LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2008, 31 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTERY OF BRYNGWYLLT.

C Continued.)

Not till all traces of her emotion had vanished did she venture forth, knowing that, if her father discovered the martyrdom she conatantlyjenduredfrom Ralph Keith for Miss Mary’s sake, he would speedily prohibit her visits, and the poor lady would be deprived of her sole little happiness. When the hall was freed from its bugbear many happy hours did Enid spend amid the musty volumes in the library, refreshing her thirsty mind from the deep-flowing streams of ancient lore ; or, when not thus engaged, she rambled through the vast picture galleries, the great banqueting hall, with its well-lined cabinets of foreign curiosities, the armour gallery, hung with coats of mail, helmets, and arms that had faced * battle’s magnificently stern array,’ that had each a history of its own written with the bloood of patriotism. Well did shejknow each setion of the ancient mansion—save one. That she could never explore, for it was walled up—the closed wing of which Mr Howell had spoken. There was a sad legend connected with it About a century prior to this the possessor of Bryngwyllt, Mordred Llewelyn, had left his fair dame in lovely grandeur, and had gone out to fight for his country. On his return he was met by the intelligence that she had fled with a page. In hot haste he pursued and overtook them; scorning to touch her lover, he bore his guilty wife back to her apartments. In mad jealonsy he plunged his dagger through her heart, and, rushing from the awful sight, he ordered the entire wing to be walled up. Since then no one had invaded the place, though report said it had been entered and the corpse removed by means of a secret entrance unknown.

Thus the superstitions country people originated strange tales of unnatural lights and sounds, and. once a year, on tho recurring date of that accursed deed, the "reatles spirit of the beauteous Gwendoline was seen to haunt the place. It was said, too, that the ghost was ever nneasy while Ralph Keith was at Bryngwyllt Why he visited his dull homo as frequently as he did, being so fond of revelry and dissipation, was a subject of wonderment to many; for he never ceased to complain loudly, during his brief sojourns, of the ‘pitiless fate’ that had doomed him to snch ‘a barbarous prison-hole.’ Chatter HI. It was with some anxiety that Miss Mary drove over in the huge family carriage of the Llewelyns, the sole vehicle retained for use, to see Enid several days after her abrupt flight. She found her alone in the dining-room, busily engaged cutting out flannel. ‘ Oh, Enid, I am so grieved, darling, that you |were insulted again 1’ Then almost shrinkingly— ‘ But you will not mind it—you will not refuse to come? For my sake, do not.’ Enid flashed. ‘No-o, dear. Miss Mary, for your sake I will endure it iu silence ; but— ’ ‘ Hush, child I I anticipate your asking me to remonstrate with abandoned Ralph. My dear, expose not my weakness even to myself. What can Ido ? What dare Ido ? How nervous I am ! Ob, how I dread my nephew ! Rather than speak to him I must give yon np, my darling, my only comfort; I see how it distresses yon, I cannot think of being so selfish as to insist on yonr'coming to visit me, and thus sacrifice your own hapiness for me.’

“ ‘ I will never leave yon ; but, Mias Mary, why do you not leave Bryngwllt ?’ Miss Llewellyn drew Enid’s head down upon a level with her lips. ‘ I never dare leave it.’ She brought out the words painfully. • But why not ?’ She went on in a strange, dreamy voice—- ‘ It is long now since I felt it first, but it never leaves me. Sometimes the weight crushes me. Oh, that fearful night!’ ‘ How you shiver 1’ said Enid, soothingly. ‘Come nearer the fire, and never mind telling me; we will talk of more cheerful things.’ Pressing her lips to her companion’s brow, she led her to an easy-chair by the fire. ‘ I would rather continue, Enid ; it is such a relief to unburden my mind, Well, some days it haunts me morejatrongly than others; always more when Ralph is near. I dream afterwards such awful dreams —it is misery to awake.’ She covered her face with her hands.

Enid could not comprehend what she meant.

