LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2247, 15 June 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

AN AOTBESS'S HOLIDAY.

[From the "Era."] {Continued.) ' I am very glad you did make it,' said Philip warmly. 'As to not knowing anything about you,' he added with a smile, • perhaps I know more than you think. We gossip a good deal in Ashton,' ' What is the extent of your information ?' she asked, ouriously. 'I know that two ladies from London are staying at the village inn for the benefit of their health, and that their name ia Thome, or Earl, or both.'

*My aunt is Mrs Thorne, and I am Winnifred Earl,' the young lady explained. The squire bowed. ' Winnifred Earl,' he repeated slowly. ' Yes ; perhaps you havo heird the name before,' a f»int smile hovering about her

Lps. ' Oh, no! I was only thinking what a pretty name it is,' he answered gravely. 'Thank you,' said Winnifred, with a saucy little nod. She was amused; he looked so very serious, and not at all as if he wished to pay a mero compliment. There was a slight pause, and then Winnifred, seeing her annt rise, rose aho. ■ 'You are not going!' exclaimed Philip. ' Yes; see, the rain is over, and we have been here a long time ' ' And so he has never heard of Miss Earl, the actress*,' thought Winnifred, as they walked back to the inn. And she felt glad, though she could hirdly have explained why. The young Squire rode home in a pensive mood that evening. As he emerged from the fine chesnut avenue and came into full view of the Hall, he reined in his horse, and took a long, earnest look at the home of his forefathers. He loved the old home, with its tall twisted chimneys and many gables, and had been wont to think it perfect; but to-day, for the first time in his life, perhaps, it struck him that it wanted something It made a pretty picture, but it was very still and lonely. The crowning touch—the suggestion of domestic love and happiness—was conspicuous by its absence. _ There should have been a young and gracious lady on the terrace, with a child playing at her f-et, to waive him a smiling welcome Philip's cheek flushed, foi the Imaginary lady instantly assumed the form of Winnifred Earl. 'This is folly,' he said sternly. 'Until those mortgages are paid off I am too poor to dream of such a thing. I won't see her again. I'll stay at home, and go into those accounts with • Foster.' Foster was his bailiff and factotum. But by the next morning Philip had either forgotten his resolution or changed his mind, for soon after breakfast he ordered his home and rode to Ashton, which was two miles distant. AsJb.o entered the village he over*' took Mrs Thorne and Winnifred, and it seemed only natural that he should immediately dismount and walk beaide them. After all, these ladies were strangers and alone, and it was only, right that those who could should ■ show them some little attention.

