Chapter 111.

Otago Witness, Issue 1024, 15 July 1871, Page 19

Chapter 111.

MR. LOyGCLUSE OPEXS HIS HEART. The old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and stood close to the pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as ' shadows stand the horse and tax cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now at length appear. The gro»m fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on Mr. Longcluse' s peculiar face. " Ay — the voice ; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. "It went through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face ; and yet there's summat in it, just a hint like, to call my thoughts out aseeking, up and down, and to and fro ; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find the truth. Mace ? No, no. Langly ? Not he. Yet 'twas summat that night, I think — summat awful. And who j was there ? No one. Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, 0 Lord ! for my heart is sore troubled. " Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his hand, and ho and his companion passed swiftly by the window, and the flash of the lamps crossed the panelled walls of the housekeeper's room. The light danced wildly from corner to corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows of two geraniums in bow pots ! on the window-stool. The lamps flew by, and sh 1 * still stood there, with the palsied shake of her head and hand, looking out into the darkness, in rumination. Arden and Longcluse glided through J tho night air in silence, under the mighty old trees that had witnessed generations of Ardens, down the darker, narrow road, and by the faded old inn, once famous in those regions as the " Guy of Warwick," representing still on its board, in tarnished gold and colours, that redoubted champion, with a boar's head on the point of his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly about his horse's legs.

As they passed swiftly along this smooth and deserted road, Longcluse spoke. Aperif prweordia v'mum. In hia brandy and water he had not spared alcohol, and the quantity was considerable. "I have lots of money, Arden, and I can talk to people, as you say," he suddenly said, as if Richard Arden had spoken but a moment before ; " but, on the whole, is there on earth a more miseiable dog than I ? There are things that trouble me that would make_ yon laugh ; there are others that would, if 1 dare tell them, make you sigh. Soon I shall be able ; soon you shall know all. _ I'm not a bad fellow. I know how to give away money, and, what is harder to bestow upon others, my time and labour. But who to look at me would believe it 1 I'm not a worse fellow than Penruddock. I can cry for pity and do a kind act like him ; but I look in my glass, and I also feel like him, 'the mark of Cain' is on me — cruelty in my face. Why should Nature write on some men's faces such libels on their characters 1 Then here's j another thing to make yon laugh — you, a [handsome fellow, to whom beauty belongs, I &ay, by riyht of birth. — it would make me lau«h also if I were not, as I am. forced every hour I live to count up, in agonies of hope and terror, my chances in that enterprise in which all my happiness for life is staked so wildly. Common lU'liness does not matter, it ia got over. I Bnt such a face as mine ! Came, come ! [ you are too good-natured to say. I'm "not asking for consolation ; I am only summing up my curses." " You make too much of theße. Lady May thinks your face, she says, -very jnteresting — upon my honour, she does." " Oh, heaven !" exclaimed Mr. Long" clu<?e, with a shrug and a laugh. There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and then, on a Bndden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth— " What has a follow like me to do with love ? and less than beloved, can I ever be happy? I know something of the world— not of thiß London world, where I live less than I seem to do, and into which I came too late ever to understand it thoroughly— l know something of a greater world, and human nature is the same everywhere. You talk of a girl's pride inducing her to marry a man for the sake of his riches. Could I possess my beloved on those terms ? I would rather placo a pistol in my mouth, and blow my skull off. Arden, I'm unhappy ; I'm the Huist miserable dog alive." " Come, Longcluse, that's all nonsense. Beauty is no advantage to a man. The being agreeable is an immense one. But success is what women worship, and if, in addition to that, you possess wealth — not, as I said, that they are sordid, but only vain-glorious — you become very nearly irresistible. Now you are agreeable, successful and wealthy — you must see what i follows." I "I'm out. of spirits," said Longcluse, and relapsed into Bilence, with a great sigh. By this time they had got within the lamps, and were threading streets, aud rapidly approaching their destination. Five minutes more, and these gentlemen had entered a vast room, in the centre of which stood a billiard-table, with benches rising tier above tier to the walls, and a gallery running round the building above them, brilliantly lighted, as such places are, and already crowded with all kinds of people. There is going to be a great match of a "thousand up" played hetween Bill Hood and Bob Markham. The betting has been unusually high ; it is still going on. The play won't begin for nearly half an hour. The " admirers of the game" have mustered in great force and variety. There are young peers, with sixty thousand a year, and there are gentlemen -who live by their billiards. There are, for once and away, grave persons, bankers, and counsel learned in the law ; there are Jews and a sprinkling of foreigners ; and there are Members of Parliament and members of the swell mob. Mr. Longcluse has a good deal to think abf>ut this night. He is out of spirits. Richard Arden is no longer with him, having picked up a friend or two in the room. Longcluse, with folded arms, and his shoulders against the wall, is in a profound reverie, his dark eyes for the time lowered to the floor, beside the point lof his French boot. There unfold themselves beneath him picture after picture, the scenes of many a year ago. Looking down, there creeps over him an old. horror, a supernatural disgust, and he I sees in the dark a pair of wide, white eyes, staring up at him in an agony of terror, and a shrill yell, piercing a distance of many years, makes him shake his ears with a sudden chill. Is this the witches' Sabbath of our pale Mephistopheles — his night of goblins l He raised hi 3 eyes, and they met those of a person whom he had not seen for a very long time — a third part of his whole life. The two pairs of eyes, at nearly half .'across the room, have met, and for a moment

fixed. The stranger smiles and nods Mr. Longcluse does neither. He affects now to be looking over the stranger's shoulder, at some more distant object. There is a strange chill and commotion at h\s heart.