LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2135, 28 December 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A FAIR WOMAN’S SIN. It had been the diamalest of Autumn days. Fallen leaves strewed the ground, and were piled in melancholy heaps, wherever tho wind of the day before had drifted them ; and now, with ths rain beating down on them in a pitless, unceasing torrent, they looked dreary enough in their sodden wetness The sky had hung low and leaden all day, and the east wind, chill and penetrating, had been shrieking and wailing around the house, bending the bare branches of the nnleaved trees, till their writhing seemed aa if in agony. Little pools of water lay here and there, in which tho rain drops dimpled ceaselessly. Late flowers hung their soaked blooms disconsolately; the lawn looked too thoroughly saturated to ever possibly afford the amusement of orcquet again; a dismal sound of water, trickling down the leaders into the gutters was sufficient to induce melancholy in a Mark Tapley. And it was little wonder that Olivo Ormond, srnsitive, high-strnng, keenly susceptible to all external influences, was strangely at unrest. She was a girl who reveled in warmest sunshine, who was never happier than when a fervid, sensuous scuth wind was stirring—a girl who worshipped flowers, and fields of corn ripening under an ardent August sun — a girl who, notwithstanding her passion for such, was active, energetic, resolute, high-spirited. And decidedly pretty, in an cdd, original way. Her eyes were bine—blue aa sapphire, or a cloudless summer sky ; bright, earnest, eager eyes, that but one person in all the world had the power to make darken with passionate devotion— the man of whom she was thinking this dark November twilight. And her hair was -golden-blonde—rich, satiny, golden-blonde hair, that was a rare beauty in itself ; that waved slightly, and was infinitely becoming in whatever style she preferred to call It. but her complexion! It was the odd. splendid combination the blue eyes and golden hair with the rich brunette skin, ardent aa her own temperament, rich and rare in tint as her own name suggested, that made Olive Ormond more than ordinarily handsome ; that had been the first attraction for Stuart Melville ; that was an unpardonable sin in Lora Steele’s eyes, since Olive was poor, a nobody, obscure, a dependent on her bounty, :nd had no business to be so rarely lovely, while she herself, rich, fairly handsome, a widow of only twenty-five, had come off a poor second in the game of Stuait Melville’s love.

Not that Olive had known that there was a game beimr played—not that she know that every look, every word, every action, of Melville was watched by Mrs Steele. Bnt it had so happened that Staart Melville was very fast learning to adore the beautiful girl, who had never meant to step between Mrs Steele and Mrs Steele’s friend; for friend, and friend only, he had been, since one day, three years ago, when Lora Yentnor had thrown him over for an old man, rich and sickly, who had obligingly died, and left his pretty young widow free to follow the dictates of inclination, rather than ambition. .

And her Inclination was to bring Stuart Melvilie to his old place at her feet ; while that gentleman, completely cured of his passion by her cruel usage of him, very decidedly preferred the young girl, who, for propriety’s sake, and because it was cheap and convenient, had been offered a home indefinitely at Holmdell, that fair spot Nicholas Steele left to his widow.

And on this dull, homesick sort of day, Olive wandered aimlessly through the elegant rooms, deploring the storm, shivering at the chill wind, wrapping her white zephyr shawl closer around her, and—thinking of Stuart Melville and wondering whether he would brave the storm to come to her.

For when they parted, the day before, he had held her hand longer than usual in his, and had made her eyes droop beneath his eager, half-smiling gaze, that somehow had had thrilled her with its unspoken meaning. ‘ I am coming to-morrow night, and I want yon to be particularly glad to see me. Will you, Olive ?’• And she had answered him lightly as she could, for the emotion that was stirring in her heart.

‘Ami not always pleased to see yon, Mr Melville ? lam sure Cousin Lora and I— ’

• Cousin Lora has nothing whatever to do with the welcome I want this time. I shall tell yon something. I shall ask you something, andjyou must never call me Mr Melville again.’ He had looked very much as though he would have liked to kiss her sweet, uplifted face; but he did not, and ever tince Olive had been in a state of strange, half-sweet unrest and impatience for his coming—an impatience mingled with a partly-shy fear. He could have meant but one thing. He must surely be going to tell her he loved her, and there was but one answer for him — the answer be wanted.

