LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1992, 13 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HAWK’S NEST. ( Continued.) ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ she said, impre?sively. ‘ Why not ? ’ he queeried, petulantly. ‘ Because he is a proud, haughty man, and looks down npon people who are not so aristocratically descended as himself.’ ' I’m agoing to speak to him, anyway,’ At the fragile old man’s invitation Colonel Lawrence and Helen once more crossed the threshold of their once brilliant home. They were shown into the drawing-room, and refreshments were ordered, of which, however, the visitors declined to partake. The venerable Biker seated himself opposite Helen, and after gazing at her some time in silence, as if lost in thought, started up and throwing his feeble hands in the air exclaimed : ‘Ah, if my poor Philip had been alive 1 ’ Then he sat down and sobbed like a child. Helen’s tender heart was moved by this touching picture, and she hastened to the old man’s side and spoke some simple words of comfort in his ear. He permitted himself to be soothed and calmed by her gentle ministrations, while the Colonel manifested some signs of impatience, and said ‘ they must be going-" ‘ 1 beg you to stay longer,’ said the aged man ; ‘ i implore you not to leave me yet. Let a childless, friendless only man have the pleasnre of gazing a little longer on this sweet, innocent face. ’ As Helen’s look seconded the appeal, Colonel Lawrence accepted the situation with the best grace he could. Honrs passed. Mme. Depau quietly left the mansion without being seen, and the proprietor, having apparently become quite oblivious of her existence, never inquired for her. Towards midnight the conversation took an interesting turn. ‘ Old Biker ’ was speaking of his possessions, and of the propriety of making his will. In discussing this topic they >at up so late that Colonel Lawrence and Helen were compelled to accept the hospitalities of Hawk’s Nest for the night. Next morning the eccentric old man was up betimes. A messenger was despatched in hot haste to New York, and about an hour before noon arrived with a famous civil lawyer of the day. His purpose then transpired. For the consideration of one dollar ‘ Old Biker ’ had made up his mind to hand over Hawk’s Nest in a deed of gift to Helen Lawrence. At the same time he made his will, leaving all the remainder of his real and personal estate to her at his decease. Hence it came to pass that Hawk’s Nest once more became the home of Colonel Lawrence. while ‘Old Biker ’ became, as it were, his gnest, and idolised Helen. Poor old man! he was as happy as his senility allowed. The affectionate yonng lady sat with him, sang to him, walked with him, and paid him innumerable kind attentions every day of h'.s life, beguiling the deep grief for his son’s death, which kept continually reonrring to him. And when two years afterwards the old man died, Colonel Lawrence readily complied with Helen’s wish that he might be buried in the park, beneath a wych elm under which he had loved to sit, and that a tomb might be erected over his grave. And so the moan for the old man was soon made, and few ever thought of him, save, perhaps, the gentle, gra’eful girl who had soothed his declining days and closed his weary eyes. lI.— A Dish op Spinach. If Madame Depau escaped mention in connection with the events which closed the foregoing chapter, it was not because that adroit woman had absented herself from the scene. The sudden resolution and prompt action of the old man in making Helen his heiress had indeed pr oV ed a stunning blow to her, bnt she was much too accomplished a diplomatist to betray hot disappointment. She fairly gushed whea she first met Helen, and that artless you ‘eg lady was actually persuaded that Madame Dopau wept tears of joy when shejleai nod

that the Lawrences were again to be her permanent neighbors. The reader will already have plumbed the depth of Madame attachment to her old companions. The Lawrences were once more wealthy. She had an only son, and Helen was an heiress in her own right. It did ‘ Old Biker’ ever so much good to see In what a motherly way Madame bore herself towards Helen, and after the old man’s decease the two families lived in almost daily intercourse. As it had been anticipated by Ma p 'are, it had come to pass ; Helen and Alphonse were affianced, and the wily dame lost no opp rtunity of informing the Colonel how ardently her son loved his daughter, and how devotedly the attachment was reciprocated. Yet, if the truth must be told, their sweethearting was of a very ternpente and mattcrof-fact kind, and, indeed, their engagement would have been severely strained to survive, but for the active cooperation of Madame. Helen had no repugnance to the young man, while he, engrossed in botany, was perfectly willing, bnt not extremely impatient, to accept so charming a bride, so well endowed with the world’s goods. As for Colonel Lawrence, he was perfectly happy, loving anything in the world, but principally himself. He was still fond of a game of cards and of society, and Madame Depau was always at hand'to accommodate him either with cribbage or conversation. But often in private did Madame scold her son. ‘Yon miserable ice-plant! You coldblooded fish!’ she would exclaim, ‘why don’t you leave those wretched weeds and roots alone, and 1 go' for the girl ? Haven’t you got the eyes and the feelings of a man ? Cannot you see that she has a grand form like a Grecian goddess ? Have you never observed her beautiful arm, larger and whiter than ever mine w»a ? If I was a man, I never would rest till I had the right to call that beautiful young creature my wife - ’ Alphonse smiled faintly and without enthusiasm. Summer was hastening on. Hi* collection of miniature ferns was still woefully incomplete. At present he was too much engrossed by the botanist’s peaceful pursuits to feel the wound from beauty’s