LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2673, 31 October 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A SUMMER AMUSEMENT

Concluded.

Boyce was silent. The girl’s face was transfigured, her soul was shining from her eyes. That night ho wrote to Muriel Lacy. * Sly Mountain Maid is to read aloud to me an hour every day. She reads very well, but so unworldly so 'unspotted’ I wonder if she can belong to the same race of beings to which you and I belong.’ And to this Muriel replied :

‘ I judge from your remarks concerning the Mountain Maid that your flirtation is under full headway. I doubt if she will ever be as unworldly when you leave her. Poor child, how her heart will ache, yet it will do her good in the long run. Every woman’s heart must ache sometime, and you must be amused during your exile. It must be stupid enough for you at the best The Englishman continues to play the devoted, but I am rather weary of him. I must confess there is nothing like an agreeable American, one I wot of especially.’ Again a frown of displeasure contracted Boyce Worthington’s white brow, and he tossed his betrothed’s letter down with a little impatient exclamation : 'ls the woman heartless ?’ he mused ; but he did not fail to make himself as agreeable as possible to Celeste an hour later, when they drove down the steep mountain road to the village two miles away.

It was a memorable drive ; for a sudden storm broke upon them, on their return, and they wore obliged to take shelter under a great oak while it swept over. They had brought no warning in the fair blue heavens of the approaching storm when they set forth. And now Celeste insisted upon removing a light shawl she wore, and wrapping it about Boyce’s shoulders.

‘ Indeed, you shall do no such thing,’ ho said. ' Instead, I have half a mind to make you take my coat.’ ‘ But I am perfectly well,' pleaded Celeste. ' I was never ill an hour in my life, and you are an invalid seeking for health. If you were to take cold, and it were to settle on your lungs you would be an easy victim for lung fever or pneumonia. Please let me wrap this shawl across your chest and shoulders.’

Boyce was obigod to consent, and as ho felt the light weight of her hands upon his shoulders as she adjusted the shawl, a thrill shot through his veins, a thrill of pleasure so keen it was like pain. ‘ Thank you,’ he said simply, and then stood watching her wrapt expression as her eyes followed the course of the clouds that roared their great crests like another tier of mountain ranges. ‘ Ah, is not glorious ?’ she cried, her cheeks aglow, her eyes sparkling. ‘ How I love a thunder storm.’

* What a nature the girl was/ thought Royce, * so rich and lofty and impassioned, so above and beyond all weak woman’s fears and alarms.’

He was sorry when the storm subsided and they could pursue their homeward journey. He liked the sense of seclusion from the world with this girl, as his only companion, which he had enjoyed during the storm.

He found another letter awaiting him on his return, from Muriel. It was full of the light gossip of the resort of hops, flirtations, handsome toilets, engagements, marriages. He twisted it up and used it as a cigar lighter. It seemed like the veriest trash to him after his recent experience.

He did not mention Celeste in his next letter,.or his next. Then came one from Muriel which closed with the query ; ‘ Have you reached the grand denouement of your mountain romance, that you are so silent concerning it or has it lost all interest for you ? Did the fair maiden prove too easy a conquest, or what has happened, pray tell me?’ ‘ A conquest ?’ Royce repeated the words over to himself. Was Celeste interested in

him other than as a friend ? he wished ho knew. They were much together now and had grown to be most cordial comrades, lie was growing stronger every day, and now ho road to her sometimes while she sewed, ox' attended to her household duties. She was such an appreciative listener to his favorite books.

They drove together to tho village and they spent long delicious evenings in the moonlit veranda. Yet for the life of him Royce could not tell if Celeste was growing to love him. Somehow he had foxxnd himself unwilling to practice those ordinai'y arts of flirtation upon her, and had consequently boon simply his most agreeable self. But ho know very well that all women foxxnd him fascinating. He had been a woman’s darling from bis crado. And now to bo in doubt if. ho had made an impression xxpon this simple girl. ‘ But, of coxxrsc, she must care for me/ he thought. * Slxe has never been away from borne since her sixteenth year, when she retxxrned from a boarding school, and all her life has associated with these simple mountain villagox's. She must, she shall care for me.’

Yes, it had come to that with Royce. lie was piqued by her manner which revealed nothing of her feelings, and had grown selfishly determined that Celeste should grow to care for him. And tho result—but he did not stop to reason about that. That evening Royce found her in the little sitting room singing softly while she accompanied herself xxpon tho cottage ox'gan. ‘ You have a sweet voice,’ ho said, standing where he could look down upon her face.

‘ Have I?’ she asked. ‘ I love to sing, but I am never quite sure that I sing at all well.’ She did not blush at his words or his looks. Royce often wondered why she did not blush more readily. 'lt is not the composure gained by contact with tlxe world,’ he reasoned, ‘ and it is not from any lack of refined feeling ; yet nothing sooxus to confuse her.’

