LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2212, 29 March 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTEKT OF LORD BRACKEKBURY: A NOVEL. BY AMELIA. B, EDWABDS, Author of "Barbara's History," ''Debenbam's Vow," &o. (Continued.) Now this was not in the least what Lancelot meant; bnt before he could explain himself, their conversation was inteirupted by the sudden appearance of Fran Ereutzmann hastening towards them with her hands nplifted and a face beaming over with smiles. 'Aoh, liebar Gottl Well met, truants and runaways ! We thought you were lost, and made sure we should nave to write up a description of you at the Polizei. And have you had nothing to eat all these hours I So —so, Fraulien Winifred, you must be fainting away, dear child, with hanger. We waited dinner till the ' braten' was almost spoiled—a beef ' braten' it was with applesauce and muthrooms; and though it was of my own cooking, I must say it was a dish for the king I We had hoped, too, as it was the Herr Baron's last day in Munish, that he wonld come in and take a bit of our family dinner. Yes, my gracious lord, and I made a raspberry jam ' knoken' on purpose ; for I remembered you praised the raspberry jam ' kucken' the night of our Christmas party. But truly, it's dreadful t.> think that you are both fasting all this time, and have not had so much as a biscuit I However, I will turn back with you at once, and in five minutes we will warm up a bit of dinner. 80, no, no—it's not a trouble, but a pleasure. My business will wait. I was only going to the Holtz.Garten to order in a load or two of brushwood, and that will do to morrow as well as to-day. On my word, I could not be happy If I didn't go home with you and see you oomfortable.' So the good soul turned back with them, and Lancelot, after trying in vain to edge in a word or even a look, of explanation, fell moodily into the rear. 1 hen, when they reached the house, the two girls swooped down upon Winifred, and carried her off to her own room; Erau Ereutzmann bustled away to the kitchen; and the " Herr Baron" was left to amuse himself as best he could in the absent pastor's Study. It was their first misunderstanding, and he was proportionately disconsolate ; for in the matter of lovers' quarrels, as in most other terrible and caUdysmal phenomena, familiarity breeds the habit of contempt. Dwellers on the slopes of Etna and the plateaux of Mexico are apt to think lightly of eruptions and earthquakes; and Lancelot would probably have felt less miserable on the present occasion, if his courtship had been enlivened by the average amount of skirmishing. As it was, he touk up first one book, then another ; walked restlessly about the room; listened to every footfall; and was quite ohopf alien when half an hour went by, and no Winifred appeared. At length Fran Ereutzmann came herself to summon him to dinner ; and a wonderful Improvision that dinner was, consisting of soup, fish, a rehauffe of the braten, a winter salad, and the remains of the raspberry kucken. But Winifred was silent and would not look at him; and their good hostess chattered incessantly; and they were not left alone for a moment. Then coffee was brought; and Lancelot, looking at his watch, saw with dismay that it was already four o'olock, and that if he was to get back to the Hotel Maulick In time to paok his portmanteau, pay bis bill, and catch the five-thirty express, he must be gone In something less than quarter of an hour.

' Will you let me speak to yon for a moment, Winifred!, before I go ? ' he said, going over to the window where she was standing with Brenda, looking out upon the darkening sky. ' By all means.' « But alone ! ' She Baid nothing, bat kept her face coldly averted.

