LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 766, 4 December 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MISTRESS EUPHEMIA. ( Concluded .) A hit, indeed. William was staggering backwards, his shirt crimsoned by a thin dark stream slowly trickling from his breast. In another moment he was supported by his friend’s strong arms, and Jack was striving to stop the blood that gushed forth more freely at every heart beat. Lord Wreford had received a very slight flesh wound in the arm, which his second was employed in binding up. That finished, he wiped his sword with great deliberation, and then stepped up to his adversary, saying to Jack, ‘ Believe me, sir, I am sorry this has come to pass; but you are witness that Mr Templeton’s conduct left me no other course.’ ‘Hang it, my lord,’ broke out Jack, ‘ don’t stay here talking, but take horse and save yourself. ’Twas a fair quarrel, and poor Will has had the worst of itlooking at his friend, who was now well nigh insensible. His lordship bowed farewell, and taking Jack’s advice he mounted his horse, that was tied to a tree close by, and galloped off. But his second, a Mr Hartwright, who knew and liked William, went up to J ack and said, * Mr Radley, there is a farm close by; shall I go there for assistance ?’ * Ay, do,’ said Jack eagerly. ‘ But quick; I fear he is past hope.’ Mr Hartwright needed no second bidding ; ho dashed off; and Radley was left alone with his friend, fearing that every moment might see the end of Wiliam’s life. The wounded man was quite insensible now, and once or twice Radley thought it was all over; but as he placed his hand on William’s heart he still felt a faint pulsation, and longed—oh, how anxiously !—for Hartwright’s return. He soon came, bringing with him two sturdy farm laborers, bearing on their shoulders a door, the only litter that had been procurable; the mistress of the farm had thoughtfully sent some linen for bandages that was but too welcome. In less than half an hour William was laid comfortably at rest in the best bedroom of the farmhouse ; while Hartwright rode off at full speed to Exeter, there to find a doctor ; and J ack waited by his friend’s bedside, his true heart very sore, for he loved William Templeton as a brother, * Curse Lord Wreford!’ was his most frequent thought as he looked at the frank manly face, now so white and still. ‘ There was something underneath this, I could not take it in last night, but on my life I believe he had a spite against poor Will; those grey eyes of his appeared quite glad when they looked at him lying on the ground. I always hated the man, and now I half believe he is the devil’s own self.’ Hardly fair conclusions, perhaps, from the fact that Lord Wreford had had the better of William in a duel; but Jack Radley, though gifted with a warm heart, a quick temper, and a fair amount of mother-wit, was not largely endowed with the power of reason-

ing, and had quite enough knowledge of Lord Wreford’B previous history to warrant him in believing that there were very few things at which his lordship would stop, and that injuring a man to whom he had taken even a groundless dislike was not one of them, ‘ Jack,’ said a faint voice from the bed. Radley bent over its side, ‘ What is it, Will ? ’ he asked, with a break in his voice. ‘ I wish —stay ; give me some brandy, I feel so weak.’ This was said with long pauses between the words, and each one lower than the last. Radley took out his pocket-flask, and moistened the wounded man’s lips, then poured a little down his throat, and when William next spoke his voice was clearer. 1 You have sent for a doctor? ’ ' Yes.’ ‘ I don’t fancy he can do much. I seem to foci death near, and so— ’ His voice failed again, Radley again wetted his lips with the spirit, and in a moment or two he continued, ‘ If it be bo, I have but one wish : to see her again.’ ‘ Who 7 ’ ‘ Mistress Walwyn. Ah, you do not know ; but, Jack, help mo to see her.’ ‘ How? ’ ‘ Go for her. Who knows how short a time may be left ? ’ ‘ And leave you here ? No, Will, 1 can’t. ‘ I am quite safe. Jack, I must see her ! Do go, there’s a good fellow ! ’ ‘1 tell you I won’t. But stay ; I can send a message—one of the men here can take my horse.’ William seemed satisfied; and Jack, scrawling a short note, intrusted it to the care of the farmer’s eon with strict injunctions to lose no time in riding with it to Walwyn Manor. ‘1 wonder whether this news will move her, cold-hearted coquette that she is. I fear not,’ was Mr Radley’s secret thought, not knowing all the events of the morning. Chapter 111. ‘A letter, madam.’ Mistress Euphemia was wandering listlessly along the alleys of the garden. She had been there ever since her return home, wondering when she would know William’s fate, feeling that she could not go in and talk to her mother with this load on her heart. Lydia’s words made her brain reel suddenly ; had he been safe, he would not have sent. It might not be from him ; it was not in his hand. She tore it open, and read : ‘Madam, —Mr Templeton is wounded, I fear, dangerously; but the doctor has not yet arrived. He prays to see you, and soon, lest your coming should be too late.—From your humble servant, ‘ J. Radley. ‘ Lariggan Farm.’ As she read, Mistress Euphemia felt her heart die within her ; but she would not show her trouble, and her voice was steady as she inquired, ‘ Who brought this ?’ ‘ A farmer’s boy, madam. ’ ‘ Bid him wait, and tell them to resaddle my horse directly. I shall ride back with him. ’ Lydia obeyed, silently marvelling at her mistress’s quietness; she was quite aware of the gist of the messenger’s tidings, having subjected him to a rigid cross-examination before she brought the letter to her lady. She had a shrewd inkling of what direction Mistress Euphemia’s morning ride had taken, and was at a loss how to reconcile her knowledge with her mistress’s quiet coldness. If she, Lydia, had been in her place, she would have cried her eyes out. In a very few minutes Mistress Euphemia was again on horseback, riding as for her life; her companion could scarcely keep up with her, although he was mounted on Radley’s powerful black horse—an animal who, in his owner’s opinion, could not be matched in four counties round. The boy said ever after he had never seen a lady ride so before-straight ahead, seemingly heedless of life or limb. He did not know how her mind was filled with one thought that pierced it more sharply than a spur would lier steed —William was dying, and asking for her. At last the farmhouse ivas reached; before anyone could hold her horse or assist her to alight, Euphemia had sprung to the ground. The farmer’s wife, hearing the clatter of the hoofs, came out; so sad was her face that the little hope the girl had cherished died, and she gasped, ‘ Dead ?’ Ah, the sudden relief from almost choking misery when the woman answered, ‘ No, madam. Thank God !’ ‘ Will he live then ?’ ‘ They do not know. The doctor is here, and says it is nearly an even chance. Ah, here is Mr Radley,’ as Jack appeared on the stairs. He uttered an excla .nation of pleasure at seeing Euphemia, and came down to where she was standing. ‘Can I see him?’ she asked, her voice piteous in its imploring eagerness. ‘ He has been craving for you,’ Radley answered ; ‘ and perchance the sight of you may do more good than any medicine if it quiet him ; for ’tis repose he chiefly needs.’ ‘ Let me go to him,’ was all she said. He led the way to the room where William was lying, now deadly white, his breath coming and going in short gasps, each one of which threatened to again bring on the bleeding, and so end the life whose thread already seemed so weak. As they entered, Ins eyes opened with an expectant glance, which brightened into a look of entirely satisfied desire as ho saw Euphemia. She kuclt down by the side of the bed very gently, driving her fear and hope and sorrow from her heart, so as to speak in a low but unbroken voice. ‘ I have come, dear,’ she said. ‘No,’ she added, as she saw he would have spoken, * do not talk now ; there will be time for that by and by; 1 am not going to leave you.’ This announcement caused the eyes of both the doctor and Jack Hadley to open to the fullest extent. The utter novelty at that time, when sisterhoods and ‘ guilds’ were unknown, of a young lady declaring her intention to nurse a man, bound to her by no ties of kindred, not even engaged to her (as they thought), amazed them, it was impossible; for her sake it could not be allowed. However, at the present moment nothing could be said to her, it being evident that Mr Templeton’s chance of life depended on

