LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2472, 9 March 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TWO REMARKABLE DREAMS.

Founded on Fact. [Date, August 4th, ISG4 j ‘lf you please, sir, Simmon*, wishes to speak to yon.' *By all means,’ replied Colonel Holt, apparently surprised that Simmons should make the request through the medium of tho footman j * tell him to come here at once.’ A few moments lo'er came a heaitat'ng knock, and it was not until Colonel Holt had twice shouted * Come in ’ that the door opened to admit the aforesaid s lmmons. Looking up somewhat impatiently, Colonel Holt was struck by tho change in the man’s demeanor. No longer tho spruce, erect, middle aged butler, but a pallid, trembling man stood be ||<S»3 him. *Go:d heavens 1 Are yon ill, Simmons ?’ ‘No, sir, but I must go away this very 'day ; you must let mo go, indeed you must, sir.’ • Certainly, if you wish it; but give me some reason for this sudden determination ; what has happened.’ ‘ I can tell you nothing, sir; let me go without question, that la all I ask of *it Is a great deal to ask,’ said Colonel Holt, more and mote surprised ; 1 and I am not sure that I can grant so much. Come Simmons, tell me honestly what has happened-; if I can help you—’ ‘Thank you, sir, you can only let me

go. • Perhaps yon are in some money trouble Speik out frankly if you are. ’ A faint flash cams upon the man’s face he hesitated. ‘ Money, air, has to do with roy trouble,’ he replied, ‘but It is not my reason for wishing to go away. Hove pity on me, I implore you ; let me go. I must whether you consent or not.’ And a look of the utmost misery crossed the man’s face. 1 Well, well, ’ said his easy going master, ‘ how long do yon want to be away ? For a time only, or do you want to leave altogether ?’ ‘lf yon are kind enough to let mo return, sir, I can do so safely by the twentieth of this month.’ _

‘Safely.’ muttered Colonel Holt ; ‘what docs the fellow mean.’ Then aloud—‘And who Is to fill your place; you know we have visitors coming to day, and ’ Again that haggard look of terror name into Simmons’ face as he ventured to interrupt his master. •Yes, sir, I have thought of that, and 1 have a brother staying in the village who is butler to Sir Henry Curtis, at Beauchamp Park. The family are abroad, and he has a month’s holiday, and will gladly take my place while 1 am absent, lam sure he will do his best to please you, sir.’ There being nothing further to settle, his master dismissed Simmons. For a few minutes Colonel Holt pondered over the matter and the man’s strange manner, then muttered something to the efleot that servants’ ways we»e past finding out, he dismissed the subject from his thoughts and became engrossed in business letters of im-

portance. At luncheon, much to Mrs Holt's amaze' ment, a strange servant was in attendance. ‘ Where is Simmons ?’ she asked.

‘Oh,’ exclaimed Colonel Holt, suddenly remembering ; ‘ this is Simmons’s brother, who has taken his place for a week or two. I have been bo busy I forgot to tall yon.’ Mrs Holt asked no further questions till the man had left the room. Then she said—

• My dear, when yon allowed Simmons to leave, did you remember that Mrs Perceval and iSffie were coming to-day, and that wa have a dinner-party to morrow ?’ ‘ Yes, I did not forget, but the man would go. I could get nothing out of the fellow except that he must go this very day, and would return by the twentieth.’ ‘But what reason did he give for such extraordinary conduct ?’

* Nona whatever. He looked ill and changed, as pale as a ghost. 1 never saw such a soared okjsot.’ ‘ Do you think he had been drinking ?’ *Oh no he was sober. Never mind, his brother will do very well, no doubt; he’s butler at Beauchamp, and looks a decent sort of fellow, By-the-by, what time Is the carriage to be at the station to meet the Percevals ?’

