LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1932, 4 May 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE DARK CORNER, ( Concluded ,) • No. I do not 1 but I should like, O so much!’ ‘ lon shall learn,’ ho replied. * and I will teach you. Comanche is a splendid saddle horse, and very ‘gentle, despite his name. You have no riding habit, I suppose V ‘ No, I have none,’ said Lily, in a slightly perplexed tone. * Mrs Dunn, the principal milliner and dres■maker of the village, visits a neighbouring city every season, for the purpose of filling orders and securing the latest styles. I saw an advertisement to that effect in the village paper yesterday. She can select a habit for you while in the city ; it will be the very thing. We will drive down to the village at once, and give the order.’ ‘ 1 think I shall he able to make one out of a dress I already have,’ returned Lily, her face flushing crimson as|she remembered that the funds left after her father’s death were exhausted in procuring her mourning. ‘ How is this ?” asked Paul. ‘ A moment ago you were all sunshine, all smiles, and now you are perplexed, frowning. Ah, I see. You will not accept a gift from your fathers friend.’

4 Lily, ’ he resumed, after a pause, “ do you know that I have not a relative on earth ? Do you know that before I saw you I was not bound by any feeling of real love to a living soul except]your father? I never had a daughter, but I love yon with a love entirely different from that which I have ever felt for a human being before. When you are dignified I feel towards you as a R other might to a dear sister; but when you are childish, as you are now, yon soem to me more as a daughter would to an affectionate parent. Now, once for all let us decide this question ; will you let me care tor you as though you were my own —sister ? Let me be your protector, as your father designed ?’ The tears headed Lily’s lashes as she placed her hand in his. He tenderly kissed her forehead as a seal to the compact; and as he did so a new bom joy and hope filled his heart

The habit was ordered, and when it arrived, Lily went up to put it on for a ride, hardly realizing that anything so elegant could really be hor’s. Paul >ad given all the directions concerning it, at her request. She looked wonderouely beantifnl as she appeared on the piazza, the rich black velvet skirt trailing on the flo .r, and the jaunty hat with the s iblo plume making her hair so bright and golden by contrast. Her violet eyes were sparkling with pleasureable excitement. and her cheeks rosy with health and happiness. Paul thought he had never seen a fairer picture. She had often pet'ed ‘Comanche’ in the stable, but now, as Paul assisted her to mount, her head grew dizzy and her hands tierabled

Paul observed it, and taking the rein, he instructed her how to hold it, and, after giving at length general directions, ho placed iu her hand a small golden ferrule with her name engraved upon it. f'he smiled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks as she thanked him j and grasping tho r- iu firmly in her hand, she said, ‘ldo not think '■ shad be afraid now.’ Paul mounted his horse, and they rode away, very slowly at first; bnt by drgrees, Li'y’s fears all vanished, and she gave herself up to the spirt of abandon —the wild, free emotions one feels when mounted upon a s 1 fa but spirited hoive, and dashing along a smooth road, surrounded on every side by grand and picturesque scenery. Bright happy days followed. A.nd when, one evening, Paul whispered his love for her in ends ring words, and asked her to be his wife, she placed her hand in his hand and

said, ‘ I love you - I have no one ua earth but yon. ’ Charity, passing the door at that moment, congratulated herself upon the sage prophesy of the previous month, and immediately placed a box of raisins on her list of wants for the following week. ‘I will make s plum-cake at once,’ she said, ‘as it improves by keeping.’ Two weeks afterwards, Lily received a letter. 'lt is strange,’ she said, as she opened it. ‘I cannot think who would write to me. and the handwriting is not familiar. ’ It proved to be from a distant relative ; he had been her schoolmate, her boy lover, and Paul marked the flush on her cheek as she read it.

‘ It is from a distant cousin,’ she explained, as she placed it in his band. He wrote in a friendly strain, not in the least ioverlike, saying that he was obliged to pass through their village on business, and promising himself the pleasure of a visit at -the house of Mr Geary, If agreeable, on his return. ‘Write to him to come, by all means,’ said Paul.

A pang shot through his heart as he welcomed him, a week later, for Edgar Wilde was very handsome, with something in his look that reminded Paul of the trait or friend of his youth. He admired Lily, and openly expressed his admiration, in looks and actions, if not in words. Lily would have in f orrael him of their engagement, but Paal objected. ‘Edgar would not feel so much at ease,’ he argued, ‘and I wish you to be unre strained ’

Lily’s face grew a shade more thoughtful as the days passed. Edgar was with her constantly, and Paul often left them together, while days would sometimes pass, without her being a single moment alone with Paul. He seemed almost as distant as in the days when she first knew him, and she missed h’s dear love sadly. Paul observed the change in Lily. ‘ She already regards the yoke burdensome,’ he thought; “fool that I was again.” Rut sometimes when he met her glance ; he would waver, and almost believe she loved him yet. One evening, on returning from a walk, he met Edgar, who asked permission to address Lily. Paul grey very pale, but replied ;

* Certainly, and tell her she will be my heiress whatever may be the result of her decision ; she is to let her heart spsak ’ As he uttered these words a gleam fl ashed across his eyes ; it was from an emerald ring that Edgar wore upon his hand. A purple shade settled round Paul’s lips as he said : ‘ That is a curious ring yon have ; allow me to look at it for a moment.’

‘ Certainly ; it was a gift from my father, and once belonged to my stepmother, I believe. ’

Paul took tho ring. He recognized it at once It was his betrothal ring, the one he had given to his wife. He remembered with bitterness the saying, “an emerald without a flaw,” and thought of his allusion to it, with the remark that he had found a perfect emerald, and a perfect woman. * What was yonr father’s name ?’ he asked.

