LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2391, 1 December 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

SELINA’S EEYSNGS. (“ London Society.”) Tho first scone of all, which begins this ‘ strange eventful history,’ is laid !n the back garden of a snug 8.-isfccl villa, ard in a sum-mer-house situated therein. The time ; s the yeur of grace 1550. The persons represented are Theobald P. dgar, Esq , aged twenty five, and Solina .-tlckey, aged twenty-ono. Selina is the daughter of a wealthy draper still in business, and The©bold is the sou of aa equally wealthy pawnbroker, retired. Tho two fathers have b’ea friends for many years ; hut the families have only become intimate lately. The truth is that, while tho fathers were in business, tho draper’s wife rather looked down u(,on tho pawnbroker’s wife. When, however, the pawnbroker retired, ‘ rolling in riches,’ so it was said, tho draper’s wife admitted that a pawnbroker gone out of business might fairly rank with a linendraper still in it. Accordingly tha families began to consort with each other, visiting freely, walking together to and from church, and exhibiting such mutual civilities aa only intlinatoo can or will. Week by week they exchanged dinner hospitalities Podger feeding Stiokey this week, Stickey feeding Podger the next. And at (hsse sumptuous feast a the whole party sat down with minds as untroubled about social distinctions as if they had beou all personages of the best blood, or boasts of the field, who graze and grrze and never think of pedigree. Hence this farce. For one Christmas Day. when dinner had arrived at the plumpudding stage, Theobald, the pawnbroker’s sou. had a bit on his spoon, cn which be was just about to fix his eyes, when these moving orha were arrested by the eyes of Selina, which crossed their path. Theobald waa slightly romantic, and wrote poetry. In ether ways he waa a promising youth Ho could make a sovereign go quite as far as tho greatest miser In Bristol could a guinea ; and if you had tried to convince him that two and two would over make five, your prospects of success would cot have been inspiriting. Thus waa Theobald Podger at once romantic and thrifty; and, as has been said, with pudding in bis spoon, his eyes mot tho eyas of Selina Those four eyes had often met befora; and so, reader, you may walk on the edge of a river for ten years quite safely, and tnmb’e in on the first day of year eleven. Such, figuratively, w«a the case with Theobald Podger. As to that bit of pudding, its spice might have been red pepper, Its raisins might have been Beading gravel, for anything The-obald could have told. Consciousness was sus pended. When, upon the return of his faculties, he looked at his spoon, the pudding was gone ; it had been, and it waa not Mo e be did not know. But he felt two punctures in bis heart—the operation of Selina's eyes, which bad shot into him with the brilliancy and tho sting of two bright electric sparks. Ho th light of Haldee, being Byronio, with her poetic costume, through which tho zophyta ployed, and then ho acknowledged that a comfort able Bristol young lady, with her frock up to her neck, might paragon the fair Greek after all. He waa madly in love that moment, and did not eat another mor; el. Ho would dare anything for sweet Selina’s sake I Like Bob Acres’ ‘ man in the play,’ ho felt he could do such deeds ! From frosty December until sunny July that passion burned, secretly, for reasons which will soon appear. Selina saw the tUmo, bnt Theobald had not told her, either by speech or ink, that he loved. He was a Bristol Don Juan, and had a method in his madness which the original Spaniard did not possess. Theobfld feared his father, and would not commit himself either with pen or tongue. But Love has throe languages—the written, the spoken, snd the optical. Theobald chose the optical language. He looked his pastion,' Looking your passion Is a very convenient way of conveying it; for looks moan anything you please, and if you don’t please they mean nothing. Selina interpreted his looks by her own wit and liking, and she knew that Theobald was her Theobald ; and if he did not know that Selina was his Selina, he had read bis poetry to small purpose indeed. So matters stood when this July evening found the two seated side by side in tho summer house, while their respective mammas were in the drawing room considering how tha preserves were likely to turn out that year, and their papas wore in the dining room having ’37 port Selina had been watching Theobald with woman’s eyes; and, from his expression, she concluded that he was cither on the verge of a dangerous Illness or going to propose marriage, She could not for her life have told which It was.

‘ Selina,’ Theobald murmured, ‘do you know what yonr name means ?’ * I do not.’Selina answered, in an equal murmur. Her doubt was clearing up; It was not an illness. ‘ Selina ’ continned Theobald, in the same tender Byronio key, ‘ your name means the moon.’

‘ Does it. ’ Selina whispered in a yet lower tone. A finer and surer master of love than even he who wrote ‘Don Juan’ told her that now her woids had beat be few and hard to catch.

* Yea, I assure you, ’ Theobald went on, *lt means the moon. I would not deceive you, Selina.’

‘ I know you would not deceive me,’ she murmured. ‘Not for all the measures of the dark and deep blue ocean !’ Theobald said, with uplifted voice, for he forgot hie prudence ; ‘ Selina.’ ‘Well.’ ‘I love tho moon, Selina.’ ‘ Yea.’

