LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1968, 15 June 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

LUCRETIA.—A CANADIAN HOTEL ADVENTURE. [Abridged from the Christmas number of “Belgravia.”] ( Continued.) At last we reached Richmond Depot, very cold and tired externally, but lively enough as regards the internal fires. We got out, and looked after onr luggage. A sleepy porter promised to bring it next morning to the hotel. There were no sleighs in wating —Eichmond ia too much of a country station for that—so I took my reticule in my band, threw Lncretia’s rug across her shoulders, and proceed to walk with her to the hotel.

Now, the ‘Depot’ is in a suburb known as Melbourne, while Richmond itself lies on the other side of the river St. Francis, here crossed by a long covered bridge, a sort of rough wooden counterpart of the famous one at Lucerne.

As we passed out into the cold night it was snowing heavily, and the frost was very bitter. Lncretia took my arm without a word of prelude, as naturally as if she were my sister, and guided me through the enowcovered path to the bridge. When we got under the shelter of the wooden covering, we had to pass through the long dark gallery, as black as night, heading only for the dim square of moonlight at the other end. But Lncretia walked and chatted on as unconcernedly as if she had always been in the habit of traversing that lonely tunnel-like bridge with a total stranger every evening of her life, I confess I was surprised. I fancied a prim English girl in a similar situation, and I began to wonder whether all this art’ossness was really as genuine as it looked. At the opposite end of the bridge we emerged upon a street of wooden frame houses. In one of them only there was a light. ‘ That’s the hotel 1 ’ said Lncretia, nodding towards it, and again 1 suffered a thrill of disappointment. I had pictured to myself a great solid building like the St. Lawrence Hall at Montreal, forgetting that Richmond was a mere country village ; and here I found a bit of a frame cottage as the whole domain of Luoretia’s supposed father. It was too awful! We reached the door and entered. Fresh surprises were in store for me. The passage led into a bar, where half a dozen French Canadians were sitting with bottles and glasses, playing some game of cards.

One rather rough - looking young man jumped up in astonishment as we entered, and exclaimed, ‘ Why, Lucretia, we didn’t expect you for another hour, I meant to take the sleigh for you.’ .1 could have knocked him down for calling her by her Christian name, but the conviction flashed upon me that this was Luoretia’a brother.

He glanced up at the big Yankee c’ock on the mantelpiece, which pointed to a quarter past twelve, then pulled out his watch, and whistled.

* Stopped three quarters of an hour ago, by jingo,’ was his comment; ‘ why, I forgot to wind it up. Upon my word, Lucretia, I’m awfully sorry. But who is the gentleman ?’

‘ A friend of the Pritchards, Tom dear, who wants a bed here to-night. I couldn’t imagine why the sleigh didn’t come for me. It’s so unlike yon not to remember it.” And she gave him a look to melt adamant. Tom was profuse in his apologies, and made it quite clear that his intentions at least had been most excellent; besides, he kissed Lucretia with so much brotherly tenderness that I relented of my desire to knock him down. Then brother and sister retired for a while, apparently to see after my bed-room, and I was left alone in the bar. I cannot say I liked the look of it. The men were drinking whisky and playing eoarte—two bad things, I thought, in my twenty-year-old propriety. My dear mother hated gambling, with a hatred she had instilled into my youthful mind, and this was evidently a backwoods gambling-house. Moreover, I carried a bag of silver coin, quite large enough to make it well worth while to rob me. The appearances were clearly against Lncretia’s home ; bnt surely Lucretia herself was a guarantee for anything. Presently Tom returned, and told me my room was ready, I followed him up the stairs with a beating heart and heavy reticule. At the top of the landing Lucretia stood smiling, my candle in her hand, and showed me into the room. Tom and she looked around to see that all was comfortable, and then they both shook bands with me, which certainly seemed a curious thing for an inn-keeper and his sister. As soon as they were gone, I began to look about me and consider the situation. The room had two doors, but the key was gone from both. I opened one towards the passage, but found no key outside ; the other, which probably communicated with a neighbouring bedroom, was locked from the opposite side. Moreover, there had once been a common bolt on this second door, but it had been removed. I looked close at the screw holes and was sure they were quite fresh. Could the bolt have been taken off while I was waiting at the bar ? All at once it flashed upon my mind that I had been imprudently confiding in my disclosures to Lucretia. I had told her that I carried £l5O in coin, an easy thing to rob and a difficult thing to Identify. She had heard that nobody was aware of my presence in Richmond, except herself and her brother. I had not written to tell the Pritchards I was coming, and she knew that I had not told anyone of my whereabouts, because I did not decide where I should go until I talked with her about the matter, ifo one in Canada would miss mo. If these people chose to murder me for my money (and innkeepers often murder their guests, I thought) nobody would think of enquiring or know where to enquire for me. Weeks would elapse before my mother wrote from England to ask my whereabouts, and by that time all traces might well be lost. I left Quebec only telling the people at my hotel that I was going to Montreal. Then I thought of Lucretia’s eagerness Jto get into conversation, her observation about my money, her suggestion that I should come to the Richmond Hotel. And how could she, a small innkeeper’s daughter, afford to get all those furs and lockets by fair means ? Did she really know the Pritchards, or was it likely, considering her position ?_ All these things came across me in a moment. What a fool I had been ever to think of trusting such a girl. I got np and walked about the room. It was evidently Luretia’a own bedroom. ‘Part of the decoy.’ said I to myself sapiently. But could so beantifnl a girl really hurt one? A piece of music was lying on the dressing-table, it was a song from ‘ Luorezia Borgia.’ Her very name betrayed her. She too was a Lucretia. I walked over to the mantle-piece. A little ivory miniature huug above the centre ; I gave it a glance as I passed. Incredible, It was the Beatrice Cenci. Talk of beautiful women. Why, they poison one, they stab one, they burn one alive, with a smile on their lips. Lucretia must have a taste for murderesses. Evidently eho is a connoisseur. At least, thought I, I shall sell my life dearly. I could not go to bed; bnt I pulled the bed stead over against one of the doors—the locked one—and I laid the mattress down in front of the other. Then I lay down on the mattress, my money-bag under my head, and put the poker conveniently by my side. If they came to rob and murder me, they should at least have a broken head to account for next day. But I soon got tired of this defensive attitude, and reflected &that if I must lay awake all night, I might as well have something to read. So I went over to the little bookcase and took down the first book which came to hand. It was a novel by Victor Hugo, 'This, at any rate, ’ I said to myself, ‘will be light and interesting.’ I returned to my mattress, opsred the volume, and began to read. I had never before dipped into that terrible drama, and I devoured it with a horrid avidity. I read how Triboulet bribed the gipsy to murder the king; how the gipsy’s sister beguiled him into the hut; how the plot was matured ; and how the sack containing the corpse was delivered to Triboulet. _ It was an awful play to read on such_ a night and in such a place, the wind howling _ round the the corners and the snow gathering deeply upon the window panes. I was in a com slderable state of fright when I began it; 1 was in an agony of terror before I had got half-way through. Now and then I heard footsteps on the stairs; again I could distinguish two voices, one a woman’s whispering outside the door, a little later, the other door was very slightly opened and then pushed back again very slightly by a man e

