LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2162, 29 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTERY OF LORD BRACKENBURT: A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B. EDWABDB. Author of “Barbara’s History,” Debenham’s Vow.” &o. ( Continued. The great square in their midst was one huge parti-colonted garden of fruit and vegetable stalls all alive with buyers and sellers, and colour and movement, and life ; and in the air was a multitidinors bumming of many voices, and a clatte. ing of brass pails, and a trampling of wooden shoes, and a cracking of whips, and lumbering or heavy wheels. Well might Winifred exclaim that it was 'a wonderfal place!’ She was breathless ; dazzled ; as ‘naive ’ in her wonder as a delighted child. Clinging to Lancelot’s arm, the fatigue of the journey all forgotten, she listened as in a dream to the stories he was telling her about Egmont and Horn, and the Duchess of Bichmond’s ball, and the Eve of Waterloo; and though people turned their heads to look after her, and the brown broad-cheeked market women smiled and nodded and jabbered unintelligible praises of her fair young English face, she was too much taken up with the novelty of the scene to be even conscious that she was looked at.

‘’they are just married!’ said a brighteyed old body installed behind a pile of fruit and flowers.

* Nay, how can that be, and she in black ?’ exclaimed another who sold sabots and crockery. ‘ Her mourning is quite new, too.’

• Well, then, they are lovers !’ And holding ont a handful of white roses, she said in her guttural Flemish : ‘My handsome Monsieur will buy some flowers for his beautiful young lady V She was a pleasant looking old woman, her cap covered all over with tiny quillings of fine Mechlin lace, and a pair of gold earrings in her ears ; and her appeal, which it needed no knowledge of the language to understand, was irresistible. So Lancelot bought the roses, and Winifred carried them all the rest of the way.

They then went to their hotel and break - fanted ; and by and by be took her to see the Church of St Gadnle, and the Place des Martyrs, and the shops in the Galerie St, Hubert; and in the evening they went on again and travelled all night as before, arriving in the morning at Coblentz, where the railway (then in course cf construction) came to an end. They, however, found a steamer waiting the arrival of the train and so went on by water to Mayence, and then again by rail to Frankfort, where they put np again for twenty-four hours. Here, next day, they saw the house of Goethe, and Schwanthaler’s statue of the post, and the portraits of the Kaisers in the old Town Hall; and from Frankfort, being rested and refreshed, they made but one more stage of it, going straight to Munich, where they arrived late in the afternoon of the same day. There had been some feeling of embarrassment on both sides at starting, and the first day went by uncomfortably. Bat the brilliant sunshine of the following morning quickly dispelled that little cloud, and the time since then had been one enchanted holiday. Fain would they have travelled thns for ever, always going somewhere or arriving somewhere; wandering through picture galleries ; lingering in the ahadowy aides of ancient churches ; listening to legends droned by black-robed vergers; always amused, always together, and as much alone at a little table in the comer of a noisy public room at a big hotel as Daphnis and Chloris on a hillside in Arcady.

But how was It that Winifred, who had never in her life travelled for eighteen or twenty-four hours at a stretch, could go on all day and sleep all night in a railway carrisge, without stopping? How was it that, so far from looking more fagged and pa!e than when she started, the tender, joyous flush of health come flattering back to her cheek that very first morning In the market place at Brussels P In simple truth, the poor child was entertained and happy, and taken out of herself and her own cares. Everything amused her; everything was new and delightful; the scenery as it flitted by, often bleak and barren, bnt unlike any she had seen at home —the odd crowds at the various stations—the unknown tongne on every lip—the novel fare—the glimpses of qnalnt towns, passed so quickly and all so curionsly alike—the Bh'ne, beautiful even in winter, its vineyards leafless, its inns empty, its waters solitary—the waggoner driving his team of yoked oxen— the poplar bordered canal—the graveyard fall of iron crosses hung with wreaths of immortelles—the paved straight country toad dwindling to a white streak ia the distance —the manytnrretted * Schloss’ on its vantage-gronnd of hill-side—the nestling village below—the priest in his black soutane, the peasant in his sabots, the soldier in his spiked helmet and white gaiters—all these passing before her in quick succession turned her thoughts into new channels and kept her attention on the alert. Then there was Lancelot always taking care ol her; seeing that the footwarmer was changed and that the rugs were

