LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2144, 8 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

1 THE MYSTERY OF LORD BRACKENBURY: A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B, EDWABDS, Author of "Barbara’s History,” "Debenham’s Vow,” &o. ( Continued . Lancelot drew himself up, ‘The lines, I think, are Drydon’s,’ he »aid, stiffly ; * bat I do not see their application.’ ‘I beg your pardon—lt’s no business of mine. Anyhow, you have painted a remarkably good picture. What the deuce has become of that second volume F —Thanks, I have found it—under this heap of newspapers.’ And with a glance at the clock on the mantelshelf, now pointing to half-past three, Cochrane once more said 4 Good night ’ But as he opened the door, he paused and listened. 4 What’s that V he said. 4 What is what ?’ Cochrane held up his hand. 4 Hush I’he said. 4 1 hear a horse galloping it draws nearer 1 Surely, you hear it now ?’ 4 1 think I do By Jove! it’s some one coming down the lane—and in a devil of a hurry too! Let’s go and see what it is 1* The doors were all barred and bolted, and there were two to open. The rider outside had meanwhile pulled up at the gate, and was hallooing at the top of his voice. 4 Yon might shout long enough, my friend, before James would hear yon, mattered Lancelot, as he slipped the last bolt. 4 Thor with his hammer would not wake that fellow when he is kept np till after midnight. Now. then—who are you, and what do you want ?’ 4 A’ want Doctor Saunders!’ replied a voice from out the darkness.

4 Doctor Saunders has been gone this hour and a half. You must have met him on the road.’

_ 4 Not a bit on’t! Tell ’ee 4 s sleep’n the night here. Go week ’nn up, will’ee, an’ tell ’nn’s wantin’.’

4 What’s the matter, my man, and where do you come from ?’ asked Lancelot. 4 1 seem to know your voice.’ 4 It baint Muster Brackn’bry ?’ Lancelot had by this time undone the yard gate and admitted this late visitor, who came in leading his horse by the bridle. Bat it was so dark that neither could distinguish the other’s featnros.

4 Yes, it is I—and if I could only find a lantern. ...”

* Oh ! Loard, air—Master Brackn’bry, its me, Sir—Eeuben.’

4 Miss Langtrey’s Reuben ? Good God I man, what’s tae matter ?’

4 Eh, then. Master Brackn’bry, Madam’s took wi’ a strook, an’ Mias Winifred she thinks th’ missus be a’ dyin’—so she sent me to fetch the new doctor ; an’;the wench at nn’s lodgin’ she said a’ was sleep’n at Ow’d Coot —so I tnrned the cob’s hid, an’ brought un along by the short cuts, through Deadman's Clough an’ Cock’s Spinney. An’s gone whoam arter all ?’ 4 Miss Laugtrey dying ! And you have ridden to Singleton, and from Singleton here V

