LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2474, 11 March 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TWO BEMABK ABLE DREAMS. Founded on Fact. (Concluded.) Ho rang the bell and summoned Susan, who persuaded Effle to go to her room. Colonel Holt then returned to the diningroom. His guests were departing, and very soon he and his wife were left to themselves ‘ I must go to that poor child,’ said Mrs Holt; ‘ what could have brought on such an attack ? ’ * Oh, some nonsense about a dream. I wouldn’t tease her with questions to-night. Give her a soothing draught, and let her go to bed ; and ask her maid to sit with her till she falls asleep.’ Left alone, Colonel Holt rang the bell, desired Simmons to put out the lights and see that all was safe, and then betook himself, with many yawns, to his dressing-room, where he intended to solace himself with a pipe before going to bed ; and, for want of better food for thought, his mind reverted to poor little Effle’s hysterical tale of her dream ‘Pish—nonsense—rubbish he muttered between whiffs, when suddenly an unpleasant thought struck him, and he started to his feet. ‘By Jove! what if there should bo something in it. The man’s manner is not satisfactory; and it is odd, to say the least of it, that the very day she was to have oome last year, and the very day she has come this year, he should have behaved so queerly. Well, I suppose I'm an old fcol, but I won’t go to bod till dawn at any rate. What is the time now? twelve o’clock. It anything is to happen it will happen soon, I suppose.’ He opened the door softly. The house seemed wrapped in complete silence. Not a sound was to be heard. Leaving the door ajar, he placed his arm chair behind it, put out the candles, and re-seated himself, devoutly hoping he might not fall asleep, but thinking it was more than likely he should do so. When the stable clock chimed tie half hour after midnight Colonel Holt started, and changed his position. Surely he had begun to doze ; this would never do. Why on earth had ho given himself so much discomfort ? He, who would willingly go to bed at ten o’clock every r.ight, to sit up in the dark to suoh en unearthly hour, just because an hysterical, love-sick girl— At this point of his meditation sleep again overpowered him, and one o’clock chimed unheeded ; and a figure crept by the open door unheard, and stole softly down tho corridor toward poor little Effie’s room, A moment later and Colonel Holt ia wide awake, es scream after scream breaks the silence of the night. Before he can reach the room at the end of the corridor the door ia flung open wildly, a stream of light bursts forth, and a little white robed figure with bare feet flees towa-ds him. To hia horror he sees blood on her face and arms.

* Hein, help?’ she cries; ‘he will kil Susan 1’

• Go to Agnes,’ was all he had time to say, harrying past as Susan’s cries grew fainter and fainter.

Rushing into the room he threw himself upon Simmons, with whom the poor woman was struggling bravely, having contrived, though not without injury, to wrest from his grsso a knife, with which he had threatened Effia’s life. It wss Susan’s blood that had stained the child’s face and hands.

Evidently Colonel Holt bad not arrived a moment too Boon on the scene. He caught the murderous gleam in the wretched man's eyes, and shuddered at what might have happened had he altogether disregarded poor Effie’s story. * You villain, you ,’ he began ; but the words died away on his lips as the poor creature, struggling violently in his grasp, uttered a piercing scream, and fell back—dead!

Mrs Holt to Mrs Perceval.

