LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2155, 21 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

WOOED, BUT NOT WON. 4 Uncle Clem, have you had a very hard life—l mean many troubles ?’ The question was addressed to me by a gltl of about fourteen summers, as she sat on the hearthrug at my feet. I felt that she was going to ask some such question, for she had been gazing earnestly into my face ever and anon for the past half hour. I bad been sitting in a big easy chair musing over my past life. It was a subject that was never quite out of my mind, but on this night I had given way more to thought than usual, as It was the anniversary night of a sad event. I stroked the dear child’s head, and smiled reassuringly at her, then looking into the depth of the red fire, I thought seriously if I should tell my past troubles to this sympathetic little soul. It is a comfort sometimes to speak of one’s troubles to the pure-minded aud Innocent, and the silent sympathy of such la often a soft balm to the soul 4 Would you really like to know my past life, Lillie? I am afraid it would sadden you.’ 4 Oh, do tell me, Uncle Clem. I daresay it will make me sorry, but I would like to know it all the same. 4

And she at onoe prepared herself for listening by drawing a hassock up and seating herself on it ; then throwing one arm over my knee she Ii t her pretty head rest on her shoulder, and then with a 4 Now, Uncle Clem, ’ waited for me to begin. In this pause, reader, let me address a few words to you. I was not Lllie 4 8 uncle, although she called me by that fond name, nor was I even her relation. Only, her father had been the one good and staunch friend to me that I had over had, and when he married he had permitted, or rather I should say trained, his little ones to call me Uncle Clem—a delicate attention which I silently thanked him for, as I bad no near relatives of my own—so he had constituted himself my brother in all but b’ood. Lillie was my pet adopted niece; we were always together, and it was to her I was about to tell the story of my past life : 4 When I was about nine years old I lost my father. My love for him was a kind of idolatry, and I fear, also, that he idolised me.

4 My mother' never took very much notice of me. She had been rather delicate, and her sole thought was my baby siater—who only lived two years—and herself. The blank after my father’s death was awful. He was caught in a storm one day while going a journey on horseback, and got wet through. Rheumatic fever followed, and ho died within three weeks of his being hale and well.

‘ I was wild with grief, and, having no one to comfort me, soon grew dispirited, pale, and nnable to eat. A longing I for years had cherished for the sea now grew strong npon me. One of my schoolmates asked me to come to visit with him at his home, which was near the ocean, saying that I would see lots of ships. I knew it was no use for me to ask my mother, as she would only have said— ’

‘Go away, child. Haven’t I tronble enough without you worrying me 7 ’ ‘So I went to the old rector’s son—now your father, child—and asked him to ask his father to prevail npon my mother to let me go. So, after a good deal of talking among the elders, I went, and was able to see ships and knock about among sailors to my heart’s content.

' This did not, however, satisfy me, I wanted to be on board a ship, and be one of its crews and 1 got the chance at last. The captain of the Lady Bird, a trading vessel, took a fancy to me, and was willing that I should take the piece of cabin boy, provided my parent allowed me, ‘ Again I knew my mother would refuse unless some one interceded for me. So again I asked your father to nrge the rector to put the case before my mother, and wound up by telling her that if she did not let me go I would ran away, and do something dreadful.

‘Of course this was but a wild boyish threat. Well, to .my great surprise, my mother gave a willing consent. I sailed away to many climes, visited places that astonished me, and did not retnrn for many years. 1 When I did I went at once to my father’s grave, and to visit my {mother, wondering what would be my reception. But when I reached my old home it was deserted, and on enquiry I found that my mother had married again, having been a widow but a few months.

*So that was the secret of her ready con* sent to my going abroad. She must have been contemplating her second anion even then, and wished to get rid of me. I felt the hot blush of shone creep over me as I thought how soon mother could put off her weeds for wedding garments, 1 1 could not go to seek her out. She had left that village and gone elsewhere. So 1 turned into the churchyard, and casting myself on my father’s grave, wept out my boyish heart. Then, plucking a few blades of grass from the grave, for there were no flowers, as it had been neglected, I turned away to go back to my ship. Seeing the sexton standing near, I arranged with him to have a railing put round the grave, and to keep it in order for a certain sum per year. Are you asleep, Lillie 1 ’ * Please go on,’ said my little listener, as tears of silent sympathy stole like drops of dew down her long eyelashes, * Well, I knocked about for many years, and endured many hardships. Once our ship wsa wrecked, and only three of the crew beside myself were saved. I was gradually promoted, and at the time of the wreck was second mate. The first mate was lost, and I may say the captain owed his life to me.

