LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3488, 16 June 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SORELY TEMPTED.

BY ANNIE OtABB, (Concluded.)

_ " You mean, am I certain thafc she is my niece from Scotland?" Mr Irving inquires, with a half-amused smile. "Certainly I am ! There can be very little doubt on that point, doctor ! The letters and papors found in her possession put her identity boyond all question.

Late in tho afternoon of the day that follows, the subject of the foregoing conversation, still weak and helpless aB a child, lies white and wan among tho pillows with whick tho nurse has propped her up in bed, her largo, hopeless eyes, no longer vacant and meaningless with fever and delirium, wandering .with a pitiful, troubled expression around the luxurious apartment and tho many costly trifles with which she finds herself surrounded.

On a small table near tho bed stand tho remains of a tempting repast, consisting of ehicken, jelly, a glass of wine, a basket of hothouse grapes and peaches; and the door, opening softly, admits a quiet, respectable woman vith a* tiny basket of violets and tuberroees in her hand.

" Oh, how lovely, and how exquisitely arranged, too ! Where did they come from P" — and thepalefuco lights up with tho faintest possiblo glow of pleasure as the weak voico asks the question. , "Mr Irving lias just brought thom homo with him from the city. Ho sent them up with hiskind loVe, ancl desired me to tell you that he is delighted to heßr you ore so much better to-day j and as the doctor hasgiven permission, he intends coming up to see you as soon as ho has dined. Really, my doar," tho nurso remarks, "you aro vory fortunate in having such an uncle as Mr Irving— not so much that he is ono of the wealthiest mon in New York, as that, in his quicfc, undemonstrative way, ho is as kind and generous as ho is rich."

\ A curious, half -frightened, hal£sickened expression sweeps over the polo face ; the feeble hands draw back from tho fresh blossoms they have bo gratefully taken; and dosing her eyes, the invalid hes baok faint and exhausted on the pillow, as if under tho weight of some painful thought. ! "Tell mo," Ehe said at last, fixing an eager look on the woman, ; who^ bonds over her with the suddenly awakened fear thafc tho poor, feeble brain has. once, more takon to wander, " how you— how Mr Irving rather came to know who I was ?"

j " Well, my dear, there wasn't the slightest difficulty about that. Somo letters, and above all, your own journal, found upon you when pickod up from the wreck, entiroly settled all doubt on that point. Aud that reminds mo that Mr Irving desired mo to give you this packet. It ontains the papers by means of which you were identified," she adds, taking up the tray nnd turning away, utterly unconscious of the look of anguish that comes into the white pained faco on tho pillow. " And they have mistaken mo for hor— for tlie poor girl who is dead at the bottom of tho Atlantic!" she ga3ps, as the door closes behind tho nurse. "I knew it— l was quito certain that all this caro and kindness could never have heen meant "for Zaxe..Z And to think, ifc should all have been intonded for ono who is far beyond all need of it. As for me I. have nothing to do but-explain the mistake and go out,- poor, friendless and alone, into tho pitiless streets of New York," she adds, glancing through, the pages of the little journal in which it had been poor Helen Monteith's habit to note tho small events of her quiet lifo, and in tho last entry of which, dated March 7, and made on tho lasfc day on board the ill-fated Odessa, she comef upon a grateful mention of the writer's friend and follow passenger, Nora Dano, which brings a mistiness to her eyes, a quiver to her lips. • "And to think that death should have taken her, for whom life held bo much, and spared me, to whom it would have been so welcome— who have nothing but sorrow and misery to look forward fco in the future.

