LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2244, 7 May 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTBET OF LOUD BRACKENBIJRT: A NOVEL. BY AMELIA B. EDWABDS. Author of "Barbara’s History," ■'Debenham'a Vow.” &o. f Continued,} And now, Portici being left behind, the officer and his companion rise and press to the window at which Lancelot and Winifred are sitting. The air grows thick and sulphurous. A broadening copper glare streams up the sky. The last straggling houses are passed; the last curve is turned ; and, as the train enters upon the broad valley, beween Vesuvius and Naples, comes into sight, suddenly, the whole westward flank of the mountain ; Its ridged buttresses channelled by Innumerable rivers of fire—rivers meeting, mingling, parting, yet all rushing to one common goal; that goal a vast natural platform some three or four hundred feet above the plain. Here they unite, spreading to right and left in one broad lake of fire ; and upon the brink of this lake, st t : nod pe haps a mile apart like the outposts of a Satanic camp, stand three blazing villages. Whether purposely, that the passengers might gaze upon this appalling spectacle, or from some other cause, the engine at this point slackens speed, and, without actually standing still, moves at almost a footpace across the valley. Chapter LXIII, AT THE HOTEL DE ROME. It was after sunset and nearly dusk when the train steamed into the station at Naples; for here, to the leeward of the smoke, the natural order of day and dark once more prevailed, Also the distance between Naples and Vesuvius being about equal to the distance between Vesuvius and Castellamare—the roar of the eruption was so far subdued that.to hear and be beard was no longer impossible. Ail Naples was ont; immense crowds having gathered at every spot from which the mountain was visible. The quay of Saute Lucia was one of the seas of heads. I'te housetops, the windows, the balconies, were lined with, gazers. The roadway was blocked with carriages. The breakwater was black with closely-packed human beings. Even the lamp p. sts and the trees along the qnays, even the yards and rigging of the vessels in the harbor, were covered with spectators. There i* always something impressive in the mere presence of a vast multitude, even though the occasion be joyous and the multitude disposed to merriment; but in the sullen silence of these tens of thousands there was a solemnity not to be told In words. Every face wore the same fixed look, and was turned in the same direction. Then, as now, the Villa di Boma, commonly called the Hotel de Borne, was the best of 'the few Neapolitan hostelrles which commanded a view of Vesuvius, To the Hotel de Borne, therefore driving slowly with many stoppages—did Lancelot and Winifred straightway repair. They found that well-conducted establishment in a state of abnormal confusion ; the yard fall of back carriages; tho landings and passages full of luggage j porters everywhere; waiters nowhere. Here were parties of travellers harrying away in terror by the evening trains to Capna, on route for Borne ; others attracted by the eruption, just arrived or arriving. Some were clamouring for their bills; others for accommodation, Lancelot, as one of the latter, having with difficulty gained audience of the bewildered landlord, succeeded in securing (npon exorbitant terms) a third-floor apartment overlooking the bay and the mountain. It was now close upon nine o’clock, and a desultory ‘ table d'hote ’ dinner which had been dragging its slow length along ever since half-past six, was still going on in the Salle a Manger. Never had any of those present sat down to snob a dinner. Conversing across the table, they had to speak as loudly as if talking aoioss a street. The windows ebook; the glass and silver rattled ; the floors trembled. People took their seats, dusty and travel stained, juitas they bad come off their journeys. Others went away in the middle of their dinners. Even those who were neither coming nor going, laid down their knives and forks every now and then, and went to the windows to see if there was any change. Here, being in need of food and rest, Lancelot and Winifred thought themselves fortunate when they got a scared-looking waiter to bring them some cold soup and a dish of languid cutlets. Presently the door opened, and there entered a tall, thin man, with an eyeglass screwed into his right eye, his hat In his hand, and a lady’s shawl npon his arm. He was so very tall that he bad to stoop as he passed under the chandelier ; and so thin that if, like Peter Schlemail, he had sold his shadow to the devil, no one would have missed it. Bambling up the room and looking for a place to bis liking, he fixed upon two chairs, facing those occupied by Lancelot and Winifred,

