LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1935, 7 May 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

STELLA.. Just at that moment there was nothing in the universe between Vega Lyra and me. I lay out thero among the rocks st the foot of the shrubs, where the wind was blowing the other way, th-t sea rustling up the shingle far below in the soft melancholy summernight. Summer night should not be melancholy, except as melancholy always follows on the trail of exceeding beauty in our sensa tion with the effort of the finite to ap proach. the infinite, perhaps. But all nights in effect, and days, tor*, were melancholy then to me; the world a desolation sines Stella went to sea. If she had not gone as she did, I said to myself when the first fire fell; but what wa" one to expect of a young girl suddenly launched on the luxury of tho most luxui - ious »ea-si.le life ? She was a village maiden and had not been eo much admired in the country town, where redder hair and blacker eyes and thicker hair were more to the rustic tase But when I went to hillside as the headquarters of my sketching-ground, it seemed to me that fairer hues and liner lines and more ethereal beauty I bad never found ; delicate a=i some chiseled statue, color such as that statue might have if it just to breathe and blush, and silky hair soft as a child's with tendril like rings. In three months' time the airy, perfect being had promised to be my wife, whenever ths good taste of pat-ons should so increase that my pictures would shelter two, and meanwhile wo kept the story of our passion to ourselves —the sweeter secret.

Life sped on that year with rainbowed wings ; the future stretched bright as a dream ; the present was pure joy. In the second yes.r Stella went to visit friends at Newport, once the Summer boarders of Hillside, but now the owner of a villa, all peaks aud gables and verandahs, set amidst lawn and fountains and vases overfl wing with flowers, on the edge of the sea—a palace masquerading as a cottage. A shadow then seemed to overspread the heavens with its evil wings, and the gloom of it was scarcely lifted by the letters that came tell ng of the gay life One day i followed down behind her, aud established myself—Newport was one of my old haunts, and I had known how to be happy there once. I did not know how to be happy there now. I had scarcely a moment of Stella to myself. If I went to Mrs Rittener's in the morning, a throng of be ribbo.-.ed damsels sat on the wir'e porches encircling Stella ; they learned a song, thej practised a new dance together, a:>d, with a g op of dandies, young millionaires, and attacnes of fcreign legations, they did a little of the Koccacio and Watteau life. In the afternoon I found the hor»es at the gate. Breakfasts, fetes champetres, matinees, dansantes, bathing, driving, yachting, tilled one day after another, and Stella was the joyous thing round which everything seemed to circle. It was a new life to her. She knew it did not belong to her ; that it was a leaf borrowed from tho existence of others ; that she must go back to quiet duties and restricted pleasures It was like reading sorrn de licions romance—she reveled in it now, and gave no heed to the time when it should come to an end. But I—l, of course, did not recognise this; I saw her like a butterfly hovering over bright flowers, as light as purposeless, as lovely, dancing in the beam, drinking the perfume, all a la folie ; and every day of it maddened me one degree more than the last. Early in the morning, from my own window, I could see her alone on the lawn in her white gown, strolling to lean over the sea, or filling her arms with flowers; bat it would have been out of the question to go to her then ; and late at night, if I lingered until others had departed, I was harrassed by Mrs Rittener, who knew nothing jof any relation between us, and who had disapproved of a paor artist while there was such & parti tr> be had as young De Luyster, the wealthiaßt blase young bachelor of New York, or as the old Count Moiitimorenci, who was fascinated by the beauties ofjAmerica, and was about to give his jeunesse epuisee, his title, castles, jewels, and all the "remainder," to any one amongst them who chanced to be lovely and adroit enough to take his fancy; or Mr Burleigh, the pork contractor, who owned half 11-i"ois ; or a score of others, in fact, to the tried experience of each of whom Stella was like some spirit wandering out of a strange land, just alit for a moment among them. I knew in my heart that Stella was faithful to her love, but all of this disquietad and kept me in a tarmoil, and there was no one of all the suitors th'»t so filled me with disgust as De Luyster.

Utterly worn out in tl,e fierce pursuit of pleasure as he was, and knowin.; all I did about him, to see him nddreos my Httlo girl was profanation; and, when I furiomly watched them in the waltz the light touch of his ha-id Beamed a sacrilege. For some inscrutable reason, or rather from my very reverence for her, I could not epeik freely on the matter; I could not eveu haroor tha idea of making him the subject of a second thought in her innocent mind. If glances could have killed the man, he would have been stabbed to death ; the rest I endured in silence.

