LITERATURE.

Patea Mail, Volume I, Issue 6, 10 November 1887, Page 4

LITERATURE.

UNDER THE SHADOW. CHAPTER ll—Continued. And the people here ; do they like her ? —is she popular? Iris hesitated a moment. She might be better liked, she said. I understand ! bo said, shading bis eyes and looking towards the Revels. Treats tho poor at her gates like diit—just as her father is said to do. I wonder why Fate permits all the tidies and clover in Hits world to some people and bestows all the poverty and weeds upon Gibers! I3ut, perhaps I have been too bard upon the girl——- ... I think you have, said Iris, in a low, grave voice. Yes! he and, with Midden contrition, Because I have b. < n b: ought up to dislike the father ho stopped short anti caught up his words. Becnm-e a girl i -: unfortunate enough to be plain and illtempered she should not be li >rcily judged but pitied ! Poor girl ! Ipi y her ! Poor girl ! So do 1! said Iris, He Poked at her as she stood, the long lashes sweeping her cheeks and hiding her eyre, her lips closed in inviolable calm. Ido not wonder that she is not a friend of yours, ho said, 'ouch a girl would be wretched in yonr society. Iris 1 f ed her head. And why ? Why ? Ha coloured and hung ins head for n moment ; than bo raised his eyes, and looker! into hers. Because the contrast would be torture to her, ho said. Slowly tho red came and flooded the beautiful face, then it went it in its ivory whiteness. I will go now, she said. Ho jumped up and arranged tho reir.s fer her, and held tho stirrups. She glided into the saddle, —so graceful seemed her movements to tho young man,—and sat there looking before her with dreamy eyes. Good day, she said suddenly, turning her glance upon him. . Ho bowed his bare bead, ’

Good day—and g( oi bye, and thank yon ! I shall rn t forget this place or the hour as long as I liva. But for you I ehould not have been—he stopped and looked up at her earnestly. Am I not to know your name ? She smiled s : ow!y and thoughtfully. No, she said. Wo met as strangers, we part as strangers, and if we meet again That is not Hkoiy 1 he said, and there Wafl a touch Of sadness in his deep, grove voice. —Wa shall meet as strangers still. At least, ho said, reverentially and eagerly, you—you will let me shake hands ? She clipped the gauntlet from her right hand, aud lie took it : took it and held if so near his lips that they almost touched it— but not quite. Then she drew it from him, lacked down into his handsome face and rude off. He stood and gazed after her for a minute or two, then, avoiding the farm, leapt the stile and gained the high road to Qluesop. Iris rode on for half ft mile, perhaps, her head bent, her eyes fixed on Snow’s i.eck. Then, suddenly, she pulled up, sat motionless, thinking a moment, then turned her horse and galloped back to the I rook Then, stopping, she bent down from her saddle, and with the hooked end of her whip caught up a bright blue object. It was the scarf which the young follow had worn round his neck, and which he had taken off when be had bathed his face in the stream. She held it for a moment. looking at it, then thrust It carefully out of sight in the bosom of her habit and rode away without stopping again, and with a dash of rod in her face, towards Knighton Bevels. OHATTfIB 111. J;ia rode back slowly to the Revelai thinking over the adventure which had befallen her, the still stranger words the young man had spoken of her father. Why had she refused to tell him her name, and let him tell her his? She wished now that she knew it. They had parted ns strangers ; if they mot again—but po:haps they never would meet again. The world was wide, and her life would bo spent within the circle of Knighton and Beverley, and it was very probable that he would never come back, that she should see him no more ! Meanwhile Lord Montncute had reached the Bevels. Ho had said on the spur of the moment that he was going to sou Mr Knighton ; but now lhat ho stood in the library ho had not the least notion what he had come for. And when the door opened and the squire came in, aud extemiing his hand, said, Good morning, Montacule, the young earl stammered, aud blushed, and fingered his eyeglass helplessly. The fact was, Clarence was not only madly in love with Iris, but he was very much afraid of her father ; most people were, without exactly knowing why. Godfrey Knighton's manner was stern, and the dork ey< s under their heavy brows teemed <o go through the ordinary individual like gimlets ; the air of reserved melancholy end pre-occupation also added to the general sense of awe and mystery. As he sal down m his chair, and looked across at the young man with the look that was not intended to bo a frown, but was awkardty like one, poor Clarence’s small stock of self-possession molted into thin air. Have you ridden over ? said the squire, opening the conversation. Ye—os ; Iwodoover. Beautiful morning for a wide, Mr K ighton. Yes, said the squire. Iris has taken advantage of it aud gone over to the Holt. A sudden inspiration seized the young earl. Ho would take the hedge at a rush. Why shouldn’t ho ? Mr Knighton, he commenced, turning pale, and then red again, I —l came over to speak to you about Iris, -that is, Miss Knighton. About Iris—ray daughter ? said the squire, in a tone of surprise which discomposed Clan nee terribly. Ye—s. The fact is, sir, that I—love Miss Knighton. There was a moment’s silence ; then the squire’s face grew darker, the frown heavier. Have you spoken to her ? ho asked, and his voice was troubled aud stern, almost like that of a judge questioning a prisoner, A ! o, sir, replied Clarouco nervously, I have not! I have thought of doing so,— have tried to do so,—but — I am ghui ’.hat you have not, said Godfrey Knighton in a deep, grave voice. The young earl looked down at the carper, anxious but too molest to be Souzed at the reception that wus accorded to him. Why should Sir Kn : ghton receive his proposal aa coldly and regard him with such a st w ru, forbidding countenance?

The Knightons wore the Knightons of Revels, of ancient lineage and great social standing, it was true, but he was an earl, and on his mother’s side was descended from one of the Conqueror’s companions, lie was yovngr, of a {rood reir ro’l, and of go >J character: why then should Mr Knighton receive him as if he were somebody altog. ther objectionable ? 1 hope I have not offended you; Mr Knighton V he said at last timidly. The squire started as if his thoughts had been wandering right away from the subject and a rod flush mounted to his brow.

Nn, no ; certainly not ; he answered quickly, but still sternly. You must know that in pioposing for Iris’s hand you t>io doing me a great honour, Montacute. No, sir, the honour is all on your side ; said Clarence, and ho sue] it very nicely.

Mr Knighton shook his head. It i« a great honour Mouiacut'..', he repealed, and lam sensible of it ; but, —ho stopped, and rising from his chair, began to pace liie room, the look of trouble, and doub", and indecision growing more distinct upon his face. Your proposal takes me by surpiise, bo wont on. I hid no idea that you entertained such thoughts of Lis. iSbe—slie is so young. My mother was married before her age sir, said Clarence. The squire frowned. Times have altered, Montocute, he said. Girls are girls still until they arc beyond I is’s age - And you have not spoken to her ? Have yon any reason to hope ? he paused, and regarded tlie young man with tho keen glance that seemed to go through him. Clarence thookChis head rather dolefu’ly. No, he replied, with a s : gh. MisKnighton is always kind to me—but, then so she is to everyone, and he stopped. She is young, young, said Mr Knighton. Momacuto, I d n’t kro.v what to say. If it were anyone else 1 would say No, at once. But you—you are an old friend. Montacute, it is a strange question I am going to ask you . You can astc me what you like, sir, said Clarence. Mr Knighton took a turn or two, then stopped and regarded him clorely. (To be Continued.)