LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2226, 16 April 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTERY OF LORD BRACKENBURY; A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B, EDWABDB, Anther of "Barbara’s History,” ‘‘Debenbam's Vow,” &o. ( Continued .l ‘ No, no. no,’ he said. ‘No stopping ! no stopping ! I like to see them at work ! Harr Kruger made a sign, and all resumed their seats. These wore evidently visitors of some distinction —art perhaps; or, at ali events, persona occupying some official position. Whoever, or whatever they might be. Winifred was thankful to shrink down before her easel, and hide her face over her work. Meanwhile the strangers went round ; the deaf gentleman stopping for a moment hero and there, criticising freely and talking incessantly. . 1 What have we hero —head of Laocoon i Humph ! nose too short —corner of month not sufficiently drawn down. Try again ! try again ! And this— 1 Wingless Victory ?’ So—Bas-relief very difficult. More difficult than round—eh, Herr Kruger? Not bad however—not bad ! Several new faces since I were here Inst, Herr Kruger. And who is this little maiden —Von Braun ? What Von Braun, eh ? The Von Brauns of Partenkirche? Good—good. Drawing hands and feet, eh ? Quite right. Beginners must go upon all fours before they try to walk ! And the Franleiu in black yonder P’ Herr Kruger hastened to reply. ‘ Franlein Savage, your Majesty—a young English lady who is passing the winter in Munich.’ But His Majesty heard not a word of the answer. • What name ? he shouted, impatiently. ‘What name? Where from? Eh? eh? What—English ? Why didn’t you say so at first? Very pretty, very pretty. A head for one of your Dianas or Uranias, eh,

Peter ?’ And passing his arm familiarly round the neck of the little old gentleman with the ribbon, His! Majesty shuffled on, serenely unconscious that his hearers were not deaf, and that he was himself as deaf as a post. Winifred at once recognised this eccentric specimen of Hoyalty. fhe had heard too much of his bluntness, his oddities, and his deafness, not to be quite sure that she was in the august presence of the ex-King, Ludwig the First. Bnt then who was the bright-eyed old gentleman of the Englisher Garten ? Who was 1 Friend Peter ?.’ «What, don’t you know ?’ exclaimed the damsel who was copying the head of Laocoon. ‘Why, this is Peter von Cornelius!’ This was when their Royal visitor had gone on to Herr Kruger’s private studio; a detached room at the farther end of the garden. ‘Do you mean the Corne'ius who painted the frescoes of the Glyptothek ? ’ asked Winifred innocently. ‘I mean the great Cornelius, Frauiein Winifred,’ said the Bavarian girl with immense dignity. ‘ There is but one Cornelias —as there is but one Michael Angelo. Bnt have yon not met him before ? He bowed as if he knew you.’ Winifred did not think it necessary to reply to this question. t- uoh was the one ‘ event’ which marked the placid course of her winter studies in Munich. In the meanwhile, however, as the spring came on, the time for Lancelot’s return drew nearer. He was to come at Easter ; and Easter would fall towards the end ot April, This by and by resolved itself into a definite date. He decided to leave Old Court for London on the 17th of tbs month, and after spending a couple of days in town, to cross from Dover on the 20th. She might therefore expect to see him on the evening of the 21st. From the moment when these dates were finally fixed, the intervening weeks seemed to melt away faster than the last hoar frosts of spring before the sun.

Chapter LYI, AT LAST. . Winifred Savage, sojourning North of the Alps and devoting her last months of ‘ maiden meditation ’ to such self-culture as should enable her more fully to enter into her future husband’s pursuits tastes, was far less lonely than a certain other damsel in whose joys and sorrows we here are equally concerned. Dwelling also within sight of those snowy battlements, also parted from her lover and waiting his return to claim her hand, that other maiden found the wintry weeks and months drag heavily by." In its main lines, the position of these two girls was precisely parallel ; but those lines lay wide apart—wider by far than even that frozen zone of snow and ice which divided Munich from Verona. Qiulietta Beni, humbly born and simply taught, had fewer resources and more anxieties than Winifred Savage. Cesare Donato’s letters were fewer and farther between than Lancelot Brackenbury’s ; and if now and then, when posted from the same port, tome three or four came to _ hand in quick succession, there were oftener intervals of prolonged silence during which she suffered enough of anxiety and suspense. Except inasmuch as she loved summer better than winter, and sunshine better than rain. La Giulietta had hitherto regarded such trifles as wind and weather with til the indifference of youth and perfect health. But now her heart sank when she read of gales at sea ; and if the wind blustered at night about the housetops, she would lie wakeful and trembling till dawn of day. 1 Have you any book abont the sea, good Signor Scalchi ?’ she would ask, lingering on market mornings at II Grillo’s bookstall in the Piazza del Signori. And then II Grillo, used to the frequent question, would rummage among his stores, and bring out some odd volume or other—- « The Discovery of the Now World by Christopher Columbus or ‘A True Account of Various Attempts to reach the North Pole ;’ or ‘ A IVhding Cruise off the Coast of Newfoundland ;’ or perhaps ‘ A School History of the Maritime Republics of Genoa and Venice.’ Poring over such narratives as these—narratives dry and dull enough, for the most part, the girl’s head became filled with vague terrors of shipwrecks, icebergs. South Sea islanders, pirates, and ‘ all the perils and dangers of the deep.’ It was no wonder if, brooding upon these things, her thoughts were heavy with apprehension by day, and her dreams were troubled by night. It was no wonder that the neighbors no longer heard her singing over her embroidery when, even in December. the sun lay warm upon her balcony at midday. . . The time, meanwhile, dragged by, Christmas came with its accustomed ceremonies and pomps ; and La Giulietta devoting herself, as usual, to her good friends and former teachers, the Carmelite nuns in the Via della Scala, helped to decorate their little chapel with winter greenery, and to dress the tables for the feast which at this season of love and charity, the pious sisters gave every year to the poor children of their district. , . . Cesare Donato passed his Christmas ;at Bari. The house, ho wrote, was all disorder. There were painters at work in almost every room, and carpenters putting up a verandah along the terrace-front looking to the sea. In this verandah, which commanded a mag nificont view of the town, the harbor, the Albanian and mountains, he hoped his (’iuletta would spend many of her happiest hours. He begged her, in the same letter, to tell ‘Uncle Stofano’ that his wishes re gardiag the purchase of a piece of land were not forgotten. But land was scarce at Bari; and not only scarce but dear. He had seen nothing, up to the present time, that was not either too far from the Villa Donato, or in some way unsuitable. In his next letter, however, written a day or two later, he reported on a prospect of better luck. _ A capital bit of ground adjoining his own vineyard, though not for sale, might possibly be pnrcbascabie. A better bit of ground for Stefano Beni’s purpose could not be imagined. It had, in fact, once formed a part of Donato’s own property ; but had by him been sold to bis friend Canon Alassio* who had again sold it to one Prospero of Bari. If Prospero could bo

