LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2548, 8 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE SILVER CHAIN. A Tale ok Lovb and Mtjkdee. Stern were the laws and strange the cnatoms of the older Swiss cantons. Their orimiaal codes were of I.iraconian severity. Modern ideas of humanity, and of sympathy with the suffering, were slow in finding their way to the remote valleys and primitive communities of Helvetia; while antiquated beli'.fa and dark superstitions lingered among them long after they had been banished from Western Europe. Some thirty years ago—to be precise, in 1849—there were living in the Comrnuoe of Go n ten, Canton Appenzel, two girls, who bore the names respectively of Maria Koch and Mathilde Weber. _ There Is li.ttle dlitlnction of rank la a primitive Swiss oanton; and, albeitjihe Kochs were poor and the Webers rich, they belonged both to tho class of yeomen-farmrrs, and the maidens were fast friends and freqnent companions. Anna Maria was the better-looking of the two. She hid rosy cheeks, flaxen hair, a creamy skin, blue eyes, and, thongh under twenty, Bhe wan tall and well built, and possessed the physical development of a woman of five-andtwenty. Mathilde, on the other hand, was rather short and alight and somewhat plain of feature, yet kind and amiable withal, a great favorite with her parents and beloved by her friends. She was envied too ; for on high days and holidays, when she doaned the gay folk's dress of Appenz il, she bore on her breast a bigger and finer silver chain than any maiden of her acquaintance could boast of. Maria Koch often looked wistfully at thin ohain, for, in common with a few of the poorer girls of the valley, she lacked this token of wealth. A silver ohain, moreover, was regarded not merely as an ornament; it was supposed to aot in some measure as a charm—to help its wearer to win a Hookzeiter (sweetheart), and. when won, keep him faithful to his troth. In this respeot, however, Mathilde Weber's silver chain had done her scant servioe. It had j not Jbronght her a single offer, when her friend was betrothed to a fine young fellow of the name of Conrad Cberwald, who had probably found in her rosy cheeks and bright

blue eyes more attractive metal than In Matbilde's darker orbs and gayer apparel. Maria wis nevertheless hsuntrd by a fear that, until she too possessed a breast-chain, her sweetheart's constancy would not be assured —that somo richer. If less comely, rival might deprive h-.r of his love. This was the state of things in the summer of 1849. On June the 17th of that year a bevy of tho fairest maidens of Gonten were gathered under the friendly shade of a leafy lima tree in the outskirts of the village. All were attired In their Sunt'ay best, and the breasts of most of them were brilliant with heavy silver chains ; for it was Corpus Chriati day, a hi.-h Church festival and a general holiday. 'Who is going to ohurch ?' said one of the girls. 'I, and I, and I,' answered several. * I am waiting for Mathilde Weber,' said Maria Kooh ; ' we agreed to go together, and she B'id she would come this way round. We were to meet here by the lime tree.' 'lf ehe does not coine Boon you'll be late,' observed another of her companions ;' I am going to start now. It's too warm to wolk fast.' ... « I saw Mathilde Weber last night,' put in Hilda Yodel, a bright looking girl with mischievous black eyes, ' behind flans Ochsenbein'a garden, and she was walking with somebody." t The last words wore delivered with marked emphasis and a significant look at Maia Koch. ' Who was it, who was it ?' asked half a dozen eager voices. •Guess.' * How can we guess ? It was not surely—' 'YeB, it was Conrad Oberwald.' 'lt's a lie,' broke in Maria impetuously ; 'and you know it's a He, Hilda Yodel!' 'Lie for you, Fraulein Kooh l Keep your lies to yourself ! Do you suppose my eyesight h not better than your ignorance ? And why should not Conrad and Mathilde take a walk together behind the Hans Ochsonbein's garden, or anywhere else, if it pleases them ? What is it to you, I should like to know ?'

'Here is Mathi de coming,' said another girl; ' we'll tell her what yon say.' ' Tell her,' answerod Hilda defiantly j ' sbe'll not decy it.' When Mathilde neared the gronp, she vaa met with a chorul of questions. ' Were you walking with Conrad Oborwald last night ? Hilda Yodel say« she saw you with Maria Koch's hochzelttr, Mathilde, olose to Hans Ocbsenbein'a garden; is it true V

'Quite trne.'aald Mathilda, s'mply ; 'he overtook me by Naegele's house, and we went the length of the garden together, talking about Maria here (with a smile), and he gave me a message for her, whioh I will tell her afterwards/ 'ls that all?' remarked one of the elder girls indignantly ; ' it's jast like you, Hilda Yodel, trying to stir up mischief, saying yon saw Conrad and Maria courting.' • That may have been your thought,' answered Hilda, pertly; ' but it was not my saying; all that I said was that I had seen them walking together. How long have walking and courting bean the same thing ? ' ' it is what you meant, anyhow.' ' That is what you may say, Fraulein ; but if it is all the same to you, I will be j adged by my own words, and not by yoar opinion of my meaning. And now lam going to church. The bells will have done tolling in fire minutes.'