* 'Bes, sir ; and the cob’s welly clemmed.’ * You shall leave the cob In my stable, and I’ll mount yon on a fresh horse, Here James! - James, yon fool! Wake up, there. Bouse the tellow for me somehow, Cochrane, if yon break the door in 1 Good Heavens I and when did this happen ? What! in the afternoon ? But that’s twelve honrs ago! Why was I not sent for at once? Dr. Phipps s»h ! you should have fetched Dr. Saunders at the first. Yes, my lad, he was to have slept here ; but he changed his mind and went back with a gentleman who was going to the barracks. So, here’s James, at last 7 Look here, James, give that cob a w»sh down, a clean bed, and a warm mash ; and wake George up, and bid him saddle Brown Harry, and put tho mare in the trap immediately. You shall take Brown Harry, Reuben No, I’ll take Brown Harry, and yon shall take the trap, and bring Saunders back in it to the Grange. Cochjane, my dear boy, this is a bad business. I don’t ask you to come with me at this hour of the morning ; but perhaps you’ll ride over after breakfast, if I’m not back by then, and see how matters are getting on ?’ 1 I’ll be bound it's not so bad as this fellow represents it, said Cochrane, ‘ These rustics always exaggerate.’ * God grant you be right! Here, Reuben, my lad—come into the house and take something to keep the cold out, before yon start back again,’ Chaptsk XXX. IN THE XONG GALLERY. It was just five o’clock in the morning when Lancelot Brackenbury led his horse across the little bridge over the moat at Langtrey Grange. The dark nets was intense ; the roads were bad ; and a drizzling rain had been falling ever since he started. The air, too, was raw and chill, as befitted the hour and season of the year. Knowing that there was no one to take his horse, Lancelot led him to the stables ; silenced the dog with a friendly whistle ; lit Reuben’s lantern; and himself attended to the want of bis beast. This done he went round to the front; rang; waited ; rang again, and again waited ; and so went on till, just as he was debating whether he should not go back to the stables and keep Brown Harry company till dawn, he heard a bolt drawn, and a voice inside saying—- ‘ la that you, Reuben ?’ * It is I—Lancelot.’ There was an exclamation—the dropping of an iron chain —the qui-ok opening of a door—and Winifred stood before him with a wavering night-lamp in her band. ' Oh, Lancelot!’ There was a glad thankfulness in the tone, which said more than any words of welcome. Ho went in and shut the door, * How is she ?’ he asked. * Better now, and sleeping quietly. But she was so feverish a little after midnight, that I sent Reuben for Dr, Saunders. How did you know she was ill ?’ * Because Sannders had been dining with me, and Reuben came after him to Old Court. ’ And he explained how, the one being in hie chaise and the other on horseback, they had taken different roads, and missed by the way. ‘ But how came you to call in Sannders ?’ he asked. ‘ I thought you always employed Phipps.’ 1 Dr Phipps was here for more than an honr yesterday evening. He came the moment he was summoned ; but having to go to Chester by a late train he bade me send for Dr Sannders in case of need. Perhaps 1 was wrong to send ; bat I was frightened—she seemed so wandering and excited.’ ‘ Eat she is asleep now ?’ ‘ Yes ; she has been sleeping for the last two hours. Bridget is with her, and will call me the moment she wakes.’ * Then yon had gone to bed, my poor child!’ ‘ No ; I was lying on the sofa in the oak parlonr. I suppose I was asleep ; for I woke thinking it was Sunday, and fancying I heard the church bells ringing.’ They had gone into the dining-room, and Winifred, as she said this, dropped wearily into the same chair from which Miss Langtrey had fallen. Tho room was still in disorder —chairs standing about, writing materials on the table, a water decanter and a half-filled tumbler on the sideboard. * But why did you not send for mo at once ?’ said Lancelot, leaning against the table. 1 How and who u did it happen ? Reuben said something about “a stroke” ; but it's net so bad as that I hope 7 Tell me all abont it.’

She had little to tell, and of that' little the greater part is already known to us. The lawyers had met ; the mortgage was paid off; and Miss Langtrey, being overexcited, had fallen forward, as if fainting, In the aet of signing a releipt for title-deeds. The ordinary restoratives failing to revive her, she continued insensible, thongh breathing heavily, for more than three honrs. Dr. Thipps, who arrived a little before six, bled her in the arm, applied ioe to the temples, and succeeded in biinging her back to consciousness. Ho then left, enjoining

absolute quiet, and promising to return next morning on his way back from Chester. She slept uwiii'e after this, or seemed to sleep ; but towards midnight became feverish and talkative. Then Winifred despatched Henben for Dr. Saun'lers. * And the nature of the attack ?’

‘He did cot say. I asked him if there was danger, and he replied that he hoped not. 1 know what that means. ’ ‘lt means that he will not c'.mmit himself to an opinion.’ Winifred shook he? head.

‘ I have no hope ’ she said, quietly, ‘ But lam not going to break down. There will be time enough for tears—by and by. ’ Lancelot bent over her, and gently touched her hand.

* Hoar, you must not think that,’ he said. * sTonr aunt is one of the last persons in the world to be stricken la that way—to spare, so active, so abstemious I Believe mo, it is mcs - . in. probable. ’ He felt an immense longing to the the hand in his—to hold it fast; but he turned away instead, and want to the window.