‘ And—and—and— ’ Theobald drew his breath for a mighty effort, ‘ I love you, Selina.’

‘ Do you, Theo ?’ she asked artlessly. Just so Greek-eyed Haidee might have spoken; for we are all alike children of Nature when we love and when we die.

‘ Yes, I love yon better than life—a thousand, thousand times better!’ the young man said, and drew her to himself. There followed —What? A sound, my reader. And what is it like ? you ask. Such a sound I have heard just at the moment that a fond young mother bent over her baby. I have heard something like It deep in the dark grove, bubbling from the throat of a nightingale. It is the top note in Love’s whole cantata —happy they who can strike such music from the dull worn keyboard of human feeling. Rejoice, oh lovers, while you may ; bnt remember yon are only actors—acting iu a farce. Alas that ’37 port should be so delicious and only ten glosses to tho bottle 1 Had there been two more glasses In that particular bottle on that particular evening, what I am now to tell would not have happened. For Podger senior and Stickey senior, instead of strolling arm-in-arm through the garden unseen, would have been still snug in chat with tha table between them, Ten glasses to the bottle, however, is the quantity fixed by fate; and fata a!so fixed that, whan Theobald and B eUna stole oat of the arbor and back to the house, two witnesses, whom the lovers had not seen, followed their retreat with faces full of silent surprise. The two old men were still arm-in-arm, and at sight of the pair they clasped each other more closely, signifying perfect mutual confidence.

4 BUly,’ said Mr Podger, 4 aa must Jput a atop to thla, Billy.'* Mr Podger, it must be said, had not been highly educated. Indeed, one of Mra Stiokey’a original objections to an intimacy was founded on an allegation that hia grammar was not what the grammar of respectable people ought to be. She and her husband argued the point ; but Stickey, like a true man, would not sacrifice hia friend to a woman’s whim. He admitted the charge of defective grammar, having himself only a few pennyweights more of that article in hia composition than hia friend.

‘ Grammar Bobby wants, I grant you,’ he would say in these disputations; ‘ but, mark me, it's the only thing he does want. The fact is, a leaf was tore out of the Lindley Murray Bobby learned. But what I maintain is this, find that leaf, work it into Bobby’s mind, and you won't find hia feller in Bristol; no, nor ten miles round.’ Accordingly, when Bobby Podger said, ‘Us must put a stop to this, Billy,’ William Stickey manifested no acorn, but simply replied—* Bound to, Bobby.’ 4 For why, d’ye see?' Bobby continued argumentatively ; ‘ neither me nor you wants money, Billy, and our young oas won’t want money either. * ‘ True for you.’ remarked Mr Stickey, for

hia friend had paused, as if inviting some comment

‘What mo and yon wants,’ continued Bobby; ‘or, to put it more telling, what mine and yours wants —tho young nns, that is to eay —is— ’ He paused. ‘What? William Stickey asked, not seeing that his friend, for rhetorical purposes only, waited before saying his last word.

‘Blood,’ replied Robert Podger, Esq., pawnbroker retired. ‘Blood !’ exclaimed Stiokey, wondering if tho '37 port had got Into his friend’s head, aad brought back memories of the stories of giants and other inhuman feeders of whom he had read in the days of his youth. ‘ Blood, I say again,’ Bobby repeated stoutly ; ‘deny it who can. Me and yon is rich, but we don’t know our grandfather’s name—neither of ns knows it,’ Bobby said, resolved to make his friend realise their Identity in this particular ; ‘ now there are scores of young fellers in the county as has grandfathers os long as a file of soldiers right from whore me and you stand to the Norman Conquest. Bnt these sparks hasn’t half as many guineas aa grandfathers. Twig, Billy?’ • Your’a taking mo with yon,’ Billy answered encouragingly ; * 1 see the point.’ •Or put it this way,’ Bobby continued fluently; ‘ there goes my Lord Titherby walking along the Mall. Ho meets me, and passes me by aa if yonr humble servant waa a blaokboetle. Now, I’ll not undervalue him. He manages to keep hia boots clean, however muddy the road may be ; and hia clothes is cut firatrate, neither orcaso nor wrinkle, fit like a glove. Your humble servant, pay what he will, can’t get bis legs like that. Somehow, my lord’s brecchen look like a statoo, and your humble servant’s look—well, rather squarish, Billy. You know what I mean. In tho looking glass Tilherby is first and Podger second ; and in the “Court Guid” Titherby Is first and Podger nowhere. But stop now ; in his pocket you may find one threepenny bit, all alone like an orphan child In my breeches pocket there will be what my lord would call a banker’s balance.’

‘You ought to be in the town counoil, Bobby,’ his friend said ; ‘there is not a man there oan speak like you.’ ‘Nevermind that now,’ Bobby replied; it comes to this. Your Selina must marry a lord, or tho next best to be had ; and my Teobald shall look out for the same article female pattern. And then we shall not have lived in vain, Billy, shall us ? And we shall sit down in oar old age and feel that we had something to say to the Norman Conquest after all.’ Quite overpowered at this noble picture of life's decline, William litickey spoke noth'ng. •So this little business must be stopped, Bobby said, with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction tho lovors had gone ; 1 no blame to them, poor things ; it’s nature. Bnt for all that it must be stopped.’ ‘ Stopped it must be !’ rejoined Stickey, unable, it seemed, to add a syllable to his friend's language, and manifesting hia independence of mind only by altering the order.