On this the group broke up into twos and threes, and all moved off in the direction taken by Hilda Yodel. Mathide and Maria went together. Sluce the latter had so fiercely given Hilda the lie. she had been fiilent and pre-occupled, and borne no part in the subsequent conversation. The chalet of the Webera was some distance from the village, and after service Maria excused herself from returning with her companions directly to Gouten, on the plea that she was going to sot Mathilde on her way home. An hour or two later she re-appeared in the village, and in the evening went to church a second time, where, meeting Hilda Yodel, she expressed to her great dha' pointment that Mathilde Webor had not come again to service, as she had promised. ' She has perhaps, other fish to fry,' said Hilda, with one of her meaning smiles; ' nobody can make me believe that, with such a breatt-obaln as that, she cannot have a hoobzeiter if she likes; I should not wonder if she had one already. Now, has rot she, Maria P Yon know; she tells you all her seorets, I am sure she does.' * I know nothing either of Mathilde Weber or her concerns,' answered the other angrily; and, refusing Hilda's proffered - companionehip, she walked off alone. ' She has not forgotten this morning,' muttered Hilda; ' she is jealous yet. Have those two been qnarelling, I wonder ? I should not be surprised. The best friends are often the first to fall out.'

The next day was one of great exoitement In Gouten. Early in the morning it began to be rumoured that Mathilda Weber was missing, and before noon her father appeared in the village to beseech the help of his neighbours in looking for his daughter, She had gone to church, he said, the previous morning, and had not returned. One of the first persons questioned was Maria Koch. She was the missing maiden's particular friend, and the last seen in her company. The account she hud to give was simple and straightforward. They had gone together she said after leaving church, to a paint on the way to the Weber's house whioh she described. ' There they had parted, and Maria, as her parents could testify, was at home to dinner not much later than the usual hour. Had Mathilde, she was asked, expressed any intention of going elsewhere than straight home. None whatever, ahe answered, and nobody could be more surprised than herself to hear that she had dia appeared. This deepened rather than helped to clear up the mystery j nor, in spite of the efforts that were made, was any light thrown upon it during the remainder of the week. 1 he distracted parents, although they sought far and near, and had the aid of many friends and the oantonal police, found not the slightest clue to their daughter's fate. On the Bunday morning following the young girls of the village bent on churchgoing met, as usual, under the lime-tree. Their conversation ran naturally on the disappearance of Mathilde Weber. It was the all-absorbing subjeot of the day—people talked of little else.

'Poor Mathilde,' said one, 'I hope she has come to no harm. If she had run away she would surely have been heard of before this time.'

' Why should she run away ? ' demanded another; ' folks don't run away when tbey have done no wrong ; and nobody ever did say, or could say, ought against Mathilde. There was not a better girl in all Appeczel, let alone Gonten.'

• If anybody knows anything about her, it's Maria Koch,' observed Hilda Yodel decisively ; ' she cannot miss knowing; she was with her last.'

1 Here she comes,; let us ask her.' 1 And, as sure as I am a sinner, with a new silver chain on her breast! Where can she have got it P Her father is too poor to buy her one—that everybody knows.' The moment the object of these remarks oamo within earahot, she was warmly wished joy of her new acquisition, and eagerly asked how she had oome by it. 'Conrad Oberwald gave it me,' she answered.

'Well done, Conrad,' exclaimed several voices ;*he is a hoebzeiter worth having! I wish there were more like him.'

' I wish I had a chain like that,' said Hilda Yodel, eyeing tho ornament curiously, and testing its thickness with her finger and thumb ; ' there is not a finer in the commune. If poor Mathilde had not taken hers with her, I should almost think you had borrowed it, Maria.' ' How oould it be Mathilde's ?' answered the other angrily, while her laoe turned from red to pale, and to red again ; ' Conrad gave it to mo, I tell you, on Friday—no yesternight. He always said he would give me one —like—like —Mathilde's—and this is it—and it is like Mathilde's; but that does not make it hers. It is mine, I tell you.' ' Well, I did not say it was not. There is nothing to get into a temper about, that I can see. But is it not time we were goinp to chnroh ? Will vou walk with me, Maria ? ' ' No ; I am going with Gretohen Langbein,' said Maria, with an air which plainly told that her wrath was far from being appeased. 'Well, then, I shall no with Katherina Keinhosen. But just look here, Maria. If I had been you, I don't think I should have chosen the first Sunday after my friend's disappearance, and, maybe, death—for there's many a one thinks she has been foully murdered—to sport a fine new silver ohain, just as if you did not care. Oome along, Katherina.'

