LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2339, 1 October 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

CHRISTIANA. A man—an American yon could see at a glar.ee —sat on a projecting rock on tho side of a. mountain in Germany, one summer day, and looked down upon a rural scene below. A little cottage stuck liko a bird's nest in tho mountain side ; an open door ; a slender woman's form at a wheel, the sun shining down upon hor golden braids of hair that fell almo.it to the ground; a maa near her in a chair, smoking his pipe. * A pretty picture, mused the American— Carl Westovon, of New York. ' What a difference between the life of that woman ■nd sorno of our scckty dames. I wonder if Bhe is young ? * And having nothing better to do, our friend sauntered, or rather scrambled, down tho mountain aide, and presented himwolf at u,e door of the cottage. In vory good German he bepged for a drink of water. The florid-faced, sindly-eyed man in the chair took hiß pipe out of his mouthy and called uut in his native tongue to the girl—for she was young—at the wheel. ' Bring the gentleman a glass of wator, Christiana.' —and then to Oarl —' you are a foreigner, eh, from the hotel yonder?' Carl responded in the affirmative. ' Yes, from tho hotel, and ho had been rambling about the mountains all day, until he had grown tired and thirsty.' Just then Christiana returned with a glass of water, which she handed to the stranger, her eyes modestly cast down. He took it, bowed, drank, with his eyes on her face, and found her both young and fair. A lovely complexion, wonderful hair.long curling eyelashes, and a mouth like a grieved ohild. When Bhe lilted the dropped lids, as he thanked her and returned the glass, he that her eyes were ' deeply, darkly, beautifully blue,' with a look in their depths that corresponded with the droop of her month.

' Longing for eomething better than she has known,' quoted Carl. ' No doubt Bhe is sighing for the great world which lam so weary of. How lovely Bhe is ! '

•Would you sit down and rest?' mine hoßt continued, as Christina returned to her wheel, and Carl seemed about to move on. And glad of a few moments longer, during which he might sit facing the blonde maiden, he took the proffered chair and fell into converse with mine host, who very soon gave him a brief history of himself and family, in response to Carl's query if this mountain nook had always beon his home. * Yes, and the home of my father before me. This house is the same I was born in, and I played a ohild in this yard, _ even as my daughter Christiana yonder did. Bat that bit of pasture land and the field beyond—bath mine now I have added to my inheritance. My father had only this house and a few sheep when he died, and left me to care fnr my aged mother. And she, too, died a few years later, and then I married Marguerite, who used to watoh my Bheep beside her own when I was a boy. And now we have many herds of sheep and both those fields yonder, and not a debt in the world ; and wei are growing old, and there will be no one but Christiana to inherit all we possess. J3ut Christiana is a good girl, and a frugal girl, and will not waste It unless she marries some spendthrift rascal who will waste it for her '

' But she will not do that,' Carl ventures, to encourage his companion to prooeed, for she was still at her wheel, her eyes oast down and the eun glinting on her hair. • nh, Ido not know. One can nevor tell what a girl may do. Christiana seems in no hurry to wed—Bhe has refused the finest young fellow for miles about Hassan Oronoff who has the fattest sheep in the whole country. I would gladly have seen _ her marry hiru, and told him so ; but Christiana, she would none of him. And so I worry sometimes about her, frr it is the girls who are too particular who pick up the crooked stiok at last. But thero is Frau Marguerite calling up to supper, and will you not come in and share it. with na ? It is a long walk back to your hotel, and you will need something to refresh you before you set forth, even if it is only the plain fare of a mountaineer.'

And Carl accepted, first informing his kind host that his name was Carl Westoven, and that he was ati American tourist.

' And mine ib Hans Schiegel, at your service, sir,' mine host responded. ' But you cannot be all a foreigner if your name is Carl ? This a German name, as well aa Hans.'

Carl laughed. ' Yes,' he said, 'my mother was an American-born German. I learned to speak the language from her, and I love the land and its people ' And an hour later our friend was chattering very sociably with the blonde maiden whom he had watched from his seat on the mountain side, while he wondered if she was young. He found to his surprise and delight that she spoke English very correctly, and with only a charming accent. She read It, too, very readily. ' How is it ?' ho queried. 'Have yoa bean to an English school ?' Wo, Bho had not boon at school, but four years ago she had met tome American people, who had spent tho summer thereabouts, and had lrarned to speak tho language, and she had studied it a great deal ever sinre, in spare hou'.x. ' Home Americana! who we- e they ? Perhaps I may know them.' Christiana dropped her Jida again.

