LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2562, 24 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A MiRKIA'i'S ARRANGED.

{Continued.)

We walked along for some momenta in total silence. Pernaps he was wondering at my strange whim, while I was tutnmoriim; what moral courage I possessed to tell him the fatal truth. He spoke at last. ‘Geraldine,’ he said abruptly, ‘ldo no‘ like your friend Mrs Howard ; nay more, I do not consider she is sn ai q-iaintaueo de sirable for my future w fo ; you will oblige me by letting her see this as delicately at you can. Of course when wo are war.-ie.il you will be able to avoid her entirely. J shall take good care she is not invited to our house.’

This was a promising beginning cortaioly. 1 1 think, Lord Loftue, that my feelings in this matter deserve some consideration. Mrs Howard Is my dearest friend, I have known her for years, I should never treat her rudely or coldly even to please your prejudice.’ He looked at me with cold surprise, ‘ I am not accustomed to have my wishes thwarted,’ he said lolly. * Indeed,’ I said coolly ; ‘ then I think that our union does not promise me much felicity. I will be frank with you for onoo, my lord ; this night is a turning point in both our lives. 1 accepted yonr hand when you did me the honor to offer it, and at the same time told you that I had no feeling of love for you whatever. You were good enough to say that lovo was a vulgar paraded sentiment, and one of no importance in your eyes I have pledged my word to marry yon, but I feel that I cannot do so willingly or freely now. Will you grant your forgiveness and give me back my promise, and so entitle me onoe more to the self respect and peace of mind I have forfeited ?’ I spoke hurriedly, earnestly—spoke with all my heart in the eager impulsive words ; bat in the cold satirical face beside me I saw no response, and my heart sank within me as I read the boplessness of my pleading * You are excited, my dear Geraldine, he said, in the same tone of voice be had before used; * your words do but show me how correct was my judgment when 1 perceived Mrs Howard was no proper acquaintance for yon There la too much of the Bohemian element in the society she frequents, and these artists and literary fellows you meet there doubtless talk grandiloquently on the subject of ‘love in a cottage,’ and the sympathies of kindred spirits—subjects quite unnecessary for my wife to have any knowledge of. You are pledged to me, and I distinctly decline to release you from your engagement for any suoh foolish plea as the one you have put forward.’ ‘You cannot mean what you say!’ I cried passionately; • you oannot be so heartless, so ud gentlemanly, as to wish to force me to marry you agaigst my will T’ ‘ Pray do not speak so loud,’ he said with an affected shudder; ‘there has been no question of force in the matter. You accepted mo a week ago. In a month’s time we are to be married. No, my dear Geraldine; I am older and wiser than you, and I oannot accede to your wishes on this point. I am deeply attached to you ; you are In every way salted to become my wife and the future Countess of Cranstown ; and I am quite sure yon will fill y< ur position and honor It, as the women of onr choice have always honored it, I was silent from sheer helplessness. ‘‘The marriage settlements are now being drawn up,’ he continued presently ; 'lthink you need have no fear of my generosity. Your poition will be one that many women will envy, and no one I could have chosen will grace It better * ‘ls that all you consider ?’ I asked bitterly ; Ms It nothing to you that my honors as you call them, will be hateful, shameful, in my sight ?’ •Why so to night, more than they were a week ago ?’ he asked ironically. I colored to my very temples. I think he saw that sudden blush ; for a swift angry light gleamed in his steel-blue eyas as they met my own. * Come, Geraldine, a truce to this nonsanse,’ he said sternly ; 1 1 am not a man to be daunted by obstacles, or easily baulked of anything on which I have set my heart. Yon have promised to be my wife. In a month’s time I shall lead you to the altar,* ‘ I thought love studied the happ'ness of its object, not its own selfish desires,’ I said Indignantly. He smiled. ‘lt studies what is best for the future welfare and happiness of the beloved,’ he said coolly; ‘ I ne:-d hardly say I am doing that for you to night; a year hence you will thank me far my firmness.’ * Geraldine,’ said my mother, sweeping into my room in her usual imperious manner next morning, ‘ I am going to take you down to Hastings for the next three weeks. You are not looking well, and the people can manage for your trousseau without our superintendence now. We will return a week before your marriage.’ .... u . ' But wo have so many engagements,’ I explained. * I will exouse our non-fulfilment of them,’ she said dryly; *an engaged girl is better without a troop of men following her and distracting her. Besides, Lord Loftus wishes us to go.' i. . i- ‘ I thought it was Lord Loftus who had suggested it,’ I answered scornfully ; ‘ he begins to play the the tyrant in good time. ’ ‘ Take care what you are saying,’ answered my mother, fixing her cold angry eje on my agitated face ; ‘ Lord Loftus is quite right to take oare of his own intereitf. You are very ungrateful not to look at his suggestion in the same light.' ‘ I shall never look at anything in the same light as he does,’ I said bitterly. *1 hope you are not encouraging any other ideas,’ said my mother sternly ; ‘ you have changed very much of late. Have you fallen in lovo with any of your dear friend Jo’s long-haired impecunious acquaintances ? I will have no suoh folly, you know.’ I flushed hotly. ‘ Whether I have done so or not,’ I cried indignantly, • 1 know this—that I hate Lord Stanley more and more every day, I know I shall be utterly miserable as his wife.’

