LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2530, 18 May 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A ROMANTIC EPISODE. BT JENNIE WREN. I was about to begin my story thug : ‘ 1 was an old maid,’ when the thought ooonno to me that, inasmuch ae the facta related herein occurred some five years ago. ano aorhieg has in any way, during this period, taken place to render the term inappropriate. it might perhaps be as well to substitute the present tome, and say I am »u old maid ; or, at least, am so called by my prying, gossiping neighbors, though really, why a finely preserved woman of fifty should be adjudged that opprobrious epithet 1 cannot conceive.

However, at tho tlmo my story opens I lacked five years of my two aoora-nnd-ton, and m< living alone in the snug little hi. useleft mo by my father, jest on tho outskirts of London. The house, a few valuable articles of plate, and some five thousand pounds, constituted all my worldly goods. 1 kept them all under my own personal surveillance. Of banks I had my own opinion and 1 knew a far safer place for my little hoard than entrusting it to strange and peihaps dishonest men. I was sitting one afternoon in my pr-ittv little drawing-room, revolving in my mind the improvement a little paint and paper might bo, and at the same time, unwilling to expend the necessary sum when my neat little maid-servant announced the fact that a gentleman bad called to see me, I took a hasty glance in the glass, to convince myself that my hair was in order and my cap ribbons ot the proper angle, when his shadow darkened the threshold.

I glanced up ; I fear I blushed. His dark eyes were fixed so penotratlngly upon me that mine fell beneath their glance. I had caught but o passing glimpse of tho handsome face and tall, manly form, but dared not look again. ‘ You will pardon me, madam — ’ he began. ‘ Not madam,’ I interrupted; ‘ Miss Loring.’ ‘ Mias Loring,’ ho repeated after me. ‘ I ventured on the malam, because I thought it could not be possible Mias Loring could have bean permitted to retain the prefix she so evidently prefers.’ Presumptuous yon perhaps think in a stranger, and so doubtles, written on the cold sheet, it appears, but spoken in a low. musically modnlated voice, it did not present itself to me in that light.

I instantly tried to remember all the heroes I had read of la the romances I procured from the library, and to determine which one of them he most resembled. In strictest confidence I feel it necessary to confess ono great void which heretofore had always existed in my life—a romantic adventure.

Singular as it may seem, I had nerar had one. My heart began to palpitate as I thought that possibly the need would now bo satisfied.

• I almost hesitate to make known to yon the cause of my visit, lest you should regard it in the light of an impertinent intrusion, ’ ho continued ; * but in passing by your bouse X noticed the upper-room in your back building, which is pecularly adapt dd for a studio. 1 am an artist, and in search of just such an apartme. t, for which I tin willing to pay a most liberal price. I shall occupy it only during a few hours each day. If Miss Loring will not accede to my request, will she not at least pardon it ?' He bowed low and deferentially before mo. My brain was in a whirl. What could his proposition mean ? Had he seen me and made this a pretext to know me ? 1 could not tell. I dared not trust myself as yet to give a decide V answer. • I will think the matter over,' I said, and I fear there was a slight trcmulousness in my tone. ‘lf you will call to morrow, X will let you know my decision ’ • I will leave you my card, then,’ he replied, drawing his card case from his pocket, aud placing a delicately-engraved piece of pasteboard upon the table. ‘I am quite willing to pay a pound a week, and if you can accede to my request, I shall consider myself indeed yonr debtor.’ I rose and curtsied as he bowed himself out. A pound a week 1 It was munificent. I need no longer study ways and moans ss to paint and paper. 1 should be able to do all that I had planned, and more. Why, then, should I hesitate ? Why had I not ssid yes at once ? Perhaps ho never would return. My heart sank at the thought, to a depth no mere pecuniary loss could have entailed upon it. Had this stranger, then, made an Impression upon that susceptible portion of my anatomy ? He looked yonoger than his real age—bat what of that? Doubtless X looked far younger than my years. At the last taking of the census, I had given my age at twenty eight, and, farther than a slight elevation of his eyebrows, the censns-takor showed not the slightest surprise, I thought afterward the movement was a nervous affection, and was sorry that I had not proposed a specific cure. X took up the card from tho table. It bore the name of Algernon Vernon. Algernon ! I might have known he would possess such a name !

In vain I triad to rivet my wandering thoughts upon the latest yellow covered romance. Nothing its pages contained equalled this new and absorbing element in my life. All my doubts concerning my resolve had fled. On the morrow I should accede to Mr Vernon’a request. Not even the neighbors could find food for gossip, inasmuch as he occupied the room only during a few daylight hoars. But why had he selected mine ? The houses on either side of me were of the same construction. Evidently he had a motive other than appeared on the euifaca for wishing to gain an entrance into my humble abode.

Next day found me in a state of nervous agitation, le#t he should disappoint mo ; but there vai no occasion for it.

Promptly on the hour of the day preceding, he arrived, and 1 made known to him my acquiescence in the request; and wo bad quite a social and very pleasant chat. He would not move all his artist belongings at present, he said. He was engaged on one work which particularly occupied him, and which he hoped to flni-sh in time for the Bc-yal Academy ; after that he might have a request to make of mo. Had I ever been told by artists that my profile was a study ? Ah, he meant, th»n, to ask to paint my picture ! What a triumph over that horrid Williamson girl, who had said that one day not far off, my nose and chin would meet. Evidently she did not understand true art I have such a trick of blushing. 1 never can get over it. I blushed now, and murmured that any rEquort Mr Vernon might make I was sure I would be but too glad to comply with. Then he rose to go, but before doing so hs placed a one-pound note In my hand. ‘ Invariably in advance, Miss Boring ’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘lt is a rule from which I never deviate.’