• Oh, there wera two or three—one an artist, who mtdo sketches for some great paper, a Mr Regal. J. believe that is the name ; but iorgets, you know, after years.' ' Regal!' cried Carl. 'ls it possible ? Why, to be sure, 1 remember his sketches in tho papers that summer. And did you know him well, then?' ' No, not well. He was reserved and did not tilt !nuoh to me, though he let me look at hia pictun s eoinetimes, and once came to the hcuae to finish some sketches one day, and I gave him bread and milk. I remember that so well. !-> e talked to me that day,' and < hristiana sighed. Carl looked at the girl narrowly. ' I wonder if she, too, hao had an affair d'amour, and with Regal ?' ho thonght. ' Regal is a good artist,' he said. 'He married a friend of mine—a beautiful girl—about six yeavo ago.' ' Yes; he Bhowed me her picture that day, with others. I remember It well. He was a kind, good man.'

When Carl walked home to his hotel that night he carried the face of the German girl in his memory. She is so naive, so fresh, so fair,' he said—- ' so unspoiled ! I must see h«r again.' Before he slept he took from his pocket a little leather case, in which lay the portrait of another girl's face—a brilliant face, with sparkling eyes and a spirited expression, and framed in a mass of rich, dark hair, ooiffured. It was the face of one of eooiety'a belles— Edith Morrow.

* How different, how different I he mused; ' and yet both are beautiful. But one is as God made her—the other spoiled by the world and society. One was a heart to love with—the other a heart worn with the praiae of many tongues.' And he closed the case and replaced it in his pocket, and retired to his couch to dream of long eyelashes and blonde hair and a pretty German accent. Carl Westovcs had left America in a bitter frame of mind. He was a bachelor of thii-ty-two, of independent fortune and luxurious taßtes. He had experienced a score of affaires de cceur, and at last had felt a genuine attachment for ono of society's belles—Edith Morrow. She stirred his heart with a power he vainly strove to combat ; for, like most blase men, he wanted a wife who had no ' past'— no experionot in matters of the heart. And Edith Morrow had been a belle for fully eight years, had been engaged twice to his knowledge, and had had half the men of his set crazy about her one time or another. He had always felt a contempt for this Bort of woman—had openly expressed his disgust for Kdith Morrow long before he met her. Yet when they did meet. In spite of it all, ho found himself following in tho footsteps of his predecessors and falling in love with her—she wan so bright, so fall of life and fire and magnetism, so witty, and so apf arently free from any idea of desire of conquest. Ho had fancied her full of airs and affections. But aa soon as he realised his danger—knew that he wai falling a victim to his fascinations— h* fled. He was too much a man of the world, too wise, not to krjow that Edith Morrow was as much in earnest with him as he was with her, It was no flirtation. He could win her and keep her if he chose to stay.

But what man wanta a woman who has given the best of herself or her affections, to one or a half-dozen others ? he asked himself, bitterly. ' I do not want a wife wbo has been in love with another man, much less one who has been engaged two or three times. My wife must give me the first and best and only love of her heart.' So be had gone abroad. And now he had met » girl quite aB beautiful in her way as Edith jyiorrow, and wholly unspoiled by the world. He thought of her the first thing on awakening in the morning. ' She could bo made into a glorious woman,' ho soliloquized. *A year or two of travel, fashionable attire, a little teaching, and she would be superb. She has such perfect repose of manners already, and I know by her face she has an affectionat" nature and would worship the man who gave her all these alvantnges and was kind to her.'

So with more serious thoughts concerning her than the fair Christiana dreamed of, Carl Westov. n made his way to the cottage again the day following his first of her, and for many days after. And at the end of two weeks he had naked her to be his wife, and Bhe had referred him to her father. * I will marry you if he does noS forbid it,' she said, preoiscly as she would have said, ' I will get yon a meal of victuals if he is willing.' Carl, secretly disappointed at Christiana'e lack of emotion, yet believing _ that sho simply controlled her feelings', laid his suit before Sohiegel. The old man rubbed his eyes, and looked at Oarl in amazement.

' Eh, msrry our'Christiana! A nice man you would be to tend the sheep and till the lend. No, no; we should all come to want!'

Carl laughed. * But I have money enough to live without your sheep, Heir Schiegel. And I will buy you a hundred more besides, and pay a good man for taking care of them ; and I will build you a new house and buy a meerschaum pipe that a king might be proud to smoke, If yoi will let me make Christiana my wife next week and carry her away with me. 1 will promise to bring her home to you for a visit every summer, and I will be kind to her, I give you my word of honor.'

• Well, woll,' he said. ' you may tako hor if she will go. Christiana is a strange girl. I would rather see her married to a good man who la of her own class, and settled near me, but Christiana has high notions in her head. Four years ago, when she was but sixteen, and used to w*tch the cheep on the mountain side before I had a bit of pasture land fenced in, some American saw her and praised her pretty face, and talked to her of the great world, and ever since then she has looked with a good deal of scorn on our mountain lads. I suppose she will he glad to go with you sir, and if you use her well and buy mo the sheep you apeak of, -I cannot complain.' And so Carl bore away his bride from her mountain home, and from the clinging arms of Frau Marguerite, who wept as if her heart would break. Christiana, too, showed n depth of feeling that was a revelation to C t , when she parted fr >m mother. ' For all her composure, she has a depth of feeling,' he thought, ' and she must love me very intensely, cold as she seems.' They prooeed to Paris and remained six months. Carl robed his bride elegantly, and placed her in the hands of excellent teaohers. Then he employed a ' companion ' to travel with them a year, aod to spaak nothing but French to her young mistress. Christiana possessed a clear, sweet soprano voice, and In Italy she was placed under the best teachers. Her progress was nattering, and Carl became every day more and more enamored of his beautiful wife.

