LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2009, 2 August 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MY3TERYOF BRYNG-W YLLT. (Continued.) ' Cela depend, 1 she laughingly replied. 'On what?' ' Whether you make fun nf me agaiD.' ' Indeed you are too hard, I never make fun of you. Now don't look shocked. It's the truth, though you doubt me.' 'Well, good-bye; I'm late, Dr. Darrell.' And with a cordial handshake of reconciliation they parted. As she passed the door of the library to go up to Miss Mary, a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder, and half roughly, half authoritatively, she was pushed into the room. With a shudder of disgust she recognised Ralph Keith. ' Will you eit down ? I want to speak to you,' he said, closing the door as he spoke. Without answering, she essayed to pass him ; but firmly graßping her arm, he placed her in a ohair. ' You had better do as I wish. Just look into my face, and tell me what man you were walking out with.' She glanced up indignantly; but the hasty words she was about to utter died away on her lips, as she met the strange fierce gaze of his black eyes, the expression of despair that haunted the dark, wild beauty of his face. In a low, [subdued voice she said—

'Mr Keith, I cannot endure your unmanly treatment of me longer. You have no right to behave as you do ; and I have no right to bear it, I shall in'orm my father all at once. For Miss May's sake I havo not done so sooner ; you force me to act thus now.' A softened light, snch as had never been witnessed on Ealph Keith's countenance, gradually spread over it as her gentle tones fell upon hi 3 ear. ' Oh, Enid, you must not forsake us! Stay on and cheer my poor aunt with your sunny presence, to brighten, though with but passing gleam, the dreary preciuts of sin-haunted Bryngwyllt. We are all better when you are here, dear. Heaven knows I am vile enough; don't lot this fresh sin be laid at my door. And, Enid'—eagerly—- ' when I treat you so like a brute, so roughly, do not utterly condemn me; you do not know all the curse that resfca upon us here. Oh, have mercy even on me, wicked as lam! No, do not speak; reserve your sweet messages of love aud mercy for others less sinful than Ralph Keith.' Before the could speak, he wrung her hand and hastily left the room. Astonished at the new aud strange turn of affairs were taking, Enid sat powerless to move. These is no man so depraved, so utterly lost to every good, but that has, underneath his baseness, springs that need bat to be touched and there ripples up a nobler self from the depths of his deformed soul. " None are all evil. Quickening round his heart, One softer feeling would not yet depart; Oft would he sneer at others, as beguiled By passions worthy of a foool or child ; Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove, And even In him asks the name of love." Thus it was with Ralph Keith—he loved Enid. The gentle influence of a pure and innocent maiden had reached the one soft spot in that world-worn heart, and the sharp arrow of love had penetrated the vulnerable place, for he loved her with all the intensity of a wild, uncurbed, passionate nature, So well he loved her that beneath an outer incrustation of surly insolence he strove to hide his secret, lest its knowledge should cast a shade of gloom over her day of life. It seemed as if that was to be a day of adventure to Enid, for as she was preparing to retire, a knock at her chamber door announced a late intruder. Gently opening it, she perceived no one more formidable than plump Mrs Davies, the housekeeper. ' You must please forgive me a-taking the liberty, Miss Enid.' she said, ' bnt I know, as you've often said, yon don't believe in ghosts nor sperits ; but to-night. Miss Enid, you would ha' bin convinced agin yourself if you'd only bin with us jest now. The servants was near scared to death. They was the awfullest noises we heard ! And we see a light, too —a blue, ghostly light—quite plain.' But what are the servants doing to be about at this time, Mrs Davies ? It is past eleven o'clock!' • Lor, miss, we was all goin' to bed ! * replied the housekeeper, in such loud tones of injured virtue that Enid feared she had aroused Miss Mary, sleeping in the adjoining room. ' Hush! Ib that all you have to tell me, Mrs Davies P* ' Why I thought you would like to come and 'ear for yourself, miss; it might encourage the servants like, they get so scared.' ' Oh, very well. I am not in the least nervous, and don't expect to be convinced. Come along.' Together they traversed the dark corridors and wide staircase, looking weird and grim enoughiby the fitful gleam of the small lantern that Mrs Davies carried, till they reached the servants' apartments, which were next to the haunted wing. Huddled in the space of a deep window were the terrified domestics, a cold wind blowing over them. • Why, what have you opened the window for ?' asked Enid, laughingly. ' You see, miss,' commenced Mrs Davies, pompously delighted at the opportunity of displaying her KngUsh before her inferiors, two of whom were Welsh girls, ignorant of any language but their mother tongue—' the others opened it to feel more free, more like for company. They got so awful timid, poor things.' It was Mra Davies herself who had proposed opening it. • Oh. my! Did you hear that, Miss Enid V

A rambling sound, followed by a tolerably loud crash, caused a general commotion, and one of the girls, who had been sitting with her head half out of the window, cried in Welsh—