wrapped closely round her; ge ting her grapes at this station and flowers at that ; telling her scraps of history, and legends of tbe place they passed ; telegraphing in advance for rooms at hotels, and carriages to meet them at the stations were they stopped; dining with her ; breakfasting with her; walking with her; surrounding her with unspoken attentions and obtrusive cares , . . , how could she help being content and amused and happy, if only for a few short days ? It was by her own desire that they came by that route, and so quickly. She would have gone straight through from London to Munich, if Lancelot had consented. • And yon are positively not tired ?’ he asked her again and again. But she always replied that she was less tired than when they first staited. It was cfght o'clock in the evening when they reached Munich; and they found the Krentzman family at supper. The good people had not expected their .English guests for another day cr two ; bnt they hurried out to meet and greet the strangers, and were none the less cordial because taken by surprise Frau Krentzman, a buxom housewife with a leathern satchel hanging at her girdle, took Winifred by both hands, kissed her on both cheeks, and bade her welcome to the home. The grey-haired pastor, in well worn black coat and knee-breeches, helped to bring in her luggage. The two nieces —fair, smiling damsels, with braided hair and embroidered caps and skirts j nst short enough to show a pretty foot and a buckled shoe—took off her cloak and hat, put her in a big chair by the fire, chafed her cold hands, and said welcoming words which needed no translation though spoken in German. Christine, meanwhile, having come in for her share of greetings and kisses, slipped quietly back into her old place in the household ; fetched clean plates and mugs; placed chairs at the upper end of the table for Winifred and Lancelot, and a stool for herself at the bottom ; and

presently they were all supping together in the good old patriarohial Bavarian fashion, off hot pudding, black bread, stewed fruit, and home-made cheese.It was a big room with whitewashed walls and one huge beam traversing the ceiling from end to e d. The floor was carpetless ; the boards were spotless ; the windows hung with clean mnslin curtains. In one corner stood a large stove covered with shining white tiles, through the open door of which a ray of warm red light flowed out along the floor. On the walls, in plain black frames, hung a few good prints, a gun, tome antlers, and other sporting trophies. Presently, supper being ended, the pastor said grace, the nieces ran upstairs to prepare Winifred’s room, and Christine cleared the table. Then the old man took down his silver-mounted rifle, the stock curiously cut out to fit the rifleman’s shoulder, and told them how It had been given to him by bis parishioners on his wedding day, thirty years ago. A rate good rifle of the old sort —none better 1 Many a Steinbeck had he stalked and shot with it. See yonder boms —three foot and a half from root to tip. That was a king of steinbooks, that one—the finest he had ever brought down ! The Fraulein was looking at that trophy of tails —— Foxes ? Ho, no—not foxes. Wolves.

