LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2561, 23 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A MARRIAGE ARRANGED. (Continued, ) I Don’t you feel quite different, Mr Langdon ?’ ‘No ; I can’t say I do,’ ho answered, with a smile that turned all the gravity of his face to sunshine ; ‘ but then I am not by any means famous yet, Mrs Howard.’ ‘ Ah, you are too modest,’ laughed Jo ; * four editions In the space of two months—why, whatever more do you want? And every one is talking about you too !’ ‘ They will forget me as soon, I have no doubt. ’ • Ah, you are a cynic. Ton don’t believe in the praises of your fellow-men. I suppose you would take failure as coolly as you do success.’ I I have had to do so before now. ’ • Ah, well, there is dinner. We must continue our discussion later on. Will you kindly give your arm to Miss d’Aroy ? Sir James, I am going to inflict yon.’ ‘ I have not seen you for some time,’ said Mr Langdon to me, under cover of the railery and laughter of the couple we were following. *A week, I believe,’ I answered, as carelessly as I could, ‘I must offer you my felicitations,’ he continued; * I saw the paragraph in the “Court Journal” of to-day. I suppose it is correct.’

I bowed. For the life of me I could not speak. I I hope you may be happy,’ he said, his voice cold and grave as ever; ‘ you are making a brilliant marriage.’ A brilliant marriage 1 Oh, the mockery of those words 1 while all the time my heart waa aching with passionate unrest, my pulse thrilling at the mere presence of this man beside me. A little bitter langh escaped my lips. • Have you caught the cant of society also ?’ I asked.

His eyes met mine for a moment, and what I read there did not tend to soothe my discomposure, * ‘ It ought not to be cant to one who Is such a devoted votary of society,’ he answered ironically. ‘ Yon were always hard on women,’ I said, my lips trembling aa I spoke; * yon do not make allowance f >r them—ever.’

‘Oh yes, I do I’ he answered coolly; * when they need it.’ I was silent then. I knew that, bitterly as he judged me, yet in his eyes I deserved such judgment, and my humiliation burned deeper and deeper (into my soul. A week ago how different he-had been! I remembered how low and tender each accent of hla voice had sounded; how his eyes had followed my every movement; how eloquent of meaning had been each glance he gave ; but now it was all changed. I had sunk in his eyes so low —so shamefully low—ho looked only at the one plain fact of my acceptance of Lord Stanley, and that fact set him apart from me henceforward more

widely than miles of ocean would have dona ! The lights burnt low In the flowerscented dravring-rooin. Somehow Jo’s roems were all pretty and fall of a nameless chsrm that I never found in others. We took oui coffee, and as I caught the anxious look In her eyes I could keep silent no longer. ‘ It is no use, Jo,’ I said wearily ; ‘ he will never speak how, I believe he thinks lam only worthy of contempt.” ‘Nonsense!’ she sad cheerily. 'He Is too wise for that. I am awfully so-ry, though, that you were in such a hurry to accept Lord Loftns. Norman might have spoken by now. ’ *ln a hurry !’ 1 exclaimed indignantly ; ah Jo, yon little know how I waa badgered and worried and lectured day by day. I could not hold out. And then, you know, Norman had gone away, and ho had never said anything after all; and I thought perhaps he did not care for mo ; and so—and then >

* Yes, I see,’ she said, Interrupting my hesitating extenuation; it all came about very naturally—things always do when they are not wanted to. Ah, Geraldine, I am so sorry for yon. What Is to be done ?' • Nothing, except go through with it, I said hopelessly ; * I shall be very miserable, but I suppose I shall get used to that in time. After all, I am not the only woman who has had a marriage arranged.’ The entrance of the gentlemen prevented Jo from replying. They were so near that I almost fancy they must have caught my words. I moved away to the piano, and began turning over the music. ‘ Do sing something, Jo,’ I said presently; * I see you have lots of new songs here.’ i She came forward at once. There was not an atom of affectation or nonsense about Jo. I went over to the window t it was open, and the balcony was full of flowers, while the square before the house lay bathed in moonlight. It was a pretty scene; the quiet street —the trees and shrubs beyond, all flooded with soft silvery light; the balcony, with its mass of blossoms scenting the air ; the dainty luxurious room beyond, with that fair woman’s form at the piano and the low rich music of her voice rising and falling on our listening ears. Tha song she tang waa very sad and tender. I had beard her sing it before, but never as she sang it then, with a pathos in the sweet voice that brought the tsars to my eyes, a sigh to my Ups. The sigh was echoed by another. I looked hastily up and met the glanca of Norman Langdon. I felt the color fly to my face. I knew he must have seen the tears that filled eyes. Ashamed and impatient, I turned ont and gazed at the square beyond, though I saw nothing for the blinding mist that shut out moon and stars and silvered leafage from my sight, and left me only the memory of a noble suffering face —a face that for one second’s space had dropped its mask of coldness, and shown me what 1 had so long dreaded to know. He loved me. Ah, sweet thought, whose sweetness was wrong and full of pain yet with the glory that It gave my life swept all thoughts of fear and shame and suffering from its troubled depths. What madness came over ns then I do not know, for ho drew his chair to my own and leant towards me.

• Was it trne whit I overheard yon say just now?’ he ashed, his voice no longer calm and self-controlled. * This—this marriage has been arranged—lt is not of your own choice —your own free will ? You do not love this man ?’

