LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2308, 27 August 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A CLEVER MATCH-MAKER. [Prom the “ A gosy.] It waa just the hour in which to indulge in a quite reverie. So thought Mies Margaret Courtenay—aunt Margaret, as she was generally called —as she walked softly' across the otherwise unoccupied drawing-room and settled herself cosily in one of tho Inviting easy chairs. She had made her toilette for dinner, and was dressed in a soft grey material, with just a little pink introduced into tho trimming to prevent its being too sombre in effect. Aunt Margaret always wore soft, flowing drapery, a style that suited her slim, graceful figure. Miss Margaret Courtenay was an old maid —at least, so the world and her nephews and nieces styled her —an old maid of forty Bummers.

This, then, la the picture that I wish to present to my readers —a pensive maiden lady, sitting in the firelight in a handsome drawing-room. I wish it were in my power to tell them her story, but of that I am os ignorant as are her nephews and nieces. All I know is that some misunderstanding had arisen between her and her lover, which, on the very eve of the wedding, had resulted iu the breaking off of the marriage. Some time afterwards Miss Courtenay found that she had been too hasty iu her decision, that the reports she had received from well meaning friends were exaggerated, and in many cases untrue; but the discovery came too late for her to repair her error ; Mr Elwell had left England, and Margaret Courtenay grew into an old maid. This had happened twenty years ago ; and now, within tho last fortnight, these two had met again. .... Brothers take little interest in their sisters love affairs, and, moreover, Mr Courtenay (tho lady’s brother) was la India at tho time, and if he bad ever heard the name of John Elwell he had long ago forgotten it. Therefore, when, having gained a lawauia, ha asked the barrister he had retained to run down for a few days with him to his house In Leicestershire, he had no idea that he was bringing the long separated lovers together. But so it was. There was a start and a bow, a dash, and a constrained shake of the hands ; and then there was a secret between them, for neither confessed to having known the other before, We can scarcely therefore be surprised at the pensive attitude that aunt Margaret has assumed. A fortnight spent in a country house in the wet month of February la necessarily to two people with a secret. Both had discovered that the years had made no difference in their feelings for one another, but both were too diffident or too proud to make any overtures towards a reconciliation. There is no doubt that many unfortunate people have stumbled over this same stone. Two people have honestly and truly loved one another, but either from pride or diffi ience, or perhaps both, the mutual confessions have never been made, and the two lives which might bave flowed harmoniously together diverge into different channels. It is oftentimes necessary, to prevent such a catastrophe, that a third party should step in and gently remove the obstacle that prevents the union, and here the much abused office of matchmaker may honorably and fairly be brought into play. No suoh friendly mediator had stepped in between John Elwell and Margaret Courtenay, and offended pride on his side, and prndlsh reserve on hers, were the stumbling-blocks over which these two were tripping. Aunt Margaret gave way still more to day dreams and John Elwell prolonged his stay; but the divided streams still fought against tho stones, and were as far from unity as ever. Aunt Margaret’s day dreams were, howover, broken in upon on this occasion by tho hero, John Elwell himself, who advanced towards the fire rubbing his hand with satisfaction, and exclaiming : * Ah. Miss ’’ourtney, nothieg makes a room look so cheerful as a lady at the fireside. I hope that you were not caught in the rain this afternoon.'

‘ I was not out,’ returned Miss Courtenay; ‘ at this time of the year, morning seems the beat time for constitutional exercise. I invariably walk between twelve and one.’ ‘ “ The winter’s walk at noon.” What is It Oowper says ? ’ — 4 The night was winter in its roughest mood, The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon, Upon the southern side of the slant hills. And where the woods fence off the northern blast. The Season smiles, resigning all its rage. And has the warmth of June. ’ ‘ Mav,’ corrected aunt Margaret. 4 Of course. I am forgetting all my poetry. A man generally does, unless ho has women and children about him.’

* And very frequently when he has them, ’ said Mias Courtenay, looking pensively at the fire.

‘ True. Yet even should the actual poetic nature die out of a man, there is a certain softness and loveliness infused into his life by hia being brought into contact with women and children.’

‘ Whilst often with women the love of poetry drifts into sentimentalism, where it is not associated with the sterner common sense of men,’ said aunt Margaret, speaking more to herself than to him.

* That shows how dependent the one rex is upon the other, and how it was never intended that either should live alone.’