‘ Henry Hall, My own mother’s brother, a childless uncle, adopted me after my father’s death, and insisted that I should take his name, as he always disliked my father.’

‘And your stepmother?’ * She died before my father, while they were sojourning there. She was a beautiful woman, bnt with delicate health, and the most sorrowful looking person I ever knew.’ Paul could listen no longer, but, returning the ring, passed into the house. His mind was so tossed by conflicting emotion, that he feared his reason would forsake him. It is evident, thought he that his supposed stepmother was once my wife. He debated for some time, whether or not ho should retract the words he had tpoken with regard to Lily, * though he may be unlike his father in everything but form and feature,’ he thought. Faint and trembling he passed to his room, and sitting down by the window, brushed the hair from his damp throbbing temples, hoping that the air might cool his fevered brain. Glancing from the window, he saw Edgar and Lily walking under the fir trees. Lily face was turned from his, bnt Edgar’s was earnest and full of entreaty, and, as though actuated by a sudden impulse, he caught her in hia arms and kissed her passionately. * I cannot bear it! ’ cried Paul, as he sprang to his feet and set his teeth firmly together. ‘My God! what other tortures are in store for me ?’

He bowed his face upon his hands and sank upon his conch. In a few moments he arose, and taking his pen, hs wrote two notes. One he directed to Lily, and the other to the cashier of the bank in which his funds were deposited. He placed Lily’s note upon his writingdesk, and making a few hurried preparations, he put out his light and left the house quietly. All was still as death when he passed out, but his excitement was so great he did not observe it. He had funds enough in his possession for several months’ use if judiciously expended. Passing through the village he mailed the letter, and as he turned from the Post Office, he saw Edgar tv ilde on the other side of the street. Turning aside to avoid meeting him, he walked with all possible haste to the nearest railway station. It was late when he arrived, but by taking the earliest train, he was so-n in the city, and thence he embarko 1 for Europe. And Lily! When Edgar sought her uoder the fir trees, and asked her to be his wife, she gently, but firmly refused him. Finding that entreaty was vain, he caught her in his arms, and kissing her adieu, left her.

Lily lingered in the garden, watching Paul’s window, with a feeling of relief that Edgar was gone ; aud until the light disappeared in Paul’s room. ‘He has retired early,’ she thought, ‘ though it isn’t like him to wait so long for the resut of anything that affects us so nearly. ’ She retired to her room and sought her pillow. Next morning, however, as Paul did not make his appearance, and Charity failed to rouse him by knocking, they became alarmed, and entered the room. His note to Lily lay as he had left it, and taking it up she read :

4 1 saw yon and Edgar under the fir trees, dear Lily, and witnessed his affectionate caress. I give yon up gladly, it you are happier to have it so; but it is beat for me to go away for a time at least. Yon arc to remain here as though the place were your own. It shall be legally so, some day, and for present funds you are to draw from the bank, as I have placed a large amount to your credit. Show this to Edgar, and he will approve my action. I do not blame you ; it was quite natural that you should prefer his young, handsome face to my own. Do not let the thought that I am unhappy make you so, for at the worst, life cannot be much more de;olate than it was before I saw your sweet face. Adieu. Paul.

‘He will come back, dear LPy.’ said Charity, as Lily, faint and white, sank into a chair. ‘ Not now ! ’ cried Lily, starting up. *lf I could rend the veil of the future ! but this suspense is torture 1 O, Charity, he must, he will come back, but it may be long years first. It I could only “drink madrigora,” and sleep them all away ! ’ For days she gave up her heart to sorrow. The house was closed, and she would sea no one But one morning, as she awoke, the birds were singing, and she saw the sun playing on the grass in the far-off meadows, she went out and cried : ‘ Give me some work to do. Charity, or I shall go mad!’ ‘lf you please, miss,’ aa : d Charity, with moistened eyes, ‘ there are some poor families in the neighbourhood that would be glad of a little assistance.’

‘ It is just what I need, dear, good Charity,” said Lily; ‘we will go to work at once.’

So garments were made and provisions furnished, until the poor for many miles around blessed Lily’s name. The fir trees wore thinned and trimmed, and flowers planted ; the place must be made as attractive as possible, for Paul might come at any time. Paul wandered over Europe f r nearly a year, until by accident, ho met an acquaintance, who came from his own native town. From him he learned that Lily was unmarried, that she was waiting for him, and of her active, useful life. For Charity had thought, upon reflection, it was best to make the story public. Paul heard with astonishment, for his informant was a man whose word he would never doubt, A.nd he had loft Lily in that heartless, cowardly manner, wnen she really loved him. Making his preparations as hastily as ho hid done on leaving homo, he

B-i led Limit'd ateij, sad arriving safely, made all speed to return. It was evening when he arrived at Dark Corner, but he saw how much it was improved. He rung the bell, and Charity appeared at the door. * O, Charity, where is she V Lily heard the cry, and though she had been listening for his voice so long and patiently her strength, which had been so enduring, left her, and she could not rise. Another moment and she was in his arms.

'My da-llng ! by brave Lily ! my dear faithful girl ! can you ever forgive me ? ’ ho cried, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her hair. And Lily laid her head upon his shoulder and wept for joy. ‘ I cannot think how I could have been so blind,’ he said, striving to soothe her, though he was not less excited than herself.

* Love is blind,’ said Lily. ‘Sometimes, and jealousy always.’ And when they grew calmer, Lily heard the story of his lite from his own lips. ‘I am older than when I left you ; you can hardly love me now,’he said.

‘ But I do,’ she replied. ‘And if that will bring you happiness, X love you so you shall forget all the outer sorrows cf the past.’