LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2000, 22 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FIFTEEN—FOUPtTEEN—THIRTEEN. It was on a blustering evening in March that Mr Alexander Ashe, pausing in his rapid progress through one of the treechristened streets which bisect the City of Penn, tor-k from his pocket a letter, and holding it well up to catch the somewhat uncertain light of a lamp, studied the address with zeal, sharpened by sudden apprehension. ‘Confound Uncle Nat,’ he muttered, ‘I wish he would learn to put tails to his s’s. 1314, no; 1514, ro; that quirl certainly must mean a 3. Well, this is really too bad. It never occurred to me till this moment that there could be a mistake, but certainly it is 3, and not 5. A nice business It would be to make a blunder in heiress-hunting. Pshaw ! But it’s to plea-e Uncle Nat. He’s been good to roe in his way, the old fellow has, and I can’t well refuse so slight a favor as that I should call on these—what’s their names ? —Ashurst oven if ho does go on to air what he calls his ‘ long-matured hopes ’ that call may lead to something more interesting. It won’t though. 1 never saw a girl with money yet that wasn’t altogether detestable; 1514, 1314—which is it? Never nrnd, this is Thirteenth street j so much is certain. Now let’s see—the house must be on this side. Perhaps the name is on the door. By Jove 1 I never thought of that.’ Sura enough, the name was on the door —'Ashurst ’ —revealed plainly enough by an opportune street lamp opposite; and Alex. Ashe rang the bell, muttering to himself—- ‘ A good hit. that. It’s lucky 1 didn’t go off in search of 1514 Still, I wish Uncle Nat would mend the tails of his s’s.’ A narrow entry presented itself to his view when the door opened, for the house was small, and the misfortune of a small house is that each new-comer instinctively makes his measnri ments, and deduces from what he sees the probable extent and compass of what he does not see. ‘ The ladies were at home,’ and a whitecapped maid took his card into the parlor, and returning presently, ushered him in. * What a pleasant room!’ was his first thought as he entered. * Not a Eandaome parlor ’ in the least. He was used to those parlors where every mirror, bronze, curtain, and piece of furniture was the exact complement of similar articles on the other side the party-wall on either hand; where sofas and chairs wore flue clothes on occasion, and common petticoats for common days, and nothing seemed intended for use, comfort, or the Indulgence of unauthorised or impromptu pleasures. This was a room of different type, not handsome at all in the conventional sense, but full of individuality and charm. Thick rug-like hangings of the cheap Abruzzi tapestry of Italy draped doors and windows; the walls, of a soft harmonious tint, were hung thickly with pictures and drawings, among which wandered, apparently at will, the shoots of a magnificent ivy, A bright fire of cannel coal shone in the low grate ; there were books everywhere; the piano stood open, and strewn with music sheets ; a writing table, heaped with paper, in one corner, and an easel and paints in another, showed that busy people used the room, and worked there when so inclined—a thing not often permitted in parlors kept for show ; and on the chimney piece stood a bowl of fresb violets, which diffused a spring like color about the place. Two young ladies, evidently sisters, rose from seats beside the fire, and came forward to receive the guest. The elder, who held his card between her fingers, had a sweet and sensible countenance, a remarkably pretty figure, and a manner full of gracious dignity and composure. She was of that type of woman whom other women wonder that all men don’t fall in love with; but they don’t The younger was in a totally different style — fair, brilliant, smiling, seduisante, possessed of a thousand untaught grace?, which lent to her manner inexhaustible variety and charm, but withal with the sunny candour of a child shining in her clear blue eyes. Amy Ashurst was altogether an enchanting creature, and Alex. Ashe, struck and dazz'ed, muttered to himself, with sudden excitement, ‘By Jove! Uncle Nat has hit it for once. Here is a girl with money who beats hollow all the girls without any that I ever met. I am everlastingly indebted to him.’ And while these thoughts whirled through his mind, Miss Ashurst was enunciating her soft little sentences of welcome. ‘ We are glad to see you, Mr Ashe, and mamma will be very glad when she ccmes home. I am only sorry that shs should happen to be out this evening at Mr Bergniu’s cercle, but they always break up early. She had a letter from—your aunt, 1 think it was, in the autumn, in which she said that there was talk of your coming here toward spring ; but she named no time, and mamma did not know when ta look for yon.’ ‘My uncle, probably. He is not married. I had no idea, howevo - , that he had written to Mrs Ashurst so long beforehand, though he bade me call upon her without fail.’ ‘Your u cle ? repeated Miss Ashurst, doubtfully. ‘ I thought I recollected ; but of coarse, I might easily be mistaken. Pray sit down, Mr Ashe. Oh, not on that chair ; that ia only comfortable for ladies. Try that big square one. What a blustering night it is I' * I thought so till I camo in, but no one would suspect it from the atmosphere of your room. Miss Ashurst. What a delightful room it is !’ ‘ I am so glad that you think so,’ put in the beautiful Amy, whose voice was aa sweet as her face. ‘ Florence and I are always pleased when anyone praises our rooms, because they are mamma’s doing, and wo think that she has the moat perfect taste in the world.’ ‘ Nothing could bo pleasanter, I am sure. It is thoroaghly individual, and yet has such a look of home, and that is not an easy look to produce in a house, it seems to me.’ * No, it isn’t; but mamma is a real wonder worker ; she always gives that look,’ cried Amy, eagerly, dimpling and flushing, and lookirg twice as handsome for the pretty glow of pleasure. We hear occasionally of love at first sight, and we smile as the notion as romantic j but for all our disbelief and our derision, the thing does sometimes happen, even in tficse matter-of-faot days, and it happened that evening in the case of Alexander Ashe. His excuse must be that nothing in the world

Apart from her beauty, and her remarkable charm of manner, which in itself would have been an irreaistable outfit for a far plainer girl, every moment spent in her company made it more and more apparent that this ontward loveliness was but the exponent of a nature lovlier still, ‘pure as her cheek and tender eyes.’ It would have required a tough heart Indeed, or an already occupied one, to have resisted her spell, and Alex. Ashe had neither. He had been rather indifferent to yonngladiea up to this time, and piqued himself a little as beauty proof; but he melted like frost in sun under the influence of Amy's sunny looks, and with a feeling akin to that of the old woman in the nursery legend, wondered if this were inda:d he, as he drifted unresistingly on uudtr the bewitchment of the occasion. Two hours sped liko two minutes. It was ten o’clock before Mrs Ashnrst walked in from her ccrcl*. Her coming was like the breaking of a dream. She greeted him cordially, but there was a little perplexity in her manner as she said—--41 am very g’ad to se» yon, but somehow yon surprise me a good deal. I was not prepare! for anything so tall or—formed. You know, I recollect you as 4 little Albert,’ and your aunt Carry never m-ntioned that you were so astonishingly grown.’ ’Albers! Aunt Carry!’ thought the mystified Alex.; and then, with a sudden sinking of heart, ho began to surmise a blunder. 4 1—I do not quite understand,’ he stammered. 4 1 —can there be— I am half afraid I may have made a mistake. lam Alexander Ashe, not Albert.’ Mrs Ashnrst looked more puzzled than ever. Florence blushed deeply, and became grave and embarrass-d; bat Amy’s blue eyes met his frankly, with inch a sparkle of kindly fun in them that Alex took courage to go on. 4 Pray let me explain,’ he said. 4 The mistake, if mistake there be, comes in this way. My unde, Mr Nathaniel Ashe, of Boston, whom possibly you may know by name, wrote me this note ’ —taking it from his letter case— 4 in which he laid upon me his commands to call on his old friends the Ashursts before I left Phild-Iphia. He should write in advance, ho said, to mention my coming, so they would be precared to see me. My uncle writes a blind hand, ss you may perceive, and I was quite at at loss whether 13 or 15 was the number; and while I was casting about, 1 found the name I was in search of upon ynnr door plate, and made sure that I was right. Miss Ashnrst seemed prepared to receive a Mr Ashe, which confirmed my impression, and so . In short, yon see how it is, I trust, and will accept my assurance that the blunder was unintentional, and made in perfect good faith/ (To he continued.