LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1989, 9 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER. By “Pkei.” My cousin, George Paxton, being abroad, had offered me the use of his bouse, a fine old rambling mansion, situated on the north part of the Cornish coast. The wooded estate or park, upon which the house stood, extended about two miles along the shore; while the uplands behind the house stretched away Into a wild open moor. Ihe shore side was Indented with three inlets, luxuriantly wooded down almost to the edge of the water. Within the one nearest the house rode at anchor a graceful little yacht. The day following our arrival, Jack Helvian, a friend who had accompanied me into Cornwall, drove to Fenheniot, to mast our old schoolfellow St. Clare, who, being stationed at Plymouth, had written to say he would like to join na. While ho was gone, I walked over to Trevenion to call on the Chestertons, old friends of mine; indeed, the chief inducement to taking my cousin’s house was, that theirs was in such easily accessible proximity. An unexpected pleasure awaited me at the end of my walk, for seated on the stile which gives entrance from the home fields through the shrubbery into the garden, I found Rose sitting in the garden, who greeted me with a pretty little scream of delighted surprise ; and standing on the second step of the stile, she leaned over for such a kiss as a year’s absence alone could teaoh. I felt very proud of the bright graceful Cornish girl who had elected to share life with me, and my day passed as such days always do, too fast; thus before I had scarcely realised the joy of onr reunion, I was again retracing my steps to Drathnare. I found Helvian and St. Clare had arrived before me. We passed the evening in pleasant chat, and in many a reminiscence of boyish escapades and inquiries after mutual acquaintances. I found St. Clare knew something of the Chestertons. Two years ago, at the Curragh, he had met, so he said, Captain Chesterton of the 60th, whose sudden death there ha well remembered, ‘By-thebye, Frank,’ ha said, ‘I must congratulate you on the felicity of your choice. I onoe had the pleasure of meeting Miss Chesterton, when she was on a visit at her annt’s in Dublin; and last year I remembered how she exasperated our fellows by leaving the week before the Garrison Ball,” One object of St, Clare’s visit here, so he explained to ns that night, was to inspect a farm, lately left him by an old maiden aunt. The farm lay beyond Trevenion, and as his road passed very near the Chestertons I availed myself one morning of the opportunity of sending a message to Rose, stating my inability to spend the following day with her. which I bad partly promised to do, because 1 found Helvian had made a prior engagement for us with some fellowsportsmen. The next few days a series of small yet unavoidable events—such as the arrival of visitors and a business engagement—prevented me seeing Hose ; and as I could not join him in the yacht, Helvian had Rpent bis time In long solitary riding excursions. The following week I resumed my daily visits to the Chestertons, with no fear of anything but the warmest welcome from Mr* Chesterton and her two daughters. But one morning I was alarmed, when not finding Rose waiting for me. to learn from Margaret, her elder sister, that my darling Rose was too unwell to leave her room. Her constrained and embarrassed manner, however, caused me to imagine that the excuse contained more than was at first evident. ‘ What is it, Maggie ?’ I inquired ; * there Is something wrong, and you are hiding from me—stay, Maggie V I entreated, as she was about to leave me. She wavered a moment, and then hurst into tears. As soon as I conld sufficiently pacify her to enable her to spsab, 1 learned that the evening before, as Rose was reading under the elm at the end of the garden, she (Maggie) saw a boy approach her, and plaoe a note in her hand and walk quickly away. After reading the note Rose passed out into the copse, and Margaret, fearing some harm to her, followed at a distance, and witnessed a meeting between Rose and a man in a long, loose-made, sombre coloured coat, whom, under the dark shadow of the trees, she could not recognise. I could but vainly attempt to describe my feelings on this homeward walk, nor will I strain my reader’s patience by repeating to them all the many reasons I sought in vain as sufficient canae for my Rose’s mysterious rendezvous with a stranger. Pride, however, prevented me from mentioning this vexatious and unhappy event to my friends; and so I blundered on in my blindness, still trusting Rose, even though she quiatly evaded giving me any explanation of her conduct.

For some few days we had all been engaged to dine at the Cheatertons, by which time my mind was sufficiently fevered by Rose’s evident coolness towards me, to make me grasp at the smallest indications, and to construe them by jaundiced jcalons fancy into proofs against my lady-love. On our arrival we found Rose and Mrs Chesterton alone In the drawing-room. Mrs Chesterton received me warmly, and inquired why I had not been with them so frequently during the past few days. I forged some excuse, the first that arose to my lips, aud glanced hastily at Rose. Her eyes met mine with a look of reproach. Our meeting was not gonial, but I did not think Mrs Chesterton observed any difference.

I turned to introduce Helvian, when, to my surprise, although the formal bow was given, I saw that Rose and Jack met with mutual signs of recognition, St Clare had, I knew, met her in Ireland, besides, had he not in the first few days of my arrival acted as my messenger; thus I was not surprised at his expression of pleasure at the renewal of their acquaintance. I was pleased at that moment to see Margaret enter the room, and was soon engaged in conversation with her ; she alone knew the cause of my constrained cheerfulness.

I glanced wearily over an album of autographs, presently I came upon Rose’s ; ah, how often had I read that signature attached to expressions of the warmest endearment. During the evening Bose sat so silent aud pensive, that at last her mother’s attention was called to the fact.

