LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2115, 3 December 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

J THE MYSTERY IS d OF | LOED BKACKENBURY: A NOVEL. r BY AMELIAb!" EDWABDS, a Author of "Barbara's History," .''Deben- , ham's Vow," &c. i { Continued. ' Thus time passed, and the last probal tionary year was fast drawing to a close, [ when, almost without warning of illness, , Lord Brackenbury died suddenly at Tunl bridge Wells, in the fifty-fifth year of his i age; and Mr Brackenbury—the Lord i Brackenbury of the opening chapters of this > history—succeeded to the title snd estates. 1 There were lamentations for the late lord both in London and Lancashire. He was a man popular at his olub, respected by the leaders of his party, beloved by his tenantry ; a man easy of access, gentle, kindly, generous, charming in society, and most gracious in his intercourse with women. To say that he left an Irreparable gap in either the political or social world would be absurd. Few people are big enough in these days to leave a gap of any kind, and the gaps left by the biggest get filled in again with extraordinary rapidity ; but Lord Brackenbury was missed, for half a season, in many drawing-rooms, and in the corner seat of his favorite window at the Imperator Club. Mr Brackenbury was away—cruising somewhere in the Baltic—when his father died t and did not even know of his loss till the funeral was over. There had been little sympathy, and no "camaraderie" whatever, between himself and Lord Brackenbury ; but he felt the shook none the less severely. Perhaps, now that it was too late, he regretted the disappointment he had himself inflicted upon that kindly heart, and wished that he had made some effort to conform, at least in part, to his father's wishes. His grief, though he kept it to himself, was at all events sincere, and he expressed It characteristically enough by a resolute effort to take up the duties of hi? new position. So he hastened home; and although nothing in the world was more distasteful to him, set to work upon that labor of re-adjustment which goes with the transfer of a large property. Absorbed in leases, repairs, ground rents, boundaries, rights of way, and the like, he lived some months in an atmosphere of red tape and parchment; during which time—it being' a time of mourning as well as of business—there was no further mention of the marriage which, shortly before the late lord's death, had began to be talked of as not far distant. When, however, these matters were settled, and the new order of things had ceased to seem new, Lord Brackenbury felt that longer silence on his own part wonld be unbecoming. Not that he was even now In haste to marry ; but that it was incumbent upon him, as an engaged man, to remind Miss Savage that her nineteenth birthday was a thing of the past. Chapter XIII. LIBEETr IS SWEET. ' Pray do not remind me of anything so disagreeable,' said Miss Savage with a hurried affection of gaiety. ' I feel already as if I was a hundred I' 'My dear Winifred,'said Lord Brackenbury, ' you know quite well what I mean.' 'You mean what the ancients meant, when they eat down to supper with a skeleton and crowned it with roses—only yon leave out the roses. It is dreadfully uncivil.* Having arrived half an hour earlier than usual, and being shown into an empty drawing room, Lord Brackenbury had sought Miss Savage out of doors. He found her in the orchard, sitting on the grass under a big mulberry tree, with her dogs at her feet, and in her lap a volume of 'Guy Mannering,' It was a hot July afternoon, and under the mulberry tree there was a space of delicious shade. The young lady, however, had risen at his approach, and they were now strolling slowly round the orchard. ' I mean nothing of the kind,' said Lord Brackenbury with his grave smile. 'Besides, you must not say "the ancients," Winifred, It is an expression altogether out of date.' ' Aunt Hester always says " the ancients," ' replied Miss Savage. 'lt is very ugly. I am glad it is out of date. I like to trunk of the Greeks and Romans as anything but ancients—especially the Greeks. To me they are always young and beautiful, living under skies perpetually cloudless, and walking about in white robes that never by any possibility get soiled or shabby. They should be called the immortals.' ' Neither do I wish you to look upon me in the light of a Memento Mori,' continued Lord Brackenbury, taking no heed of this digression. *My object in reminding you of your age. . . . ' ' Don't remind me of it; a woman is always eighteen till she is thirty,' interrupted Miss Savage, quickening her steps in the direction of the house. ' Had we not better Btay here ?' said Lord Brackenbury. 'lt is cooler thau indoors. Besides, I want to talk to you very particularly—about the future.' Miss Savage, after a moment's hesitation, resigned herself to inevitable fate. 'As you please,' she'said wearily; but 'I don't see the use of it. The present is what really concerns us. The futuro will take care of itself.' • I prefer to take care of my own future,' replied Lord Brackenbury; ' and I hope of yours. Shall we sit down here V They had passed out of the orchard into the garden a weedy, neglected, oldfashioned place, intersected by formal walks crossing each other at right angles between beds of lavender and rows of hollyhocks and sunflowers. At the upper end, flanked to right and left by a high wall covered with peach and nectarine trees, stood a quaint red brick summer-house; and in front of this summer-house, whioh was furnished with two uncomfortable rustic chairs and a table, a sun-dial on a lichen-stained stone pedestal, told off the drowsy hours as they passed. It was here that Lord Brackenbury proposed they should sit down. Miss Savage silently complied ; and Lord Brackenbury noticed that she was unusually pale. ' I fear you are tired,' he said. 'Oh no—thanks. I am not tired. But I suppose every one feels this sultry weather, more or less.' Lord Brackenbury got up; examined a thermometer that hung against the wall; found that it registered SOdeg. In the shade ; remarked that English heat was more oppressive than Italian heat; sat down again ; and looked as if he did not quite know what to say next, 'lf my father had lived a few months longer,' he said presently, 'he would, I suppose, by this time have had the happiness of calling you his daughter.' She made no answer. ' It would have been a great happiness to him; and he had been looking forward to it for many years. He loved you very much.' The tears rushed to Miss Savage's eyes. "I loved "him" very much,' she said, turning her face away. 'He was the kindest friend I ever had.' Then there was a pause, during whioh Lord Brackenbury felt exceedingly uncomfortable. ' I am quite sure, Winifred,' he said presently, ' that you know what I am about to say as well as if I had already said it.' ' Whether I do or not, never c:ind—leave it unsaid—pray, leave it unsaid.' Lord Brackenbury's brow darkened. Miss Savage was not wont to be vehement ; but in the way these words were spoken there was a vehemence that surprised and displeased him. ' That is impossible,' he said. ' I cannot put aside a matter of great importance as if it were of no Importance at all.' Then, bethinking himself that this was an occasion upon which a certain reluctance was possibly ' de rigueur' on the part of tho lady, and that his own tone was not, perhaps, sufficiently lover like, he added more gently—- ' It is time, dear, that we should form some definite plans for the future. I think of giving up my yacht, and settling down for good and all as an old-fashioned country gentleman. Meanwhile, Brackenbury Court waits for its mistress; and I—and I for my I | wife.' I {To be continued.)