LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2553, 14 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THB SCENT OF A DEAD HOSE. • I shall say no more; yoa may take yonr own way, all of yon. 1 Bhall never interfere with you again, for go id or bad, ho good bye to yon !' and Aunt Faulett hobbled off on her obony crutch, like the offended old foiry godmother. The family looked at one another with bl tnk faces ai the door ciapued smartly id ler her.

Aunt Pnulett was a woman of her word, and If she said she would go buck to her husband's people, go she would undoubtedly, and then, what would become of them all?

From that day —twenty years ago—w"-en she, » chlldlees widow, entered her sinter s scrambling, |out-at the-el'oows household, to yesterday evening, she had ruled them all with a rod of Iron, by the might of a strong will and a long purse, Easy-poing Mr Hilton and his fair, stupid, good-natured wife, who spent a plncid existence doing wool-work ou the sofa, her ideas seemingly bounded by the requirements of the last annual baby, were mere ciphers in their own house, under her stern, yet wholesome sway. If Mr Hilton, after one or two cutting remarks from her ladyship, had sadly resigned his ancient and comfortable fashion of spending the evening in his greasy old dressing gown and down-at heel slippers—if the servants shook in their shoes at the sound of Lady Paulett's bell, and a hint cf • Aunt Arablla' queiled the wildest nursery riot —yet the handsome premium which was to start olever Jack on the road to glory as an engineer, the allowance which font studious Fierce to oollege and Bavcd him from filling a stool in his father's office. Dora's pretty gowns and trinkets, Emily's singing lessons and tho new piano, the Summer trip to the sea aid?, the Winter pantomime and Christmas party—in brief, all the oomf jrts and luxuries of the family from the pony oairlage to the last baby's christening robe, came from the generous hand of the same benofiolcnt old despot ; and now all were melting away before their astonished eyes like Summer snow, and Aunt Arabella was eff to spend the rest of her days with the George Pauletta—and why ? Because, forsooth, pretty Dora, instead of carrying out her auut's intentions and waiting till. In the fullnsßs of time, Sponcer Paulett should return from sea, fall in love with and marry her. had gone and engaged herself to the parish doctor's longlegged Irish assistant, with nothing in the world to offer her but a warm Irish heart, a decent share of brains under his shock head of red hair, and an income which he modestly described as being mostly on the wrong side of his account-book as yet. There was an appalled silence, broken only by the sound of the old lady's crutch tapping off into the distanoe. Mf Hilton retired behind a newspaper with the air of a man who had much to say on the subject presently. Mrs Hilt n sniffed feebly on the Bofa. The smallest Hilton but one sat under the table sucking Its thumb and, vaguely conscious of evil to come, prepared for a wail. In a distant window Dora wept and wept, impervious to all her Cornelius' vigorous whispers of c insolation.

Pierce had withdrawn discreetly when the storm broke, through the window into the garden, where he was seen walking up and doisn in dismayed meditation ; and Jack, surreptitiously shaking his fist at tho unconscious back of his would-bo brother-in law, followed Pierce. Meanwhile, up the staircase and down the corridor went Aunt Arabella briskly enough, de-pito her lameness and her eighty years. She had two little rooms in a remote corner of the house, sacred from the intrusion of the most audaoious of Hiltons. t-he entered the first of them, where a pale, meek young female sat sewing. ' Parker 1'

1 Yes, my lady.' •Iwant my trunks. Find thorn at once and pack up everything that belongs to me.'

Long attendance on her imperious miotress had deprived the gentle Parker of the power of expressing any sentiment but that of meek acquiescence. ' Yes, my lady.' ' We go by the first train to-morrow, so be resdy.' ' Yes, my lady.' ' And let some one take two letters to the post for me to night.' ■ Yes, my lady.' Lady Paulett passed on to the room, a bedroom furnished with a magnificent erection cf mahogany and satin damatk, large enough to accommodate ten little old ladies like herself.

There was a wood fire burning, rendering dimly visible ancient spider lesrged tables a corner cupboard with treasures of old china and enamel; elaborate works of art in patchwork; a counterpane, oushionn, &c, and some framed and g'azed performance's, in tentstlteh, "Eleazer meeting Rebecca," "The Prodigal's Heturn," and "Ruth Gleaning," with faces and hands of painted kid faded by age into a ghastly whiteness La-ly Paulott seated herself in a tall old arm-chair by the fire, while Parker lighted a large silver-branched candlestick and drew a table near to her.

* My writing desk, Parker, and you may oome for the letters in half an hour.'