Lancelot looked imploringly at Brenda ; and Brenda, remembering thj.t these would be their last moments together before parting, beckoned to the ©there to follow her and slipped ont of the room. Then Lancelot spoke hurriedly and earnestly. The words that offended her bad escaped him unawares. He had not intended to utter them—he was bitterly sorry that he had uttered them ; but she had entirely misapprehended their import. To imply doubt of her constancy was of all things the farthest from his thought. He believed in her, he trusted her, as he believed and trusted in honour, love, truth itself I She kept her face averted. ' What do you mean, then 1 ' sho asked, in a somewhat softened tone. He hesitated. ' Can you not guess ?' Again she was silent. ' l)o you not understand .... that.... that .... Good heavens! Winifred, after waiting, praying, hoping in vain for fonr long years, shall I now be such a wretch as to feel that if my brother came back to life I could not bid him welcome ? ' ' Lancelot !' ' But once you are my wife .... then ah ! now you know what I meant.' • Yes, now I know ! ' she sobbed, clasping his neck and weeping on his breast. ' Deareat, forgive me!' ' And yon will promise me my angel—in tho spring P * • Yeß, I promise—in the spring. * Chapter LL a VICTOBY. Lancelot mide bat one journey of it from Munich to London, and thence went straight to Old Court withoat stopping. Here he immediately became overwhelmed with business ; yet he did not therefore forget Winifred's charge to him, nor his own promise, to be good to Lettice Leigh. He had not, in fact, been three days at home before he paid hei a visit. He had been over to see one of his tenants at a place which rejoiced in the poetical name of Hogsclough Farm, and so rode baok by way of the Ridge. By the time he reached Abel Brunt's cottage, the afternoon was wearing towards dusk. There was, however, still light enough to show Mm how thoroughly his orders had been carried out in the way of roofing and repairing, and how completely Horace Cochrane'a chosen sketch had lost all claim to the piaturesqneness of dilapidation. Half smiling aa he thought of the dismay that would come into his friend's countenance when he should next see the place uudcr its restored aapect, Lancelot tied his horse up to the little gate, and knocked upon the door wiih tho handle of his riding whip. .Not till he had knocked a second time, was he answered by a woman's voice asking:— • Wcas thcer ?'

Ho announced himself; and the bolts were, slowly drawn back. •You have not forgotten mo, LctticeP' he said, coming in with his blight, asuurod look.

She stood before him, silently downlooking. • I wanted to seo if they had made the cottage comfortable for yon,' he went on, casting a rapid glance round the dim little kitchen. " What a poor fire yon have. I bade Moreton send you up a load of wood—hasn't it oorae yet ?' A three-logged stool and an old box turned upsido down, by way of seats, an ancient worm-eaten table from the lumber-stores at The Grange, a few cracked plates and mugs on a shelf, a straw palliasse covered with an old rng in one corner, and • piece of much-

mended carpet on the hearth, wtiro all the furniture the room contained. But there was a cat asleep before the fire, which gave l a more home-like look to the place ; aiid it, the window seat there crouched & little boy staring with bright wide-open eyes at the strange gentleman. 'lmoind ye weel, Maister La'celot,' she said at length. * It must be six or eight years since we last met, Lettica. We are both changed since then.' She put a oouple of logs on the fire, and dusted the stool with her apron. ' I'se gettin nowt but a cricket for ye to set on, sir,' she said. But he still stood looking round, enquiringly. 'You are very comfortless here,' he said. 'ls that your bed ? And have yon n« warmer coverings ? Yeu should not have been in such destitution all these weeks, if I had known it.' 1 We'en had roof an' foir. Maieter T.a'celot, an' we'n knowed what 'tis to be wi'ont either.'

• I'm sorry to hear it. I'll send yon down a cart load of necessaries to-morrow.'

The woman looked at him furtively from under her black brows.

' I dnnno' why ye should fash yourael* for the Lukes of us, Bir,' she muttered. ' I'll tell you why. Because you are one of our own people, and booanse Miss Winifred especially desired me to look after you.' Tid Miss Winifred think o' we?' she asked, with a touch of eagerness in her voice. 'She did, Lettice. And besides these reasons, I think—l few—that you have a special claim upon my compassion.' All this time he had apparently taken Be notioe of the child; but now he went over to the window and patted the little fellow on the cheek. ' What is your name, my man ?' 'The boy stared at him shyly without answering. 'ls it Samuel? Samuel Leigh? At, I thought as much. Lettice, my girl, I know your trouble, and I am heartily sorry for you.' She shrunk back as if she had been struck. ' I doan't want no pity,' she said fiercely." I on'y ask folk to let me be,' 'lf I have hurt your fselings, Lettice, I beg your pardon.' He said this with extreme gentleness. Then, after a moment, he added—'lf any one has the right to name this palnfoi subject to you, Lettice, it is I. The ran was a heartless scoundrel; and but for us you would never have known him. You have a claim to help and kindness at my hands.' She stood silent, with averted face. ' Had my brother lived, and had he come to know of it, as I did, months and months after, he would have seen you righted. Do you ever hear from him ?' She shook her head. ' Has he never done anything for yon—nor for his child ?' She tried to speak; but the words caught her breath and turned to sobs. Then, knowing that it was best to let her weep, if she could weep, Lancelot drew the boy to his knee, talking to him softly and kiudly; while the logs blazed up and lit the room, and the twilight gathered outside. Lettice Leigb, meanwhile, her face buried in her hands, strove vainly to choke back the tears that now came thick and fast, ' I'd—l'd liefer ha' out my hand off, than gi'en away thus!' she said, dashing the drops angrily from her eyes, 'But—but whan ye coom to ax me 'bout the child—the child that worse nor faytherless .... But there! I'll answer your question, Maister La'celot. 'T fayther's ne'er doon nowt ;for un—ne'er laid eyes on 'an—ne'er keered to know whether a' were born wick or dead ! Mony's the toime we'n been welly clemmed wi" hunger and oold; but 'ttrar nowt to un, so long as un 'ud gotten shut on us!'