Mias Courtenay discreetly changed the subject, and began talking about the morning’s news, inquired if tho evening papers had arrived, and discussed the various telegrams. ‘Having been abroad so much" I naturally take an interest in what is going on in the world,’ she said ; end so tho conversation drifted into indiffeient subjects. It wanted half an hour to dinner time, and none of the other members of the household had as yet made their appearance. Gradually the conversation died away, and these silly blunderers sat staring into the fire as though they hoped to find fresh fuel for discussion in the dames. Now and again a new topic was started, first by one and then by the other; but as neither seemed to have mnch to say, each returned to the theughtful scrutiny of the fire. This process of making conversation became very irksome; Miss Margaret roused herself, and determined to make a more vigorous effort; John Elwell did the same ; they both seized upon a subject, simultaneously withdrew their gaze from the fire, and opened their lips to speak ; their eyes met, and they laughed. There was a rustle, and the words “ Kiss me ” sounded gently through the room. John Elwell started, and a thrill of pleasure shot through him. At last then, Margaret had come to her senses, and the offer of reconciliation was made. It did not occur to him that it was odd that a lady, and bo refined and particular a lady as Miss Courtenay, should make so decided an overture. The mist of twenty years cleared away, and he saw before him but the girl bride, anxious to be forgiven and to be taken again into favor.

He rose from his chair rather slowly and tremblingly it must be allowed, and respect fully saluted her A flush of pleasure overspread aunt Margaret’s usually pale cheek. ‘lt la of no use trying to make talk when both our hearts are full of the same thoughts,’ said he, as he drew his chair close to hers, and managed to possess himself of her hand; l it is twenty years since wo parted, Margaret, and yet I love you as dearly at forty-five as I did at twenty-five, and sometimes I have dared to hope that you have not forgotten me,’ ‘ No, John, I have never forgotten you,’ she replied softly, ‘And have you forgiven mo V he asked. * I was misinformed. There was nothing to forgive.’ ‘ Yon were too hard upon me, it is true. Margaret, and it has cost us twenty years of unhappiness.’

‘ Why did yon not speak soo- or, John ?’ 1 Because I was determined that the first overtures should come from you.’ ‘ From me 1’ said aunt Margaret, flushing ; * how could you expect mo to make overtures to you ?’ ‘ But you have done so.’ he returned, bending towards her as though again to caress her.

‘ What do you mean ?’ she cried, drawing herse'f away. ‘Nay, nay,’ said John Klwell, soothingly ; ‘ yon must know that you made the first advances.’

* I did no snoh thing,’ returned Margaret. * I should never have spoken had yon not said * What r ‘ WoU—Kha me.’

Aunt Margaret waa now really offended. ‘Why, you aakod mo to kiss you,’ she said, with heightened color. • I protest X did not; you it su ocftly as possifclo.’ ‘For shame, John! Von ga ij it jest a;you used to nay it in the ol j d»ya. ’ ‘ On my oath, I ne.erdid,’ ‘ I euppoao yon knc /W w hat an oath is.’ said Miss Courtenay, doubtfully.

‘ I think so ; 1 enough to do with them in Court.’

‘ Acid ye n wo j.ld take your oath that you did not ask m.o !’

‘ I will do more; I will take my oath that you asked rno. ’ Aunt Margaret stood looking at him with a flush on her delicate checks, thinking that ho really meant only to perplex her. • John, you know me better,’ she said softly ; 1 you are doing this to tease mo, but you should not.’ ‘ Kiss mo,’ again echoed through tho room ; and then followed the sound of a kiss and a whisper of 1 Oh, you darling ! ’ ‘ There is someone in the next room 1 ’ cried Mr Elwell, and they sprang apart like guilty creatures. They moved towards tho curtain between the two drawing-rooms, and confronted Nellie, aunt Margaret’s eldest niece, who, with her couia, Harry Martin, was advancing to meet them. ‘ I am very sorry, aunt Margaret, cried Nellie ; I we did not moan to be eavesdroppers, but I waa so wet when I got in from my ride that I came to warm my faet before going up to dress, and Harry came in with me.’

‘ So it appears. And yon have been worm ing your faces too,’ said Mr Elwell, laugh ing, and i ointing to Nellie’s fair cheeks. ‘The fire is rather fierce,’ she returned.