As the stormy nightfall set in, Olive grew less restless, and finally, as the hour approached when, if he came at all, he would call, shrank almost fearfully away in the shadowy comer, beside the glowing gratefire, whore, directly ia its ruddiest gleams, Mrs Steele was sitting in her low, luxurious chair, a black-eyed, elegant woman, still wearing her coquetry of mourning—exquisite satiny silks of lustrous blackness, with white lace at throat and wrists, gleaming jets in her little pink ears and clasping her lovely arms, a white rose in her corsage and another among her shiny black hair. She was thinking about tha tame one whom that other nestling, slender figure, in the dim corner, was thinking—wondering if the courtesies and attentions paid to Olive were what the girl evidently believed them, or merely a cloak to cover his real intentions ha dared not make known, attentions ho dared not pay, until the conventional time had oome to end, when her heartless mourning for the dead was over. Sha loved him with all her heart and strength ; there never had been a moment when she had not loved Stuart Melville with all her heart and strength; and, sitting there, aa the possibility of Olive Ormond having captivated him came in a swift, brief reality to.her, she knew that it would not be weld for the one who crossed her path. The rain came beating in dri-ring gusts against the windows, and in.the- very midst of the storm, that was increasing as the darkness deepened, there caqie ~»iug at the door—a familiar summons. that set both their hearts thrilling—one with rapturous delight and nweet half chy Saar that her lover was come ; the other with a strange, intuitive jealousy and bate* that Stuart Melville had faced the. tem.yest—for Olive Ormond. For Olive’s sudden atari and little, inaudible exclamation had told a plainer story than ever had been told before ; and, as a aevant entered, saying that Mr Melville wished to see Mias Orsnceid —

All the 'while Olive waa gone—a short ■ hour to the happy lovers in tho drawing- ■ room, an eternity ip Lora Steele—she paced the floor of the lovely, brilliantly-lighted room, biting her, lipa to keep from crying aload, in her jealous suspicion. 1 If it is true—if he has dared transfer hia regard to her —if ha has dared refuse to know I am ready for the asking ! ’ And by the 1 ook in her oyos one would have known whatever way she chooa to punish would not be a desirabla way. It seemed, hours and hours that she walked to and fro, like a lioness in its cage. Then the front door opened and closed ; she heard the click of the latch of the front gate, and then she realized that Stuart Melville had actually gcae, and gone from her own home without desiring to seo her. It could mean but one thing, and when Olive came softly in, almost an hour later, with almost a saintly happiness on her sweet young face, and shyly, proudly told her lovesecret, Mrs Steele actually listened quietly, actually smiled, actually offered her good wishes, and sent the girl away happier than before.

But afterward ! Oh, iha tcrribla, terrib'.o night Lora Stealo passed, in all the anguish of rage, and jealousy, and heart-sickness. She never closed her eyes, or attempt jd to change her toilet, but all through those hours, when the storm outside raided so fearlessly, she trailed her silken skirts, in tirelessly, restless anguish, up and down, np and dawn, her hands clasped to her aobing brain.

In tha morning, the sun was shining brightly, the heavens wore bluo aa a baby’s eyes, and aa calm and tranquil ; and when Mrs Steele went down to her ten-o’clock

breakfast, there was not a sign or trace of the tempest that had spent itself. Her brow was calm, her eyes steady, her face no paler than usual, and her voice, her manner uncharged. The fair, fond, happy girl who poured the chocolate and bnttered the toast for herdid not know how terribly ominous that calm was, -

Later, Melville called, and Mrs Steele saw him and arrangmenta were made for the speedy wedding, and everything went - merry as marriage bells ; and always that same gracious calm in Lora Steele’s perfect manner.

The trousseau was ordered, and Olive was almost overwhelmed by the magnificent generosity Mrs tteele displayed, and Melville was pleased and grateful at her nobleness in so perfectly burying the past, aa only a woman conld have done.

The wedding-day came, perfect aa a midwinter’s day could be, with the ground covered with hard-packed snow, and the sound cf aloigh-behs in every direction—with a cloudless bine sky and a bracing west wind.

The guests were in the Louse; *!ra Steele had made her toilet; Mr Melvi ia had just driven to the uonae, and the fair bride was alone in her roim, her bridal dress on, her veil adjusted, and her two bridesmaids had left her alone for the brief while between the close of her girlhood and the opening of her new, sweet life. On tho stairs Mrs Steele had met Stnart—oh, so handsome, so like a god, in his bright eager happiness and pride 1 ‘ I am going to your boudoir, Lora,’ he said, gaily. ‘lt is yet twenty minutes, before the ceremony, and the parlors are filling fast.’ She reached oat one perfect hand toward him.

‘ Button that, please, Mr Melville. Do you know of any friend of Olive’s whose name is Petheron ?’

She asked it very matter-of-faotly, and he answered in the sams vein—

‘ Pethert n ? Ido not. Why ?’ She shook her head.

‘ Nothing whatever. I only ask for infoimation. Will you rap on Olive’s door just five minutes before twelve, please ? Yon will find her alone, and she wished me-to give you the message.’ His heart thrilled with happy delight at the prospect of seeing his darling alone abrief moment before they went down to the parlors, and be walked impatiently up and down Mrs Steel’s bondier, watch in hand, until it was the time.

He rapped softly at the closed door, wait-- , ing for the low ‘Coma io,’ he expected to hear. Then, after a moment, he rapped again louder, but somewhat to his surprise be received no answer; and then he ratttled the door-knob, calling her distinctly : ‘Olive, it is I, Stuart. Are you ready, dear V

But only an ominrus silence ; and then a swift, startling fear made him pale, as he stooped and listened intently. | She is ill—she is in a faint, and alone t Olive. Olive ! are you there ? ’ And then he turned the door-knob, and found the door unlocked-

He stepped in, to see the room full of confusion, clothes lying about everywhere, the bridal dress in a careless heap on the floor—and Olive not in the room.