'K either you nor your boy shall know oold or hunger again, my poor girl.' The little fellow, grown suddenly friendly, was playing with Lancelot's watch-chain. She looked; and as she looked, her face and her voioe softened. 'God bless you, sir,' she said. 'Ye'ie my-lord now, they tell me,' 'Ay, Lettice—to my sorrow.' He sighed, passing his hand over the child's hair, and staring absently at the fire. Then there was a long silence. ' Did ye see nowt on him whan ye went out, fowr year agoo V she asked suddenly. His thoughts were far away, and the question startled him. ' Did I see him ?' For the moment, he thought only of his brother. Then, meeting her wistful eyes, he took her meaning. * Did I see Fronting P Yes, surely—l saw him. He was with me for some weeks.' * An'—an'—then ?' ' And then, when I was about to ceme back to England, he took service with a new master." ' Out there ?' ' Yes—in Genoa. I gave him a cbaraoter, in fact—a better character than he deserved.' ' Genoa!' she repeated, as if trying to fix the name in her memory. ' Genoa 1' 'Ah, but he was leaving there immediately. The gentleman who engaged him was an American, bound, if I remember rlahtly, for New York.' ' Then— then where 'nil a' be now, sir, d'ye think!' she asked tremulously. Lancelot shook his head. •Who can sayP Wages are high over there—perhaps he is still in America. But, indeed, Lettice, you must resolve to forget him.' Then, with a few last kindly words, the young man rose to go. 'lf you are lonely here,' he said, 'lean put you into so lie other cottage, where yo* will be near neighbors. Would you better like to live at Danebricge or in Langtrey village ?' ' I doan't want no neebors. I'd liefer bide where I be.' ' You are not afraid here ?' 'Why should I be afeard? The dead doan't cftom back.' He smiled. ' Nay," he said, ' I was not thinking cf poor Abel Brunt, nor yet of his ghost. I was thinking of the living.' 'I bayn't afeard o' the livin', naytber,' she said, with one of her fierce looks. * It is a solitary place.' ' No pleeoe can't be too lonesome for mo, sir.'

*As yon like, my girl. If any one interferes with you, you have but to let me know, and I will move yon elsewhere. Yo« are right, at all events, to draw yoar bolts betimes.' With this he slipped some silver into the child's hand and went towards the door. ' 1 draa'« 'cm, sir; but I aw'm nowtskecxt, aw the same,' she said, following to the gate. ' Bessdeß, folk be dalioate abifcs ooomin' this roak arter dud down.' 'I will tell Miss Winifred that I hare seen yon,' Lettico,' he said, as he swnog himself into the saddle. «Shall I give her any message! I shall be writing tonight.' « To Miss Winifred V « Yes, to Miss Winifred.' 'Ye mun tell her little Sam's dola' gradely.' * Nothing more V ' I'se nowt else to say, sir.' * May I not tell her that yon have made ap your mind about sending the boy to school, Lattice ? That's what Mias Winifred has set her heart npon.' She Etood with her hand on the gate sullenly hesitating. * Eh. then,' she said at length, ' if ho, bo's Miss Winfred's sot her heart on't, I spose she munna bs gainsaid.' And so, as he rode away in the gloaming, Lancelot felt th*t he had achieved a viotory. ITo be continued on Saturday.')