LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2004, 27 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

PHANTOM FORTUNES. * Gwen, may I get some water-lilies ?’ ‘ Oh, Gwen, do let us have a row on the lake I ’ * No, no ! ’ The girl addressed clasps more tightly the rebellious little hands in her own shaking her head decisively. * Gwen is cross! ’ say the children one to another, ‘ No, not cross, darlings ; hut you know your mamma would be very much annoyed if ’ Gwen Moulton pauses, and a faint colour steals into her pale cheeks. Down the avenue, with a little basket of ferns and sweet-scented geraniums swung carelessly on her arm, her frilled skirts held up daintily to prevent contact with the mossy carpet, comes Mildred Sherrington, the petted, pampered child of fortune, the idolised, spoiled girl, and the beautiful, vain woman who had robbed Gwendoline Monlton of what she prized most on earth. How beautiful she is I What grace is in every movement as she comes slowly along ! How perfectly the stately head, crowned with sunny braids, is poised on the sloping shoulders ! And the haughty patrician face, witn its cold, clear grey eyes and complexion of roses and cream, its saucy, short-lipped, ruby mouth—how perfect it all is ! And yet, while Gwen allows that no woman living is more superbly lovely, down in the depths of her jealous Little heart she knows that she hates her. What chance has she, Gwen Moulton, the governess, against the peerless, radiant beauty ? Had she not hearts enough to win and break in town that she must needs come down here to seek one conquest the more ?

* Bored to death, Miss Monlton V The children have wriggled themselves free, and are off unchecked, and Gwen looks after them anxionsly as she answers — * No, not at all.’ ‘ You look tired and—and—baked,’ continues the beauty, drawing her broad-rimmed hat farther over her brow.

‘ My face is my fortune,’ was evidently Miss Sherrington’s mctto, and, judging from the care she took of it, it might have been the only fortune she had. Above all things, she dreads lest the kiss of the sun-god should leave the faintest suspicion of tan or freckle on her pure creamy-white akin. ‘ Is it not frightfully warm to-day Really, I don’t know—with an affected little shrug— ‘ why I ventured so far, but it is insufferably stupid indoors. You are going in the direction of the house ? I may as well come back with you. ’ Much as Gwen would give to get rid of her unwelcome companion, she does not dare to do so. In proud humility she never forgets that, although she is essentially the equal of the girl by her side, better educated if the truth were known, and far more intellectual and clever, she is yet only the governess, and, as such, undoubtedly her inferior. Gwen finds it hard work sometimes to accept gracefully the young lady’s condescending patronage. Gwendoline Moulton is an orphan ; and when, some years before, Mrs Bertram, her mother’s sister, offered her the post of governess to the little ones, assuring the girl that she would be happy and cared for under her roof, Gwen accepted without a demur —and in her heart she still feels thankful to her aunt. Is she not in a measure independent, earning forty pounds a year ? ‘ If only aunt Bertram would treat me a little more as if I were her sister’s child,’ says the poor child, ‘I think I could be happy and contented,* ‘Here, child, take my basket for me, will you ?’ Gwen acquiesces. These little service', so often required of her, do not annoy ho • in the least ; she receives a handsome salary, and is anxious and willing to give a fair equivalent for it. Mrs Bertram Is fond of company, and, until last week, the house has been full of visitors ; but a telegram announcing the death of a relative has taken Major Bertram away, and the majority of the guests have

also taken their departure. But Miss Sherrington still lingers, and there are others besides Gwen could supply a reason for her rhapsodies over every* thing connected with Ivy House and its inmates. ‘ls she ever going away,’ thinks Gwen, as she walks moodily along by her companion’s side, * Oh, if she would but go, and leave me as happy as I was before ahe came.’ And out of her heart’s bitterness she says abruptly ; ‘ I suppose we cannot expect to keep you much longer with ns, Miss Sherriogton V

The lady turns and looks st her steadily for a moment, beneath which scrutinising gaze Gwen flushes nervously. ‘ Oh, I don’t know,’ she answers carelessly. Then, with a sudden gleam of something thereverse of benevolence in her cold grey eyes, she adds— * lam scarcely my own mistress now, von see. I—l have someone else to consult.’

Quickly beats Gwen’s foolish heart; bat ahe steadies her voice to say—- * I thought you had no relatives—that—that yon were perfectly independent?’

‘I was once,' returns the other. ‘ Shall I confess the truth and say, until I came here? But now —well— ’ with a little confused laugh and a ripple all over rur lovely face—- ‘ what woman can bo really her own mistress when her heart is in the keeping of someone else ?’ This time Gwen makes no reply—this confirmation of her 'direct fears and misgivings renders her dumb. They walk on in silence a few paces, and there is still a smile of triumph on the mocking lips. Gwen does not look at her, but she knows it is there—that mocking, scornful smile. ‘I suppose we shall live here someday,’ she purrs softly. Gwen’s heart sinks It is all true then—ahe is Percy’s affianced wife I As in a dream, she hears the cool suave tones.

‘ln the course of nature the old people must die and Ivy House be ours ; and I think I should prefer it as a residence to that tumbledown castle in Devonshire; still.