* Oh, no yon won’t—after a time,’ said my mother ourtly ; * all girls say something of the sort; but they are glad enough they took the advice of wiser people afterwards. If a daughter of mine disgraced herself by a low beggarly love-match, such as Lady Gresham’s daughter made the other day, I should never acknowledge her again—I should oast her off for ever. Don’t you begin talking folly of this description, Geraldine. It is very bad taste.'

I waa silent, If there was one being for whom 1 had more fear than another, it was my mother. Her coldness and severity had chilled mo from my earliest childhood, and something of the old awe and dread came over me now, as I listened, pale and heart sick, to her words, and read in their stern determination the still farther hopelessness of my fate I heard her givi.ig all particulars to my maid, as to what dresses to pack and what te leave behind. Then saying that she had so many letters to write that her whole morning would be employed, bade me go to the dressmakers by myself. • The carriage will be here at eleven, ’ she said, 1 so be ready by that time.’ * I murmured an assent, and saw her leave the room with a sigh of relief. ‘ It is quite hopeless now, ’ I thought to myself; • I have had my struggle for liberty, and it has proved a failure. I must go through with this to the bitter end.’ I then sat down and wrote a hurried note to Jo, saying that we were leaving town for Hastings by the evening train, and so I should not he able to see her again. * I appealed to Lord Luftu», as I said I would,’ I wrote in conclusion, * but he Is like adamant. He refuses to break off the engagement, Theie is no help for it. Jo, I must bear my fate as beat 1 can.’ I gave this note to Adele to post, as I did not wish my mother to sea It, and having received the pretty French girl’s assurance that it should be safely done, I made my toilette for the morning drive. The carriage took its way through fond street, and so Into Begent street, when suddenly I observed another carriage tearing up the crowded thoroughfare, while the coachman was tugging In vain to check the frightened horses. ‘ Take care, Jones,’ 1 oried oat to my own coachman ; 1 they are coming direct to ns.’ He tried to evade the threatened collision, but ho seemed to have lost his head for a moment, and tnrned the horses the wrong way. I shut my eyes, and a low faint cry of fear escaped me. Thera was a shock —a crash j the horses plunged and reared—the carriage was sent flying against the kerb. Then how It came to pass I never knew, but I found myself suddenly dragged out, and standing safe and sound upon the pavement, while a

voice whispered hniriedly, ‘Thank God, jon are not hurt.* Then I looked np and saw Norman L»ngdon, sad in the joy and glad relief and sense of security his presence gave, I could find nothing to say. There was a large confec tinner's shop near by, and thither we went and when 1 had sat down and drunk some iced water I began to recover myself, sad turned to my companion. • How fortunate you were there,’ I said j ‘how can I thank you ? But for your presence of mind, I might hove been killed.’

‘ Oh, let us hope rot,’ ho said lightly ; ‘I don’t think it would have been so serious ’

‘ What is the coachman doing now ?’ 1 asked anxiously.

He went to the [door, and in a moment returned.

‘The hordes seem quite quiet,’he said ; ‘ they have taken them out. But the carriage is very much damaged. Where are you going V ‘ 1 o my dressmaker’s—Bliae,’ I said. 'We are close by. Shall yon go on, or return home ?’

‘ I think I mnst go on.’ I said ; * we leave town to night, and there are some things 1 mu»t arrange with her before I go,’ ‘ Leave town 1’ he exclaimed, in astonishment ; why—l never—l beg your pardon, is it not rather sadden ?’

‘Yes,’l said, coloring, and looking away from the anxious eyes 1 dared not trust myself to meet; ‘my mother wishes it. Bhe only Informed me this morning.’ • I had made up my mind to leave London also,’ he said presently. In a low shaken voice ; * I feel I cannot trust myself to remain here under such circumstances. You must know what I mean.

I would not willingly have met you again, only an accident has thwarted my intentions, When I received my aunt’s invitation to go to Hastings for a month, I made up my mind to go at once. Two hours later I should have been cff.’

‘ To Hastings ?’ I faltered. ‘Yes. You have heard me speak of Miss Fordyce j she lives there. Yon look surprised.’ ‘Bo I?’ I said, glancing np at him as he stood so tall and stately beside me, with the sunlight on his dark head, and lighting np the noble manly face ; ‘ well, it is no wonder 1 am going to Hastings too,’ (To he continued.')