OUT OF THE COMMON.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 838, 23 March 1888, Page 8

OUT OF THE COMMON.

WHO WERE THEY ?

A MALTESE APPARITION,

EY THE MARQUIS OF LORNK, (Concluded.)

So he basely, as I told him, deserted us. Grinning at me and lifting his hat when we had passed the main gate, he crossed the street we had now reached, going over to the other side, and disappeared around the corner of the Strada Mezzodi. He need not have been shy, for there was no one about. A picket of a Highland regiment slowly paced tha sidewalk ; the useless lantern carried by one of thorn when there were gaslamps all about, provoked from my fair companions the first question they had put to me for some time. In reply I ventured to ask how far they wanted me to accompauy them. But all the answer I got was the pointing with a lovely hand down the Strada Reale. I felt it would be rude to follow my companion. We l'eached the square and descended the slope whence two centuries ago the Turkish fire had been so pitilessly directed against St. Elmo, There, at the end of the vista formed by the street, was the fort, rising from the ground below us, with the Bea beyond distinctly visible in the moon-light. I looked at my companions. Their eyes were directed straight in front of them, toward the fort, with a little frown on tbeir brows. The gaslights helped me to take stock of them, and I beoame more and more interested and puzzled by their appearance. They spoke English fairly, and had denied knowledge of Italian, but said they knew Maltese, and yet that their own lan gnage was not Maltese, though akin to it. Their features seemed bolder than the Grecian typ6, very refined, and the eyes very full, and dark, and expressive. Their eyebrows and eye-lashes were long and marked. The lady who had put most of the questions, and had first called to us, and seemed to be the elder, was of striking prettiness, indeed, beauty. But the veils concealed the month, aud I made up my mind to find out more about them if possible. They turned to the left, and we were soon at the doorway of a very handsome house, not of the largest size by any means, but one of stateliness and pretension. A low gate of open ironwork separated the entrance to it from the street. The lady who had spoken bo much to me turned to me and said with a perfect manner that she would nob say good-bye to me until I had seen ‘ her dwelling.’ I bowed, and she rang a bell that hung at the side of some wide and handsome steps. These rose at least six feet up to a double door. We did not wait a moment before this was opened. To my surprise I saw the large hall within brilliantly lighted. I had been accustomed to be astonished at the beauty and size of orange gardens and parterres hidden behind blank yellow stone walls while I had been in Malta, and I knew that a bare outside often held a spacious and smiling court full of fine plants, flowers and architecture. But that at this late hour a hall should blaze with lights in a private house where no assembly was taking place, and where these two ladies lived, as I had understood, temporarily and alone, wa3 unusual, to say the least; and my wonder increased, for I saw at the further end a number of servants in Eastern costume, who saluted profoundly as we entered. And the hall was all carved Maltese stonework, while the floor was apparently of fine marble. Great oleander and flue orange plants stood along the walls in elaborately fashioned vessels. Beyond a balustrade and perforated screen of ■ wooden lattice rose the tops of trees planted in a garden from which the sea air came, causing a pleasant coolness with the draaght from some wide stairs. To these stairs I was led, and we ascended to a large landing, an ante-place to another hall, off which were smaller apartments. To this central one we went, and I observed that it had been the fancy of the owner to no modem furniture in European chairs and tables, but that the low divans and cushions and carpets of the Eaßt were ranged around. I was motioned to recline on one of these gorgeous couches, and thought that at last I should at all events Bee the faces unveiled pi my two friends.

They sat down Turkish fashion, graciously smiling at me ; and I saw very well-shaped little feet cased in embroidery that showed manifest traces of dust, but which shone notwithstanding, with gold needle-work. Their dress I now remarked was of very fine stuff of a light grey-blue tone, but was evidently only an outer garment which concealed, as I thought, some costume which matched more in color with the gold-em-broidered shoes. I was no longer teased with the voice coming from an invisible mouth. The veil around the head and throat was laid aside, and a beautifully modeled countenance was shown. My younger companion was small and evidently not full grown ; but the one who all along had been chief spokeswoman was, though not of what is called ‘fine tournure,’ of most perfectly shaped and attractive figure. The fair skin had almost dusky shades, and the little round throat rose in absolute symmetry from the shoulders, which showed at the busom a glimpse of scarlet and gold, apparently a part of a very rich dress, worn below the fine grey * overalls.’ A servant looking as though he had been imported from some old-fashioned bazaar at Constantinople where turbans may yet bo found, came, as soon as we ware seated, with coffee in a tray