brought to part from it, all would be well. Canon Alareio, at all events, was interesting himself in the matter, and with some hops of success. A week later, and the bargain was concluded. Four acres and a half on a fertile hill-side looking to the south east, and divided from Donato’s own vineyard by a low stone fence, were to become the wheelwright’s freehold property, upon the payment of a sum that amounted, after all, to less than bo expected. La Ginlietta’s lover wrote this good nows on the eve of his own departure for Z&nto ; but he left the settlement of the affair in good hands. His lawyer, a certain Signor Gicja of Bari, had already examined the title deeds, and w..nld in the course of « few days, forward the necessary papers for signature to Verona. Donato, meanwhile, had lodged with Canon Alassio a sum sufficient to cover the expenses of purchase and transfer. 1 The little uncle ’ could repay bite by and by, when he came back from sea.

And so the dream of Stefaao Beni’s life was at last realised ; but neither he nor his niece Qiul.etta ever know the true and full history of those four-and-s bait acres, or dreamed that the whole set of transactions, including three separate sales end 11 the dooumen-ary work therewith connected, had occupied less than ten days, i his was a fact known only to the lawyer vrho drew up the deeds, and to the contracting parties who signed them. As for the worthy man whom Donato had designated as ‘ oae Prospero,’ he had in fact been gardener and stable help to Canon Alavsio for nearly forty years. Understanding little or nothing of the transactions to which he was a legal party, he only did as he was bidden, and received a gratuity of a hundred lire for his trouble. Never, in short, was pious fraud more legally and skilfully perpetrated. And now that her love had sailed away Into far and foreign water, La Giulietta felt lonelier than ever. So long av the friendly shores of the Adriatic Gulf sheltered the good barque Diamante, it seemed to her that Donato was near home and in safety. But his letters now became fewer, and she knew that each day bore him farther from her. Upon a little set of wall thumbed maps which she bought about this time at II Grillo's stall, she followed the track of the Diamante from port to port, from shore to shore j puzzling anxiously over the hard names along the coasts of Greece and Asia Minor, and wondering why it was that places which looked so near together should take so long to reach, Hia ti. st letter on leaving Bari was written at sea, and posted at Argostoli, in Oephalonia j the next was despatched from Zante ; the next from Patras. Delayed by baffiing winds, be then beat about the Gulf of Patras for some days, before starting with a change of wind for the Greek Archipelago. Then came a longer silence, followed by letters doted from Syra and the Pirasas. Again the wind had been contrary, and the * Diamante’ had had hard work to make Cape Malea, the most southerly point of the Morea, The weather, however, had been splendid, and the ship had been followed one day by a school of dolphins. Donato described to her how these lithe and fearless creatures played abont the vessel, leapleg, and diving and chasing each other above and nnder the blue waters; cleaving the waves ; scattering the spray ; and springing all wet and glittering through the sunny upper air, as if they took the ship for some 1 sea-shouldering whole,’ to be sported with and feared not.

After a few busy days at the Pirams, daring which he found time to write twice to bis little Ginlietta, Donato act sail for Smyrna and there took the ‘Diamante’into port after an easy run of twenty-four hours. He had now reached the farthest point of his voyage. When next he weighed anchor, it would be to set his face towards home, touching only at Zante by the way, and making straight for Trieste, Then each day’s work would bring him so many miles the nearer to his love. {To be continued on Tuesday.)