her presence; but when, after an hour or so, William sank into sleep, the doctor, an old man, and one who had known Mistress Walwyn from her childhood, drew her aside, and spoke to her gently enough of the danger she would run of the slander of evil tongues. ‘I care not,’ was all she said. He spoke again, urged her for Mr Templeton’s sake as well as her own. ‘Mr Templeton’s sake ! ’ {she repeated. ‘ Why, you yourself owned his life depended on my presence ! ’ The poor old man did not know what to answer. ‘ Let spiteful tongues say their worst,’ she said. ‘ I will not leave the man who is to be my husband for the dread of their false words. The right is on my side; I will stay with him.’ And as she spoke she looked so lovely, her eyes shining like two stars, her cheeks flushed, and her beautiful head thrown back as if in defiance of the world’s sneers, that Doctor Vaughan was fain to be silent, and bow before the firm resolve ho saw he could not shako. ‘Doctor Vaughan,’ she went on, half as if in extenuation of her present conduct, half as in shame of her past folly, ‘do you know what was the cause of this duel ?’ ‘ I have heard something,’ he said confusedly. In truth both he and Jack Radley were strangely puzzled as to the change in Mistress Walwyn’s manner as to William. ‘Yes, do you know,’ * she said. ‘You know that but for me Mr Templeton would not be lying here. If he dies, it is I that have killed him; and yet you would forbid me striving to save his life.’ ‘ No, madam ; but— ’ * But what ?’ They were interrupted by the sound of carriage wheels outside. ‘ What a fool I was !’ cried the old gentleman joyfully. ‘I utterly forgot. Mr Hartwright rode off two hours ago for Madam Templeton, and here she is; it will be all right now.’ ‘ Oh, that I need not face her,’was Euphemia’s only thought. She rose heavily, and went down to the door to receive Madam Templeton. The old lady seemed surprised! at seeing her, and her face wore a look of bitter reproach and indignation against the woman for whose sake her son had endangered his life; it softened, however, as the girl faltered out, ‘You know all? Ah, madam, forgive me! I would give my life for his:’ All Madam Templeton’s anger melted away, and she only answered, ‘ My poor child, I did not know you loved him.’ So those two women, so different, yet drawn so near together by their common love and griefs, clung to each other in that hour, in such close sympathy that the bond then formed was never broken, but lasted with their lives. ‘ Will he die V at last asked the mother. * No, madam, no,’ said Mistress Euphemia, her voice strong in an assured hope ; ‘lam sure he will not. God will not take him away from us who love him so well. I know he will live.’ And he did live; always to say and believe that their love saved him, that he could not die when his life was so much desired by those two hearts. ***** Summer had faded into autumn, and the yellow leaves strewed the turf paths of the garden of Walwyn Manor, before the two we saw there at the beginning of my tale were again straying along them arm-in-arm. They seem scarcely changed since when we saw them first. William is fast regaining health and strength ; ami as for Mistress Euphemia, at her age it must be bitter sorrow indeed that will leave lasting traces on‘brent brow and bonny skin.’ Mistress Walwyn’s face is as fair, her cheek as rounded, her smile as bright as they were four months ago ; the light in her dark eyes may be softer, the sweet clear laugh lower and gentler than of old, but to all outward seeming she is the same dazzling, bewitching creature as ever. ‘Then,’ says Mr Templeton, ‘it shall be before November ?’ * Oh, as you will! “If it were clone when ’tis done, then ’twore well it were done quickly,” as Garrick says in the play.’ ‘lf you wish otherwise,’ begins Mr Templeton. But she stops him. ‘ Will you never learn when I am in jest ?’ she says, laying her hand on his arm and looking into his face, her whole expression deepening and softening as she speaks. ‘ Have it as you will; I only care for what pleases you. And indeed,’ she adds laughing, ‘his time we were married, that I may teach you to know me better.’ ‘ Forgive me !’ ‘lt is little to forgive; but, sweetheart, you must trust me; you know I love you.’ ‘I have reason to,’ he answers; ‘and yet, when I look at you, and think how many better men failed to win yo i, can you wonder I scarce dare believe my own happiness V ‘lt was your fault all along,’ she says. ‘ You were too luimble; had you been bolder, I had been easier won. You called me your queen once,’ she continues, in a brighter tone. ‘ Trust me, your queeu will be true to the oath she swore at her coronation. ’ ‘ What was that ? he asks. ‘To love and honour for ever him who raised her to her throne. ’