LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2023, 18 August 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A FOBXOKN HOPE. {Concluded) And bo they parted with wrung hearts, fearing, as many loverß have feared, that the hoar-glass of time, or the scythe of Death, would stand between them in this life. And the river flowed onward to the sea. Joe Berthfleld returned to New York and to the boarding-house, where his worldly goods were packed ready for transit, in a depressed and remorseful state of mind. He was miserable enough, heaven knows, and though he bit his lips until the blood almost came, and clenched his teeth, it was hard work to keep the tears from starting. It was in vain that he inwardly exhorted himself not to feel this wringing pain in his hea-t. Nature, not manhood, was uppermost. He could not eat, but lighting a cigar and repairing to his dingy room he leant out of the window to enjoy his only luxury—that of thinking of Hattie Hadwin. He folded his arms tightly across his breast thinking about her. and then he leant out with some romantic idea that the wind would waft her breath to him, or that the same moon should look down upon both. H e had not naturally a genius for self-tor-ment, quite tho reverse ; but a man in love will do such things. In his mind's eye he beheld her as his wife, acd he saw her fretted and worn, struggling for her father with adverse circumstances, and sinking quietly but surely while his arm. would be far from her. Within ten hcurs from that time Joe Berthfield was engaged at seaman's wages to work under the engineer of the steamship Yeddo. At nine o'clock he had passed through the Narrows. If his heart was heavy his spirit was good, his belief in flattie's faithfulness, although no vows had been registered, very considerable ; his belief in his own, amazingly firm. ' Success is certain till energy fails,' said Joe, as he commenced to dump a lot of coal through a stokehole. * * * *

It was perhaps ten j ears after this that a lady, richly clad in silks and furs, walked up Fifth avenue, New York, one bright, crisp winter's day. She carried a small roll of music under her cloak, and stopped at one of tho largo palatial houses that face the Catholic Cathedral. She rang the bell and was quickly admitted into the magnificent parlor. She opened her music, laid aside her wrappings, and taking a short peep Into a superb pier glass, set in ebony frame, revealed the face of Hattie Hadwin. Tall, gay, handsome and careless, with a bewitching drollery about the mouth, and a rather masterful eye. Presently the door was opened, and a tall and wilful looking girl, with a pair of flashing blue eyes, almost ran in. She would have embraced Hattie on the spot, but the latter drowned the effort in her own significant way; she laid her hand on the young lady's shoulders, saying—- ' Well, Julie, how is the voice, and how have you prospered with the song ? ' ' Oh Miss Hattie, papa says I am hoarse and that I have a cold, but let me try.' Hattie Hadwin had the knack of making herself particularly charming to her pupils, who all adored her after the fashion of young girls. Miss Julie Van Zutphen was no exception to the rule, so the two sat down and proceeded very amiably for some time. At last the fantasy seized Hattie that Miaa Van Zutphen should repeat a certain passage a given number of times as a penalty for the falling short of the mode of performing it. The young girl's spirit did not bear the burden very meekly—first, her pride arose ; then mortification did battle with pride, and lastly, the spirit of sullenness descended and utterly paralyzed Miss Van Zutphen's vocal powers.

A dreaded pause ensaed. Hattie, smiling to herself as the altered intonation fell upoa her ear, turned round and met such a fall blaze of indignation on the pretty face as made her smile a great deal more. She then commenced the song herself—- «' A crimson rosebud into beauty breaking, A hand outatretclnd to pluok it ere it falls; An hoar of triumph, and a sad forsaking ; And then, a withered rose-leaf—that la all.

" A maiden's heart that kaoweth not love's darting, A voice that teaches love beyond recall, An hour of joy, an hour of bitter parting; And then a broken heart—and that is all." She sang it dellcionsly, and in so doing forgot, or seemed ts torget, her surrounding. The invincible spirit of music spoke to her of other tbinga, and, as her fingers wandered over the keys, her face grew very wistful, almost sad, and she no longer remembered even to tease Miss Van Zutphen, who was affected like Saul, in so far that themutinous demon was in some sort charmed out of her, and she was pondering how she might beat descend from a pedestal of pride, and make submission to Hat tie without lc sing her dignity. The tong was finished, and both came back to realities. Hattie did not care about conquering herself, but was wondrously fond of conquering other people. So she devoted an instant to Miss Van Zutphen, and, having ascertained by an almost imperceptible glance that young lady's state of mind, she proceeded to apply the actual remedy. She took the Bong and gave it to her, saying, very sadly : 'Until to-day I always sang that song with pleasure, Julie, but you have joined to it a less pleasant memory. I hope you will like it better from this moment than I shall.'