•fruly heaven s ways aro post all human com- i prehension 1 * she thinks as sho hes book with closed eyes, slowly revolving the situation— r&' : situation out of which a vague idea, a dim^uggestion of evil, is slowly growing up. P What if she Bhould yield herself passively to the tido of circumstances on which sho has been bo unconsciously drifting ? What if elm should let fchem gji on believing her to bo .Helen Monteith.? What harm could it do =any;.onb? On the other hand, would it be limy, kindness to Jar Irving tp r*b him of .tho "mistake is evidently giving Jum? Would it be any kindness to tell him that the real Helen, for whom he has beeu so : anxiously waiting is lying dead at the bottom of tho seaP^ It is through no fault of hers that the mistake has originated— it can-do no wrong- to let it go on, and above all, how is she. from the depth of her terrible lauguor and weaknoss to summon the necessary -strength, and. resolution to turn her back upon the pleasant home and tendor care that might still be hers, and go oufc into the cold, dark world of which her experience has been so {Htter. She has nothing to do but to" keep; edont, and as to fear of dotection, so-far as she can see there is nono. What then shall sho do ? Shallshe inform Mr Irving of Lis *niistake,jor shall sho^-" ": '.. .......... i But beforo she has decided, the doors open, Jl i ,d ;- D ? r I^ing, lightly agitated by, the, pleasure of the meeting and the fear of unduly' iexcitingtho patient, comes in, takes .her hand, and goes on, in a gentle, fatherly way .that jges straight to her heart, to toll her the WeasOTe-W feels m having her with, him-rof" his deep gratitude to" Heavetf •' that lias u go miraculously Spared hor to him. ' r -■■■'-.-

• There is something in his kindness thot is at once a. reproof for the deception she has ' thought to practice upon hira. and a temptation to persevere in it. V* Rut noi,. Better " poverty and loneliness in : the streets of "New York than ease and luxury purchased at tLp price of truth " and self-respect j and, come what "may, she will tell Mm. But, as she' opens her lips to mako the confession, Mr Irving, seeing -her agitation, and fearing for the consequences, gently refuses to allow her to speak, and, having soothed her into quietness, takes his departure. -- -'- -- y Still itis not too latej .she. will' tell him to-morrew, sho thinks, liopiiig to feol braver apd stronger then. . But, when tomorrow comes, instead of easier, tho task has grown harder than ever; and dayr after day slips fiast.and the confession is still unspoken; .and Mr Irving, whoso pride and affection for his supposed niece inoreases-with every hour, always thinks i nothing too good fori her — nothing too costly. Books, flowors, dresses, anything and everything that can by any possibility afford her pleasure are lavisheef upon her without stint— and. always with a delicate kindnoss that reudcr's'"the gift doubly accoptable— among the chief of which is an elegantly-appointed carriage, in whioh r the moment she is strong onough, ho insists Upon her taking a daily airing in Central Park, an' exercise that has such a visibly benofloial effect that Mr Irving, glancing across the breakfast-table to the pale, beautiful girl who aits there one morning, 'some few weeks later, is emboldened, to make the . following remark :—

11 1 am expecting a friend to dine with me this evening, Helen— an Englishman, in whose very.neoHliar and sorrowful history I am deeply interested j and, if you do not think the fatigue of dining with us would bo too groat for you, I ahould very much liko you to meet him." .. .

Thankful for tho opportunity of gratifying him even in so small a thing as this, she gives tho required promise ; and Mr Irving, who is already beginning to anticipate the pleasuro it will afford him to witness thb iiripressions ho has no manner of doubt Helen's beauty and talent are destined to make on New York society, goes off to his office down town, which in spite of a rather unusual press bf business, he contrives to leaVe a little earlier than usual this afternoon for the purpose of making a call at Tiffany's on his yMy hoffijjk Arrived at his own houso, he eerifia up;- a'anes?age to his nicco that ho desires to see her for a few minutes in the librar ■ "'"

y. Sho sees at a glance, as sho enters the room, for what ho has sent for her. A handsome set of cameo3 lio in a" Uttle open velvet case on the table j and, as he takes thom up arid places them with his kindly smile in her hand, a' deep, unutterable senso of shame, guilt, and utter unworthiness sweeps over her. " Oh, Mr Irving, indeed I cannot ! I dare nofc eo impose upon your goodness—upon your great good-nature !" Bhe cries, in a sudden burst of shame and self-reproach as sho draws back shuddoringly from tho proffered gift. " Alas, Mr Irving, if you only knew— if you only suspected how vory far 1 am from deserving all this, how utterly unworthy of your great goodness !" " Of that, my doar, you must allow me to bo tho judge," ho returns, surprised at her words, and altogether afc a loss to understand her agitation. " There can euroly be nothing in tbo fact of my desiring to seo you adorned as becomes my niece thot need givo you pain — nothing that I can giro you in return for womanly presence and sympathy thafc you need hesitate to accept P But I sco how it is, my dear ; you havo a little ovor-rateel your strength after all. You had bettor go to your room and rest a little."

