange these I wish you to amuse me. But [first, do you know that all the time you were ill in bed, you had inquiries made after your health every day?' ' I suppose it was Pat D jolan,' I said. ' Just so,' Ehe replied; * and do you know that I knew all about your worship before I saw you V * There is not much to know, Miss Morgan,'said I. smilingly. 'Pat is Irish, you know.' ' And therefore warm-hearted," she replied. ' You are a great favorite at the Blue Boar, and Pat quite made me like you long before I made your acquaintance. Did he tell you that he used to be a servant of papa's Y ' Yes, and I think it was some feeling of curiosity which led to my accident, for I was inspecting Mainowen when the "Marquis " went down.' May oame and stood by the side of my sofa, while a sad expression shadowed her face. 'Then, he told you of Lena Y she said. * Yes,' was my reply. ' Will you help me, Sir Archibald ?' Bhe asked. ' I am going, for the first time in my life, to disobey papa; and instead of waiting for Harold to come back, I will get yon to help me.' 'Miss Morgan,'l said, 'you are going to be disobedient, and I am to help at it;! I am shocked at such principles.' 'No, do not laugh at me ; listen instead,' she said ; and her bright face was brought level with mine as the child—she was a a child to me—knelt down to talk, clasp'.ng her arms round Turk's neck. 'I am going to disobey papa. Lena must come home. Look here,' she said, unfolding a newspaper and pointing to a passage. "On board H.M. transport Ariadne, homeward bound from India, Major Laurence, of H.M. 10th Hussars." I have written to Lena, and asked her to come—my dear, dear sister. Her home must be here now. Only what will papa say ?' May Morgan hid tho newspaper, and the justice never saw it. A few days after Bhe oame to me, her face flushed and excited. 'Sir Archibald,' she said, 'I have seen Lena! She is at the Blue Boar, and she has a little girl, the only one that lived, three years old. Pat says it's Lena herself again. Poor Lena, she is quite broken-hearted! Now, Sir Archibald, you must help me in my scheme. I want you to do what my courage even fails to think of. Papa has never been angry with me, and I could not bear to see him angry now. What I •want you to do is to allow Lena's child to be with you to-night here, when papa comes to sit with yon.' * I will do anything I can for you,' I said, pressing one of the Bmall hands which were busy clasping and unclasping themselves in extreme nervousness. 'Let the little one come here, lam not afraid of the justice. I do not think he will bo very angry.' That I said, more to reassure her than because I thought it, for my real opinion was that Justice Morgan would never forgive me. But what could I do, with those Bad gray eyes fixed so pleadingly upon mine ? I knew then that J loved May Morgan with the whole passion of my life ; and, had she asked it, 1 would have braved the displeasure of thouaands Day after day I had listened more and more intently for the sound of a fairy footstep, or the echo of a silvery laugh. When I was a boy, I had loved Maud Muriel, but it was with the strength of a boy's heart; now, at six and-thirty, or very nearly that age, I loved with all the depth of a passionate nature a child of seventeen —for she was but as a child to me. I knew all the folly, all the madueßS of it; but I was powerless as a reed swayed by a mighty tempest. I knew all its hopelessness also, for I saw that May had no feeling or thought for me deeper than what she might feel for a brother. Oh May! but once to see your eyes droop beneath mine, once to feel the clasp of your arms, or the touch of your fall, soft lips,—once, did I say—Bah I She must love me " not at all, or all in all."

There is only one thing for me to do, get well as fast as I can and start for Castle Boydon. It was the only advice I could give myself. The evening was closing when the-door of my sitting room opened, and the justice came in ; he waa earlier than usual, and the child had. not come. I waa wondering how the meeting would be managed, and thought it best to leave it all to chance, when Turk bounded in, throwing the door wide open, followed by a wee toddling thing, shouting with childish glee, 'Turk, wait for baby!— wait for baby, Turk !' When the justice saw the child he turned aßhy white, and covered his faee with his hands ; and she, after standing irresolute for a second, went and laid her little cheek upon his knee, saying, ' Don't ki; Turk won't eat you. Kiss baby ! ' and the little roßy mouth was held up persuasively. The old man caught the child up in his arms, whispering in a broken voice, • My Lena I My Lena! ' and carried her out of the room. We saw him no more that evening. Towards night we heard the child's chatter on her way to bed. ' Put her into the little room next to mine,' was the order, when the old man rang for her to be taken to bed. So it was : the gulf which had existed for years, was bridged by a little child. ' Sir Archibald, I am so thankful papa has gone to Pat Doolan's to fetch Lena.' It waß getting late when May came to me, and Bhe sat down on a stool by the sofa as she S P° ke . „ . V >»'! T ' When are you going to say, Archie ?* 1 asked. ' You do not know how much prettier it is than " Sir Archibald." ' • Oh, I could not,' she laughed. * It does not seem right for me to call you that. You are so much older than I am, I feel quite a respect for you. Now, I have some more news for you. Harold is coming in a few days, and you will be well enough then to go out a little; if you cannot walk far, I will drive you myself. « Who is Harold V I asked. ' My companion,' she replied ; ' the only companion I have ever had—Harold Maurice —I Buppoae he will be Sir Harold some day. You see we were children together—the Maurice eßtate joins Mainowen —and as Harold had. no playmates, -nor had I, we were very much together. Ha had been abroad with a tutor for a long while, and la

now coming home. I am so glad !' she added, looking so brigfel and radiant through the clear gray.eyes 1 so Jfeved into my face, as she spoke. Then that was to be the cad of it all J she would probably marry this young Manrie* ; and I ah; well, I mnst make haste sod turn my fsse homeward. My visit to Ireland was sadly fated. _ That night' Justice" Morgan brooght back his daughter ; and' when I saw him again, ten years have been lifted off his shoulders. • Archie,' he said,- for he was fond cJ me, and always called' me ' Archie ' now, ' I have been very foolish,- very wicked ; I cannot change the past, but I will guard the future for them.'