‘Here—“qui, 1 ” he said, eking out his scant Italian with an undue proportion of his native English. ‘ These two—“ quests” “due”; and dinner immediately—do you understand? “Presto”—“subito ”—immediately. ' Then, looking across the table, he stared, let the glass drop from his eye, and ejaculated ‘ Eh ? —is Is possible ?—Lord Brackenbury 1' Lancelot rose, and the two men shook hands across the table. * When Hast heard of yon,’ said Lancelot, 1 you were at Constantinople, and had been at Palmyra. I trust the Countess Castelrosso is well ? You ko not know my wife 7 Winifred, this is Mr Fink, whose name must be familiar to you.’ Mr Fink, bowing profoundly, was seen rather than heard to say that he was enchanted to —to—to have the honor of—of making Lady Braokcnbury's acquaintance. ‘We were at Ischia,* ho said, speaking with a curious mixture of flurry and hesita tion ; * but we rushed across at the first burst of the eruption. Fearful noise !—impossible to make one’s self beard without bawling. I beg a thousand pardons ! ’ Saying which, Mr Fink (having carefully deposited the shawl in one chair and his hat in the other) rambled out of the room again, returning presently with the Countess Castelrosso, who looked as delicately fresh and beautiful, as elegantly flounced, frilled, and clear • starched, as if there were no each horrors as smoke and sulphur in the world. ‘ For years I have been dying to know you, Lady Braokenbury,’ she said, when greetings and introductions were over, and they had settled into their places. ‘ Yes ; for years—ever since I became yourntichhour. But then, you know, you never called upon me ! My husband would not let me call upon you. He told me that it was against the English law, and punishable with transportation for life. But I have heard a great deal about yon from Mrs Pennefeather—and about Langtrey Grange. She tells me that it is-the most beautiful old timber-house in the three centuries. We have timber-houses in America—real old ones, too: as old almost, as the time of the Pilgrim Fathers; but then the oldest of ours would, of course, be a thing of yesterday compared with Langtrey Grange.’ ‘ My aunt was an old lady,’ Winifred said, ‘ and we never called upon any one. ’ ‘ Mrs Pennefeather told mo you did not care for society, Lady Brackenbury; and that comforted me. 1 knew then you wore not leaving me out in the cold. ’ ‘I hardly know whether we oared for society or not,’ Winifred replied, simply, 1 We were very poor ; and not being able to afford it, we never thought about it.' The fair Countess blushed crimson, and, for probably the first time in her life, know not what to say. According to her creed, ugliness and poverty wore the two cruellest ills that flesh is hair to ; and she would as soon have thought of taunting an uncomely woman with her nncoraeliness us of reminding her new acquaintance of the straitened circumstances of her girlhood. She little dreamed that those four words, ‘Wo - were very poor,’ cost Winifred no more annoy

ance or false shame than she might have felt In saying, ‘We wore vary far off,’ or, ‘ We were very much engaged. Mr Fink, however, divining his wife’s dismay, plunged headlong Into tne eruption, and turned the conversation. ‘ Yon would never guess where wo have just come from,’ he said, making a desperate effort to be audible. ‘ Well, we ha -pen to be acquainted with Signor Meiloni, the Director of the Observatory yonder ; so we chartered a steamer from Ischia to Portici, and from Portici went direct to the Observatory, where we remained all the afternoon. We saw tho lava-stream pour down tho 1 trio del Cavallo and shape its course for San Pebastino. es, indeed I—a terrific sight! The inhabitants flying for their lives —the vineyards disappearing as the molten mass moves on—then the town reached, crushed, and fired . , , oh, appalling I As for tho noise, the heat, tho smoko, and the sulphur-fumes, they were over-wheim-ing. When we came in half an hour ago, you would not have recognised us. Wo were as black as niggers ’ ‘But you must have been in great danger,’ said Winifred, turning to the Countess Castleroaso. ‘ Danger ?—none at all, Lady Brackenbury ; unless from suffocation. Stationed as the Observatory is on a spur of tV-e mountain —ah I you have not been up Vesuvius 1 Well, then, imagine yourself standing on the Montanvert and looking down upon the Mer de Glace ; only instead of a fixed torrent of bristling ice, you look down upon a steadily moving stream of red-hot lava ! You don’t know the Mer do Glace, Lady Brackenbury ? How happy yon are to have Cbamonnix yet to come ! Do you read Dante ? Well, now, do yon know that I have a theory about tho Inferno ; and my theory is that Dante took his notion of the lowest circle from a Swiss glacier, and his circle of fire from an eruption of Vesuvius. Ho might have passed through Switzerland or Savoy, when he went to Paris, you know; and as for V< savins, there was an eruption in 1306—50 Murray says ; and in 1306 Dante would have been forty-one years of age. You remember the description of the city of Dis, with its red hot towers and battlements; and beyond those the lake of burning pitch 7 You have only to look ont of the window, and there you have the whole scene I How I wish yon could have been with us this afternoon! Ah, don’t shake your head, dear Lady Brackenbnry I —we would have insisted, and yon would have gone. There w&s absolutely no danger. And such a sight!—l would notbave missed it for worlds. An awful calamity of coarse; bat if such a calamity ‘ 1 must” take place—and Signor Mellon! says the crater was fall of lava—then we are all wonderfully fortunate to be in Naples at the time.’ Winifred looked at her, half donbting whether she really quite liked this brilliant, graceful, voluble creature who seemed so willing to please and be pleased. * Wonderfully fortunate I’—as If anything connected with snob a dreadful catastrophe could bo ‘ wonderfully fortunate ? ’ And then all this easy theorising about Dante ; and this babble of Switzerland, and Ohamonnlx, and tte Mer de Glace! ‘ How tremendous the reverberations are, even at this distance,’ said the Countess. *lt is like sitting down to dinner in a besieged city—only more grand and awfnL Ah 1 lady Brackenbnry, you are thinking that I dent know what that Is ; bat yon are m'staken. I am familiar with most of the horrors of war, I wont through the greater part of the campaign in Texas—ln the ambulance service, • bien entendu.’ Did yon suppose that I shouldered a musket and served In the ranks ? Heavens I what an explosion! The eruption is certainly increasing in violence ! ' Chatter LXIV. FACE TO FACE. The sound that evoked the Countess* exclamation was something more than an explosion; it was a shock. A shock so sudden, so violent, that it seemed as if the whole of the house was being driven In, Every one in the room rose, and harried to the windows. If they had seen Vesuvius rent from top to bottom, and a sea of lava rushing straight upon Naples it would scarce have Baptised them. Bat except that where three villages were blazing awhile ago, there now wore four, the general aspect of the eruption was not greatly altered. They all listen eagerly ; breathless ; wondering what would happen next ‘ Did you feel the floor heave ? ’ ' Did you hear that crackling noise 7 ’ ‘lt was as if a thunderbolt bad burst ! ’ Then the waiter was questioned. What place was that which had last caught fire ? tVhich was San Sobastiano P Which was Massa di Somma P The man, being confused and unnerved, made inch random answers as ho could. The fourth fire must be at Pollena, the village next beyond Massa di Somma. That was Massa di Somma in the middle—that was San Sebastiano to the right—lower down the mountain on this side, near Naples, was San Giorgia a Cremano. He could not tell how many inhabitants there were in San Sebastiano, with three or fonr times as large a population. But they had all fled. There were no people left in those burning houses. Where were they gone t 8000 !—the city was full of them ; the ships in the harbor were full of them ; tho convents and hospitals, the barracks and churches were all full of them. Why, the Commissary of Police was here not half-an hour ago—in the landlord's bureau downstairs—and he was beard to say that fifty thousand refugees had come into Naples within the last twelve hours ! All at once, Mr Fink looked at his watch, and said that it was half-past nine and time for him to be gone. W hereupon it came out that, having already watched the descent of the lava from the cradle at the head of that grim ravine between the cone and Monte Somma, known as the Atrio del Cavallo, he desired now to trace its farther coarse along the mountain side. He accordingly proposed driving as far as a place called Santa Anastasia, on the north-western slopes of Vesuvius, and thence making his way to the brink of the great lava lake on that upper level, or platform, locally styled “ the first plain.” For this excursion, he had bespoken the services of the hotel-guide and ordered a light one-horse carretta, which must even now be wailing for him in the courtyard. Would Lard Brackenbnry accept the second seat in the carretta, and go with him. To which Lancelot replied that there was nothing he should like better. The countess was charmed. That bad husband of hers had refused to let her accompany him; and to be left alone in the hotel would have been really horrid. But now It was ‘‘autre chose”! Now she ebonld have dear Lady Braokanbury all to herself ; and they would watoh the eruption together till these gentlemen came back, it would be quite delightful! Winifred said nothing. Had they been alone, she would have Implored her husband not to venture ; but she was too young a wife, and too shy,, to interpose before these strange-s. Mr Fink divested himself of his watch, chain, and purse, and gave them into tho countess’ keeping. ‘ Pickpockets and footpads arc never particularly rare and curious objects in this part of the world,’ he said ; ‘ and to-night they will be out by thousands. I recommend you, Lord Brackenbnry, to do as I am doing.’ ‘ So, emptying his loose sliver Into his waistcoat pocket, Lancelot followed Mr Fink’s example. ‘ You will not run into danger, Lancelot I ’ whispered Winifred, laying one trembling hand upon hie arm. ‘No, no, my darling ; of course not.’ ‘ And yon will come back—soon ? ’ * As soon as 1 can ; but I go as a guest, remember.’ He pressed her hands hurriedly between his own. Then Mr Fink handed him down his hat, and with a brief ‘ good-bye ’ he was gone. The invitation was so suddenly given and a 'coptod, and the whole thing passed so ra Idly that Winfred scarcely realised It till she found herself standing with Countess Castelrosso upon a little balcony outside the middle window of the * Halle-a-Manger.’ From hence, they presently saw the carretta emerge from tho hotel yard ; the guide on the box beside tho driver ; Lancelot and Mr Fink looking up and lifting their hats as they passed tho window. The next moment, carriage and occupants were ongulphed in a surging stream of vehicles, and lost to sight. ( T he continued on Tuesday. )