* I see the light again ! Look out—quick?' Instantly every head popped out. The enclosed wing could be seen very plainly, curving round as it did. Pale and staring the dust-covered wiudowa looked in the silvery moonlight. At the bottom of the moat, among the black shadows, Enid could certainly dfstinguish a faint light flitting swiftly about. Her fears increased a hundredfold, as she thought it must bs the light of some human visitant—perhaps a burglar —so evidently was it outside the walla of the h juse. But she would not reveal her dread; she knew no help could be counted upon from the frightened servants. In a calm voice of authority not ty be mistaken, she said—

' This ia sheer childish nonsence, Mrs Davies, I wonder you permit it. The hour m late; come in, and go to hed inßtantly, all of yon. Doubtless the noise is caused by rats, and the light by some stray moonbeam. You know there is always some water at the bottom of the moat, and the reflection caused a glitter.' So saying ahe left them muttering—- * It's a funny moonbeam that would ever get down into that deep hole.' Returning to her room, Enid courted sleep iu vaiu. The fact of there bei*jg a light—and that she had explained it unsatisfactoril to the servants she wall knew—troubled her ; she thought there must be some design on the house ; and, as many of the bolts and fastenings were rusty and insecure from long neglect, Bhe lay ia a highly nervouß and unenviable condition till the welcome dawn streamed in through her window.

Chaftek V. Mias Mary made rspid strides towards racovery after the crisis had passed, and, before long, she left the hsll on a visit to ber old friend Lady Tenrhyn, while Enid returned to the vicarage. A quiet and happy time followed for Enid. Throughout each busy day she looked forward to the evening when Charlie Darrell rarely failed to find his way to challenge the old vicar at hia game of oribbago or mingling his rich baritone with Enid's sweet tone 3 they would sing old melodies to the soft accompaniment of her Welsh harp. From time to time Mrs Davies brought strange news from Bryngwyllt. The servants had all left, and a new batch been engaged. They would not stay, she said ; the noises had been unparalleled. And lately, they declared, a man in a dark cloak, carrying a lantern, waa seen every night through the

windows of the haunted wing. It was decided that some definite ftecs must be taken) when Miss Llewelyn returned.

It was after one of these intnrviews with Mrs Davies, whom she had met in the village, that Enid, deep in thought abont the extraordinary report?, and tan strange lights she had seen herself not long before, strolled on into the country up one of the hill sides. She was startled to perceive how late it was by the rapidly falling shade? of nigct. 3he hastily turned to retrace her 3t< pq ; but the long walk had tired her, and she sat down on a rugged boulder to rest. Haatad with her exertion, she took off her hat, and the gentle breeze, catching her silky tre.=ses, tossed them about in feathery luxuriance. All around was quiet and still, reposing in the calm beauty of the mild April evening—nought to be hcird save too. purling of a tiny streamlet among the hiila or the mellow note of a solitary blackbird th-it reached her from the valley beneath. Far, far below, where the village lay, the l;ght3 in the cottage windows shone out one by one, like the twinkling stars in the heavens above. Suddenly the tali of a ;..ati appeared round a projectins reck, Or aii men in the world she would rather have met any than the one bsfore her in that lonely spc;t, so far from human aid, for it was -.alph Keith. But her old instinctive horror bad oeen somewhat lessened sinea that- l?.st interview in the library at Brycgwyilh. She noticed that he looked ill and altered ; his pale face gleamed marbly white in its dark framework of raven hair ; its expression was that of one who had passed through some scathing trial. He nttered strong words when, he recogni&ed Enid. 'This is too hard ! Had I bat known ;t, I would have gone miles the other way. What on earth could make you choose this place ? It is enough to madden one.' She saw that he was suffering from sonie powerful emotion, and not appearing to notice his strange words, she quietly rose and commenced her downward path. Eat he quickly caught her arm. 'Stay! It's of no use to battl3 against one's destiny; I should have conquered, though, but for this meeting. Sit down on this rock and hear me ' —very huskily. 'My Enid, I lovo you! Nay, itart not: yea must not fear me, dear. I will ba gentle with my little love ; but you must listen. There is no halp for it ; the Fatfs have ordered it so. No, you slnli not speak, till I have told you how I love you—what you are to me!'

Trembling from head to foot, Enid sat spell-bound beneath the burning gaze of Balph Keith's passionate coal-black eyes. ' I will not excuse my wicked life to yon, Enid—l will not attempt to palliate deeds ot" iniquity that would strike horror and loathing into your pure soul; how bad snd vile I have been you know. But, oh! spurn me not from you like filth at your feet, when I tell you that you alone can save me from, this career of guilt. To be with you, to watch your unselfish actions, your childlike holy faith, your pure unsullied life—oh, my darling, is not this enough to save me : £ do not expect your love yet, for you know only my fiendish side; but I will alter, Enid—l will bid an eternal adieu to my former fellows in sin ; and, together in some quiet, distant spot, my good angel shall teach ' (Tt> le continued )