LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 366, 14 August 1875, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE ATHELSTONS OF MORTB d’ ATHELSTON. {From the Dublin University Magazine.) (Continued. ) So said Lord Athelston, as he pressed his hand upon his brow, and a cold shudder crept over him as he thought of the las time he had seen the fair fiend who was to have been his wife. ‘ No, I will make ample provision for her; I will make over two thousand a year to her, or more, if she does not think that enough ; but more I cannot do.’ And then he thought, She does not know that I am alive; she thinks herself mistress of everything all this time, and who is to tell her ? I could not even see her, it would be terrible for us both. And then his mind went slipping back to the lq g autumn days that were past, and the vision of another fair girl rose before him, and a cold calm parting, that had nevertheless left an aching pain so deep down m his heart that it was almost unrealised, certainly unacknowledged, to himself, till the mad jealousy of the Lady Eowena dragged it into the broad light of facts. Now, with a process of mental argument, no doubt perfectly clear to his lordships own mind, he decided that Sybil s mother was the person of all others to be consulted in his present difficulties, and, in order for him to do so, it would he necessary for him to start for the North on the very next day. Lord Athelston had immediate recourse to Bradshaw, and having ascertained, as clearly as it was possible to ascertain anything in that complicated volume, that the earliest train was at half-past ton o’clock next morn ing, and being by this time thoroughly exhausted, he fell asleep. At eleven o’clock Mr Broughton, who still looked upon his master as an invalid requiring his constant care and _ watchfulness, made his appearance with a lighted candle, suggestive of the propriety of his, Lor Athelston’s, retiring to bed; he was struck with the placid smile and happy expression which had long been strangers to his master s countenance; but that worthy individual was nearly thrown out of his usual amount of dignified complacency, and did actually give way to a grave amount of surprise when Lord Athelston told him to have everything necessary packed, and be ready to start with him by the half-past ten o’clock train on the following morning, for Pockley in the Marsh, considerably north of the town of York, or, indeed, of any civilized place that it had been his, Mr Broughton’s luck to hear of before. Chapter YII. Considerably to the astonishment of the valet, and, indeed, not a little to his own, half-past ten o’clock next morning found Lord Athelston comfortably ensconced in a smoking carriage, well wrapped up m nigs and mufflers, a fragrant cigar between his teeth, which he could smoke unmolested by the outcries of delicate females, who indulge in a nervous horror of that soothing W That he did not exactly know what he was going to do, nor yet what he was going to say, nor, in fact, that he was not at all clear on the subject, did occur to him , but he was not a man to let a trifle of that kind stand in his way, so he smoked on placidly, leaving his future actions to shape themselves according to circumstances, as arranged by Providence. Then, with a few premonitory bumps, the great _ engine, screaming and whistling, moved with slow dignity through a great forest of other engines, some puffing, gently letting off steam, others quietly waiting their turn to labour, then off and away with a rush and a, roar through the endless suburbs of the mighty English Babylon, by villas becoming fewer and farther between, out into the open country—by green pasture lands, dotted with sheep and cattle—by brown fields turned up by the plough, where great mildeyed oxen, toiling steadily at their work, scarcely deigned to raise their stately heads, while the shrieking monster, with its serpentine train of carriages, swept [along. Stopping now at the crowded, bustling station, shunting bumping —a whistle, a wild, shrill scream, then oft and away again, through the great manufactering districts, where the tall chimneys belched out thick black smoke, and red fires blazed, and the war and din of machinery is for ever heard, speeding off and away through the black North country, till they reach the city of York. Then all the bustle and worry of changing trains, on to a small branch line, dull and quiet, through never-ending flats, till at length, when they had reached what appeared to the exhausted travellers to be the end of the world, the train stopped, and the stiff and benumbed valet made his appearance to aid in unrolling his master, and helping him out on the platform, Pockley in the Marsh did not seem to be a very thriving locality, nor were first-class passengers apparently very often seen to get out at its