of wondrous workmanship, and then—wonder of wonders !—I was offered cigarettes and my hostesses begantosmoke ! There was throughout my short experience of them nothing ‘flirtatious’ in their ways. They smiled, spoke and acted as though they were wellborn, inquisitive children. Their manner was perfectly natural and was lively and oharming, without a tinge of coquetry. _ It was unlike anything I had ever met wPh, and I did not, as I said afterward, ‘quite know how to take them.’ I may have been a little confused. Certainly I felt strange and net quite at ease. I felt inclined to aak as many questions as the lady who had bored my friend by asking so many. But I had no opportunity. I remember fumbling for my cigarette-holder. I remember thinking the time had passed very quickly, when I found both ladies on their feet and wishing me good night as a manifest signal that my visit was over. I remember vowing that I must see more of them, and making my best bow as they retired through another door than that by which I entered. A servant salaamed to me as though I were in India, and I followed him down the stairs and took another look at the hall. Above an arch there was a word inscribed whioh I had not seen on entering. It was ‘ Bismillah’ in ornamental letters. I heard the doors of this brilliantly lit hall close behind me. I went home and slept soundly. Next morning when at the club I called for tobacco, and searched my pocket for my cigarette holder. ‘I must have loft it at home,’ I thought ; and as it was a favorite I weDt to my quarters, searched, but could not find it. "Returning to the club I thought I must have left it at the strange ladies’ house. I went down stairs and, giving the porter the address, asked him to go and inquire for it of one of the servants. I was reading one of the last English papers just arrived by the mail when he returned. ‘ Well, have you got it ?’ ‘No, sar ;• you can’t have left it at that house. There’s no one there.’ *No one there ! —what do you mean ? I was there yesterday.’ ‘No one there to-day, sar,’ he said. ‘Oh, nonsense,’ I replied; ‘l’ll go myself,’ and in no patient temper sallied out again. There could be no mistake about the street or house. There it was. A small chain waa round the centre bars of the little folding iron gate. I climbed over and rang the bell. It sounded loudly, apparently in the hall. No answer. I rang again, and then knocked, and rang repeatedly. Then an old Maltese from over the way came, and said : ‘ You want anything, sar ? What can Ido for you, sar ? Get woman, sar ?’

‘ What do you mean?’ I said angrily, ringing agaiD. ‘No one in house, ear ; woman got key. ‘Go and fetch her, then,’ I said, wondering if I could possibly have made a mistake. No ;it wa3 impossible. I had taken special note of the address. The woman came with the key—an old woman with a large key.

* You want to see the house, sar ?’ she said. ‘Give me something.’ * Yes, yes, yes,’ I replied angrily and impatiently ; ‘ open the door, will you ?’ I did not believe I could have been mistaken. I was sure I was not. But why did the place look so unlike the appearance it bore yesterday ? The woman applied the big key to a lock that looked as rusty and old as if it had been left out in the rain for a mouth, and bad been unattended to. ‘No one live here, sar,’ said the woman ; but I swore under my breath and only said, * Open will you ?’

The key grated and turned with difficulty. I pushed the door violently and almost rushed into the hall. There it was; just as I remembered it, as far as space and height was concerned ; but where were the plants in splendid vessels, where the turbaned servants, the fine marbles and the polish and brightness of yesterday night ? All was dust and dilapidation, and gloom and dirt. There was no maible; there was no plants. Even the court beyond showed a waste. I felt my head spinning. Well, had it been spinning the night before ? Certainly not. My friend could bear witness that I was as cool as a cucumber, as sober as Mahommed in his most unalcoholic moments. Goodness gracious ! What, could I be mad ? I sprang up the wide stairs up which I had been led by my (were they fairy ?) hostesses of the night before. No ; I must have been in my sober senses, for .1 remembered every step. There was the largo landing place, there was the groat room at the top, and there were the doors leading to the smaller apartments. But all was fusty and musty and dusty. Pah ! how it got up one’s nostrils ! I stormed into the little room. No cushions, no divans, do carpets ! Dust, dust everywhere ! ‘Ah ! but there at 'least is my cigarette-holder !’ I stooped and picked it up from almost half an inch of dust. I blew upon it and cleared tho dust away. On the meerchaum, above the amber, were letters. I wiped it hastily on my sleeve. ‘Bismillah,’ apparently burnt into the half-hrown-colored meerschaum, stood out in dark letters. ‘What the deuce can be the matter with me ?’ I kept on saying to myself. I have that cigarette-holder yet, and it proves to me that I was not dreaming. But who wore they. (The End. )