LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1990, 10 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER. By “Pbbi.” ’ ( Concluded) My blood boiled —I hated him, I could willingly have killed him, and in a frenzy of rage I struck him. But oh I I could curse the hand now that dealt the blow, for I struck him fiercely and savagely with my clenched fiat on the cheek. He staggered, but in a moment he recovered himself, his face being crimsoned with indignation at the insult ; and I shall never forget the struggle between anger and forbearance depicted on his noble countenance. Quietly he wiped the blood from his face, and said — « You will think better of this. Frank, when you know all; you are angry now, and reason would bo lost on you.’ His very good nature made me hate him the more, ‘ Hypocito !’ I hissed, and strode away into the copse. A few days later a picnic was arranged for a picturesque cluster of rooks on the coast; and as many as could were to go in the Albatross. Holvian and St. Clare arranged to go to Padstow the day before to hire another yacht. It was the morning of the 29th September when the two started off in the trap for the place where they expected to be able to borrow the boat; but they fully expected to return with the yacht before evening. As the day wore on tho weather looked wild and stormy ; great banks of cloud sweeping up from the north-west, and the wind, too, came in from tho sea with those

' short stiff puffs Shat are so often the pre- : cursor of a gale. Late m the afternoon I ordered the fisher, man we usually employed, and his boy, to attend me, and we got the Albatross under ! sail. The time was congenial to my mood. J felt I could have run before the wildest hurricane that over swept the as our boat rose, wave after wave, heeling deeply to leeward, and running dead athwart the wind. Now and then a great roller seemed to threaten to engulph our little craft; bat I loved the excitement that bat re-echoed the tumult within my own fevered brain, and I felt no fear as I grasped the sheet firmly with both bands, and shouted to old Jim to put the helm down, for the first tack about three miles from land. We had tacked three times, when I caught sight of a craft about two miles to leeward of us, seemingly on the same course as ourselves, but ev’dently in distress, as some of her rigging was hanging over the gunwale. Knowing they must sink in such a plight, I put about to the rescue. A few minutes sufficed to bring ns near enough to recognise the two figures on board as Helvian and St. Clare were vainly endeavoring to keep the yacht up to the wind ; but the debris of tackle prevented them working the sails, and they were compelled to let her drive. Seeing that in such a plight they must soon founder, I slacked away the main sheet, and set the boom square. We were flying at a fearful pace, the water hissed under her bows, but the Albatross did not disgrace her builder ; her ccurse was more like a bird, so bravely she ran before the storm. Another hundred yards, and we should be npen them. Ah, too late! they were gone. Yes, there was only a broken mast floating to tell the tale-wrong still ; there were two figures in the water, struggling desperately for life. St Clare was clinging to the mast; Jack a few yards farther, almost exhausted, fought on ; supported with the waves that now and then seemed to overwhelm him. St. Clare could support himself for some time longer ; but Helvian, unless rescued at once, must perish. Oh God I I shudder at recalling that terrible feeling, so strong; that impulse, so fearful; that had eternity, with all its awful prospect, yawned upon me, it had scarcely sufficed to thwart the devilish purposes that blackened my heart! Blackened it, aye, so that it seems to me now as though the tears of a thousand years could never purge away that foul stain. Many a time since, in my hours of unavailing remorse, have I wished that one of the many bolts cleaving the angry clonds had cleft my blackened heart, and seared my scheming brain, ere it conceived that thought —that diabolical thought of revenge. At last I put the yacht about, and hauled in St. Clare almost senseless over the gunwale. I looked round for Helvian. Tea, he was still afloat, I coaid yet save him ; when the very sight of St. Clare beside me brought to my mind all the remembrance of what he had told me of Jack’s deceit, his ingratitude, and his favor with my betrothed, and then an overwhelming feeling of hatred flowed over my soul. I gasped for breath, I hesitated, then yielded to pity, and was about to put toward the poor, fellow) when the demon of hate seemed to whisper, ‘She, your own beloved, is even now awaiting for Helvian, not for you.’ I let go the helm, the yacht veered round, and we whirled from the spot. ‘ Too late! ’ I said to myself, as I folded my arms upon my breast, and looked back just to catch sight of the poor fellow’s face before a great wave swept over him, and the thick driving mist hid him from my view. Oh ! how that last look of reproach—how that terrible cry for help, pierced my heart 1 Then, with the whole crushing horror of the act, came the awful remorse of Cain, devouring all my former hate ; maddened, I shrieked to God to save him, and with a strength that seemed super-human I brought the vessel round again; but we were too far, and the sea was enveloped in fog, and Helvian must have sank never to rise again. ‘Too late! too latel’ the demon seemed to shriek in my ears; and the wind took up the words, ‘ Too late ! too late ! ’ and hissed them through the sails, to be re-echoed by the foaming waves; and the screaming seabirds bore them to the clouds, and the thunder seemed to reverberate them through space, and the dizzy lightning to write them on the heavens. Nature, before so fair, so grand, seemed dissolved into chaos —a thousand angry faces glared at me from the sea and from the sky; the clouds, terrible in their then blackness, disdained to hide me ; the ocean seemed to spurn me from its bosom. Then I felt an awful brand was for ever npon me ; laud was gained—l knew not how; a fearful horror of the place seized me as I staggered half unconsciously into the hall; where, catching sight of some letters that lay on the table, I thrust them into my wet pocket; I rushed out again into the dark cruel storm ; it was quite dusk as I stepped mechanically >eide to allow some men to pass me on a rugged cliff path; they were hearine a body just brought ashore, and they partially stopped in passing me. ‘ Let me see him ? ’ I said, for I felt it was Jack’s body they were bearing homeward, and at my bidding they lowered their burden. ‘ When did they find him ? I asked, as they uncovered the face. _ Ah! there lay my poor Jack, stiff and cold —dead! ‘ Dead, dead ! ’ I groaned, and rushed from the sight, not heeding their reply. _ I must have wandered far that night, though I have no distinct recollection ef it. My next consciousness was the clean bare ward of a hospital, with a kind old man bending ever me, whom I judged was a doctor. I was only allowed a few words, hut learnt I was picked up on the beach near N , about twenty miles from Drathnare, and had lain for five weeks between life and death. ‘Oh ! would I had died! ’ I moaned, as my senses recalled the past; and I turned my face away and sobbed like a child. My recovery was slow, but at length I was strong enough to travel, and set out for a remote town in Scotland, whsre I remained a long time, hoping for death, yet visibly recovering strength, while learning and working at a laborious trade for daily bread, lest, by applying to my bankers for funds, my friends should gain any knowledge of my existence, as I had determined henceforth to live in obscurity. At length, fata compelling, I returned to London. Often in the gloomy stillness of my lonely fireside I have lived over again that terrible episode of my life. Yea, every scene, every pang ! And how often have I started with terror from my bed, fancying that again I heard that terrible cry for help. Ay, and often as I have leaned over my half fireless grate, have I seen that face sink, sink again; and often heard the wind moan in the chimney, ‘ Too late ! too late! ’ Oh! how earnestly have I prayed to God that I might be forgiven, and then die. But —in His great mercy it pleased Him to spare me, and to give me such joy as never mortal realised this side of the grave. One bright summer morning my door was opened, and a middle-aged, fine-lcoking man entered. I glanced up from my work, and more gasped than uttered— ‘ Jack !’ ‘ Frank !’ exclaimed my visitor; and in a moment he had seized my two hands, • Oh Jack, Jack ! thank God !’ I exclaimed. ‘ How has this happened ?’ ‘ Ask my wife,’ he replied, with a laugh, as Margaret Helvian, nee Chesterton, followed her husband into the room. I need not describe our meeting farther than to explain that our misunderstanding was brought about through St. Clare having striven to poison the mind of my betrothed with lying insinuations cs to my own character, in order to win her, or rather her money, for himself. That Jack Helv’an’a meeting with Rose had only been accidental j when, while out riding, she had fallen from her horse, and had begged Jack not to mention the fact, being jealous of her equestrian reputation. Hence the words in the garden —that meant eo mm h to me, but so little in themselves. I have been to Drathnare again, patient reader, and—found Rose —my Rose still. Call us old fogies if you like; but the hells of Drathnare have rung with a will to-day ; and on the same knoll in the copse that the setting sun years ago saw our betrothal sealed with a kiss, the same token of love does he again witness in the same spot on cur marriage dayl