Before Mrs Holt could reply, Simmons No. 2 appeared, bearing a telegram. ‘ This has just arrived, roadame.' ‘A. telegram. Some change of plans, I suppose, on the part of the Percevals,’ said Mrs Holt, ope-ing the envelope quickly ; ■ oh, how tiresome Listen—“Bo sorry we caanot come. Effie has one of her nervous attacks. Will write all particulars.’” * Well, that’s no end of a bore. Plague take these girls with their nervous attacks. Hero we’ve the nuisance of a dinner-party of natives to-morrow all to no pnrpcae ’ * They must have been asked some time or other, my dear,’ said Mrs Holt mildly; ‘ but it’s very provoking, I own.’ _ ‘ And so Miss Effie and her wonderful diamonds are not forthcoming,’ said her hn.«baud, getting up and lighting a cigar ; ‘well, I’m off. I think I’ll take the dogcart and drive to the station. No doubt there will be fish and other things to he fetched,’ And Colonel Holt sauntered out. On his return, to his great surprise, Simmons himself met him at the hall door. ‘ You back again ? What does it mean ?’ The man looked confused, stammering ont, ‘l—l—thought better of It, sir, and—and— I hope you will forget what has passed.’ * You are determined to puzzle me to-day, Simmons. Do you think you are quite right in your head ? Have you no explanation to give of your strange conduct V 'None, eir,’ was the answer in low tones, ‘ Now what on earth would be the proper thing to do, I wonder ?’ thought Colonel Holt ; * oh, if I didn’t hate trouble so much, and the weather were not so hot 1 As it is, ‘ masterly inactivity ” must gain the. day.’ And without another look at the delinquent, he made the best of his way upstairs.

Date, August 4th, 1864. ‘ What can make Effie so late this morning of all others, when there is so much to be done before we start, ’ sighed Mrs Perceval, pushing back her chair from the breakfast table as she spoke, and addressing no one in particular.

_ * What was the row with EfSe in the night, mother ? ’ asked James, a boy of four teen, who at the moment was conveying a largo piece of bread and jam to his mouth. ‘With > ffie 1 ’ asked his mother; ‘what do you mean, Jem ? ’ _ ‘ All I know is, I heard a scream in the night.’ replied Jem : ‘ and imagined it came from Effia’s room opposi’e. Bat I was awfully sleepy, and the next moment I was off again, and forget all about it till just now.'

Mrs Perceval hastened up to her daughter’s room. To her great dismay Effia was sitting on the edge of the bed in a half fainting condition, only partly dressed.

*My darling, are you ill? What is it ? asked her mother.

_‘Oh mother, mother,’ mosned the girl, clinging to her, ‘don’t go away, don’t leave me,’ was all poor Effia could say. * Leave you my child; of course not. But why didn’t yon send for me f I had no Idea you were ill. ’ ‘I did not want to frighten you, and so I tried to get up and dress, and I could not get to the ball. Oh, mamma, I have had suoh a terrible night.’

‘My darling. Then it was you Jem heard scream ? ’

‘ He must have heard mo, but he didn’t come, no one came; and oh it was so terrible. I shall never, never forget it,’ and she trembled like an aspen leaf. ‘ One thing is clear,’ said Mrs Perceval, ‘ we cannot go to tho Holts to day.’ ‘ No, no, ’ said Effie, ‘ I can go on no visits, but I must get away from here, from this room, from this bed,’ she added with a shudder.

4 Wo will go aiywhere you like, darling,’ said her mother, soothingly ; ‘ only try to be calm now, and tell me what hae upset you so dreadfully.’ It was some time before the girl was suffi ciently collected to satisfy her mother’s anxiety and curiosity, but at length, with many breaks and halting sentences, she spoke much as follows : * 1 1 went te bed as you know perfectly well, and looking forward to r.ur visit to the Holts, and I soon fell asleep. About one o’clock, I fancy It must have been, I awoke with a feeling of the most frightful depression, just as if I were doomed to death. I tried to call out, and to ait up In btd, but a