1 Yes, my lady,' and while Parker hurried off to rummage out her mlatree's long forgotten travelling equipments, Lady Paulett, in her neat, old-fashioned hand, Indited two short notes, and addressed one to ' Mra tieo. Paulett. Sastholm Hall, Wilmington, Yorkshire;' the other to 'R. J. Blackett, Esq., Lincoln's Inn, London.' She had finished before Parker reappeared, and after Bitting thinking for a few minutes, drew from her desk a folded paper. It was headed ' Memoranda for my will, 1860,' and contained sundry notes, over which she pondered. ' There are the letters, Parker. Let them go at once—but first bring me my dreßßlngcino and jewel-case. They shall have what I bequeathed to them now, before I go. I'll make no difference, aud then I've done with them all forever—ungrateful set ! * Parker placed a gorgeous inlaid dressingcase and a massive brass-bound coffer before her miotrcs, and departed. Lady Paulett drew the latter to her with some difficulty. ' It is time an old woman like me should be rid of some of those burdens,' she said, smiling grimly ai she turned the key and disclosed case upon cases of morocco and velvet enugly stowed away. She turned them out and laid them all open before her a brave show in the bright fire and candle ligst. Parker meanwhile stepped noiselessly to ard fro in the background, emptying the big wardrobe of its contents and bearing them away to the paok in the next room. ' Let me see. Dora ? She's the eldest. She was to have my emeralds. She'll take it as a delicate compliment to the nationality of the man o£ her choice. Eah I he'll pawn them ; what else oan one expect t Well, well, it doesn't matter. I always (« ed them though they are the handsomest set I possess How well I remember Sir Jo3iah bringing them homo the day before I was presented at Court, and I had thought he meant to give me pearls, and had ordered a pale amber dreis! I cried about it, but I dared not ask him to ohange them, or refuse to wear them, and I felt so disgusted. I know they looked detestable, and I heard one old lady whisper to another, ' Eggs and spinach,' and tho;other said something about ' City,' and they both tittered. One fee's those things when one is young. Well, I hope Mrs O'Shane may be happier in wearing them. O'Shane? pah! I dare say. though, she'll be as proud of the name as I was at that tim3 of being Lady Paulett—ah me !

' What next ? Emily—my diamond broooh ? Yea, ya - ", here it it.' It was one of those quaint, old-fashioned ones in a silver eetting—a large spray of flowers and leaves. ' Pretty little gentle thing, it's too grand for her now, but she'll be a fine young woman some of these days They say she's something like what I was, but without my high spirits. Dear! dear! what a gay yoaug thing I was at nor age. and what fine things I expected were to happen to me in my life ! —and what a dreary time I have had of it. I must keep an eye on little Emily—wherever I am, they are all apt to overlook her. Yes, she shall have the diamonds. Mr Paulett gave them to me on my weddingday, and I wore them at the grand ball his company gave when the Duke came into the city t~> be made a Cheesemonger. I can see myself now in white Canton orape with the Frenoh fringes and the myrtle-sprig embroidery and the Prince of Wales plume in my hair. Josiah and I looked quite elegant,

only very young (he was sensitive about the dti&renoe In our ages, poor man). I remember hearing Lord Henry Murray, the Duke's aid.i.do-camp, ask 'who the pretty li'-tle bride wa»,' and a minute after he oame up and was presented. He lei me out, ri«ht to the head < f the room. Into the very set with the Duke and the Lady Mayoress, and I thought Josiah would be so pleased. 1 could see him fidgeting about the whola time trying to catch sight of ua between the people, and slicking hie head and making signs to me, till I almost forgot the flgurea - aud my dancing used to be greatly admire! in thoae days.' Lady Paulett smiled to herself at the thought, arched her neok, end made a little movement with her wrinkled old fingers as if gracefully bestowing the tips on some Imaginary partner. 1 It was Vfxatioas, and Lord Henry wan S 3 kind and so droll ! But Mr Paulett gave mo suoh a fcown as ho led me out into the tearoon that I hardly knew what he said or how to answer him, Poor dear Josiah ! To think that, after all, he was only afraid that I was laughing too muoh, and Lord Henry might think mo a silly sohool-cirl, or that some of the oity Kdies might fancy we were quizzing them. I cried all the way home, and that waa the end of my first appearance in society.' Lady Paulett laid by the brooch in its case after carefully rubbing it with a silk handkerchief.

' Arabella, my god-daughter, must have the diamond earrings. I got them when I was too happy to care about them, when our little son was born. How kind Sir Josiah was then ! There was nothing he would cot have done for me or baby. Ho gave them to me for the christening dinner, and Joe took notice of them and laughed when he was brought down to have his health drunk Suoh a noble little fellow he looked ; dark curly hair and bine eyes like my dear father'o, taking notice of everything, and only six weeks old ! and that very day week he was in his o.ffia. My poor Uttlo son 1' The old lady snappel the case and pushed it away from her with a trembling hand. • When I came here and law Jack in his oradle he looked so like my boy I thought he was given baok to me. Dear, good, loving Jack ! I can never cast him off—l must sppak to Mr fclaokett about that. Now. My dressing case ? Ah! that must be Mrs George Paulott's; her initials are the same as mine. Sapphire necklace. Cameo set. Pearl cross and earrings for her three daughters. They're rloh enough to have as muoh jewellery of their own as they want; ana the rubies I must keep for Spencer Paulett's wife when he gets one.' (To ie ccntvrmed. )