LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1865, 14 February 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A RING AND A ROSE, Claude Errol lifted hia hat in smiling courtesy as Alice May drove by in her peny phaeton, her sweet girlish face wearing a look of shy, glad salutation, whose one passing glance revealed the secret that was making her young life so blessed, and Claude Errol knew, as if her lips had told him, that the delightful flirtation that bad been going on the past summer days between him and Alice May had resulted—and through no fault of the girl’s—in her coming to love him above all men. As the ponies trotted past him, Errol took in at a glance the fair beauty of the flushed, glad face, with its lovely, liquid brown eyes, with their heavy brows and drooping lashes, its dainty, dimuled chin, and exquisite mouth, red as an oleander that has blossomed in the sun. And then he thought, was ever man so cruelly used by fate as he, to be destined to be loved by such a charming creature as Alice May-to be destined to enjoy her society and care for her, as he certainly did, and yet to know that in his memorandnmbook, in hia inside coat pocket, reposed a letter from the lady to whom he was engaged to bo married, telling him that she and her party, as per Mr Krrol’s Invitation, might be expected at Errolton by the 5.40 train that same afternoon.

He thought himself ill used by fate—this handsome, elegant gentleman, heir to Errol - ton, the magnificent estate that reached so far that a man could not walk from one extreme to the other for a day’s journey—this petted fellow, whom women had always loved, whom men had always regarded as a ‘ thorough good fellow.’ And just because he loved two women. The ponies’ clatter of hoof died away In the distance of the smooth, macadamized road, down which Alice had driven between the two rows of gorgeous foliaged trees, and Errol turned to look a f ter the elegant little equipage, a puzzled, questioning, almost defiant, look growing over his f>.ir, blonde face, that was so masculinely handsome in its golden moustache, and luxuriant whisker, and the close cut. loosely-curling hair, and a pained, worried expression creeping into the bold, dark blue eyes, that had looked such caressing tenderness Into many fair women’s.

Then he took Alma Middleton’s letter f 'om his pocke , and read and re read it carefully, thoughtfully, the puzzled, pained, half-reck-less look, deepening on the face and eyes ; and then he suddenly thrust the elegant little missive back, and drew a long breath, and went on through the delicious golden Autumn sunshine, wondering what was in store for him, and making up his mind that the best. Indeed, the only thing he could do, was to rest on his oars, and let himself be drifted along on the sea of destiny.

I don’t want to make Claude Errol appear any worse than he was ; because he was not more blameworthy than thousands of other men, and because he was more weak than wicked, is the reason why ho yielded himself np as a plaything in the hands of fate, to be tossed to and fro, until I have said it was less wickedness than weakness that kept him from asserting himself, as he should have done rather, as he should have done the hour he came home to Errolton, and crossed paths with the brown-eyed, brownhaired girl, who despite his engagement, fasinated and charmed him so. And now, with that fatal temperament of his, he refrained from undoing his wrong, even when he saw the meshes closing around him, because Mias Middleton and Alice would be sure to meet during Alma’s visit at Errolton.