And he did show them a great deal of attention, but it wasttn so delicate and unobtrusive a manner that it was impossible to feel.offence or to reject his proffered kindness without feeling themselves to be ungrateful and ungracious. He made them acquainted with the beauties of the neighborhood, planned charming little excursions for them, and had a happy knack of turning up whenever they were in any little difficulty, and needed counsel or assistance. * I never knew a young man with so much tact,' remarked Mrs Thorne approvingly. * And in the country, too.' , 'And why not in the country?' asked Winnifred quickly. ' Does tact exist only in town ? I always thought it was a natural gift. Besides, Mr Longworth has not spent all his life in this quiet place. He was educated at Harrow and Oxford.' ; ' Yes, I remember be said, so,' returned Mrs Thorne, plaoidly. ' Though,' with a keen glance at her niece, * I don't see what that has to do with the question. Ah, here he comes.' They were seated, as was their custom after dinner, in the pretty old garden behind the inn, enjoying the scent of the flowers and the cool fianhness of the evening air. Of late it it had not been an unusual thing for Philip to drop in about this hour. The landlord of the Longworth Arms was a tenant of his, he explained, and he often had oocasion to see him on business, and when there could not resist strolling into the garden to see the ladies. As the fair-haired young fellow came up the broad gravel path Winifred lifted her eyes and smiled. She did not say anything, but Philip felt that to was welcome, and his pulses throbbed. He drew a rustic chair towards them and sat down . ~ * Well,' said he, in his cheerful, friendly way, ' and whaa have you been doing today.! Mrs Thorne replied, and the trio fell into a stream of easy, light-hearted conversation. They were very pleasant, those evening talks among the flowers. No one heeded how the momehts flew. The sun dipped into the west, and still the murmur of conversation went on uninterruptedly, only broken now and then by the light sound of happy laughter. By-andby a soft gl&om began to gather among the trees and shrubs, the stars came out one by one, and a chill breeze stirred the leaves of the old elm. ' Why, it is night!' exclaimed Winifred, in astonishment. ' How quickly it has come.' To the young actress time seemed to fly with unwonted rapidity at At h ton. To many the long summer days passed in the pursuit of simple country pleasures would have been unendurable, bnt to Winifred they were full of interest. She was growing fond of the pretty village and the civil, friendly villagers. The air agreed with her. She had lost the jaded look she had worn on her arrival, the hollows in her oheess were fast filling up, her step was light and active, and her fine dark eyes shone with new lustre. She had never felt so well or happy before. Why she was so happy she did not trouble to inquire. She was content to live in the present, and to enjoy to the full the subtle charm that pervaded it. But all holidays come to an end, and the time drew near when aunt and niece must return to London. As the day of their departure approached a shadow fell on the little party that had hitherto been so cheerfnl. Both ladies were sorry to leave Ashton They had come there perfect strangers, and had been kindly received. The rector and his wife had shown them many little acts of courtesy, and to the friendly young squire it was largely owing that Winnifred's experiment had turned out such a complete success. , , , But it was not the ladies only who were sorry. Philip's heart sank as the day of their departure drew near. He could no longer disguise from himself that he loved Winnifred Earl. He had only known her a month, and yet her absence would make bo terrible a void in his life that the mere thought of it struck him with dismay. But what could he do ? Until the mortgages with which his father's extravagance had encumbered the estate were paid off he was a poor man; too poor, at least, to marry. He longed to pour forth the story of his love, but it seemed to him that he oonld 'not do so with honor unless he had something definite to propose. He could hardly ask her—even if ehe were willing—to wait for him an uncertain number of years. Actresses made brilliant marriages sometimes, why should not Winnifred. A woman so sweet and fascinating would be sure to win much love; It would soarcely be an act of true affeotion to attempt to bar her way to advancement and happiness with his poor pretensions. Philip knew that she was on the stage, because she had told him so, but what her attractions as an actress might be it did not occur to him to consider. He did not regard her in that light. It was the woman he loved. And he did love her de»rly, and it was hard to let her go without telling her so. The restraint he put upon himself made hia manner unnatural and constrained, and Winnifred quickly per ceived the difference. She had known fron the first that he liked her; but his regwd had appeared to be entirely of a friendly nature, and had occasioned her no uneasiness. Or, if any doubts on the subject had ever presented themselves, they had been instantly rejected But now; in the face of Philip's altered manner, Winnifred's fancied seourlty gave place to vague alarm. ' Was he angry with her, Or what was it 1 'She was no longer sure of him, or, in the depths of her heart, of herself either. She wa« ner-

voaa and apprehensive, and as Philip's manner grew more and more constrained hers baoame cold and indifferent.

Mrs Thome looked on In mingled concern, perplexity, and amusement. What possessed the young folks to make themselves so tiresome and ridionloua? But, whatever was amiss, they must make it right between them ;- she would not interfere. She held to 'he policy of non-intervention. When the moral atmosphere is charged with electricity something generally occurs to biing things to a climax. One sultry afternoon, Mrs Thome feeling disinclined for a walk, Winnifred went out alone to com plot a a sketch which she had commenced on the previous day. She had only half a mile to walk, and her way led through pleasant meadows over a gentle hill. When she reaohed the top she paused and looked round. Ashton lay at her feet its red and purple roofs peeping out among the trees, the grey church tower rising in the centre, and beyond the long, low bridge and the river flashing in the sunlight, * I shall never see it again, never,' and she sighed and turned away. A few minutes later she had reached her destination, and was busy with her penoil. {To it continued.')