And so he did. It was aa though Justice Morgan farcied that he could never be sufficiently loving to his daughter,—as if there were long years of absence and sorrow to be at' aed for, —and as if he feli» that the uncertain future was all too short to redeem the sad and dismal past. A few bright days fell to my lot, and then an interruption. , £lt seem* to me that throughout life, sunshine and shade are so closely allied, that the presence of the one is but as the dawning of the other. The days that followed were so foil of happiness that I might have gueised "they could not last. They were passed by Mrs Laurence, May, little Kathleen, and myself, the best part of the time out of doors ; for I had b<«a so long an unwilling prisoner in the houße that I seemed not to be able to breathe enough of the fresh, pure air. I had quite recovered my accident, but a feeling of weakness frequently made me feel weary. The long rides or diives wo to'k soon made me my ' ould self entirely,' as Pat used to tell me, Perhaps that was true in a physical sense ; morally, I knew taat I could never feel the same again. 1 he sunshine consisted in being constantly with May, following her about, listening to her merry laugh, which had more music in it to me than any sound in life. When the twilight deepened we would go to the organroom, and May's voice would awake thoughts and feelings of a better world and a truer life. Perhaps it was the influence of the better nature which gave me courage to Bat we must not anticipate. The shade came soon. A few days afterwards I was smoking on the terrace, and playing a game of romps with little Kathleen and Turk, when a tall, handsome yourjg fellow of threeand-twenty rode up. In an instant M&y came flying through the low French window of the drawing-room, her face sparkling and radiant with pleasnrable emotion, and both her small hands outstretched. • Hollo, May!' exclaimed the stranger, springing to the ground and fastening his horse, and then running lightly up the steps. ' Well, now say yon are glad to see me,' *he continued, clasping her little hands in both of his. ' Why, May, May, how pretty you have grown 1' 'And, Harold, you have grown foolish. Of course lam glad to see you. Let me introduce you to Kir Archibald.' The conversation was general, Harold and I talked about foreign countries, and May joined now and then; but I could not help noticing that though his words were addressed to me, Harold's eyes were frequently fixed upon May's face with an expression of admiration, for could have knocked him down. The justice welcomed the young man warmly, the horse was .sent 'round to the stableß, and the sunshine .at Mainowen was clouded over. From that day, upon some pretext or other, Harold Maurice was always coming. Sometimes it was some new music, a rare flower, or a book of poems, which brought him over, until at last his coming was looked for as a certain and daily event. One day the justice came and laid his hand upon my shoulder, as I was standing at the window watching Harold and May amongst the crocus-beds. ' Archie,' he said, ' those two are going to make a match. Maurice came to me this morning and asked me for my child, and I told him that if he won her consent he might make sure of mine. I think she is fond of him.' ' I think she is,' I answered, in a dreamy sort of way, looking over the two young heads in the garden below into the cold gray sky ; ' and now, justice, I want to speak to you of my own affairs. I can never thank yon as I conld wish for all your kindness to me.' ' Nonsense, boy ! do not speak of it.' ' But I must speak of it, for I mnst leave Mainowen, and I do not want to do so without telling you how grateful I ' ' Boy, boy, hush! what a deal of nonsense you can talk! And why -do you speak of leaving ns ? I think as we bad all the trouble of nursing you, you might honour ns with your company now you are well.' * Bat Castle Boydon wants me, sir. Indeed, I expect I shall have plenty to occupy my time now to prepare my house for your summer visit. Kathleen has given me many orders,' I said, as I lifted up the Sunbeam whioh had just pushed open the door, ' she wants to know if she may bring the ponies and Turk, and Pat, and the kitten ? 'No ! all the tittens,' interrupted£the little one. ' But. pet, who would take care of them ?' asked the justice, laughing. 'Archie,' she replied, throwing her little arms round my n? ck and hiding her laughing face upon my shoulder. The justice laughed. 'Lena,' said he, as Mrs Laurence entered the room, ' you will nave to watch the wee one, ehe 1b already trying her infantine powers upon Archie. What will she be when she grows up ?' 'An old woman,' replied the Sunbeam, peeping at her grandpapa. I had given her the pet name of Sunbeam at the fire*, and the rest of the household had taken it up until it had become prel.ty general. My last evening at Mainowen had arrived, and I was not sorry for it. May had seemed to avoid me lately. She refused to take one of our old _ quiet walks unless Mrs Lawrence or the justice would join us, and in every other possible way I had seen she wished to avoid being alone with me. I was thinking that in twenty-four honrs I should be far away, when the justice came'ia. 'lt is the strangest thing !' he said. ' I always thought May loved young Maurice." ' And does she not ?' I asked, with a strange feeling of_expectation beating at my heart. ' No: at least she has rejected him, and that looks like it. But I cannot help thinking that she must like him ; perhaps after all it is her caprice, though May has never shown it before. Archie, I wish you would speak to her.' {To he continued.')