Yet, while Christiana was ever sweet and kind, she never exhibited any great degreo of affection for him. She often expressed her gratitude, but never her love. Yet Carl was content.

* bhe is beautiful and true,' he mused, ' and her acquirements are already equal to many women born to the advantages she has enjoyed but a year. And all her thoughts and dreams are mine. There is no man anywhere who shares one thought of hers —she has n i old ' affairs ' to sigh over. When they had been married ne»rly a year, Carl met one of his American friends abroad.

' Lovely wife you have,' said the friend, when they were alone together. ' But, hang it ! old fellow, it was hard on the fair Edith —this marriage of yours. She took it hard, too.'

' "What do yon mean? ' Bald Carl, wilh a sudden pain in his heart. * Why, I mean Miss Morrow, whom everybody knew was at last in love with you, and whom we all tnooght yoa were qnito "gone" over before yon went abroad. And when she heard ot your marriage, hang me! old fellow, but she faint'd dead away at the opera. On : y a Jfew of na know what the cause was —it was called " heat" and sudden " indisposition," &o. —but we, who were in the secret, knew otherwise. And she was ill for some weeks.'

' You must mistake the cause,' Carl replied, coldly. ' Miss Morrow's heart was not fresh enough to feel anything so deeply as that, and besides, there was nothing like an " affair " between us.'

' Oh, hang it! you know yon were quite st'unk with h«r, aB we all have been, ono time or another,' answered the young American, bluntly; • but your hopes of success were brighter than any of your pre-dco.-'FSors had been. Edith loved you, old fellow, no doubt about it, and she isn't the same girl since your marriage,' and tin friend moved away and lift Cari to his meditations.

He looked at Edith Morrow's picture again that night for the first time since he was married. Then he put it away, determined ntsvor to see it again, Somehow, the very picture seemed to possess more fire and magnotism than the woman herself whom ho had made his wife. And it stirred him as no look from Christiana's eyes ever had.

They went for a brief visit to Christiana's old home, then for another year of travel, and then home to New York. Carl felt willing to lot any of his most fastidious friends see his wife now. She spoke Frenoh and English with only a charming accent, she spoke her own language perfectly, and she sang beautifully. Her dresses were all rich and elegant, her form and carriage superb, and as for the ways of society, Csrl felt sure her repose would carry her through all that without any trouble. News of her beauty had preceded her, and Carl found all his friends ready to do his lovely wife homage. She was the ' rage '»t once, but she bore all tho adulation, compliments, and flattery just as she boro Carl's attentions —with perfect coldness, ' An iciole,' thought Carl, as ho watched her day after day In the whirl of her new life—always calm, composed, undemonstrative. *An icicle, but all mine.' They had been in New York Beveral weeks when one afternoon a lady, whom < arl knew to be a great lover of gossip, called. She was very affable and pleasant, but juat as she wa» about to take her departure she turned to Carl with a sweet smile and the words—

' Tour old flame, Edith Morrow, has returned to the oity after a few weeks' absence, Mr Weatoven. Ibhe ran away when you wore coming home, but she has regained her courage, I daresay, for she told me oho was coming to call to moirow. Ah, you were a sad flirt, Carl ! —and Edith has never been quite the same since the affair. But.dear me, I don't blame you since I have Feen your wife—no ono could. Only ' — turning to Christiana —• only, dear Mrs Weataven, you must keep an eye upon him, and see that he does not go back to his old ways, for he used to be a wicked flirt!' And the kind lady smiled, kissed her gloved hand, and tripped away. ( To be continued.)

A " Noah's Ark" race was introduced at the last Madras fair, and was a handicap for all animals bred in tho country, the competitors including buffaloes, elephants, a goat, ram, emu, and elk, and other creatures besides pontes and horses. The elephants were as placid as if moving in a marriage procession, and went over the course at a quick walk. Tho ram and goat, ridden by little boys, ran well, and the buffaloes weut at a good gallop ; but the omu would not stir—neither would tho elk, until the end of the race, when it took fright and darted down the course at a great speed. Finally a ram was the winner, a horse coming in second, and a buffalo third.

Frank Wal worth who murdered his father at the Sturtovant House in New York Oity, some few years ago, and was discharged from prison on the plea of ill-health and threatened idiooy, was recently admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court at Ithaca.