And she bent over the song, and wrote on the margin with her pencil the single word * revolt.' Julie Van Zutphen gavo a convulsive gulp, but said never a word. Hattie gave two more lessons on the avenue, and then walked quickly home. Her father, poor in the first instance, became poorer still. An eminent musician, he was compelled to make his pleasure minister to his nece'.sity. Health failed him more than his fortune. When she returned he was sitting in his chair by the fire, thinking long of her, as the Scotch say. In her eyes he looked each time she came back more gentle, feeble and shadowy than before In quickly told tales like this thero is no room, as there is no need, to detail the course each day which went to make up Hatt r e Hadwin's life. Hattie was fast growing rich. Work was a law and necessity, but she did her work easily; it suited her, and her gains were sufficient not only to support herself and her father in exceeding comfort, but to enable her to pay periodical visits to the National Park Bank, where she was received with that consideration that bespeaks the entrance of a person coming to deposit, not to draw money. She was the fashion. Society liked her, her splendid voice, her gracious manner, her habits and her rich neutral tinted toilets. No tidings from Berthfield had ever reached her, yet, in spite of it, she grew to appear handsomer and stouter; she was not a-weary because he came not, and. indeed, presented no resemblance to the " Marian of the Moated Grange." Ten years from the time I last portrayed her she entered her fortieth year. It was a winter's evening. There had been a driving storm of sleet and snow, with a keen, bitter wind. The foot passengers on the sidewalks were whipped, blinded and at last roused by it, the drivers of horse-cars disappeared behind the mountains of wraps, and the homeless poor betook themselves to alleys and doorways for shelter. The sky was stern and lowering, and plainly informed those who consulted it that thero was worse yet to come.

I do not think any one oould look more comfortable or fcaadsoiaer than Hattio Hadwin as she sit making the hot coffee in the snug study, clad In rich garment of sombre hue, but of exquisite workmanship and finish. Her father, still alive, was seated in the selfsame chair. Hid head was very white and quite bowed on his breast, and his long, thin Sogers beat time restlessly. She spoke only a few words to him now and then, and they were caressing and such as might have been used to a child. At last she settled herself in her own lounging ohair, and, opening a new book, was soon deepen it. Gradually the new book found its resting place on the floor, and Hattie reposed calmly,

There was a* rumbling of hack, wheels close to the sidewalk, and then a halt. But there was no magnetism in the air to warn Hattie of any one being near her more than that gentle, shadowy man which she had tended for so many year*. Then footsteps in the hall and a hand on the door. Even the seven sleepers awakened at last, and when tbe doorf opened Hattie started to her ftet, fully prepared to deny that she had been otherwise than awake. Then came a face, bronzed, fiery red, full blue eyes, and altogether strange to Hattie—at least, she had seen such in her dreams. A mass of hair, beard, moustache and whiskers of a hue which waß pale only beside hia face. All this surmounted a figure huge in every way, but especially in breadth. Hattie stood wondering, and the figure stood wondering also. Like the Ancient Mariner, 'he fixed her with his eye,' and as he peiformed the operation, he drew oif wrapping, and at length stood confessed as Berthfield, weighing at the very least 220 pounds. Then the blue eyes danced with amusement, the white teeth showed themselves, and a hearty, full, sonorous laugh broke the ice. ' Hattie, do you know me ? ' He stepped forward and kisßed her, at first lightly on the cheeks, and then, putting her back with another glance and another laugh, he followed up that kiss by many others, aod, they came eo fast and warm that Hattie had not presence of mind to resist. ' I understand that you era still Hattia Badwin, or jou would not have seen me here to-night. So this is your father ? '

She led him up to the old man gently. 'Speak tenderly to him Jce. He is quite childish now.' Something in the subdued, womanly tone of Hattie's voica gave Berthfield a choking sensation. However, he cleared his throat and shook hands with Mr Hadwin. The poor gentleman looked up with his wan comprehensive smile. _ * You'll be kind to Hattie—you'il be kind to her ?' and then he rattled on incoherently. Hattie had not forgotten how to bTush, and at the random speech of her father the blood rushed up in torrents to her hair root?, leaving a transient crimson oa her throat and neck. Apparently this enchanted Joe, for ho rubbed his hair and tugged at his tawny beard, and sat down and watched Hattie aa she poured out coffee for him, with the bright, cheerfol and trusting look of twenty ears before ' Ah, Hattie,' he continued, laughingly, ' I swore that were you faded, wrn and shrivelled', I would Btill be true ; but you have not lretted for me, yon have not the assurance to pretend it. Am I absolved from my oath ? ' Hattie raised her eyes with a malicious glance, signifying *Et tu brute.' * Yes, I know,' he added, surveying rather ruefully his ample person, 'we nave both much to forgive.' There was no explanation asked, for none was required—they both felt supremely happy. They had each done their duty, not sadly and sternly, but merrily and well.