Wolves every one. Plenty of wolves in the wood beyond Sternberg ; aye, and bears, too, for that matter. He had shot many a gizrzly in his young days, before he was married. Bears had grown more scarce and shy, however, of late years, and even steinbocks and chamois were leas plentiful than of old. That was the fault of the railroads, for bringing strange sportsmen about their haunts. Thus he chattered, and the time passed quickly. By and bye, a cuckoo clock struck ten; whereupon Pastor Errutzmann brought out a ponderous old German Bible, read a chapter aloud, and invoked a blessing upon his assembled family and upon the strangers who were within his gates, ‘Do yon think yon shall like it?’ said Lancelot, as ho bade Winifred * Good night.’ * I like the place and the people better than anyplace or people I oversaw!’ she replied, with a happy smile. Then the girls conducted her to her room, and Frau Ereutzmann brought her a cup of some kind of hot 4 tisane ’ after she was in bed, and long before eleven the whole household was asleep. Chapter XXXVI. EROS SPEAKS AND PALLAS LISTENS. While Lancelot and Winifred wore studying the Fine Arts, winter came on apace. The first snow fell ; the first thin ice frosted the surface of the ponds ; and pastor Ereutzmann brought out his sleigh-bells to be rubbed up and brightened. Lancelot, meauwhile, announced his intention of staying over Christmas Day, Fancy what It would to spend Christmas at Old Court with bats and owls! No-he preferred to remain in Munich, and help to decorate Frau Ereutzmann’s Christmas Tree. That Christmas Tree was a great event. It occupied the thoughts and fingers of the Ereutzmsnn family for many a month bo-fore-hand, There was a certain drawer in one of Fran Erentzmann’s numerous presses, quite full of pretty things knitted and netted, braided and embroidered, which she and her nieces had made. For on Christmas Eve there was to be a family party at the Parsonage; and every guest, old and young, little and big, would expect to find a present on the boughs of the young fir-tree which was the hero of the evening. Then, besides this miscellaneous drawerfnl, they all had special gifts prepared by stealth, which must on no account be seen till the evening of the * great event,’ So all had their secrets—innocent secrets, which made them happy In the keeping, and happier still in revealing.

And now Winifred must have her share in the mystery and add her quota to the tree; so when Lancelot came one morning, a day or two before Christmas, to take her to the Glyptothek, she asked him to go first to the Bazaar in the Odeon’s Platz, that she might ‘ do a little shopping.' Of course, she loved shopping—what woman does not ? Perhaps she even enjoyed it more than moat women; for it was a pleasure of which she had hitherto known little. Besides, there is mnch to bny in the bazaar in Odeon’s Platz—trinkets la staghorn and ivory, toys in carved wood, pretty things in bronze and porcelain and Bavarian glass! Delighted as a child eplending its first fairing, she chose a brooch for Katchen, a locket for Brenda, a purse for Fran Kreutzmann. a spectacle-case for the pastor, an apron for Christine .... she would fain have

bonght everything in the Bazaar ? As for Lancelot, he conld only look on indulgently and awkwardly, as men are wont to look on under each circumstances; reminding her every now and then that the Glyptothek closed at mid-day. * I wonder what yon are going to give me, Winifred,’ be said, when this weighty matter was at length concluded. • I might ask yon the same question,’ she replied; * and I suppose 1 should get the same answer—nothing.’

Then, like a true daughter of Eve, she wanted to know what this Chriamas-box would be ; bat he very properly declined to gratify her curiosity. So, between coaxing and obduracy, they came to the doors of the Glyptothek, which in those days were guarded by a meek giant in bine and silver. That giant was an old man then, and must be dead ere now; but he was a veritable giant, eight feet high withont his shoes, and had been a soldier in his youth. He smiled down upon the new comers benevolently. They had been there several times already; and he remembered the fair face of the lady and the florins wbioh had found their way from the gentleman’s purse to his own capacious palm. Having, on those farmer occasions, chiefly occupied themselves with the Roman and later Greek sculptures, they went on further to-day than the Hall of the iEginetan marbles.

Here they found a party of English, consisting of two gentlemen and a lady—evidently passing travellers ; for the men were each provided with a slung field glass and a Murray’s guide. The elder of these who seemed to be the husband of the lady, was the critic and connoisseur of his party. He talked, and his companions listened. * They are the most remarkable archaic sculptures extant,’ he was saying. ‘ They link the beginnings of Greek Art with the period of Thldias. What you see here are the groups from the two pediments of the Temple. They were found under eight feet of soil, And see what care the soil has taken of them I They are in perfect preservation—the features as sharp, the curls as crisp, as if fresh from the band of the sculptor ? Then as for finish—look at the extremities. Every nail, every fingerjoint, elaborated 1 Yet these figures were placed so high that all that delicate detail was out of sight. There’s sincerity of treatment for yon!’

* Hang me, though, if I can understand why the faces are all alike, and why they all wear the same smirk,’ said the younger man, * They are more like masks than faces.’

ITo be continued on Tuesday.)