Por ono moment, touched by his. goodness, and swayed by somo uncontrollable impulse, she stands looking into tho kindly troubled fueo tliat Bbames her by its very tenderness and 6olicitudo, and the next she castß herself at his feet and iB pouring forth a passionate confession of the shameful deception Bhe has practiced upon him. " Not my nieco P .Not Helen Monteith ?" he cries at last, looking at her with a strango incredulous Btare. " Good heavens, child, are you inad, or am I ? .1 don't understand ! If you are nofc my noico from Scotland, in heaven's namo who aro you ? Whero is sho ?" ho adds, his .voice boginning to tremble.

" Dead ! Tho real Helen Monteith perished on that terriblo night when tho Odessa went down. But she is afc pence ! you havo little oauso to grieve for that gentle soul, Mr Irving; Bhe is far happier than even you could have made her, with aU your wealth and loving-kindne6s." " Dead !" ho repeats, sinking back helplessly into tho nearest chair. " Helen Monteith dead ? Who, then, arc you ?"

" I was a passongcr on board the same ship, and b:ing liko your neice, alone and friendless on the voyage, I offered .her my companionship, which was gladly accepted. 'From the first it 6cemed as if Eome mysterious bond of sympathy drew "us together, and before wo had been three doys at sea, wo felt as if we had been friends for yeurs. Thero wa9 somothing in hor gentle, truEtf ul nature tliat made me love her, and when at lsst thero camo upon us that dreadful night of darkness, shipwreck and death, I would gladly have laid down iny life to havo saved her—no gi*eafc sacrifice perhaps, considering whafc a hopeless life ifc was I had to look forward to. * But you" know tho details of that terriblo calamity, Mr Irving — how whon the vessel was struck the suddenlyawakened passengera, frantic with terror, rushed upon deck to find tho ■ black waves -beiitiug over, it with' terrible force,. and iho ship rapidly sinking. la_tho dariness and confusion of that, terrible moment every ono seized upon the first article of clothing that camo to hand, and distinctly remember Helen liandiDg me something and telling mo to put it on over my night dress, and that explains the fact of tho letters and papors being found in my possession. On gaining tho deck wc stood apart froni tho rest, clinging to eaeh other in our helpleßsnesß and despair, waiting for death. In tho hope of saving fcho women and children, the captaiu and a few brave mon among the . crew .euccoeded, in spite of ; tho confusion, in launching a boat, and just as ifc was about -to push off somebody culled out' that thero was room for ono more. I thought of Helen, a frantic desire to save hor took possession of mo ; but she would hot listen to my entreaties— she would not leave me. It was her ono chanco— for wo were sinking fast. Tearing hor arms from my neck, 1 called to ono of tho sailors, begging him to lower her into ifc. Ho did as I prayed him, and a moment later, as tho crowdsd boat pushed off, the phosphorescent gleam of tho rough night sea showed me her whito frightened face, straining up to me from i below. That was tho Jast I saw of her. Tho boat was swamped before our eyes, and iti j another moment the ship tolled over and went down. Thc noxt thing of jviickl am I conscious is of waking up and findingmyself safo in your houso ; and then camo the terrible temptation to remain silent and suffer the mistake to go on. But, oh, Mr L-ving, before you quite despise mo— before you quite cast rao oUfc from you pity and forgiveness, IcFnio try to tell you how my heart hungered for the care and tenderness I had been lemnted to usurp!" "My d , e ar," he says, drawing her tenderly up j i ,? her humiliating position, "sit down andtell me you story quietly. You have re-