‘ But what haunts you, my dear Mies Mary V asked Enid gently.’ ‘ I forgot you did not know, deary ’ —in a sad, weary voice ; * it’s a weak, impossible idea, a fancy, a vision. No, no,’ she added excitedly, ‘it’s not a vision, it is a dreadful reality—l feel, I know it is. Enid lam a haunted woman! I believe Maud Llewelyn is alive —alive and defrauded of her rights ! At times the belief is so strong upon me that I expect to sea her beside me ; then I dream that I saw her plainly —but how changed ! Her face is full of anguish—such anguish ! She seems in suffering and misery —she beckons pleadingly with her poor, worn band, but I can never go to her. When I awake, my brow is wet with great beads of perspiration. I could never leave Bryngwyllt; I must stay rn, though it is killing me. Oh, heaven, what have I done to merit such suffering? My life is being slowly undermined, and, helpless, I can do nothing ’ She leaned back exhausted. ‘ You are ill! ’ cried Enid. ‘No, dear child.’ But even as she spoke, she fainted, Enid speedily procured cold water to lave her face, and poured a little brandy between her clenched teeth. She revived slowly, but continued to feel so enfeebled that she ask'd Enid to send across for old Doctor Price—the village doctor, and a personal friend of both families for many years. The servant returned, saying that Doctor Price had left suddenly for London, but another doctor was following her. He soon arrived,and pronounced his patient to be in an excessively low and weak condition, and recommended bed as the safest place for her. Mias Mary know that the. vicarage was none too large now that all the little ones were at home, so she would not hear of remaining, notwithstanding Enid’s entreaties. She would return at once to the Hall; bnt would not Enid just accompany her back ? She whispered that Ralph had left,

They were soon ready to start; but Miss Mary became so alarmingly faint when she aro;e that the doctor good-naturedly offered to escort her home if ho might be accommo dated with a seat In the carriage. His offer was gratefully accepted. Leaning back on the luxurious cushions of the ample vehicle, Miss Llewellyn appeared to sleep, and Enid had opportunity to observe what her new companion was like, which she did with keen curiosity, for it was but seldom that she saw strangers, and never one so fascinating and grand as this new doctor. He was a tall, broad-set young fellow, with handsome, straight-out features; his drooping moustache and curly hair were

light brown and within the azura depths of his merry eyes there lurked an ever-present spirit of mischief. * May I ask if I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Howell!’ he inquired presently, ‘Yes,’ said Enid, shyly, * And don’t yon wonder where I havedropt from ?’ smilingly, ‘Yes,’again replied Enid, not over-bril-liantly. ‘My name is Charlie Dan ell; and I am conducting Dr. Price’s practice. He was called away on pressing business and is staying with my father they are old friends.’ ‘Do you live in London, Dr, Darrell ?’ Enid asked, feeling that she must say something. ‘ t e?—at least, I did; but for several years I have been travelling for pleasure. After I leave here I intend settling down somewhere.’ ‘ But I thought you were a doctor,’said Enid quaintly. ‘ How could you practise and travel for pleasure for several years ?’ * I haven’t begun much practice yet,’ he replied, with an amused look in the quizzical blue eyes. ‘ I could afford a little time to explore foreign countries and take it lazily at first.’ Enid blushed deeply at his amused look, and wondered what she had said that was not comme ilfaut before this grand London gentleman. ‘ Have you travelled mnch, Miss Howell !’ ‘ Oh, no —scarcely at all! Do you know— I am ashamed to tell yon—l have never even seen London.’ ‘ Your turn is too come, then.’ ‘ May I ask what countries yon have visited, Doctor Darrell ?’ ‘ < ertaiuly. I have run through Prance, Spain, and Italy, and back through Switzerland, Germany and Belgium ; then, since, I have been to Russia, But is not this Bryngwyllt ?’ Mias Llewelyn got out, and walked to her room with difficulty. With many thanks she urged the doctor to stay to dinner. But, with a few courteous words, he apologised and left. It was many weeks ere Mias Mary rose from her couch, upon which she had been laid by a sharp attack of brain- fever. Throughout Enid was her constant and untiring watcher. Many weary hours passed to find her at her post in the great dismal sick chamber ; the fire was the only cheerful object amid the dreary splendour of its palllike velvet draperies and antique furniture, excepting the fair face of the young nurse. It was a lonely time for Enid. Her father’s parish duties prevented him from seeing her often ; her brothers and sisters were away at school again. From Ralph’s eight, when he came, she carefully kept herself concealed ; but unconsciously she came to count on the daily visit of Dr. Darrell as the one oasis in her desert life.

At length the rustling of the wings of death, which ao long had hovered near, was silent once more; the crisis was past, and the patient pronounced on the way to recovery.

