LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2127, 17 December 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTERY LORD BRACKENBTJRY: A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B. EDWABDS, Author of "Barbara's History," "Debenham'a Vow," &c. ( Continued. He paused, struck by the look of embarrasment in her face And then he became suddenly conscious of Miss X.angtrey'a stony stare; of Lancelot's consternation; of a dead uncomfortable silence all round. That silence was broken by Miss Langtrey. ' There is a homely proverb, Bir,' she said grimly, ' that warns you not to talk cf the gallows to a man whose father was hanged. It is not your fault that you have talked to us of the gallows. Lancelot Brackenbnrjr should have warned you that his coal-pit yonder is a forbidden topic at Langtrey Grange. We don't care to be reminded of our ruin.'

Cochrane changed color. For almost the first time in his life he did not know what to Bay. But Lancelot threw himself into the breach, abusing hia own inadvertence and appropriating the blame, 'But then, yon see, we are saoh Rood friends,' he added, 'and we have been good friends for so many yoar*, that I may well forgot a difference th*t was made up when I was a bay at school.' Mis' Langtrey, however, declined to be smoothed the right way, no matser how skillfully. So, finding it impossible to revive the conversation, the young men presently took their leave, and went crestfallen away.

•In Heaven's name, Brackenbury. what have I done ?' asked Cochrane, as toon as they were both in the saddle. * Stirred up Hydra, old man, and waked the sleeping Furies.' 'I am tremendously sorry ; but what is it all about ?' ' Bid you never hear of our great lawsuit t' 'I don't know. I fancy I have heard something about a law-suit, but I don't remember what." ' It's a long story.' ' Never mind. I like long stories.' 'Well, you know, my grandfather and the old Squire were cionies—such cronie", that when the Squire was hard np and obliged to sell, my grandfather, because he could not bear to buy np his old friend's belongings, went in for only one poor little bit cf scrub that happened to lie right in amongst our property—and that bit he bought from old Langtrey in a privata way Well, under that identical bit of scrub, by Jove! we hit upon a big seam of coal, nearly a quarter of a mile thick, leading away, Beaven knows how far, right under the old house my grandfather was living in—a house that had since been pulled down. The Squire was dead before this discovery was made; and Stephen Langtrey—old Miss Langtrey'a brother, you know—went to law about it. That was our great lawsuit. It lasted iix-and-twenty years, and brought the Langtreya to ruin.'

•Awfully lucky for the Brackenbarya,' remarked Cochrane. • Why, yes—it has been a pot of money to us; but I don't know that we have boo a much happier for it. Fortune has played at oro'B-purpoaea with us in other ways. She always does—hang her!' •Ay—how so ?'

' Well, it broke np an old friendship ; it indirectly caused my father to spend the best daya of his life abroad ; it changed the course of all our destinies, in fact; and who knows whether the well worn grooves might not have carried us along more smoothly ?' * The old friendship, at all events, is set on Its legs again.' Lancelot shook his head.

'An old friendship, my dear fellow,'he said, 'is like a piece of old china. It's precious only jußt as long as it's perfect. Once. it's broken, no matter how cleverly you mend it, it's good for nothing bat to put on a shelf in a corner, where it won't be too closely looked at.' ' Philosophy from the ' bric-a brio' point of view ! Moral—Miss Langtrey on the shelf ; not to be taken down or dnated. I should be horribly afraid of that old lady, Brackenbury. She's like the spiteful fairy of the story-books.* 'I am afraid of her,' replied Lancelot. 'And there never lived the mortal man who wasn't afraid of li6r, except my father.' Cochrane would have liked to ask why the wealth that would have kept most men at home should have driven Lancelot's father into exile; but he felt, somehow, that this would be an indiscretion. Then. Lancelot having relapsed into silorioe, he fell to thinking about Winifred Savage aa he saw her in the sunlight, with the pigeons fluttering down about her feet. And then again he wondered where he had' seen that Bordone, and if it was in one of the private palaces at "Venice; and presently bis thoughts wandered to the Pizzi di San Marco, and he fancied how well - that bright head would look leaning out from one of the upper windows on the sunny Bide of the square: and how the famous pigeons would oome flocking to her balcony to be fed ; and what a subject it would make for a painter! Meanwhile, Miss Langtrey, grimly rejoicing in their discomfiture, saw her guests depart. ' Winifred,' she said, when they had croesed the courtyard, and were fairly out of sight, 'look on the mantelshelf.' Mies Savage looked, and saw there a letter addressed in a crabbed engrossing hand. ' From Fawcett and Clarke ? ° she asked.

She opened it, having read it, went over and knelt down beside the old lady'a chair.

' Well,' said Miss Langtrey, querulously, ' what do yon think of it ? ' ' I tbink it ia a bard, unfeeling letter ; but—but dear annt Hester, what they write is no longer of any consequence.' •No. indeed ! Nothing matters now. Tho sooner it is all over the better.'

' Not so, dear J I mean that they cannot hurt us any more—that they shall not take The Grange away from yon ! Fortune, tired of persecuting ns, has done a good tarn at last.'

MiaaLsngtrey(straightened herself in her chair.