Tho next day be came. He brought with him nothing but the picture on wbiuh he was at work, ihls paints and easels, and one or two wooden models.

Of course, I never intruded upon him at his work, but he grew into the habit, aa he passed the open door of the sitting-room, to drop in and talk with me. One afternoon, when he hid lingered over his painting longer than his wont, and seemed more tired, I aikad him to stay and take a cup of tea with me.

I could not but boo how gladly he consooted. Of comae, I did my gueit ad honor, With my own hands I drew the old heirlooms from their covers and placed them on the table. With pardonable pride I ushered him into the room.

* Arc yon not afraid to live alone, Miss Loring,’ he aaked, ‘with so much valuable silver ?’

* Oh, no !’ I answered ; 1 1 keep it In a safe built in the wall, and sleep with the key under my pillow. No one would think of looking for it the e.’ And then I went on to explain to him my horror of banks, and ho*- much of my worldly goods I preferred to have under my personal supervision. * It is not sate,’ he insisted. ‘ I wish I had the right to refuse to allow you to run such risk*.’

With what tenderness he uttered the last sentence. To what was It the prelude? It must not come upon me too suddenly. I ooold not boar the fullness of Its eostacy, but I no longer doubted what for long I had suspected—Algernon’s heart was mine. As he bide me good-night, he held and pressed my hand, I fear my hand, spite of

the injury to my cap, fell one brief Instant on his manly shoulder. I heard bo noth in;: like a sigh ; then he tore himself away. 1 was again alone. The next day I did not see him on his way to the stndic, Two men were with him. and he could not stop. They were rather rou;-.h looking men—evidently models. .Shortly one of them parsed down the stairs and wont out. Then Algernon c.ime. ‘ Whore is your visitor ?’ I asked. • j hay both have gone,’ ha said. I though it strange I had not seen the other pass, but econ Algernon’s preseuoi made mo forget all else; only he seamed distrait and ill at ease.

Perhaps I had been too cold, too distant, and so had woended his noble heart. J silently swore to throw off the mask of maidenly modesty, and show him more of tho true hesrt that beat but for him Btfoie, however, I bad gotten my courage quite to the point, he had gone. I tat alone for two, perhaps three hours, until the twilight fell. Then a sudden desire assailed me to go up and look at tho progress of work. I had not seen the picture since the day it came, and he had been with me a fortnight. Softly 1 opened tho door. The picture was on the easel, covered with a cloth. The latter I gently raised, bnt I could discover on tho canvas no change. Doubtless, lost in thought of mo, Algernon had striven in vain to pursue his art. I did not approve of followers, but Jenny was so good and faithful that 1 sometimes had to shut my eyes to tho somewhat frequent visits of the young butcher, who evidently intended her to share bis lot. Somehow my recent fright made the presence of a man, even a butcher, a thing to be desired.

‘Tom!’ I called. Ho came bock, bowing awkwardly. ‘ I don’t mind if you stay to tea,’ I said. ‘ I had a little fright just now, and I’m nervous. I’d feel better to know you were in the kitchen, within call.’ ‘ Thank ye, miss j bnt I osn’t stay tonight, and yo needn’t be nervous, for I’m just after seeing Mr Vernon looking out of the studio window.’ •Mr Vernon has been gone two hours,’ I said.

‘ Well, then, it was some one else in the studio, for I certainly saw a mm’s head by the window when 1 came in a half hour ago.’ His assertion made me doubly nervous. ‘lt is very stiange, ’ I said ; and then I told him what had happened. • L-t me go up and look, Miss Loring,’ he suggest, d. Consenting, I led the way, but stood bach that ho might enter alone, Jenny meanwhile bringing up the rear. It was now quite dark. Tom struck a light. The room was silent and empty. JHad some ghost been playing ns triuka ? Doubtless, if Tom had had only my story, he would have been at onoo satisfied that my imagination only was at fault. As it was, he looked about him pnzz'ed and perplexed, bnddenly.ha made a spring forward.

* Don’t, don’t!’ I cried. * You will disturb the model !’

But too late. He already had clutched it by the throat, and, to my interne consternation and amazs, it, too, became endued with animated life.

For a few minutes the two struggled for the mastery, Jenny and I, meanwhile, screaming at the top of our lungs ; but before the police arrived, Tom had bound the fellow’s bands, and stood triumphant over his prostrate form. He soon made a piteous confession. It was not his fault. He bad been hired to open the door at midnight to Mr Algernon Vernon, and was to assist in carrying off the booty.

* Mr Algernon Vernon ?’ I gasped. The fellow smiled a hideous smile. ‘ Yea, miss,’ he replied. ‘ His real name is Jake Brown, however. He said there’d be no trouble in fooling the old woman, and that he had a sure thing of it.’ The old woman ! I would almost rather they had taken my silver and my bonds. Algernon ! Algernon 1 Still my heart echoes to the desolate cry 1 Still it is empty. Jake Brown ! I yet believe the name, at least, was base slander on the part of bis accomplice, whose terms of imprisonment has just expired. Algernon escaped detection ; but I have the wooden models and the unfinished painting (judges pronounoe it a ohromo) to re .’all the one romantic episode in an old maid’s life.