And before Maria, who leemed choking with rags, could find words to answer, Hilda and her friend were on their way to chnrob, whither the rest of the fair throng shortly followed them. While thiß was going on. a band of meiry children were p'aylng and gathering wild flowers in a wood, abont midway between Gonton and tbe chalet of tho Webers. Through the wood ran a pellucid stream. Though it nowhere attained to the dignity of a river, the stream formed here and there deep pools, sometimes calm and silent, but oftener swirling round with the impulfe of the incoming water, and foam crested. While hot in chaee of a swarm of golden hued butterflies, the children came suddenly on one of these pools. Except on one side It was hemmed in by rooks and overshadowed by trees. The butterflies fluttered over the brook, and as their pursuers could no longer follow them, they began a busy quest after flowers and wild strawberries. A bold bny of twelve lay down on the brink of the pool, and reached out his arm to pluck a forget me not. Uttering a cry of horror, he bounded to his feet. 'Good God I What is that?' he shouted, as with outstretched arm he poinled to the seething water. His companions gathered round htm, and, trembling with fear, looked down Into the pool. They saw there an awesome eight—a draped human figure, with a ghastly face, wide open eyes, and long dark hair moving swiftly rouud in the swirling water. Bound and round it went, sometimes hidden from view by drooping trees and the projecting bank ; but returning ever and anin to the middle of the pool, and gazing into the sunlight with laok lustre orbs

One look was enough. Ihe children—some of them too terrified to speak, others sobbing and wringing their hands—turned with one accord from the spot, and fled. They ran out of tho wood to the footpath that skirted it, and thence into the road leading to Gonten; nor did they stop until they met a group of people coming from church, to whom one of them, more eager than the rest, announoad that they had seen the ghost in Wassertobol. ' No,' said the sturdy little fellow who had first seen the body; ' it's no ghost; it's a woman's corpse. I could tell by her clothes and long hair,' ' It's more likely a log of wood that hoa frightened you,' said one of the men who had heard the atery ; ' they are often very queer shaped, those logs of wood: and when they are bobbing about In the water with a lot of weedß on the top of them, they look, for all the world, like a Christian.' ' It's no log of wood either,' answered the lad ; ' logs of wood don't have petticoats and eyes and hair, do they ? Ho you think I don't know a woman from a log ?' ' Les us go and see,' said another; 'it is not far to this Wassertobol. Perhaps the children are right, after all.' «We are right 5 anyway I am right,' put in the youth defiantly ; ' you see if lam not. Come along!' Whereupon they all moved off together—some five or six men, an 1 nearly as many girls and women—towards the Wassertobel. One glance sufficed to chow that the ohildren were right. It was a body ; and whet), with the help of a branch cut from a tree. It was drawn to the side, and lifted from the water, all present reoognised the body as that of Mathilde Weber. •Poor Mathilde!' said on 9 of the men pityingly; ' who could have thought that a girl like her, with kind parents and everything to make life happy, would make away with herself ?'

' Are you sure that she did make away with herself ?' asked Hilda Yodel

' Ton surely don't think that—' ' That she has been murdered. Well, I hope she has not; but what has become of her chain ? It was so firmly fastened that it cannot have been lost in the water. And look here (pointing to the front of the drowned girl's dress)/ it has been torn off. See how her gown is rent, and the gatherings burst. It has required a strong pull to do that'

* That is clear,' said ono of the men j 'it is a case for tho Btatthalter. Let us take the poor thing home to her father and mother ; and after that some of us will go and tell the polioe.' And then they made a bier of branches, and reverently laying the poor girl's body thereon, carried it to her parents' houee. A few hours later, a constable accompanied by Herr Weber, waited on Maria Konh, and asked to see the silver chain which she had worn that morning at chnrch. It was of peoullar make, bore certain marks, whloh he knew; and he could, he said, swear to it anywhere. Asked how she had come by the chain, Maria told the same story that she had told her oompaniona early in the day ; it had been given to her by her sweetheart, Conrad Oborwald. Before midnight Conrad Oborwald was arrested and lodged in the dungen at Appenzel Rathhaus on a charge of murder. (To he continued.