So he cast all the waring care from him., and resolved that affairs must take care of themselves—pitiful as the excuse seemed to himself while he made it j and then he began to reason that line of specious argument one always has to use with one’s judgment and conscience He told himself how ridiculous it would be to go to Alice May. and tell her nob to love him any more. He told himself how cruel, how utterly heartless, it would be to withdraw his kindness from her of a sudden ; and he also told himself that he cared too much for her to be courageous enough to deliberately put her from him cared for her, and Alma Middleton wearing his ring! There was a little struggle between the right and the wrong, as he walked through his broad domains, and then he decided that, as things had progressed so far, he would leave it to Fate to decide the end of the path—leave it to Fate to decide which of the two women he would select and trusting to chance to steer between the Scylla and Charybdis that flanked his way ahead. * # * * * Those perfect October days went by like a triumphal progress, bearing those three mortals on to their Fate, and Errol played bis double role without exciting the slightest suspicion, and grew to enjoying the delicious excitement attending it. It certainly was a dangerous game, and all the more fascinating that it was dangerous. It had come to be an intoxication to him to see the sparkle in A'ioe May’s passionate brown eyes, the tender flush on Alma Middleton’s cool, pale cheeks —come bo be a delicious excitement to watch the two lovely women together, to compare and contrast them, and to he so positively confident that both of them loved him. And neither of those two loving, happy women suspected the cruel troth. Both went on, each expecting to be the blessed wife of this handsome man who had won their love ; until—one day everything was ripe for the end—until one day Claude Errol’s omi hand, that had that very day caressed Alice May’s shining brown hair so tenderly, and nestled a fragrant white rose among the puffs and braids, that had placed the engagement ring on Alma’s fair finger, and held her to his heart—wrought out the finishing of it all. It was so meet that it should have been so entirely his own fault—so just that in after time he could lay no tithe of censure on anyone but himself; and so strange, too, that it happened as it did. It was a rainy, stormy day that kept Errol’s guests lounging aimlessly about the house : and that was how it came to pass that Alice May stolled into the library, ali unconscious that her steps were every one urged by a power stronger than her own will—unconscious that the should find lying on the library table, just were Claude Errol had been sitting, live minutes before, a sheet of his own crested paper, over which his pen had been idly straying, forming fancy letters, elegant designs, his own intricate monogram and various initials, prominent among which were hei own, repeated over and over again “AM.” “AM.”—in all varieties of style It thrilled her to the very soul as she bent smilingly, blnshingly over it, her heart thr 'bbmg with great joy at this token of his rememberance of her in his lonely minutes. And then a little cry of deeper

delight came from her sweet, smiling iipa, to see, traced in a fine, dainty hand, like a secret whisper, yet unmistakably Claude’s own hand, three precious words, “Allie, my sweet!”

Then he truly and truly loved her. Then her heart had been right in giving itself to this princely lover, who would at his own good pleasure offer his love for her glad taking. She stooped and kissed the paper, just as she heard the rustle of skirts, and looked up to meet Miss Middleton’s quiet, inquiring gaze, and flushed to her very temples, then laughed.

‘ yon have discovered my sentimental vein, bat I— ’ She panaed suddenly, for Alma’n eyes had only just seen the writing on the piper, and her face kindled suddenly, then as quickly paled, and her low intense voice made Alice start with some vague sense of impending peril. • This, Mias—May, I think that is mine ! I am very sure it is mine. You —were not—not kissing that ?’ Alice drooped her brown eyes a second, then lifted them in proud courage. ‘ And why not ? I need not be ashamed that Claude—that Mr Krrol—chooses my name to write when he sits here airne.’

A look of sharp distress darkened Alma’s eyes. * Your name 7 Alice—dear little Alice — there is some terrible mistake; some terrible misunderstanding. ’ Her voice trembled, and her eyes had a look in them that went straight to Alice’s heart. If Claude Errol could but have seen those two fair women then —one, who wore his ring, with her face pale with the sudden, pitiful suspicion that was cruelly hurting her ; with her proud, pure face turned in stem self-control towards Alice, flushing and paling, trembling under the strong excitement of that fatal moment, with a vague, horrible peril tugging at her heart. Miss Middleton laid her hand gently on Alice’s both fair hands, resting on that destined sheet of paper. ‘ Have yon thought that I can justly claim this little token of remembrance, child? i)o you forgat my initials are “A.M.” too? Alice’—for a sudden, dying pain dashed into the piteous, imploring brown eyes, that struck tonchingly to Alma's woman’s heart —‘Alice, dear, don’t tell me you love him, toe!’ Oh, this is awful to have to say! Alice, dear, I have been engaged to him for months 1’

Alice drew her hand away from Alma’s with a little moan !

* I thought it was me! I love him so—

And then she fell, sobbing, in Alma’s arms, and the two women’s tears flowed and mingled for love of Claude Errol. Then Alma, braver, stronger of the two, uprose from the woe that had come to them.

*We will never forget he was not worthy of either of ns, Alice. The man who dare play with two women’s hearts shall never wear either. Alice, his punishment will be just, and he will understand without a word from either of us ’

She took cff her diamond ring, and laid it on the fateful sheet of paper, and beside it the half-wilted rosebud in Alice’s hair—mute tokens of the end of the game of chance ; dumb yet eloquent signs that the blind drifting on the Summer sea had brought shipwreck at last. And Claude Errol found the token, and, amid all the shame, the wounded sensitiveness the pride, was dismalest regret that was unavailing.