‘ Her room is over this, I think V ho said presently. ‘ No, it is over the oak parlour.’ ‘No one, of course, sleeps in the long gallery ?’

Too unhappy to note the irrelevancy of the question, she listlessly answered ‘ No.’ Still he stsod looking out. ‘lt is strange,’ ha said, presently; ‘ but since I have been standing here I have fancied . . . it can only be fancy !’ ‘ What do yon mean ?’ 1 Well, it must bo some reflection from the windows on this side ; but I seem to see a light In the long gallery.’ Sho got up quickly, and followed him to the window.

‘lt is no fancy,’she said, in a frightened whisper. ‘I see it -plainly. No, no, don’t go—don’t dream of it!’ ‘But if any one is there !’ * There is no one. Do you forget the old tradition P—the wandering light that is seen when a Langtrey is going to die ?’ * Absurd !- why you laughed at that story the other day !’ ‘ I don’t laugh at it now. See! it moves ! Lancelot, I will not have you go !’ ‘My dear Winifred, I don’t believe in ghosts that go about with lighted lanterns at_ five or six in the morning. If it were midnight it would be orthodox, and quite another matter. Nay, I must go ; but not unarmed. See, here is a famous weapon ! It will be a brave ghost that receives this upon his crown without either vanishing into thin air, or surrendering at discretion. ’

Saying which, ho laughingly snatched np the poker and made for the door. ‘ Very well, If you go, Igo with you,’ ' It 1b not my fault if I am obliged to ha uncivil—but yon will only be in my way. ‘ I cannot help that. lam not frightened now ; and I will carry the light for you.’ There were two ways of reaching the long gallery ; one through the kite-hen and up a back staircase ; the other across the courtyard and by the door in the gatew’ay. They chose the last and nearest.

* It rains faster than ever,’ said he, looking out from the porch. ‘ The yard is a labyrinth of pools. You will catch a desperate cold, ’

* Hush ! —I hear Bridget,’ They stopped, listening. In that moment a light glimmered at the top of the stairs, and they heard the old woman crying : * Mias Winifred !—oh, Miss Winifred I’

They glanced at each other, and the same dread fell upon both, Lancelot sprang up the stairs and mot Bridget on tho landing. She threw np her hands wildly. * Oh, sir !’ she quavered. ‘ Madam's gone!’ He looked back at Winifred. She was leaning against the wall, whits and trembling. ‘ Why did you not call her in time ?’ he said angrily. ‘lndeed, then, I just closed my eyes for a minute, sir only one minute. . . .’ ‘ And in that minute she died V *Eh then, good Lord, sir ! I didn’t say she were dead I She’s gone, I tell 'eo !’ * Clone 1’

* Ay, gone—her bed emoty, an’ tho quilt strippit off, and the night lamp reft from the table! —an’ here we stand haverin’ and shatterin’ whilst we might be seeking of her. Thinking she must be mad o’ dreaming, the young man snatched the candle from her hand, and rushed to Miss Langtrey’a room.

The door stood wide; the bed was empty; the bed-clothes were dragged aside. All was as she said. As for the bed, it was quite cold—as cold as if it had not been occupied for hours.

What, then, had become of her P They did not even ask each other, except by broken exclamations. Breathlessly, confusedly, they ran from chamber to chamber, calling, looking, listening. She was not iu Winifred’s room. Neither was she in any of the empty rooms beyond. If not upstairs, she must be downstairs ; and yet that she should have had strength to get down seemed incredible. They searched the oak parlor ; the storeroom ; Bridget’s little sitting-room; last of all, the kitchen. Beyond the kitchen lay the great old kitchen of former days, and other nnused offices ; but the dcor of communication was barred and locked, and had been so for years. ‘ She must be in the house,’ said Lancelot. ‘Then, with a sadden catching of his breath, he exclaimed—- * Good God 1 the light—the light in the long gallery!’ (To be continued on Tuesday.)