Chapter IV. It was one of those lovely, mild days that are harbingers of the coming spring—so bright, that even the moss-covered paths and neglected grounds of Bryngwyllt presented a cheerful appearance ; the tall trees, that had braved the storms of many winters, and the rugged shrubs so long untrimmed, seemed to lose their haggard look in the mellow glory. Out in the open country nature was already awaking from the dormancy of winter ; early buds and flowers had appeared at the behest of a glowing and kindly snn, as the first fruits of the general resurrection so soon to take place. The bright life-giving orb poured forth admidst the woods its generating rays, and over the fields its reviving flood of returning warmth Charles Darrell had persuaded Enid to come ont into the invigorating morning air Fair and fresh as a daisy tipped with dew she looked as she walked beside the doctor, in her simple gray dress and black velvet hat, the broad drooping brim of which shaded the spirituelle. face, the soft breeze bringing a rich damask over the bloomy chcaks. She never wearied of young Darrell’s company ; a subtle happiness gradually crept over her when he was with her, sweeter, deeper, because so new and unknown to herself. Yet she had lost the naive happidess with which she had at first listened to his tales of that wonderland, that other faraway world in which he had lived ; a shadow had fallen athwart its sheen. That brilliant, fashionable sphere in which he moved held a sealed door for her. She thought with a little pang how different she must seem from his clever lady acquaintances ; she wondered if he laughed at her simplicity and quizzed her queer country ways when she was not near. Altogether, something like discontent was creeping for the first time into her pure mind. Yet, when a half-guilty conscience warned her—though she prayed Heaven’s forgiveness when she remembered all her loved ones—she could not regret that the hsndeome stranger, with his debonair ways, had crossed her path, even though it was to mar its smooth peacefulness. Charley was the first to break the silence, • You must come out oftener. Miss Enid ; you have been a prisoner ao long that the roses are fading fast. I reproach myself for not having insisted on outdoor exercise sooner.’ ‘ Spoken like a doctor ; but I really could nor leave,’ said Enid, smiling. * Nontense ! Well, you can leave now. Why, you look fragile enough to be blown down, like a thistle, by every puff of wind. Do you like archery ?’ ‘ I have never had the chance to try.’ •No ? I should suppose you play croquet ?’ ‘ Yes, I have a set at home, and we often use it. But why do you ask. Doctor Darrell ? ’ Ho looked down at her with quizzical eyes. * Don’t people ever ask questions in this part of the world without special reasons V ‘Of course they do ; but I don’t think you did this time.’ 1 You are right, as usual. I think you are confined to the house too much, Miss Enid. Yon get too thoughtful. Your papa says he shall be pleased if I can amuse you while I remain here. I told him it was bad for your health not having any companion about your own age*—the blue eyes looked so comically into her own that Enid blushed— * so will you ride and row with me sometimes ?’ It is good of you to think of me, Doctor Darrell; but are you of my own age, then 1 ’ He could not quite conceal a smile at the ludicronsness of the question, and perfect innocence of the questioner. Enid noticed it. ‘ Oh, what have I said ? It was ridiculous and very rude ! ’ He l&ughed outright now. ‘ Unconventional, certainly ; but you’re lucky in thus speaking to me and not to my eldest sister, Lady Hope, who is '• ever yonng and fair,” though on the shady side of forty. However, I’ll forgive yon, Miss Howell, though it was awfully unkind you know ; I might have been rather aged ; but I’m only twenty-five, as you wish to know.’ _ How he enjoyed teasing her ! Enid looked up with great honest, pleading eyes. The careless words had wounded the tender dove. That unfortunate allusion to Lady Hope had awakened a train of painful thoughts within her. His sister was a lovely and accomplished woman, no doubt; it flashed across her how brusque and awkward she must seem. ‘Dr. Darrell,’she said timidly, ‘I often wonder you care to be with me £ X am hut a simple country girl.’ ‘ Why, what have I said to hmt yon ? Don’t yon know how loath I should be to give yon a moment’s pain ? What a foolish child it is 1’ he added soothingly, attempting to place the small hand in his arm. But she quietly drew it away, and turned to hide the tears she vainly strove to restrain. This brotherly, familiar treatment hurt her even more than the other. ‘I should like to go in now ; I am tired, Dr; Darrell,’ she said as soon as she could trust her voice. « Now I have done it—offended yon past forgiveness 1 Seriously, Mies Howell, I cannot allow you to leave me like this. I feel a regular monster in human form. D o forgive me this once; I ain more vexed than I can express at my bearish behaviour. Come, won’t you make it np and be friends?' It was a sheer impossibility to hear that eager, pleading voice; to see those merry blue eyes, now ao "full of earnest contrition, and refuse pardon. Enid’s spirits rose, {To be continued)