dart. ‘ I tell yon what it is, Alphonse,' said his mother one morning at the breakfast table, when he had announced that he was hound on a botanising expedition across the Hudson to the Palisades, and would be absent all day; ‘ you richly deserve to lose that girl. Some day or other I expect to see some fellow with a soul come along, and cut you clean out!' After that fling, Madame Depau repaired to her dressing room, and prepared for her usual visit to Hawk’s Nest. Contrary to his usual custom, Colonel Lawrence met his visitor in the vestibule. ‘My dear Madame,’ said he, ‘a great calamity has happened. The man whose bones we supposed bleaching at the bottom of the sea sits in that room. He is accompanied by his lawyer. What are we to do ? ’ ‘ Mon Dien! Yon surely do not mean that that’ *1 mean,’ said he, interrupting her, 1 that the young: man Hiker had risen from the dead, and is in this house at this moment. The momentous problem is, what are we to do under the circumstances ?' Madame heaved a sigh from the depths of her chest. * I will see him, ’ she said ; * and I suppose we must adopt the policy of the bees which were visited by a snail.’ ‘ What was the policy of the bees ? ’ inquired the Colonel, * Well, when the snail introduced himself into the hive, the bees enveloped him with honey and wax, and when they had thus imprisoned the intruder in his shell, they kicked him out of their habitation. We moat make much of this resurrected ruffian —stroke him down the right way, and, then, bounce him ! ’ Putting on her moat winning smile, Madame Depau approached the drawing room door and softly opened it. What was her surprise to hear Helen thna addressing the intruding snail : ‘ And your poor father, sir, who left this world trusting to meet yon in the next 1 Can it be, then, that even in heaven there are disappointments ? Poor old man, he loved me, and I loved him dearly! He was my playmate With him I talked of yon —with you I will talk of him.’ A big tear began to roll down the handsome young fellow’s bronzed cheek, and he tried to say, - God bless you, young lady,’ but only succeeded in sobbing. There was a slight pause, and then Helen, somewhat abruptly, exclaimed : * And now, Mr Biker, I have bnt one duty remaining, and that is to return to yon with the one hand what I received from your father with the other. You must accept, unless you wish to humiliate both my father and me.’ * That is quite impossible! ’ cried Philip Hiker, starting up. * I would scorn myself were I to rob you of what belongs more Justly to you than to me I When I have thanked you for your tender care of my father, I will depart—my mission will have been accomplished.’ ‘You shall not leave us thus,’ she cried. ‘ You must not go. I insist upon yon remaining ; nay, I entreat you to stay.’ .Madame Depau did not enter the room. She turned on her heel, and when she rejoined Colonel Lawrence her features wore an ashen hue. ‘My services were not required,’ she wearily said ; ‘ Helen—Miss Lawrence has arranged everything.’ ‘What do you mean ? ’ he asked. ‘ Ascertain for yourself,’ she curtly responded, and took her leave. Philip Hiker did not leave Hawk’s Nest that day, nor that week, nor that month. At the end of six weeks he had become as domesticated as a tame cat. Madame Depau was still a visitor, and a keen observer of all that passed. She saw that Philip’s gratitude to Helen was rapidly transforming itself into love. ‘ Unless yen cease yonr botanising lunacy,’ she said to her son, ‘ Helen is lost to yon. Even the Colonel prefers that market-gar-dener’s son to you.’ Meanwhile the wily Frenchwoman made much of Philip, and frequently invited him out to dine, Among her other accomplishments the was a skilful cook, and when Philip w;is invited the always exerted her utmost skill. Her mode of preparing spinach, for example, was quite unique, and Philip would remark duiing a ramble with Alphonse : * I am a great lover of spinach, but I never tasted any until your excellent mother prepared it.’ One evening, as Madame Depau was leaving Hawk’s Nest, she whispered in an aside to Philip : ‘Alphonse is going over to Jersey tomorrow ihe will be absent all day. I shall be so lonely; won’t you come and dine with me ?’ ‘With great pleasure, Madame Depau,’ he answered ; ‘ and I hope you will not forget my favorite spinach.’ ‘Oh, you shall have your spinach,’ she replied with a ravishing smile. It was nine o’clock of a June evening when Philip Biker returned from dining with Madame Depan. The spring had been early, and Colonel Lawrence and Helen were walking under the lilao trees, then in luxuriant bloom. The air around was breathing balm. The leaf of the tremulous poplar scarcely seemed to sway. Down at their feet the broad Hudson stole away to the sea as peaceful as a sleeping infant As Philip approached the house the father and daughter observed that he conducted himself in an unwonted and extraordinary manner. He was blowing a feather into the air, and brandishing his cane as it he were a Don Quixote fighting an imaginary windmill. He ran across the green swsrd after this combat and tried to stand on his head. Then he divested himself of his coat and vest, and began to grin and make months like a monkey. Poon after he commenced to completely direst himself of his clothing ; and when Helen saw this she hastened indoors. Colonel Lawrence appro ached the madman and reproached him with being drunk. The poor wretch began to sing, laugh, and dance, and to perform other indescribable antics. ‘ Philip, my dear Philip, what_ is the matter with you ?’ said the Colonel, in affectionate tones, becoming alarmed. The young man began to dance and howl like a Dervish ; and finally wound up the frantic performance by dropping down in a i convulsive lit, wallowing and foaming at the ! mouth. i The old man looked around In blank ! despair. He w - aa afraid to touch the_ sufferer, I lest his disease might be hydrophobia. - (To be continued.')