• The fire or tho kisses ? ’ he asked, laughing ; but there, we will not tell tales out of school. ’

« Nevertheless, Nellie, I am rather surprised at your conduct,' said aunt Margaret, primly. ‘ Come, come, this won’t do,’ cried Harry; we are ready enough to keep our secret, but I can assure you that we have not boon following your good example.’ • I should think not,’ said Nellie; ‘I never asked anybody to kiss me in my life.’ • Then who was kissed, and who was the darling ?’ asked John Elder, slyly. • Aunt Margaret,' replied Nellie, stoutly. ‘ Oh, Nellie, yon shamefaced little coquette,’ said aunt Margaret, rebukincly. ‘ I only wish it had been Nellie,’ said Harry ; but I can answer for it that It was not,’

• Kiss me ! Kiss me ! Oh, you darling ! ’ was wafted softly through the room, and a whole shower of kisses followed this affectionate outburst. • Good heavens ! ’ they all exclaimed at once ; * there is a third couple in the room.'

• Let us light the gas and discover the culprits,’ said Harry, producing some wax matches from his pocket. The firelight was soon quenched, and every corner of the drawing-room illuminated, but no other parties were to be seen. Harry and Mr Elwell looked behind curtains and chairs, carried a light Into tho conservatory, and peered about amongst tho orange trees and camellias ; tho place was empty. • Someone must have been playing ns a trick,’ said the two gentlemen returning. ‘ Or the room is haunted,’ suggested Miss Courtenay in a whisper. 4 By the spirit of St. Valentine,’ cried Nellie, ‘ for to morrow is the fourteenth of February. ’ • The season when the birds ohooao their mates,’ said Harry, ‘ and ’ But she was interrupted by Nellie, who fell on the sofa iu convulsions of laughter, tossing off her riding hat, and shaking her bright blonde hair into soft curls about her shoulders.

1 1 ,'h. auntie, auntie ! I shall die of laughing ! To think of our being such geese I It is the bird in the corner, aunt Margaret I the new parrot that papa brought home yesterday Yes ! there, sure enough, sat Polly in her gray dress an! red trimmings, laughing softly to herself in imitation of Nellie’s more joyous peal. • Kiss mo, ’ she cried, with her head coquettishly aside. 1 The mystery is solved,’ said Nellie, rising and gathering up her habit ; 1 nevertheless, aunt Margaret, I am rather surprised at your conduct.’

‘ I shall be surprised if yon are not late for dinner, Miss Nellie, said aunt]Margaret, ‘ unless you go up stairs at once.' ‘ Quite true; there goes the first bell. Come along, Harry, for yon can’t appear in boots and gaiters. ’ And they heard them laughing together as they stumbled up-stairs. ‘They are having a fine joke together at our expense,’ said Mias Courtenay. ‘ And we at theirs,’ returned Mr Elwell. 1 Well, Margaret, do you think now that I understand the nature of an oath ?’

She laughed. * And wfll you allow me to register a vow in your behalf sometime next month V ‘ I do not know about next month,’ said Margaret, blushing as rosy red as a young girl ; but here her mouth was stopped. ‘ I have lost twenty years, and will wait no longer,’ cried John Elwell, and Margaret felt there was nothing else to be said. The dinner party was long in mustering that evening. Nellie and Harry were late, of course, aunt Margaret, the precise aunt Margaret, who had been dressed an hour ago, what could she mean by keeping the soup waiting ? Even when the truants did appear, they were so quiet that Mr Courtenay rallied them on their gravity. ‘ The weather must have affected you, ’ he said j ‘ you are as dull as ditoh-water. Bring round the wine, Smith’—to the butler. ‘ You are not vexed with me, Aunt Margaret? ’ said Nellie, lu the course of the evening. ‘ No, dearest; lam not vexed.’ ‘ I really came in to warm my feet, you know ; and, auntie dear, I am so glad ; 1 know all about it. Mr Elwell is the man yon ought to have married years ago, and now you have made it up again, and papa is so pleased, and so are we ail.’ *lt was the parrot’s doing,’ said aunt Margaret. ‘St. Valent in . 's, you mean —and he managed another match, too,’ and Nellie lowered her voice to a whisper ; ‘ somehow or other I kept tumbling over my habit as I went up stairs, and Harry was obliged to help me, and when we reached the landing

‘ Well, Nellie ? ’ ‘ Harry said ho did not thinks St, Valentine’s advice should bo thrown away, and so he kissed me, and—and—and we are engaged, aunt Margaret.’ Tho double wedding took place early In the soring, in the Stockleigh Parish Church, and I never hoard that any of tho parties over repented taking St. Valentine’s advice.

The parrot was always a great favorite with both the brides ; she lived to an honored and respected old age, and In the family ever after went by the name of * Tho Matoh-Makor.’