And it asked for endurance, to see her flashing beside Do Luyater as he drove his four-in-hand ; to see her strolling with him in moonlight, and pausing to listen to the murmur of the sea ; to see him hand her to the deck of his yacht as if she were its queen ; no matter if a crowd were with him, it always Beemed to mo then that she was there on the wide sea alone with him

It was concerning this accursed yacht that all the trouble came. Mrs Rittener and her retinue of youths and maidens were to go out with De Luyster sailing along the coast some days. His yacht was his pet fancy. She had spread her wings and flown across the Atlantic in I don't know how few days, and from truck to keelson she was altogether perfeot. Doubtless I could have gone along had I chosen, but there were not forces in nature sufficient to have drawn me on board the Flight. 'Not going ?' cried Stella, coming down to me in her blue yachting dress and broad hat, with the fair hair waving round her sweet face —a sea-nymph in disguise. • Certainly not! ' I said. 'And I should greatly prefer that you remained at homo.' ' I ?' she cried, in (jay aßtonishmer.t. ' Why, how could I, dear ? I couldn't you know. The sail is given for me. I wieh you would go-' ' Go ! ' I answered her in scorn.

She looked at me in amazement. ' Why do you speak so ? ' she said. 'What right has that man to give the sail to vou ? that—' I paused, remembering myself.

' Please toll mo what you mean,' she said gently, ' 1 mean nothing exefpt to insist that you Bhall not join that party.' ' It is absolutely impossible for me to do so,' she said, with a little gasp, _ • If you had spokf n before ; not now—now it wculd b;rude and unkind, and he is alwayi so kind to me, it would not even be decent; and then you know Mrs "Rittarner —' ' Confound Mrs Ritterner! What do I care for her ? I care for you. I won't havo

yon compromised by this fellow's addresses. I will not h ive the good name of my future wife—'

'Your future wife can take care of her own good name, ' said Stella then, softly and gravely with a lovely dignity that for a moment quelled me ' I csnnot sea,' she resumed, breaking the short silence, the surprise not yet all gone from her Jeyas, ' why you will not go yourself ? Ju<t think how perfect it is, dear,' and her face began to kindle, * sweeping out under the groat white sails in the sunshine, beneath blue sky, and over blue sea, with mußic and dancing, and the glorious wind—and sunset at sea —and the little young moon sailing alon,:; be-ide us ; and the starlight, dear, when the dark is overhead and underneath, and we seem to be floating in mystery ! and then, at last, the sunrise after the dawning, all purple acd T-ose, and all the dewyness of moaning at sea. I was out once with Mr 3 Ritterm r Oh, darling, £o come!' ' Never !' I cried, like the brute I was. rage and bitterness getting the better of everything e'se as I thought of her with that wretch in all those scenes. ' Never ! And if you persist in going, I warnyourinw that it is the last request. I shall consider everything between us at an end !" And before another word could be said, Mr Kit ierner and Da Luyster and FJorenee and Pei cival were at our side, the servants were hurrying down with luggage, the hor-:es wore prancing at the gate. There was » moment of confusion, some protestations, I fancied, some outcry, and then whether she would or not, surrounded by the others, and all taken for granted, she was in the carriage and they were off. Well, what days, what hateful days, thsy were that followed ! Of course. I oid not leave the place, and 1 spent the time mooning about the island with my sketching book. But all the glory had gone from nature, all the satisfaction of beauty from my Eonl; tho sun shone and the skies were b'no, but the world wan a wilderness. I could see notlrng but the great yatch bending and bowing over the waters, a shining phantom by day, a pale ghost by night; visions of the luxurious life, the dance music, the flowers, the feasting, and in it all my Stella and that man ; when the deep, delicious dusk shut them iD, rocking on from billow to billow, nndor the towering of the great shadowy sai's, under the powdery splendour of the stars, Stella and that man together ! By the end of the third day I was wrought to a pitch of madness. I felt myself justified in my wrath open'y defied, my tenderest feeling outraged. I said I snould never see her again. I abandoned her to her fate. 1 began to paint t'iem impetaoualy. Such sea scenes as swept across my fancy ! Such color as seemed to ripen on my palette ! Such reefs wrapt with foam wreaths of summer seas glimmering beyond them in the half risen moon, like the paved way into heaven, or those same reefs when their horns tore the angry waters into fleece, stretch after stretch of storm drowning out the staggering masts, arid yet again the placid down of the ruddy day, about them as the long waves creamed up the curving shores, and broke in rainbows round the naked babies wading in, and the dipping wiags of the sea-birds My pencil seemed gifted by magic ; fame danced before my eyes, a resplendent shape. Stella should lament the day she forsook this painter of pictures for that imbecile wealth. And all at once I turned my canvas to the wall; my heart was breaking. The Flight had been due on the midnight tide. Of oiu'se, had Srella signified the wish, she would have been there —would have been there even earlier. The day drew on to nightfall. Other sai!s drew huddling in, pleasure boats and stately ships and fishing fleets made anchor, and found haven from the gathering storm ; but there was no sign of the Flight. The roaiing eaEt wind came driving all the mists across the land, the world was wrapped in rain. AH night the tempeat raged, swept acrosß the gardens, and beat down the blossoms on the tsrraces of flowers, sent great boughs flying through the air ; all night hearts stopped with its every fresh gust; all night the land Bhonk with its shook, all night the sea replied; and when at last day dawned, great racks of pearly cloud lay off in the low eastern sea, a zephyr only moved from the south, and all the s ipphire blazed above and blazed below, as if the storm had been an evil dream. But it was no dream—the coast was strawn with wrecks ; more than one corpse among the rocks and weeds looked up with blank eyes to the morning light. There was a glorious sea on, and crowds were out surveying its splendor. Crowds, too, were wasting their wonder on the Flight. Where was she ? Who had spoken to her? Had she foundered and gonn down? Had she blown off the coast ? Wonld any one see her again come sweeping into harbor with all sail set, a tower of snow and light, with the music and the dancing? There was none to say. No one had spoken her; and search the horizon with burning eyes, no sign of her white sail, her golden pennon, was to be seen.