He stood in the middle of it all, with blanched, bewildered face, and then rang the bell—a violent, imperative peak that itself told of alarm. Mrs Steele was almost the first in Olive’s room. The maid who had attended her for the occasion was first, and Mrs Steele found her standing gaping at the mysterious confusion in bewildered horror. * What is the matter ? Where is Olive ? Speak, some one what does it mean, Stuart ? ’ He looked at her helplessly. ‘ What does it mean ? Has she deserted me ? ’ Lora stood gazing in mute, helpless wonderment, then suddenly flashed pas- , sionately out: * And here we stand like three idiots! Pauline see if any of Alias Ormand’s dresses are missing I Stuart, summon the servants „ and question them, and send the groom to me at once, to carry a telegram to the depot. If she has left, she has left by the train, and wo can have her detained on her arrival at New York. Be quick—bo-quick!’ It was Mrs Steele’s promptness, Mrs , Steele’s cosiness, Mrs Steele’s wonderful nerve, and good sense and judgment, that carried them through that hour of mystery and misery; and the greats went away, and j the telegrams were sent, and the maid reported an entire change of clothing and two street dresses gone; and that was where the news stopped. But not the awful ...anguish that Stuart Melville was so suddenly called upon, to endure as well as he could —the sharp, mysterious blow that nearly him.

‘Ton mentioned a; V Petherton,” Lora,’ he said, later. ‘ Did you mean anything by it ? Is there any significance in It?’ - Lora shook her head, slowly, sadly, pityingly,

‘ Don’t ask me. There came a lettersigned ‘* Petherthox*in a miscolins hand—that is all I know.’

Only in her own room. lata, that night, . Lora Steele laughed, and triumphed. * Let him suffer I Ik cannot Be a tithe of ■ what I have suTared fer bim. Let them..mourn and cry tears- ol blood, it will not behalf ‘of what I ba»e rtlf.!' * * * . » *■

Six weeks in, tht glory of mid-winter - weather ; six wcaka ef suffering and searching, and never a finding or a trace of the lost; six long, long weeks, every moment of ; which was an eternity to Stuart Melville, in whom hope was at last dead, and for whoau the future had no hint of happiness. Six weeks c2 jubilant exultation to Lqmu. Steele, and then— One murky, March naming, a pretty* flippant, young French girl came into Mr Melville’s oSpq,. demanding to aeo him privately, and— W hen she went away, straight, to. the French steamer that soiled within an hoar, she carried with her a roll of gold that her ; own eyes had seen counted—a .thousand dollars.

And Stuart. Melvilla, with a face pale and horrified, stem and implacable .as fate, yet with an excited, passionate gleam in his eyes, drove recklessly away fxra bis door to police headquarters,, then to a famous physician, and then to. Holmdall, where, with briefest ceremony, they were ushered into the morning rocra, where Mira Steele sat knitting dainty zephyr work—a. picture in her white, cashmere homo toilet, with black velvet bows dotting it here acd there. She bowed and smiled hev old, bewitching smile as she gave her hand to- Melville, the first, to advance.toward-.hsiv * This is indeed good of yon, my friend!’ For one little (second Melville pitied her, so soon would that perfac.t smile be banished for ever from the lovely mouth. And not a suspicion cams to her. Truly the gods in, destroying hsr had mads her coSd-jncc mad. Melvilla drew back from her hand.

* 1 shall never amly mvf e f by touching your hand again, Mis Steele 1 I have come for Oliva Ormond, niy betrothed bride, whom Pauline, your maid, who waa in the devilish secret, and has pls.y&d yon false, has told ns where to find. These gentlemen are a police officer—Captain Aden—and Doctor Pennington. Ah,, you have heard of his fame as a detector of poison ia the system ! Gentlemen, lead the way ta the dressingroom adjoining Miss Ormond's room, where wa will and the victim, of a woman’s diabolical jealously 1 ’ He praserved his rigid calmness well, and Lora—

A quick, insanely- frightened glare had flashed to her eyes, that she could not remove from Stuart Melville's face. A slow, grayish pallor began to gather round her lips, that spread over all her face. A horrid contortion of her featvires occurred, and as aha mmred some intelligible noise, and staggered and fell, Doctor Pennington briefly stated her case. ‘ Paralysis—fatal. Ring for a servant—she may live for an hour or to.’ And that waa her reward ! They found sweet Olive a prisoner in Mrs. Steele's dressing-room —a pale, heart-broken shadow of her tormer self —where Melville

snatched her passionately to his breast, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, fervent prayers leaving his Ups as ho caressed her tenderly, pityingly, never to leave her again. The convalescence from slow poison was tedious, but health and happiness cams ag'.in, and the name of the woman who was in her grave was never spoken between them.