LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2097, 12 November 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MAY S WAGEE. ‘ I bet yon six pairs of Jonvin’s best, my dear, that I bring that scorner of woman to my feet within six weeks ! That is a fair ” allowance—a week for each pair of gloves!’ exclaimed Miss May Meredith, as she sat chatting with a pay party of girls. She was an acknowledged belle among them, and although the man in question, well adapted to win women’s hearts that he _ was, was known rather to avoid the sex, or to waste upon them cynicisms or courteous sarcasms, there were none present who did not believe May Meredith had but to will and do. None present, did I say? In a far-off corner of the luxuriously-furnished room eat * young girl, busily sewing. The shelltinted eara could not fail to catch the conversation, and although the long lashes did not lift themselves .from the great brown eyes bent upon her work, a slightly contemptuous curve gathered about the well-cut lips, followed by a halt unconscious shrug of the pretty, rounded shoulders. It was only Miss Harlon, Mrs Meredith’s poor dependent. She was a distant relative of the family, but so distant that the relationship was lost sight of in the meagre salary allowed her for supervising the large household, and taking the part somewhat of a Cinderella for the young ladies. What mattered it 1 hat, three years before, she had sung out her young heart, from morn till eve, in the pretty country parsonage in whioh her dear, dead father had been rector ? He had died and left her with the song unfinished on her lips. The blow had almost killed her, but a sweet hope in her heart of another strong arm ready to protect her, and fill, as best he might, his place, enabled her to live through it, until she learned, at she supposed, that all the world was false, and gladly, thankfully, accepted Mrs Meredith’s final offer of a home, independence, however small, and only bowed the anbnrn-covered head in silence, when her consin said ; ‘ I do not expect you in any way to presume upon the distant tie between us, but simply to fulfil the duties assigned you. Of course, having two yonng lady daughters, and the faot of your being in monrning and without suitable wardrobe, you will not expect to enter at all into society, or even into my own drawing room. ’ Which sentence, being delivered very quickly, and without, it must be confessed, due regard to the rules of parsing, only lost its impressiveness through Miss Harlon’a entire indifference to the subject-matter it contained. Her life was not a hard life, except in its ntter loneliness, and the moments when she waged her war with memory over a wonnd that would not heal; but she idly wondered, sitting there, who this man was who had given rise to all this aboard speculation. ‘ Bringing him to your feet. May is rather ambiguous, is it net?’ questioned one of the party. ‘ What do yon mean by that * phrase!’ *1 mean that within six weeks, if I so will it, I may become Mrs Leigh ' Creighton. ’ The words were greeted with a laugh ; but from the girl’s hands in the comer the work had dropped, all trace of color had left the lovely face, the great brown eyes were open wide, even dilated, with a strange, frightened expression in their depths, Leigh Creighton! Was it her own fancy whioh had imagined the words ? No. They were all busily ohatting now, and hla name passed from lip to Up, while they told of his attractions, his handsome face, his nameless grace, his long stay abroad, his return home, his strangely indifferent manner, until the color oame into her cheeks, and her trembling hands steadied themselves while she stopped and regained possession of the fallen work.

Ah, the coaid thank Mrs Meredith now for forbidding her entrance into the gay world. It had never tempted her ; she had never regretted it. Now she mast shun it. Fortunately, the way was easy. Their two paths would never meet—his and hers. But, oh I how the old wound bled ! A week later, she sat in her own room, looking out into the dark night, while up through the closed door came sounds of music and laughter—it was one of Mrs Meredith’s ‘At homes’—when suddenly the door flew open, and May, without knocking, rushed into the room, * Excuse me, Fanny,’ she exclaimed, ‘ but mamma is in such a state of excitement. Miss Adams, the scprano, had disappointed her, and she says you must come down at once and sing in her place. ’ * Oh, May, I cannot! Tour mother must excuse me.' ‘My dear child, you must! I should not dare carry such a message, and yon know the music-room is away from the rest, and I will see that on one disturbs yon. Slip on your black silk, and pin this white rose in your hair. There!’ she added a few momenta later. ‘ I shall hare to keep yon in the dark now, lest you eclipse ns all. I really believe, Fanny, ene reason mamma keeps you so in the background is because she is afraid of you !’ ■ Hush, May! It is my wish as well as her command.’ Oh, if she dared ask if he were there! thought Miss Harlon, as, seating herself at the piano, she caught a glimpse of the brilliant assemblage in the room beyond. But what mattered it ? He would not see her, or, seeing, would pass her by unrecognised. She must calm herseif. She was glad that all were so engrossed that only one or two saw her take her position at the instrument.

