LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2125, 15 December 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTBEY ov LORD BRACKBNBTJRY; A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS, Author of “Barbara’s History,” ‘‘Debenham’s Vow,” &c. (Continued.) Chapter XIX. THE FAMILY PORTRAITS, The Long Gallery was well-named. It measured sixty-eight feet from end to end by only twelve in width, and, _ being so narrow, looked even longer than its actual length. It was lighted by two very large windows, to the front, and by a bay window, now filled up, at the east end. On the panelled walls, opposite the two front windows, and in the spaces between those windows, in all imaginable oroas-lights, hung a series of faded family portraits; mostly full-lengths of gentlemen in ruffs and doublets, corslets and boots, Ramillies wigs and brocaded waistcoats, with a sprinkling of ladies in hoops, powder, and patches—all in various stages of mildew and dilapidation. At the lower end was a musician’s gallery; and here and there at long intervals against the walls, an old high-backed chair covered with crimson and amber brocade. Other fnrnitnre and decorations there were none. The floor had once been polished, and doubtless level, but now was as uneven as as the pavement of St. Mark’s at Venice. Cochrane gave himself up with a good grace to Mrs Bridget’s guidance and started for the family portraits. * The earliest painted likeness of any member of the Langtrey family,’ said the old woman, falling at once Into the perfunctory and half-aggressive tone of a practised ‘ cicerone’ ‘ consists of a small panel, dated 1521, supposed to be the portrait of Godfrey Langtrey, Esquire, who lived In the reign of King Henry VIII. It hangs in a room in the North wing. There are also in the old parish church some effigies in stone, and three monumental brasses, of various members of the family of a still earlier period, some dating back to the time of the Crusades. The name of the Langtrey family, and a list of their lands. Is likewise to be fonnd in Domesday Book. It is one of the most ancient families in . , » 9l* Never mind all that Bridget, ’ said Miss Savage, with a somewhat heightened color. ‘This gentleman wants to hear about the pictures. Begin with Sir Marmadnke.’ The old woman folded her hands and sniffed. ‘ Moat gentry prefers to hear the description in order, Miss Winifred,’ she said reprovingly, ‘lßut I can begin with Sir Marmadnke, if required.’ Cochrane protested that be wonld be charmed to begin with the flood, if necessary ; and that nothing could possibly interest him more than the whole pedigree and history of the owners of The Grange. Mrs Bridget, however, gathered herself together for a fresh start, plnnged ‘in medias res,’ and began afresh with Sir Marmadnke. ‘The first portrait to the left of the throne,’ she said, ‘ represents Sir Matmadnke Langtrey bom Anno Domini 1540, died Anno Domini 1616. Sir Marmadnke held the office of Sheriff of the Oonnty Anno Domini 1578, during which year he was krighted by Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Elizabeth on the occasion of her visit to Langtrey Grange. The portrait is supposed to be by Sir Antonio More ’ Cochrane received this information with a perfectly grave—perhaps a too perfectly grave countenance ; for Miss Savage at once suspected him, ’ Was Sir Antonio More a great painter ? ’ she asked, turning 1 o Lancelot. ‘Very great indeed.’ ‘ A nd this is a bad picture.’ ‘ Well —yes ; it Is a bad picture.’ •I thought so. Bridget, yon must never again say that Sir Marmadnke is supposed to be by Sir Antonio More. We don’t suppose it. In fact, we are quite sure that it is nothing of the kind.’ ‘ I’ve been saying it for the last fifty years, Miss Winifred; and it has never been doubted till this moment,’ said Mrs Bridget, in an injured tone. *lf you have been saying it for the last hundred and fifty years, Bridget, it would make no difference.’ ‘Then, if you please. Miss, what am I to say ? ’ Miss Savage turned an appealing look upon Lancelot, ‘Say—By an unknown artist,’ he suggested. *Or by a sign-painter of the period. Wouldn’t that be better ?’ Then, dropping her voice, she added with a sign, ‘ Bat what does it matter ? It is perhaps the last time —poor old Bridget!’ Meanwhile that ancient damsel had passed on to the next pictura ‘This,’ she was saying, ‘is the portrait of Sir Harry Langtrey, eldest son of Sir Marmadnke Langtrey, born Anno Domini 1574; married Anno Domini 1606 to the Lady Frances, fourth daughter of Anthony, Viscount Montacnte; died Anno Domini 1639. Sir Harry Langtrey was one of the gentlemen despatched to Gravesend in 1612, to receive Frederick, the Elector Palatine of the Rhine, on the occasion of his marriage with the Princess Mary of England. It was in commemoration of this event that Sir Harry received the honor of knighthood at the hands of His Most Sacred Majesty King James I.’ Miss Savage hung back and allowed Bridget and Mr Cochrane to move on. ‘Stay a moment, Lancelot,’ she said hurriedly, * Ton have heard all this before, and—and I have something to tell yon.’ ‘I too—l have something to tell yon, Winifred,’ he replied; gnesalng what she was about to say. ‘ May I speak first ?’ She looked up, almost apprehensively. ‘Yes—by all meane,’ she said. ‘Yon don’t look like the bearer of bad news. Mine is bad—and it will keep. ’ ‘No; it la not bad; bat it Is not pleasant. I mean—yon won’t approve of it.’ The apprehensive look came back again into her face. ‘ Whatever it is, tell me at once,’ she said hastily. * Well, then, I—that is to say, Marrables has been nrging it npon me, for the last year, yon know—l have consented to prove poor Cnthbert’s will.’ •Yon mean that yon are about to take the title ? ’ ‘ Well—it amounts to that.’ The colour rushed in a crimson tide to the girl’s face, and as rapidly retreated. ‘ Oh, Lancelot 1 ’ she said reproachfully. ‘ I know —I know ; bnt what oonld Ido ? It must have come sooner or later ; and it was so clearly my duty. Yon don’t know with wbat reluctance I have consented.’ ‘ Your duty! Your duty to whom! ’ ‘To the tenantry—to the legatees—to a host of people who are wronged by the delay. Dear Winifred, don’t blame me too hastily. To hold back longer would have been nnjnat—unjust to Cnthbert’s memory —an just even to yourself? ’ * Unjust to me ? How can that be ? What have I to do with it ? ’ ‘Yon have a great deal to do with it. Yon are one ol the legatees ’ ‘l?’ * Yes; one of the principal legatees. I had no right to tell yon till—till we gave up all hope ; bnt Cnthbeit has left yon a considerable sum—twelve thousand pounds, ’ He could not resist watching the effect of his words ; and yet he felt as if he onght to have looked away. For a moment she stared at him incredulously. Then a sudden look of relief, of thankfulness, flashed into her face; and then her eyes filled with tears. ‘ He was always good to me,’ she said, tremulously. •He was alway good to every one,’ replied Lancelot ‘How, then, should he not be good to you ? But he would have left you more, Winifred—something else—something of far greater value tbantewelve thousand pounds, It was his intention, if fate. . .’ ‘Don’t tell me, please,’interrupted Miss Savage. ‘I am glad it is no more. It is already too much—more than I deserve.’

. ‘ f»y. I«m bound to tell you, If but in justice to his memory.’ ' Those fatal diamonds—he meant to have left thein also to you. In the last letter 1 ever received from him. . , you know 1 had a letter only a day or two before I was summoned to Spezziat ’ Tes ; I remember hearing that there was a letter. ’ ‘Well, in that letter, written when he was planning to buy the diamonds, he said he wished you to have them, if anything happened to him before—before they were yours by right.’ She looked down in silence. He waited a moment, as If expecting her I to. say something. Then, finding that she still kept silent, he added, * This was what I had to tell yon, ’ Her lip quivered. ‘ Thank you, ’ she said at length. * Thank you for telling me. You know how poor we are ; but you don’t know from what a bitter grief this money may save us.’ _-■* I wished it was ten times as much,’ said Lancelot warmly. ‘I am glad it is nothing of the kind. I conld nok would not, hive accepted more ; but for this lam very grateful. And as for what I Was about to say just now ’ * ** is la anything you think Miss Langtrey would prefer me not to hear, pray leave it unsaid, interposed Lancelot, hastily. ‘Ah!’ she said, drawing a quick breath, •you know it, then,’ Lancelot colored. ‘ Perhaps I gneas,’ he said awkwardly. She looked at him. ‘ And I, she said, ‘ and I—perhaps I understand.’ * “—: distinguished himself at the battle of Dettingen, on the 16th of June, 1743, and was promoted on the field. He afterwards served with his regiment in Scotland under the Dnke of Cumberland, in 1746, and fell mortally wounded at the battle of Culloden, having taken one of the rebel standards with his own hand.’ The old woman’s quavering treble came to them with measured distinctness. She had by this time conducted Mr Cochrane to the further end of the gallery, and arrived at the reigns of the Georges. Meanwhile Lancelot was silent, not knowing what to say. Miss Savage spoke again. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I understand ; and I know what it must have coat you.’ * Don’t think about that, ’ he replied bluntly, ‘ I mnst have done it sooner or later.’ ' And you have done it sooner, for onr sakes. Thank you, Lancelot.’ (To he continued .) j