It was quite true. Celeste possessed that perfect unconsciousness of herself that is sometimes found in very young children; and it was this remax'kablo quality which accounted for the peculiarity so puzzling to Royce. ‘ Yea, yoxu- voice is fine. With a little cultivation it will add materially to your many attractions when you take your place in the world where you belong—in my world/

Eoyce’s eyes were on her face as he spoke these words slowly and with meaning emphasis. To his surprise and delight, she lifted her eyes quickly to his for a second, then dropped them, and a burning scarlet dyed her face and throat. Then she hurriedly turned the leaves of the music, as if looking for something she could not find. Eoyce enjoyed her confusion. Ho was satisfied ; she cared for him ; and his reference to her ultimate place in his world had betrayed her well-guarded secret. After that he spared no pains to use every fascination in his power to complete the work so well begun. It was almost time for him to go back to the city. Muriel Lacy had flown from the watering resorts,and was growing impatient for his return. They were to bo married in the Spring, and there were many plans to talk over.- Muriel was anxious to go to Europe and spend the Winter—the Englishman was to bo in Paris. Still Eoyce lingered at the Mountain Farm. At length Muriel wrote that she had decided to sail for Europe in two weeks with her aunt. If Eoyce desired to see her before her departure ho must come at once. Eoyce announced his intended departure that evening after her letter came. He watched Celeste’s face narrowly. It betrayed nothing. ‘ I shall miss you sorely/ she said. That was all.

* But we shall meet again/ ho said. ‘ I trust so/ she answered, aud again she shyly lifted her eyes, and that crimson wave swept over her face. Eoyce felt his face paling. His heart throbbed, his blood swept through his veins. He longed to say to this girl who stood before him that she was a new revelation of womanhood to him ! that she had awakened depths in his nature of which he had never dreamed; that he loved her tenderly, truly, passionately, and wanted her for his wife. This was what he longed to say, for it was the truth, the truth which he-had known these last days.

He said good-bye hurriedly and with white lips. That dreary ride back to the city he never forgot. Yet ho was going to his betrothed, the brilliant belle Muriel Lacy. She found him a languid and distrait lover. After one week of his society during which time he had never once mentioned their marriage, she said to him :

' I believe you left jour heart in the mountains, Boyce. You are not your old self at all. And if you did I really wish you would go back and findjit. You bore me with your stupidity. I have been accustomed to a more entertaining gallant.’ Boyce was silent a moment and seemed making a resolve. Then ho spoke: 'You are right,’ he, said. ' I did leave my heart in the mountains. I love the girl you bade me amuse myself with !’

Muriel turned a startled face toward him. ‘ Love her—that girl ?’ she said, wonderingly. ‘ Better than you love me ?’ ‘ Better than I love my life.’ ' Then go back to her at once. I am sure I do not want you here.’ Muriel spoke sharply, but there was still more of wonder than anything else in her face. She could not understand his preference.

' I will go back gladly. You need not blame me, Muriel. You told mo to amuse myself, and I endeavored to follow your wishes in the matter. But I found the girl a new revelation to me, and I ended in loving her. I never dreamed I could lovo any woman as I love her.’

' Well, then I wish you every success, Boyce. Here is your ring. I sail for Europe next week, and my English friend will join us in Paris soon. Ho asked me to marry him, Boyce, and I did not give him a definite answer. I knew he would be more useful to me in Paris if I left him hope. I shall very possibly marry him now—he is very much in love with me. So wo are both well provided for, it seems.’

' And we will always he friends, Muriel ?’

' Why, of course, Boyce ? Better friends than if we had married each other probably.' So they parted—Boyce to hasten back to Mountain Farm with the mad, impetuous haste of a hoy lover. He looked ten years younger than when he last wont over that route. Celeste was at the spring dipping up a bucket of water when he came down the mountain path. ' Is it a ghost or a reality ?’ she cried, laughing as he sprang down beside her. ' A solid reality,’ he answered, gathering both her hands in his. * Oh, Celeste, Celeste, say you are glad to see me.’ She looked up with her sweet, honest eyes full of wonder —surprise, alarm. ' Glad! ph, certainly. I have missed you very much.’ ‘ Missed mo ? Can you not say more than that s’ Oh, Celeste, you are my ideal woman, my light, my life. I came hack to tell you that I love you, that I want you for my wife.’ Celeste drew hack in sudden alarm, and a shocked expression drew all the warmth out of her face.

• Mr Worthington, you are beside yourself,’ she said. ‘ What reason have you to speak such words to me ?’ ‘ What reason ? Why, great heavens, what reason need I save that I love you ? What reason have you to forbid that love ?’

* The host in the world,’ she answered, quietly. ‘ Knowing that I am the betrothed of another, I hold you in too much esteem to suppose you would ever speak such words to me as you have just spoken. I am sorry to ho disappointed in you.’ Royce grew white to the lips. ‘ Betrothed to another !’ he repeated. ' You cannot mean it. Celeste.’ She looked at him with wondering eyes. • Did you not know that I am the promised wife of Dr. Kingman ? that I am to be married in the early winter ?’ ‘ Groat heaven, no ! Why did you keep this from me till now; why did you never mention it ?’

‘ I never discuss my private matters with strangers,’ Celeste answered quietly. 'Beside, I supposed you knew over after that

day at the organ when you spoke of my singing, and rcfei'red to tho time vixen I should take my place in your world. Your tone and manner were so meaning that I at once supposed you referred to my engagement. Then again, when you wont away you said we should meet again, and I interpreted your xvords in tlxe same way.’ Royce stood a moment in silence. Oh, how Ixo had deceived himself—how blind ho bad been in his vanity and selfishness. He turned and gave bis band to Celeste. ‘ Good-bye,’ lie said, ‘ I have been a blind fool, but I deserve my fate.’ Then be was gone. He did not see Celeste again until they mej; in society and she was Mrs Kingman. That same week ho received tlic ‘ Parisian ’ which contained a marked item. It was the announcement of the engagement of Muriel Lacy to Albert Hempstead, of London, England.