‘ I would not make too sure if I were yon,’ says Gwen, with a little laugh. ‘ Supposing Miss Meadows shou’d have changed her mind at the last moment, aud left her mousy in another way ?’ Miss Sherrington glances up with quiet contempt. 'I never talk of things I don’t understand,’ she begins; bnt at that moment the children come running up, screaming at the top of their voices—- ‘ Gwen —oh, Gwen, Mr Mathers is in the boat, and he says may wo go for a row ?’ * No, certainly not,’ replies the girl, closing her mouth resolutely, and, despite the children’s complaints, she persists in carrying them off. *lt is time for luncheon,’ she says; ‘you have been out long enough for to day.’ Luoy burst into a stormy passion of sobs. Miss Sherrington puts her hands over her oars, and in the midst of the uproar a tall, sunburnt man, with an undeniably handsome face, approaches the little group. ‘ Inexorable goddess,’ he says, laughingly, ‘ may I beseech your clemency for these poor captives ?’ ‘Yea, yes oh, do let us go, cousin Gwen ! ’

‘ Mrs Bertram has given me strict injunctions not to allow them to go out of my sight,' says poor Gwen, perplexed and annoyed beyond measure. ‘ Mrs Bertram is quite right ’ —with a comical bow and grimace— l they shall not go out of your sight, fer of course you would come with them.*

No notion has Horace Mathers of rowing in the blazing sun for the sole benefit of two spoiled, troblesome children. No, indeed ; but they are very convenient little ‘ institutions ’ sometimes ; and, by skilful and diplomatic use of them, the young man has contrived to have Miss Moulton all to himself on more than one occasion. He does not succeed this time. Gwen is resolved not to subject herself again to the semi-flirtation that the young man finds so charming, and remains firm, in spite of the howls of rage and anger from the irate children. Mildred takes her bands from her ears, snatching eagerly at the prospect of anything that will relieve the monotony of the day. ‘ I will come with you, Mr Mathers,’ she says, condescendingly, ‘if yon will go up to the house and f dch me the largest umbrella you can find.’ ‘ You, Miss Sherrington! Why, you will be burnt as brown as a berry!’ She smiles graciously. Exactly four hours has she been with no solitary specimen of the genus homo to captivate, and she feels so extremely bored in consequence that for once her complexion is a secondary matter. ‘Not a soul have I seen since breakfast,’ she announces to Gwen,

‘No? Why, where is Aunt Bertram?’ asks the girl, Miss Sherrington makes a little inone of contempt. ‘ I meant a man 1’ aha returns, loftily. • Oh, so you really think that Mr Mathers is better than nobody ?’ Gwen’s tone is decidedly sarcastic. Miss Sherrington just raises her eyes to a level with the girl’s flushed features, and then dropped them demurely. ‘lt is too hard to rob you of both your cavaliers, is it not V she says sweetly. It is her parting shot. Gwen vouchsafes not a word as she places the basket of ferns on the ground at the lady’s feet, and in another moment has joined the sulky children, who are still grumbling and unappeased. It is the hottest day of the whole year, thinks Gwen, as she plods on wearily. And then the little ones begin to clamor for a story. But, luckily, fay the time the prince appears to wake the sleeping beauty, a gaily-tinted butterfly flies a;ross their path, and off start the children in pursuit.

‘Thank the fates for that!' says Gwen. ‘ I am sure I wish I could go to sleep for a hundred years! But I doubt if any prince would think it worth his while to wake me.’

‘ What heresy, Gwen!’ The girl fairly starts, for she has spoken aloud, unconscious that anyone is within hearing. * What a chase yon have given me !’ laughs Percy Vincent. ‘I saw you at the end of the avenue. How quickly you have walked! When I play John Gilpin, I think I shall choose a cooler day, little coz. ’ ‘I thought yon had gone out for whole day, Percy,’ she replied with an effort. ‘ I am sure Miss Sherrington thought so, for in default of anything better to do, she has gone for a row with Mr Mathers.’ If Gwen expects that the young man will exhibit either annoyance or jealously, she is disappointed, for he merely says—- ‘ Has she ? I’ve no objection, lam sure. I shall doubtless be called upon to do my share towards entertaining her before the day la over.’ «I wish all duties were as easy and pleasant to perform,’ says Gwen, with a half sigh. ‘Do you 1 Humph! Where are those sweetly-interesting and amiable half-sisters of mine ? Anywhere within range of hearing ?’ . . , Gwen points to where tueir camono dresses made a white spot upon the green award. They have caught their victim and are peacefully dissecting him. ‘ Gwen, how can yon hear with those children? How can you stand the life you are living ?• There is a shade of earnestness in hia tone. The girl's heart flutters within her, but she turna away that she may not meet the gaze in hia darn eyes, and answers oddly enough—- ‘ Don’t you think it is tuo warm to discuss abstruse matters 1’ ‘ Nonsense, child !’ he rejoins. ‘ Percy 1’ He does not heed the indignant tone as he el'ps his arm round her waist; but she flings him from her, saying hotly—- * How dare you treat me this way ? The position I hold in ycur mother’s household and the relationship betu eea ourselves should secure me from insult!’ ‘ Insult! Heavens, Gwen, I love you, darling. And I want you to give up this life you are leading and promise to become my wife. I am a rich man now, dear. The major saw aunt Meadow’a'will two years ago, and the castle and everything, excepting a few legacies, are left to me.’ (To he continued.