dingy station, albeit the rarity of the event by no means appeared to impress the few porters who lounged about with any very great amount of respect for those who did come; with true British phlegm, they gazed with the utmost indifference at the strangers, while the driver on the box seat of the solitary fly, which represented the posting capabilities of the place, slept calmly on, with his hat over his eyes, feeling that if such a very unusual occurrence as a fare turning up should take place, there was no need to over-exert himself, as rivalry was altogether out of the question: he stood alone in the matter of cabs, sole master of the position. Lord Athelston shook himself, stamped his feet, and clapped his hands to restore circulation, swore a good deal at things in general, the sleeping flyman in particular, and demanded to know, in an angry tone, ‘if there had been a plague there lately, which had swept away the inhabitants, or if there was such a thing as an hotel in that confounded hole of a place ?’ * Yas, there be a ’otel in the village, the * Hiron Duke ’ by name,’ responded a porter; while Mr Broughton, having taken possession of the fly, had his master’s things stowed away on the roof, while Jonathan Hicks, the driver, so far roused himself as to gather up the reins, and Lord Athelston having got in, feebly cracked his whip and and exclaimed, ‘ Heigh up, old girl;’ while the mare, seemingly a very old girl indeed, set off in a kind of ambling shuffle, something between a walk and a trot, but decidedly hot rapid as a mode cf travelling. Arriving at the ‘Hiron Duke,’ which event did take place in course of time, the prospect of anything like comfort did not peem one whit more cheering.

Lord Athelston inquired of stout man, sitting on a stone bench outside the house, smoking a pipe and drinking beer fr »m a short pewter mug, *if he could get accommodation for the night ?’ The stout individual took the pipe from his mouth, expectorated unpleasantly near to Lord Athelston’s well polished boots, gasped as if he were going to speak, but emitting no sound, pointed indoors with the handle of his pipe. Lord Athelston had nothing for it but to take the hint, and walking in found himself at the bar, where a buxom looking matron beamed amongst her polished pewters, and though radiant in smiles, was much surprised at so unusual a demand. Nevertheless, she informed him that he could go into the coffee-room, at present unoccupied by even a solitary commercial gentleman, and that she would see about rooms for the night. Utterly wearied out in mind and body, Lord Athelston entered at the door which the landlady held open for him; but not altogether understanding the good woman’s northern dialect, wherein she gave him a friendly warning to take care of the steps, he was precipitated head foremost into a long, low room, with a sanded floor and capacious fireplace, which just now, however, contained no fire. This evil was soon remedied, by a red-armed, able-bodied damsel, who seemed like the little old woman in the song, to have come in contact with a pedlar, ‘ who cut her little petticoats up to her knees,’ but who, nevertheless, quickly succeeded in lighting a cheerful lire, which crackled and blazed up the spacious chimney, giving a more habitable appearance to the wretched apartment. Both k travellers fortunately for them, were pretty iudependent of food, having dined comfortably at York, not to speak of sundry packages of sandwiches, and the contents of a flask prepared by the careful valet and discussed by his master by the way; and there being no inducement to late hours, they soon sought the bed-chambers, such as they were, that had been prepared for them. Chapter VIII. Sybil Chamleigh, eldest daughter of the house of Chamleigh, found the privileges of her position as such, counterbalanced by the fact of having not only to assist in the general scrubbing and polishing up each morning of the very junior members of the family, but also having to aid the governess in their mental culture, so that this young lady’s life was by no means an idle one, and a holiday to her really meant a holiday quite as much as to any one of the children. Taking advantage now of the hour of recreation allowed before the general dinner, which took place at two o’clock, Sybil strolled out to her favourite haunt in the farm-yard, and leaning against the little iron gate, watched the fowls picking round the corn stacks, and the heavy plough horses watering at the great trough, whilst her own especial little white calf poked its nose into her soft white hand, looking up at her lovingly with its great mild eyes. The girl patted it gently, but absently, and there was a dreamy far-off look in her large brown eyes, a look almost of weariness and listlessness that was not wont to be in the days of yore, (To be continued.)