heavy weight seemed on me, and 1 nonld only lie still and gasp. Then I felt myself sicking into a sort of stupor. I knew I was not awake, and yet I wos not asleep. Fearful shapes and forms flitted before my eyes, until at length they seemed to merge into the form of a man, with huge prominent eyes, who stooped over me, and slowly waved a large knife in front of my face. I tried to scream, but felt it was only inwardly, and that no sound escaped my lips. Again this terrible form bent over me, gradually fading away, only to return a third time with a still fiercer look in his eyes. Making a superhuman effort, my voice at last broke its bound*, and with a ringing scream I woke, and sprang out of bed. There was no one to be seen, my door was still locked ; no one could have been in it; it must then have been a dream, I thought, and at last shivering and shaking, crept into bed again, but could not go to sleep. Oh, 1 did so long for yon mother, and yet I was too frightened to come to yon. ’ ‘My poor child 1' cried Mrs Perceval, soothingly ; ‘it was indeed a dreadful dream.'

‘ But, was it only a dream ? ’ sighed Effie; l it seemed so much more—and that face, shall I ever forget it ? ’ ‘ Only a dream, darling. Something had upset your nerves. Now, try and shake off the remembrance of It. Come down stairs, and after breakfast wo will settle where we will go. I think the seaside will be best, but you shall decide.’ Mrs Perceval treated the matter lightly ; Effie always had been highly nervous, and this was only a bad attack of nightmare. It was, however, some time before the girl took the same view as her mother ; and, although the change to the seaside braced her nerves, and did her very much good, it was far from being a complete cure. At times, the remembrance of the face she had seen would return and cause her hours of torture. Mrs Perceval, like a wise woman, had kept her own counsel concerning the dream, or vision, whichever it was, so that it had not become an eight-day wonder in the household. She rarely allowed Effie to dwell upon it to her, and when, a year later, a new interest sprang np in the girl’s life, she rejoiced, feeling sure the ghost would now be laid for ever. lor Effie was engaged to be married, and two honest brown eyes now haunted her waking as well as her sleeping moments, and a sense of peace and security hedged her round. To Launce Spencer she hud of course told the tale, and Launce had petted and soothed her, and made nothing of It; and with her hand in bis, and her head on his shoulder, she could feel no fear. It was once more the beginning of Angust, when one bright morning Launce unexpectedly received a summons to join his regiment ; a court-martial, or some duty equally important required his presence. Poor i Sie wandered about the house like an unquiet spirit after his departure. At length a bright thought struck her. ‘Mother, this would be the very time for my visit to tho Holts. Let me send a telegram to say I will arrive to.morrow. They have always begged me to come at a moment’s notice, and I may not be able to go later on ’ ‘ But they have people staying with them,’ objected Mrs Perceval. • Never mind, they will put me up somehow, Do let me go.’ ‘ Very well, dear,’ agreed her mother, rather reluctantly ; to oppose any wish of Effie’s was an impossibility to her; ‘yon must take Susan with you.’ ‘Oh yes,’ and my diamonds,’ laughed Effie ; ‘ do yon remember I was to have taken them last year to show Mrs Holt. She was so envious at my good luck in having them left to me j ’ a chit like you,’ I remember she said. ’ Mrs Perceval rejoiced to And that all remembrance of the shock her daughter had sustained a year ago seemed blotted out of her mind. No painful thoughts appeared to linger of that interrupted visit to the Priory. “ Well, Effie, send off your telegram, then; but you need not say your diamonds will accompany yon,’ she added, laughing, Effie Hew up to the little village post office and dashed off the following message : ‘ I am coming to-morrow for a few days, unless you telegraph back to the eon trary.’ In the evening Mrs Perceval Inquired if she bad received an answer. ‘Oh no ; I told them not to answer unless they could not have me.’ •Still, I wonder yon have not heard,’ returned her mother. But Effie was quite sure it was all right, so no more was said. Next morning she was up early, putting the finishing strokes to her packing, laughing and singing, apparently in the highest spirits. ‘ Good bye, darling mother. I shall write to yon to morrow. Isn’t it odd ? It was this very day, August 4th, that we were to have gone to the Holts last year.’ Still no painful reminiscences on the subject. Her mother kissed and blessed her. preaoned care and caution, and so they parted. (To le centinned.)