‘Be tried to get mo a vessel, bnt he did not succeed. 1 was, however, raised to first mate, with a promise of a captaincy at an early date. The captain insisted on taking me home with him to see his wife, and it was there I met a young girl, whom 1 afterwards loved very dearly, and monrn for to this day. ‘ That was not her home. She was only visiting at the time I met her, but I afterwards visited her where she was living with a paternal aunt. She was an orphan, like myself. W hether it was this similarity in our positions or not I do not know, but from some cause the moment 1 saw her delicate little face and her large, lustrous, blue eyes, seeming to plead for love my heart went straight cut to her, and I felt as if I could have folded her to my breast, promising her a fond brother’s leva and protection. ‘ She exercised a strange fascination over me ; I followed her by day and thought of her by night. My friends nodded their wise heads, but I saw them not; and when it was time for me to return to my ship I found myself feeling thankful that it was only for a short voyage.

‘ When I went I taw the tears oome into her eyes. She said I was the only one that had ever been really kind to her. I tried to sooth her, telling her I would bo back again soon, as our vessel was not going away for long, but no words of love had passed between n*.

‘We intended touching at the port from which I had shipped, and I resolved upon going to see my mother, for my conscience pricked me when I thought how I had neglected her, as I had never written to her, and no one knew where I was to be found.

‘ But a new cause for regret was in store fo' me when I reached my native town. My mother was dead, and that fact was about all I could at first learn distinctly, for my father’s lawyers had given up business to another firm.

‘The old rector had passed from this wor'd, and althugh his con, as I expected would have been the case, had stepped into his father’s place, he had gone away to another field of labor, and a stranger now lived at the parsonage. The lawyers, I found, had been advertising for me. ‘The bnlk of my father’s property was left to me, having been forfeited by my mother on her second marriage, and this had considerably Improved in value, ‘ On making further inquiries I found that my mothet’d second marriage had not been a happy one. Her husband had thought sfce was well off, but on finding the contrary to be the fact, had treated her cruelly. He had also taken to drink.

‘ My informants told me that my mother had had two children by her second husband, but both, they heard, were dead. The place and circumstances had therefore changed for me—sadly changed—aad I was glad when, business concluded, I found myself on my way back to see Laura,

Where she was seemed home to me now, and I krew I would be warmly welcomed back. * -But winds were averse, and it was much longer than I expected ere I saw her face again. She had greatly changed in appearance, was paler and thinner. ‘lt was plain my absence had laid a load of anxiety upon her mind, * I went in unexpectedly npon her. Phe was seated in the drawing-room in a pensive mood.

. ‘ Oh, Clem!’ she exclaimed, ‘ you are back at last. Thank God 1’ and she fell into my arms. I began to tell her how I hud been detained, and strove to cheer her np, when I perceived that she had swooned. The surprise had been too much for her. ‘ 1 laid her on the couch and bathed her

head with water from the goldfish globe. She soon returned to consciousness, and had a quiet ory, I knew it would do the poor heart good, and 1 think 1 joined in a little, for why, child, I’m sure I didn’t know, except it was at seeing the sad change a few months had made in her. ' Well, things went on in a quiet course. I saw her every day; she seemed to get better, but still was far from strong. One day Laura’s aunt called me into another room, and formally asked roe my Intentions regarding her niece. I was for the moment nonplncssd, for, strange as it may seem, the thought of marriage had not entered my head.

'lhad been perfectly content with just seeing Lanra from day to day. Of course, her aunt was right, and as there was nothing to hinder my marriage in a worldly point of view, I expressed my determination to bring matters to a climax. Bat somehow I did not feel enraptured at the thought, and, on the contrary, had a shrinking dread of asking Lanra to marry. ‘ When I returned to the drawing-room I found things nicely arranged for my popping the question. Laura was alone, and her aunt put her head round the door to mention, of course In a most accidental manner, that she was going out. ‘I hated such formality, and feeling re. hellions, prevailed upon Lanra to go for a walk along the banka of a river that wound up towards the mountains —our favorite walk.