pontcd of your error 5 Yheroforo you will nob fiqd me a very harsh j udge." And, bowing her face in her bands, the shrinking woman repeats, uloooßt word for werd, the story to. which poor littlo Helen Monteith listened a fow weeks bof ore on board the Odessa, ontiroly unconscious of the expression on the face of hor listener— an expression that changes as she goes on from *' deep pity arid interest to one of astonished ;- incredulity, and finally joyful arcazomont. - , My dear child," he says at last, drawing : away the hand with which she is still shading her eyes, "look up and thank heaven that, great as your sorrow and temp 1 at ion have " been, thoy arc over at last. Depond upon ifc, . your coming to me has been no moro oWee. J He whose -nil-merciful . loto over-rules our J destiny has d ne moro for you than you know >j or expoefc. Don't etarh, don't fniut, my dear, . when I tell you that the friend who is to dine ' .with me this evening is nono other than Major Ellistori— your hu-buud ! Don't look ' at tao with that surprised and frightened \ expression, my -tear. I speak advisedly. He " is your -htislfthd.- The "wretched woman who - 7 has beon the causo of so much misery and • App ehension between you died nine months '■ njoiti a London hosptul, after confessing to ; " EUiaton, for whom, sho had sent in remorse, - tbat she had never in reility poißesscd the "\ slightest claim u;on him, she having had a husband living at tho timo of the * supposed marriage— a piece of intelligence that hns so far -brought him littlo comfort, 4Joor ( fellow.s . for; in spite of his coasolesß ' ''' -lnqumee, his tireless efforts tofindyou, he •«• has heard nothing of you since fcho night you -left Munich. Threo monthß ago, possessed br some strange premonition that you wouli sooner, or later find your way to the States, he "Z cAme to New York, whero I had the good v •fortune to make his acquaintance 5 . and, dhnvn together by a strong natural sympathy, he has conflded to mo tho sad story of Ins life, little dreaming that it would ever bo my *' good fortune to restore to him his long-lo3t '"-' wife, for whom ho has mourned so deeply." But the conclusion of Mr Irving's kindly remarks falls on dullod ears 5 his listener has •fallen back ina dead faint into her Beat Joy seldom kills however,- and, very much to Mr Irving's relief, tho whito lips and eyelids un- : close at last, and she is looking up into his "' face and asking him a huudred questions '"' about the man who, with an ineffable thrill of joy and gratitude, sho is once moro frco to ; oall her husband.

- •.'Ol^thot I coiild but feel that I have Z deserved this great happineßß!" Bho exclaims ; at lost, tears of gaatitudo trombliug in the eager dark eyes ds Bhe Bpeaks. "Use every man after his desert, and who Z should 'scape whipping?" is tho gentle ' reply. "You havo been Borely tried, niy ' dear j and .1 am afraid there are not many ' ' of us who could have gone through such an ordeal of temptation entirely unscathed. Remember, I havo fully and entiroly forgiven you— a reflection that ought to inspire you with tho nocessary charity to forgive yourself. But I must go now. Remember, I have a ecrions task boforo me. It will not do to lot your husband walk . in upon you without some "sort of preparation. Poor fellow, the surprise, joyful aa ifc ie might — "

Mr Irviug pauses abruptly. Ho has not hoard the door open j but there boforo him stands a toll, handsomo, military-looking man, ' with a .'faint tingo of silver on hair and • beard ; and the noxt moment, with a glad cry, husband and wifo are in eaoh othors' arms.

What more remains to be said P Of a • peaceful happy lifo how little thore is to :-■ tell I And of Major Eliston and hia wife, in ..- their beautiful English homo, of whioh Mr i Irving, who has given up his businoss in New York in order to be near his niece and his .nephew, os it pleases him to consider them, ; is one of the inmates, there is nothing to say : hut that thoy aro happy— happy in that *, choicest of all earthly blessings, and whioh ; comes so seldom, ovon to those whom the tie , of marriage has united— a porfect love and : sympathy.