hand. Still I read oa. At last, just as 3t reached the point where Triboulet la about to throw the corpse into the river, my candle, s mere end, began to sputter in its > socket, and after a few ineffectual flickers suddenly went out, leaving mo in the dark till morning. I lay down once more, trembling bet wearied out. A few minutes later the voices again. The further door was opened a second time, and I saw dimly a pair of eyes T(not, I felt sure, Luo-etia’s) peering into the gloom, and reflecting the light from the snow on the window. A man’s voice said huskily in an undertone, ‘ It’s all right nowand then there was a si'ence. I knew they were coming to murder me. I clutched the poker firmly, stood on guard over the dollars, and waited the assenli. The moment that intervened seemed like a lifetime A minute. Fire minutes. A quarter of an hour. They are evidently trying to take me off my guard. Perhaps they saw the poker ; in any case, they must have felt the bedstead against the door. That would show them that I expected them. I held my watch to my e«r aud counted the seconds, then the minutes then the boars. When the candle went oat it was three o’clock. I counted up till about half-past five. After that I must have fallen asleep from very weariness. My head glided back upon the reticule, and 1 dosed uneasily until morning. Every now and then I started in my sleep, but the murderers hung back. When I woke it was eight o’clock, and the dollars were still safe under my head. I rose wearily, washed myi elf, and arranged the tumbled clothes ia which I had slept, for my portmanteau had not yet arrived from the depot. Next, 1 put baok the bed and matreas, and < hen I t ok the dollars and went down-stairs to the bar, hardly knowing whether to laugh at my last night’s terror, or to congratulate myself oa my lucky escape from a den of robbers. At the foot of the stairs, whom should I oome across but Lncretia herself ?

In a moment the doubt was gone. She was enchanting. Quite a different style of dress, bnt eqv ally lovely’and suitable. A long figured gown of some fine woollen materia), giving very nearly the effect of a plain neat print, and made quite simply to fit her perfect little figure. Hair tied in a single broad knot above the herd, instead of yesterday’s chignon and cheese-plate. Altogether, a model winter morning costume for a cold climate. And as she advanced frankly, holding out her hand with a smile, I could have cut my own throat with a pocket-knife as a merited punishment for daring to distrust her. Such is human nature at the ripe age of twenty ? * We were so afraid yon didn’t sleep, Tom and I,’she said with a tone of anxiety : ‘we liw a light in yonr room till’so very late, and Tom opened the door a wee bit once or twice to see if yon were sleeping ; bu* he said yon seemed to have pnlled the mattress on the floor. Ido hope you weren’t ill.’ What on earth could I answer ? Dare I tell this angel how I had suspected her ? Impossible ! ‘Well,’ I stammered out, coloring np t» my eyes, ‘I was rather over-tired, and couldn’t get to rest, so I put the candle oa & chair, took a book, and lay on the floor so as to have a light to read by But I slept very well after the candle went out, thank yon.’ * There were none but French books in the room, though,’ she said quickly, ‘perhaps you read French V ‘I read “Le Roi s’amnse,” or part of it,’ said I. (,To ie continued.