‘As we went along I was thinking over what I ought to say and forgot how far we had walked until my companion tripped on a stone, and tottering, would have fallen had I not caught her in my arms. ‘ She sank down on a wayside stone, com plaining of tiredness. I could not help chafing at my thoughtlessness In walking her so far. ‘ Don’t blame yourself any more,’ she said softly ; *it was my own fault for not speaking. I shall soon be Treated,’ And we sat silently for some minutes. At last she inadvertently opened the way for mo to any what I wanted. * I envy you one thing, ’ she said. ‘ What is that ? ’ I asked. * Being able to roam about from place to place. Oh, how I long to go from here sometimes. I almost fancy I would ho stronger if I had a change of air and scene.’ ‘Will you come with me, dear Laura, to those places you wish to see ? ’ ‘Ah 1 no Clem j it could not he. What would the world say,’ and she sighed wearily. ‘ The world will have nothing to say, dear, if you will come as my wife.’ ‘She turned her head quickly, and looked me straight in the face,’ * Clem, Olem, why did yon say that ? ’ ‘She looked distressed.’ ‘Because, dear,’ I returned, ‘I think it is for the best it should be so. Are you not willing ? ’ ' Yes, Clem, if you wish it, I am willing ; but somehow things are so happy as they are.’ ‘So they are, dear; hut as you yourself say, I cannot take you hence unless we are married,’ ‘Bo it was settled. There was no gushing, no beating of the breast, no tearing of the hair. But we returned home betrothed. Her annt was for hurrying on the wedding, but Laura wished a certain clergyman, who wis a particular friend, to perform the ceremony, and he was absent, having changed places with another clergyman for a time. Thus matters wire temporarily allowed to rest. And now, dear Lillie, prepare yourself to hear the greatest (rouble of my life. * One evening I was sitting alone in the drawing-room, Laura having left the room to attend to some household duties, when a gentleman was suddenly shown in, and to my surprise I recognised in him an old friend, your father. 4 Oar astonishment seemed to be mntnal. He asked me how I came to know the Wests. I told him, and did so In such a way as I thought would save me the trouble of farther explanation as to Laura Grey being the main attraction. ‘And were you not delighted to know her ?’ he asked, * Yea, indeed,’ I said, ‘ I was very glad to havs the happiness of meeting her.’ * Not more so on your side, I am sure, than on her.' * I laughed quietly, and thought he was talking a trifle nonsensically. ‘We have been waiting,’ I said, 4 until you returned; but when Laura mentioned you by your Christian name as a very old friend I did not connect it with my companion of years ago ; but the surprise is all the pleasanter,’ and I shook bands with him again. ‘But for what were you wanting me in particular ’ ‘ Why. for the same old thing that parsons are generally wanted for,’ 4 Pardon me,’ he said, evidently confused, ‘still I fail to understand you.’ * Why, of course to marry us. It was Laura’s express wish that we should wait tUI 4 We were sitting daring the conversation at opposite sides of the table. I was allowed to proceed no further with what I was saying, for your father, reddening suddenly, sorang out of his chair at me, as he exclaimed— ‘ Olem! Clem! God have mercy on your soul after what you have said.’ ‘ I naturally stared at him, and thought he had gone mad. ‘ Olem, Clem!’ he continued, ‘as you wish to save your soul, can you say you do not know of any impediment ?’ *1 know there is no impediment on my side, ’ I assured him; ‘so If you ever heard I was married or anything like that it is nntrne. ’ * Hist! ’ said your father, I hear some one coming. Try and appear cool for Laura’s sake, and I will speak with you by and by.’ * Just then Laura’s aunt appeared, and shortly afterwards Laura. I oonld not rest, so I took my leave very much earlier than usual. Laura saw that something was wrong, but thought I was ill. Your father felt when I did, and as soon as we had quitted the house I said, — ‘Now, sir,’ for this mystery.’ 4 But he only linked his arm In mine, and replied,— ’ * Have just a little more patience, my poor hoy,’ ‘I laughed inwardly at the last words, for he was not many years my senior. At last we were comfortably seated, bnt still he would not be hurried. He spoke of my father, then of my mother, and her second marriage.’ * Did you know,’ said he, 4 your mother died of a broken heart ?' ‘No !’

‘ Well, she did; partly because her hue band treated her so badly, and partly because she lost one of her two children. When she felt she was dying she was in sore trouble regarding ihe future of the surviving child, as its father was a groat drunkard. She wi hed very much to get tidings of you, so as to commit it to your care.’ ‘Ho paused to see if I was listening. 1 was now getting interested, for I was ignorant of the fact that my mother had left a child.'

‘ls the child living now’’ I asked. ‘Yes,’he replied. ‘ After your mother's death your father left the little thine first with one body, then with another. At last he sent it to a sister-in-law’s. It was shortly after ho had sent it there that he mot with his death through drink.’ * And where is the child now,’ said I. * Still at its relatives ’ * What is his name V

‘ It is not a male, but a girl, and she is not a little girl either, but a grown-up woman. She lives at Mrs West's. Laura Grey, whom yon have just left, is yonr sister.’ ‘ I need not tell you, dear Lillie, the feelings which stirred within me os the full truth of your father’s words flashed upon my mind, bringing on the one side a

terrible disappointment, and on the other the pleasurable {sensation of finding myself not completely alone in the world. But for a time I must admit the former was the master passion. ‘ Your father promised to break the tidings as gently as he could to Laura, She wondered, that I should not have recognised the name Grey as being that of my mother’s second hneband ; but I never had done so, never having thought about it. ‘ With the care and solicitude of a brother I took Laura away to a c ime I thought suited to her state of health ; but though she rallied it was only for a time, and era many months were over she was at peace. ‘1 had temporarily retired from the sea while I could bo of any use to my sister, bat when all was over I became a rover agam, shrewdly guessing that there was no peace for ms ; and now that I have settled down in your father’s homo ic is bat to wait till a call from the man at the masthead tells me that my long vryage ia over a. 1 land is at last in sight I’

‘Poor Uncle f'lem !* sobbed the young beart to whom I had been making known my greatest trouble, as she placed her head upon my knee and looked into the flickering fire as if to see there the ideal Laura—

‘ And silence followed, and wo wept.’