And day followed day the same. And a thrill of horror went to more hearts than one at the thought of the gay party going down with flags flying, and the world that had known them suspended for a while its festivity, or turned its mourning into pleasure by yachting up and down the casst in search, putting into harbor every sundown. But when ten days had passed, with ni'iet doubt had settled into certainty, and the liitle world was taking on its old ways again. Only they missed the tawny beauty of the Percival girl on the drive, the reckless dash of De Luyster, the solemn stiffness of old Montmorenci, they missed, indeed, that airy vision of unreal beauty whose absence made the place a desert; at least it did to me, The Rittener villa, dark as any jail, no longer with snowy clouds blowing from the windows, no longer with gay groups upon its lawn, seemed to meek the blooming of the flowers that lifted their scarlet and gold azure gaily as ever to tho indifferent skies from bed, and vase, and urn.

' And so they're giving up the Flight, I hear,' said old Simpson, 'he lobster man as I wandered down the beach I haunted all day long, and where he had lo ked up at me so often with reassuring eyes, as he mended hi« nets or tumbled out his wiggling load. ' Well, don't you be any man's fool, sir, and follow euch suit,' he said. ' Ben. Burnham was never at the hellnm for nothing When Ben Burnham piloted in Boston Biy, and knew he couldn't make Highland Light, he put her helium hard down and scud for Squam. He was in blue water bef >re the first whisper of that gale, sir, and he's been there before and often in like cases ; and when he is, he heads for the Bermudies sir. And you'll be finding, when the Flight comes in, with all her linen stretched, that they've been rambling over the Bermudies while they ve been eating your heart out sir.'

Poor fool! At that moment I stooped to pull a bit of sea-weed, a ribbon of the dulse from the wave breaking at my f *at—it was the little golden pennon of the Fl ght ! There was nothing more to say. I held it up before his gapiug face. The world turned back—l reeled away, and hid myself that day. My darling ! My darling ! While I had been painting these treacherous peas, she had been in tneir deadly grasp, she had gone down their black depth —and with him ! While I had rested in the sunshine, she had pas-ed, the great agony—she so young, so fair, innocent! She had died while rage was in my heart for her swe.t sake. I held out my arm to nothingneps ; my heart beat with mere pangs. If I might die myself, if I might have but one one hoar, one moment of this eternity, to beg her to forgive me, and then to accept nihility for all the rest. Ah, for one word ! Where was she ? In what upper regions, what regions of light ? I opened by eyes, ss I lay there in the evening dusk gazing up, and the idle thought came, as idle thoughts alight on one perhaps in the very death struggle, that at that moment there was nothing in the universo between me and Lyra Vega. The great blue star shone over m° — Did great blue stars have faces, then — fair faces with faiut rose-flushes, with soft baby hair blowing round them, with tears, with eye 3 like stars themselves, with lips fall of warm, fragrant kiafc ? Did stars de3ccnd out of the far night tky and fashion themselves Into such creations as this sweet and sobbing thing that all at once I held in pulsating arms ? Had I gone wild myself, or did any great blue star of all in Heaven wear Stella's face ? I was walking on that beach a mouth later, with my wife's hand in mine, when old Ben. Simpson looked np from his nets, over which we had nearly tumbled, and, grinning, touched his forelock. ' You see, I told you, sir.' said he, « there was no need to worry with Bea. Burnham at the helium!'