A moment later, every one turned to his neighbor in silenced amaze, as the exquisitely clear, thrilling notes thrilled through the room. Louder and louder, and still more sweet, rose the young voice, until, looking round among her guests, Mrs Meredith congratulated herself on Miss Adams’ absence, even while determined not again to permit Miss Harlon to appear, else it would be impossible to keep her in obscurity—and she found her so useful ! But, as the song died away, one man stepped from behind a curtain which had concealed him. His handsome face was very pale, and there was a look both of regret and anger in his eyes ; but both gave place to a great tenderness as he stepped qnietly to M’sa Harlon’s side.

* Fay !’ he whispered. At the old name—the name only one had ever given her —the girl grew deathly white.

‘ Fay !' he said again, * have yon no welcome for me after all these years !’

She opened her pale lips to answer, but the words of scorn she meant to utter refused to come. Pride struggled desperately with the suffocating feeling that was growing up about her heart, hut in vain. A veil of darkness shut out from her Leigh Creighton’s face, and she fell fainting in his arms. * Such a ridiculous display!’ observed Mrs Meredith, the next morning. ‘ I expected, Fanny, more control on your part, I never saw such a disgusted expression on Mr Creighton’s face.’ To all of which Miss Harlon answered—nothing. Only when, the next afternoon, in the twilight’s dusk, the servant, with a somewhat amazed expression on the well-trained face, put into her hand Leigh Creighton’s card, she wrote upon her own these words in answer, and putting them in a sealed envelope, bade the man return them to him : * The one kindness you can do me is to ignore the fact that we have ever met before. It is my desiie that we shall never do so again.’ And with these words she thought to close the volume of her life’s history. The six weeks were drawing to a close, and May was growing uneasy on the subject of her wager. For the first time, her care-fully-sharpened arrows failed to hit the dcstmed mark ; and although her heart was not interested, her p'ide w. e, and ehe determined anew upon conquest. But with Fay the wager had been forgotten, as one afternoon she stole down into the musicroom. Every one was out, The house was deserted, as she sat down at the piano, and let her hands play with the keys. Had her brain invoked the melody which followed, cr was it the spirit of the past ? She had not played that air since she had left the little parlor at the parsonage, when another manly, strange voice had mingled with hers. She began it now, but the sweeter, softer memories it brought wer* more than she could bear. She burst into bitter, choking sobs, and the keys seemed to wail in harmony, as her head fell forward upon them.

Bnt the sound did not die away. Another voice took it np and finished it to the close while she sobbed on. She did not even wonder how he had come there—did not even think of escaping him. Ihe misery of the present absorbed and overwhelmed her.

• Fay I little Fay I’ he said, when silence, except for her sobs, had fallen. • Tel! me what aU this crnel misunderstanding has meant, all these years. You used to love me, In that far-off time. What has changed yon ?’ ‘ Used to love you!’ the girl answered, her indignation calming. ‘Do you dare boast of it ? Yes, I loved you ; and when my father died, and I was left alone, I looked for you to comfort me—looked out m vain—until my heart almost broke. Then, picking np the paper one day, I read in it the news of yonr marriage, and gladly escaped the scorn of my own soul by accepting Mrs Meredith’s offer. Has your wife been long dead, Mr Creighton ?’ ‘Married? My wifedesd?’ the man answered, aghast ‘My darling, what a mistake it has aU been ! I have never married. It was some one who boro my name; I did not even know. I wrote yon again and again, and as soon as possible tried to find you. All in vain 1 You had left no trace behind. I was wretched, and went abroad to try and forget you ; but I could not. Fay, I have found you now, never, never to lose you again!’ But May, returning from her afternoon drive and hearing voices in the nmaio-room, suddenly hears the last carefully prepared arrow in her quiver snap, as she discovers a picture older than any even of the oldest painters may have endeavored to transmit to canvas, and with the discovery knows that she has lost her wager.