‘ The Priory, August 10th, ‘ My dear Mrs Perceval. —We were much relieved to hear of Effiu’s safe arrival, and trust that under your care her nerves may before long recover from the dreadfnl shook they have sustained. We are very glad poor Busan’s wounds are healing so quiokly. It has, indeed, been a fearful tragedy, and both Fred and I are quite unstrung by it all, 1 for one shall never refuse to believe in dreams again. But that reminds me 1 have yet to tell you the strangest part of the story. The brother of the poor wretched man came to see my husband a day or two ago. Ho was naturally in the deepest distress, for a great affection had existed between him and his brother. He told us that about eighteen months ago, ever since a visit we had paii to Lord D , where he had gone with us his brother had taken to betting and gambling, and going out at night to play cards at a public house there is in the village. The result of all this was that he lost ov<ry penny of bis savings, and ran deeply into debt. He was engaged to a very foolish, vain woman, who only cared for him for what he could give her, and did nothing but abnse and reproach him when no more money was forthcoming, and altogether unde his life a burden to him. About this time he heard us at dinner and at other times talking of Effie’a diamonds, and of how she was coming on a visit, and was to bring them with her. He had confided his many troubles to his brother, who happened to have a month's holiday, and had taken lodgings in the village, and his brother lent him money enough to clear him. The fatal love of play however still clung to him, and now comes the strange part of my tale, * The night of the 3rd of August last year he had a terrible d)Oim. Having promised his brother to keep from play, he bad gone to bed early, instead of going out ns he had been in the habit of doing. But he could not sleep, and tossed from side to side, his mind filled with visions of Effie’a diamonds, which had again been the subject of conversation at dinner. About dawn he fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamed that you and Effie had arrived, and that she had come down to dinner resplendent with diamonds, the sight of which, to use his own words, raised the devil within him. The passion for gambling seized on him with renewed force, and he at once determined to steal the diamonds and make off to America. He felt he would not even stop short of murder itself in order to accomplish his desire. In his dream he waited at table, and performed all his duties as quietly and as perfectly as ever, but his resolution did not waver. The house was shut up for the night, and he found himself in the pantry searching among the knives for the one which he considered beat sailed to his purpose. Armed with it, he stole up to Effie’s room about two o’clock in the morning. Entering very softly, he stood for a moment listening to her quiet, even breathing, which showed she was fast asleep. A night-light was burning, and he could see the glitter of the diamond ornaments, as they lay scattered about the dressing-table. He moved forward to secure them, and in so doing made some slight noise which awoke the poor child, and with a piercing scream she started up in bed. Then, so he dreamed, he pushed her down, and threatened to murder her it she were not quiet. At this point of his dream Simmons awoke, trembling and shaking as if he had the ague, and for some time he felt, so he told his brother, as if he had really committed the fearful deed, so vivid was the Impression left upon his ml-d. He had the sense to regard his dream in tbo light cf a warning, and at once felt that his sole safety lay in flight. His brother took the same view, and soon after breakfast Simmons went to my husband and told him ho wished to go away for a few days, asslgn-

ing no reason. Of course wo thought his conduct very strange, but he went, and his brother was to take his place in his absence. On hearing, however, that you and Effie had postponed your visit ho re-appeared in the afternoon.

‘ Hisdreatn, combined with hia brother’s entreaties, had so worked upon his belter feelings that for a long time ha gave up hia evil practices. A month or two ago, however, appears ho again succumbed to temptation, and had again lost (for him) a largo sum of money. On the fourth of August occurred i ffie’e unexpected and illfated visit. It is easy now to understand Hmmon’s behaviour when he heard of her arrival. No doubt the memory of hia terrible dream rushed back on his mind, and bis dread was lest the temptation should overpower him, as ilas! it did. His poor brother wishes vainly that ho had been here, for then he says the devil would not have had it all hia own way with him. Of course Simmons did not imagine that Effle’s fainting fit had any connection with himself, neither had he any reason to suppose that Susan would sit up with her that night. But even had ho known It I doubt if the fact would have made any difference, for a stronger influence than he oonld resist was upon him, and drove him to his destruction. Heart disease, which his brother says is in the family, must have been the cause of his awfully sudden death. Whether it will ho well to tell Effie the sequel of this sad and strange story you must decide. At any rate, it seems uuadvisable to reopen the subject at present. There are those who, no doubt, would pretend they could account for all thst is so strange in these two dreams. For myself they must ever remain a pysohologioal riddle—one of those mysteries which pertain to the unseen world.—With everything that is kind to the dear child, believe me, sincerely yours, A ones Holt.