LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1839, 15 January 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A QUEEN OF TBUMPS,

(Continued.)

' By the Lord Harry I' h"» burst out, with an oath, which I refrain from quoting accurately. ' But you are a clever Jgirl ! 1 knew you were—l knew you'd do it, as soon as I eaw you in your fine clothes ; and I'd have laid teu thousand pounds to one on it, and I'd have won, I must give you a kiss for that, Polly, as I'm a living man Why, what's come to you, that you look as if I'd said I must knock you down ? You musn't be so particular. But never mhid ; here's the thing, sure enough, and now your mother's name's as clean as a whistle.'

Somehow this man, with his foul face and looks, and his coarse speech, had never Beem-cl completely odious to her before. Was it he or she who had changed since the carriage was overturned ? •Yes,' he went on, 'and you oan crow over the lot of them now. Knt how did you manage it so quick ? I didn't expect you back for a week to come You did the ane'e dodge as if you'd been spraining yourself all over ever since you were born. I was half afraid the doctors would have been too much for you ; I own the doctor frightened me How did you manage it so soon ? We can't talk much now ; for as soon as Danvers told me you were back I had you put up for tke Queen of Trapezia, just arrived from Samarcand, and you'll have to get ready for the morning performance at two. There's the bill.'

* I could have put my hand on it,' she said, ' days ago. I fonnd it the seventh night of my search.' ' Why didn't you, then Y he asked sharply. ' Because —because I was at rest, and happy. I had never known what it meant before '

' If yon were ao happy there I wonder yon didn't stay on.' ■ I could not have stayed one night more—not one hour. But that's nothing to you. Are you satisfied ?' * I'm hanged if I can make out what's come to you to-day, Poll—you're so stuckup and. glum. Want of exercise, I suppose. You'd better take an hour before the performance, to get back into trim. Yes, I'm satisfied. Be off with you, and come back at half-past three; we'll talk then, and I'm late, and I've got everything to attend to.'

The girl went away, and was miserable. A deep discontent, growing out of herself, and not out of circumstance, was upon her. It bad setmed so simple and natural—so amusing, even—to fall In with a scheme which, she was told, wonld tell her who the mother, whom she dimly remembered, har! been, and would prove herself to be, a real lady. She had thought it very kind of Mr Seymour to take so much trouble for her as to dress her up for a Princess, and contrive her entrance into the house where she was informed the magical document woali be found.

She was something more than a born actress, I fear—a born actress, whose true stage is that of the world, with very real writers, hansom cabs, dupeß and knaves. Had tho dramatists of the seventeenth century been entrusted with the mating of the world, she would assuredly have been one of the world's heroines. But now all the flavor of it had gone. Even if she had not really wronged the Eaymonds, who had been so kind to her, she felt as if she had |wronged them in a deeper way thin can be measured by money. And then Prank's lcve madness —that he should throw it away upon hor now, and hate her if he ever came to know all, made her feel heart broken.

It seemed to signify nothing anymore that she was a mere waif of a show, nameless and friendless ; it seemed so idle now to wart to think of herself as a lady, or to rare to know the name* of a dead father and mother She had Ratisfied Mr Seymour with a new proof of her cleverness, and he w< uld probably show her the contents of the paper—pro bably give Ifc to her ; and then she would say thank you, and go back to her trapeze with as light a weight as ever, except in that heart which weighs so little, and therefore—everything. Then ehe though*: : 'What couid it all have concerned Mr Seymour? What did her ladyship, or non ladyship signify to him ? ' The thought had not a! ruck her before ; but now, seeing him with her new eyes, she could not help wor.dering. Could she have really injured the Raymonds after all ? She felt that she ought to have killed herself sooner, Of light and wrong she knew nothing: but it may be taken that the inatiuct of gratitude is strongest a'ways among savages, and weakens as we rise, until, indeed, we reach the highest point of all. And she owed the Baymond'a more than a few days' rest j she owed them more than she knew*

Bat, though she could not know, she could feel. With a heavy and anxiouß heart under her roy.il robe 3 (very tight and pi' k, such as the Queens of Trapezia wear), she went to her master's private caravan a few minutes before 3.30.

' Polly,' siid he, ' take a chair to the foorlight. Yon see this bit of paper. What'Jl you give me for it, please 1 A kiss, you'll say! No, no; that won't do this time. You wouldn't when I asked you, and it's too late now. In money, I mean. Business is bad, and I must get what 1 can.'

' Vou mean to tell me that you must cut down the salaries? Very well,' she said, feeling as indifferent as she seemed. ' I shall be aerry for Danvers, though. You had better keep bis up and cut ma down double!' ' Danveia be banged! Salary, indeed ! I'm going to sell yon this litt'e bit of paper for £10,0(0.' She opcnel her eyes wide. ' To whom V ' To you.' • What—' ' Listen to me. It's the law. yon know, that if a man has a child and a younger brother, and dies without a will, the child gets a'l the land and all the money. That's quito clear. Well, your father, Polly, wan a very rich man, and a very great fool. He married a horse-rider at Astley's. I remember h r, a'd him. Oh, yea, he married her j that's all right enough. Didn't I tell yon he was a fool. But he had a brother who waß a bigger fcol still. The elder fool wanted to undo h's marriage, and his wife, who must have been a born idiot, was afraid he'd get hold of the certificate and destroy it. So what does she do but give the document for safety to the younger brother—Just the man who had more reason to destroy it than anybody ; unless, indeed, he'd keep it for awhile io keep hi 3 brother from marrying again, which of coarse it would do, and then, if anything happened to your mother's child, he'd be all right. Perhaps that was bis game ; and if it was, perhaps I called him a fool too soon. Bat he'd been kinder to your mother than her husband had been, and so perhaps she trusted him. Do you under stand ?'

'Yes,' said she. 'The elder brother married and had a child, and she gave the younger brother her marriage lines to keep safe for her.'

' That'B the whole story in a word. Yet, Polly, you're a clever girl j and I'm not sure I won't marry you before I've done. Well, things went on, and when the child was about twelve months old the mother couldn't stand it, and cut and run. No, Polly, not with anybody. She came back to the old life for a living, and told me her story. I soon saw what you were fit for, and, thanks to me, you've paid me for your keep long ago. But, you see, business is bad, and you might break your back, or anything. Of course, I thought of all that when I took you in, but I laid my plans.' • Well, Mr Seymour ?'

' Well, I'm coming to it, aren't I. Your mother died, but of course I could make no move in your interest yet awhile. I had to wait till your father died, about two years azo, and then there's not a fool will believe it, his brother came out strong as a fool. He positively advertised for his brother's heir '

' For me ? And you said nothing ?' ' Oh, yes, I did ; I went to the lawyer, and so I came to know that the marriage lines, as you call them, were all alive. That was his folly ; he ought to have burned those lines. But take my word for it, Folly, when a man's a fool he's always a rascal And so, not being qnite a fool myself, I managed at last to see through his game. He was pretty sure the child was dead, or else, thought he, it would have turned up long ago. But, he goes on thinking, people shan't say, whatever happens, that I didn't do all 1 could to find it. So I'll see what happens. If a child doesn't turn up, the paper's no use to anybody, even if it isn't destroyed. If a child does turn up, IM challenge her to prove her claim; and I know she won't be able, all her evidence is safe in my own hands; and if the worst comes to the worst, I can destroy it then. Of course, he wouldn't have argned like this if he hadn't been a fool as well as a rascal; but then he is a fool. Do yon see ? (To he continued.)