By-and.by, when Jack Helvian had concluded a sweet Italian song, complaining of faintness, she stepped through the open window. I longed to follow her, but was penned in between (he rector and Mrs Chesterton, listening to local twaddle.

I saw that Helvian followed Hose into the garden, placing a chair for her under one of the tall limes, where she might enjoy the benefit of the cool evening breeze. Long I pondered over Rose’s evident avoidance of me, until at last, availing myself of a pause in the long train of gossip which perforce I had listened to, I hastened after Rose, determined to obtain, if possible, some clue to her strange conduct. As I approached her seat, along the stretch of soft green mossy turf, I was unobserved by either Rose or Jack, and though an unintentional listener, I conld not fail to be struck by the few words that fell upon my ear.

Her tones had lest that light ring which characterised them an hour before, as she replied to some remark of Jack’s which I did not hear.

‘ I am so much obliged to you for helping me. bat pray —pray do not tell anyone where you saw me.’ The next moment she responded to her mother’s caT from the window, and, taking Jack’s arm, was retracing her steps to the bouse, when the pair turning faced me. I was feeling so angry and suspicious, from the very few words I had heard, that I fear my look and inquiry if she felt recovered lacked some of their wonted geniality. I was jealous—yes, horribly jealous—and stifle as I would the impression, my thoughts supplied an entire chain of proof that Rose was false to mo ; and more horrible still to mo than this was the inevitable conviction that my life-long, trurted, and hithsrtomuch loved friend, was a liar and a blackguard. There was no fond farewell between Rose and myself tint evening when we took leave of each other, and no arrangement for meet ing next day. • As I stepped out into the clear moonlight, my heart became oppressed with a feeliog of bitter loneliness and strange foreboding of evil; and spots, hitherto sacred to me from so many bright associations, I found had now become hateful.

The paths we had traversed together, the knoll from whence we had watched the sun sink into the sea, the moor over which wo had ridden, and dozen haunts we had loved to seek, were loathsome to me. Jack and I, from obvious reasons, were studiously silent; thus our walk home was only enlivened by snatches of mess-room ditties from St. Clare, I saw nothin? of Jack after our arrival, but joined St. Clare in the billiard room ; we did not pi ay, bat sat smoking. Impossible as it was for me to think of aught but my trouble, and led on by St. Clare’s kind inquiries and seeming interest in what to him, so he said, was my evident trouble of mind, T, for the second time only in my life, confided to another my secret thoughts and fears. Alas! none but Jack had ever been my confidant. After hearing all I had to say, Bt. Clare said he also had fancied Juck had been a little too assiduous in bis attentions to Miss Rose, but still he must say he could not believe that so old and trusted a friend as Helvian could have any ba'.e intention ol supplanting me with my betrothed ; though, at the same time, he thought it would be we’l to be on my guard in that quarter. ‘lf I were in your place,’ he added, ‘I would write to your fiancee, and demand an explanation of her behaviour; and as tomorrow I have business that will take me not far from Mrs Chesterton’s, I will, with pleasure, leave a letter from you for Miss Rose.’ I thanked him warmly for his kind interest, and engaged to have the letter ready at an early hour. Mora surely than the breeze kindles the smoking flax dees the subtle influence of affected sympathy influence the jealous heart. Oh, fool—more than fool that I was!— why did I not trust the man whom a hundred trials had proved my trusty, faithful friend a hundred times ? Why was Iso short-sighted that I saw only the great phantom of my own fevered fancy, but not the living asp lurking at my breast ? A few days later on I was joined in the garden by Jack, who anxiously inquired the cause of my altered conduct. I passed coldly to other subjects, but in vain, ‘lt is no use, Frank,’ exclaimed Jack, ‘ we have known each other too long for this humbug; besides, I halt ditino the cause, and wonder at yonr not speaking before to me; but there is no barm done, and the surest way of keeping a second lance ont of the lists is my maintaining yonr own ground ’ I wondered that Helvian could jest thus upon his cruel conduct, and turning savagely upon him, demanded his right to oontrol my actions. ‘ The right of your oldest friend, Frank; and as such I would warn you against relinquishing your influence. You have no right, by your absence from her side, and by your coolness to her, to lay Miss Chesterton open to the wiles of a wily uncompromising suitor. For on one pretence or another St. Clara has of late bsen meeting Miss Chesterton very frequently.’ ‘ A lie ! ’ I exclaimed ; ‘it is not to St. Clare I owe my disappointment; it is to yon, Helvian—you, whom I have trusted and loved as a brother; yon, who feigned a friendship for me. till an opportunity offered for yonr own selfish interests : then, trampling on the heart that had loved, and the hand that had befriended yon, you traded on the credulity of a simple girl, and forged some dark lie or other to calumniate her lover, and alienate her heart. And now you perpetuate your perjury by blasting the reputation of another man. Save yourself any explanation. I care not to learn where ; but I soon saw that yon must have met her before the day I Introduced you. And then you spend the evening working out your damnable deceit; after having some ten days before bribed the gardener to carry a letter for you, and how many more since that, yon beat can tell. Knowing this, will you farther insult me by casting the slnr on another man’s name ? ’ At this outburst Helvian regarded me in mats surprise ; and when I had finished, burst out into an astonished laugh, which my distorted imagination construed into a jeer. (To be continued.