'What do you mean, Winifred?' aha said, frowning. * Has Lancelot Brackenbury taken the liberty— '__ ' Lancelot came "over today on pu»-poae to tell me something,' interrupted Mips Savage, hurriedly. 'He coald not tell me before —n-1 till he proved the wilt. Bat, ob, dear Auntie, Ou'hert —poor Cuthbert!— has left me twelve thousand pounds 1' Miis Langrey looked at her niece in silence. A faint Hush roao to her sallow cheek, »nd quickly faded. She betrayed no other sign of emotion. 'Twelve thonsand pounds V she repeated. • V ea—think of it ! Enough to pay off the mortgage, and repair the dear old house, and pat the cotlagts in order, aod do everything that we have so long wanted to do ! Enough and to spare for all our needs, dear Auntie I' • Will ft be raid at once ?' •Undoubtedly.' «Dil he say it?' ' I did not aak h<m ; but I am quite euro of it all the same."

Miss L angtrey put out her hand for the letter, acd tore it very deliberately into four pieces. Then her suppressed exuha'ion found vent in a sudden burst of impatitneo. 'Get up, Winif ed,' she said. 'Got up, —go to the table. Is them any ink ii that iuktttund ? Qjiok, quick!—answer thote men at onca—write what I tell you ! Wo won't wait for the post Bin;; the bell—bid Reuben saddle the old hunter. He aha 1 ride over to Singleton wi;h the letter—Did the bell sound ? Will that pen write ? Are you ready ?' ' Quite ready. What shall I say ?' ' Say that I have requested you to inform them —. No, write In my nine, and I will sign it. ' S-'ay this: 'Gentlemen,—l have received your notice of ejectment, which I decline to accept, it being my intention to pay off the mortgage upon this property, with arrears of interest duo, by or before the date named in your letter' ... or, stay, tear that up, find write instead, thus : —' Gentlemen, I have received your letter nforming me that your tax months' notice

will expire on the 15th inst. You will not need to provide yourself with the threatened 'writ of assistance,' but if yon will wait upon me here on Tuesday, the 12th, this nnpTeasant matter can be concluded. My solicitor will be in attendance, and I particularly request, for important private reasons, that Mr John Fawcett will be present. Xhat is enough." ' Ending with " Yonrs truly ?" ' ' Ending with my signature.' ' Surely that is very abrupt ? ' Misa Langtrey'g eyes flashed sullen fire. *Ja>n "truly" their bitter enemy, as they were your uncle's bitter enemies and evil advisers. I will maintain no show of civility towards them, and write no meaningless phrases. Is it ready ? Bead it over to me.'

_ Winifred read it over, and Miss Larjgtrey signed it in an angular hand, every letter of whieh was as thiu and upright as herself. j never wrote my same with so much satisfaction,' she said, as she gave back the pen.

' And we owe it to Outhbert—poor, generous Cathbert!' Miss Langtrey drew her lips together and shook her h-ad.

Winifred,' she said curtly, «that's nonsense. It so happens that we are especially glad just now of twelve th usand pounds, no matter how or whence it comes. But don't talk to me about generosity. Had he left you fifty thousand, it would have been barely just.' * No, no—dear Aunt Hester.' • Aye— barely ju.Bt. His grandfather bought our birthright for a mess of pottage, and shall we be thankful now for the crumbs that fall from the rich main's table?' Miss Langtrey forgot how ' the rich man ' had sought by the only means in his power, to make amends for that forgone transfer of Stephen Langtrey's birthright. She forgot ; that his having made a will at *H—a will essentially temporary—was in itself an act of signal delicacy and thoughtfulness. She forgot, too, that his untimely disappearance was almoßt too certainly due to those fatal diamonds intended for hia bride.

Bnt Winifred, though silent, remembered all tbie—remembered it with tears when she laid her head that night upon the pillow. How good he had been te her!—how patient, how forbearing, how generous! How, even from the darkness and mystery of the past, his hand was now even stretched forth to help and save her! And she—what had she done to repay his trust, to deserve his bounty ? Had she loved him with the love so justly his due ? Had she been even commonly grateful to him ? Thus questioning her own heart, thus looking beck upon the years that were gone, she wept; and her tears were tears of selfreproach. (To be continued.) The latest shade of hair is ecru. It isn't exactly brown, exactly red, or exactly yellow, but a color combining softer tints of all three. Of course ecru hair would be amazingly unbecoming to young gentlemen, unless perhaps a stray long hair or two might look well on their coat collars. Progress—ln England young gentlemen speak of their father as " governor," "pater," "the overseer," &o. Here we are more civilisod. We say " dad," " the boss," or "the old man," In heathen countries they ■6y"father;" but they are always behind the age. She was the young wife of a betting can, and though a strong-minded intellectual woman, did not understand the technical terms and abbreviations of racing language, and when, therefore, she reoeived in her husband's absence on the Leger day a telegram worded as follows: " Put your last ebirt on the Devil," she was mystified, and immediately wired to her husband's friend as follows : —" I know my husband is a fool, but if he takes your advice and gives his spare underclothing to Satan and his imps, here is a woman going to get a divorce."—" Sporting Times."

The waits between the acts in a Chinese theatre are locg enough for a young man to go out and chew cloves, play six games o£ billiards, take a nap of six hours, go twenty miles into the country to see his aunt Fanny Hi-Hi, attend a baee ball match, eat his supper, get shaved, and fight a duel.—" Nometown Herald."