I look up and met his eyes, and prudence, honor, all were forgotten, ai I saw the paradise of joy of which his love gave promise. ‘ No,’ I said ; and then for very shame grew silent, while my eyes fell before that eager gaze, and the blood coursed wildly through my veins, and dyed my face and brow with fiery blushes. * Is—is there some one else ?’ he whispered passionately; ‘darling, do not play with mo—tell me, for heaven’s sake !’ What 1 might have told him, said to him, God knows. But I had not the chance, for as I lifted np my eyes to his the outer door was thrown abruptly open, and on my ears fell the announcement, * Lord Loftus Stanley!' Xhe sadden shook recalled my senses. I grew calm and cold, and Norman sprang hastily to his feet, and went out Into the balcony without a word. My fiancee came forward in his usual languid, supercilious fashion.

‘I got home earlier than I expected,’he said, ‘ so your mother thought I had better come on here.’ ‘ I should have sent Geraldine home quite safely,’ said Jo rather sharply ; * Mrs d’Arcy need not have been alarmed. ’ Ho looked at her with his eye-glassed eye in hla usual supercilious fashion. 4 I have no doubt of that,’ ha said coolly, ‘ but I prefer being her escort myself.’ A sudden chill seemed to fall on ua all. Jo grew sharp and disagreeable. She and Lord Loftns were thoroughly antagonistic. 1 was silent and embarrassed. Sir James Clyde, cross at the interruption to his tete-a-tete with Jo, and Norman Langdon remained In the balcony. My position grew Insupportable. To be openly monopolised and taken possession cf by a man I detested in the eight and hearing of the man I loved was a trial too great for my strength. I rose abruptly and bade Jo good night; but, on some plea, she excused herself to the gentlemen, and followed me ont of the room to her boudoir, where I had left my wraps. Hastily o lamissing her maid, she closed the door, and then came and put her arms round me with some tender pitying words. My self control forsook me then, I leant my head against that gentle womanly breast, and sobbed out some of the pain and trouble warring in my heart. ‘ It is all too late I’ I cried bitterly ; * if I break my word, it Is dishonorable— 1 ‘ And if you keep it, It is equally dishonorable,’ she interrupted, In her impetn ous fashion ; ’ how can you promise to love and honor a man yon detest? Take my advice, Geraldine; tell Lord Loftns that you do not love him, that yon cannot marry him, that, in short, this eogagement is a mistake just one degree less fatal than the marriage It foretells; take courage, and do this, and you will be a happy woman yet.’ 4 He knows I do not love him,’ 1 said, drying my eyes ; ‘I do not think he minds that In the least; he has so set his mind on marrying me; and he so Ceteets scandal of any sort, that I am sure he would never consent to breaking off our engagement now.’ ‘Will you try?’ urged Jo; ‘will yon appeal to his honor, his feelings as a man ? ISurely he cannot refuse you then ; It only wants you to sum up your courage ; better any amount of scandal than your own lifelong misery.’ ‘Yes; I will appeal to him tonight,’ I said desperately ; * it is a good opportunity, as he has come for me ; very well, Jo ; my mind Is made np ; in any case, things cannot be worse than they are ! only—think of my mother’s anger ; however can I facs her ?’ ‘Poor child, your position is certainly not an enviable one !’ said Jo ruefully; ‘ I nity you with all my heart; I wish I could fight your battle for you; you are much too frightened of your mother ; but, after all, however angry she is, she cannot force you to marry this man.’ * But she can prevent my marrying any other, ’ I said. ‘Then you must run away with him.’ * Oh, Jo !’ I exclaimed in horror; ‘ what are yon saying I I could not.’ 4 It Is the only way of catting the Gordian knob,' exclaimed Jo, laughing; ‘if she won’t consent, what else remains to be done ? hhe would come round safe enough, once yon were Mrs Langdon.’ I shook my head. ‘ No,’ I add ; ’I could never do that; it would look bo mean and disk onorable ; and Norman would never suggest it, I know ; he la not the sort of man you Imagine Jo ; and I doubt If ho would even marry me now, supposing my engagement were broken off.’ * Pat him to the test,’ said Jo quietly ; ‘ don’t flatter yourself that you know more of men than I do, my dear; and Norman is just one of those quiet-going fellows who deceives everybody, until some one Ignites the voloanio fires beneath their calm exterior; then ' An expressive gesture concluded the sentence. I was silent for a moment. I turned to her suddenly. * Lend me a hat, Jo.’ I said ; ‘ I will walk home with him, and then have it out; you are right; I cannot bear this deception any longer.’ I put on my ont door apparel with hands that no longer trembled; the oonrage of despair was In my heart, and when I walked Into the'drawing-room I was quite calm and collected. My first glance showed me that Noyman was not there. ‘ Mr Langdon has left,’ said Sir James, coming up to Jo as he spoke ; ' ho bade me

apologise for him. He was not feeling will.' Lord Loftas meanwhile was surveying me through his eyeglass. «i w ish to walk home,’ I said abrupUy ; 'it is a fine warm night, and I can’t bear being abut up in a carriage.’ ■lo walk home!’ he exclaimed, in tur p-1, e ; ‘ what a ainglar fancy!’ • Are you afraid of catching cold?’ asked Jo • ‘ I can lend you a scarf or a shawl, if you like.’ «He looked at her with a superoiltona smile. ‘ I hanks. Yon are awfully kind,’ ho drawled ; ‘ no, I am not thinking of nny inconvenience that might acorue to myself—only Geraldine.’ < Don’t trouble about me, pray,’ I said ; I never catch cold; and on such a warm night as this it would be quite impossible.’ « Then, of course, I am at your service. ’ I bade Jo good night; and in another moment I was out in the quiet streets with my —lover ? (I’d be continued .)