‘And wo sha’n’t quarrel over it, me and yon ?’ Bobby continued, with a trace of anxiety in bis voice ; ‘ it isn’t because these two young uns fall in love that we need knock our heads together.’ ‘ Laying our heads together would he better than knocking ’em together,’ the friend replied, smiling at this witty revision; ‘ we shall part them, Bobby, not ourselves.’ So, arm-in-arm, for they had never uncoupled, the two old fellows walked back to the house.

Throe months elapsed, and again Selina and Theobald were together in the arbour ; but now Theobald sat cautiously apart from her, and tho face of the prudent young man waa carefnl, not amorous. Selina put her handkerchief to her eyes between each sentence that was spoken. • g o> on the whole, my dearest one,’ said Theobald, edging a little farther off from her, *we must part. My father will not hear ot it. Your father will not hear of it. We must part.’ •1 don’t see that,’ Selina whimpeis ; * wo are both of age; and if we wore—wore married—they would be sure to forgive ua.’_ * There you are wrong,’ Theobald replied ; ‘my father, like Haidee’a—that young woman I told you of—has a firm nature. Forgive, indeed!’ ‘Even If he did not,’said Selina, whimpering still prettily enough, ‘we might be very happy with love in a cottage.’ 4 Love in a cottage,’ replied Theobald, with the air of a speaker who is opening an extensive subject, ‘is a very delightful thing.' ‘ Just what I always say.’ murmured hts little Selina. What a calf he waa not to kiss that pout off her lips ! « A delightful thing,’continued he, warmly; ‘ but then, Selina, there is one matter which is indispensable to it, and that is a cottageNeither you nor I have got one.’ To this there was no answer, so, like a woman, Selin* retreated into her pockethandkerchief, and sobbed a piteous coaxing sob. . • Now just listen to me, Selina,’ said the prudent young man ; ‘ you have got an excellent constitution —warranted to wear well—lung, heart, and tho rest all sound, have you not ?’ ‘I have, dearest,’ she murmured. _ wondering in her own breast If he were thinking that, should their income be small, she could eke it out by charing in Clifton. She would have done it for him in that hour. It is wonderful what love is in a woman’s heart. ‘I have an excellent constitution also,’ Theobald continued; * I was examined by tho doctor for my insurance some time slnoo, and he told me I had a better prospeet of life than nine men out of ten. flow don’t' you think yon have a bettor prospect of life than nine women out of ten, Selina ?’ ‘ X am perfectly sure of It, dearest, ’ she replied, resolved to aid his argument to the uttermost, though its drift she did not yet perceive. ‘ Very well, then ; that settles the difficulty,’ said he triumphantly. ‘How, Theo?’ she asked, in fond admiration of his undisclosed solution. * In this way,’ he answered ; ‘let each of us marry another —marry. 1 mean, according to our parents’ wishes. You marry the man of their choice; I shall marry the woman of their choice. We shall both sacrifice our feslings to our sense of duty.’ ‘Theobald!’ she exclaimed reproachfully, and no more, for he stopped her. ‘ Hear me out ; your constitution being so good, it Is ton to one that you survive my wife. My constitution being ditto, it la ton to one I survive your husband. _ In the interval which we may assume will elapse, the parents will, In all probability, expire ; then sea where we shall be, both of us. Free, unfettered, able to join our hands and hearts ; and in the gray evening twilight of existence we shall be united, and we shall sleep together in one grave at last, Selina !* ‘ You don’t mean all that ?’ Selina said, regarding him with wonder and commencing Indignation. ‘ Yes ; I mean every syllable of it,’ he replied, not reading her face aright, ‘ and I maintain, Selina, thst we may bo very happy In our declining years. For although now, while tho feverishness of passion is burning In one’s blood, one may take the Don Ju&n view ot life, still a time come—a time will come, Selina—when both of ua will realise the truth of ‘John Anderson my Jo John.’ Depend upon that, Selina ?’ He turned his face upon her with the smirk of one who feels he has brought hia argument to a suooaesfnl end.

‘Oh, you great selfish goose 1’ Selina cried furiously, and giving him a ringing box on the ear she darted from the harbour, and left him in solitude.

• How my head sings !’ tie prudent young man exclaimed, handling himself with much tenderness, * what an arm she has got, to be sure ! Well, never mind. lam out of the trap. I have said my say.’ Meanwhile, Selina, sobbing, panting, quivering, gained her own room and dung herself on her bed. 'lf I wait twenty years to pay you off, you little sneaking wretch, I shall wait twenty years but on the day I pay you, you ahall be paid in full !’ (7V« be cnntinucd.')