LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5025, 11 June 1884, Page 3

LITERATURE.

t BERYL MANSIONS. „ (The Argosy) * [By the Author of "In the Dead ; of Night."] i (Continued.) t Chapter IV. c It was on the third afternoon after my - interview with Mr Lydford that we met - again. I was turning the comer of a street not far from home when I felt seme 0 one tap me on the shoulder ; I looked , round, and there was Mr Lydford, with a , young lady on his arm. I felt at once that this was the pretty niece of whom Daniel V Ivy had spoken in such enthusiastic terms. - But pretty -was hardly the word to apply ta i her ; she was more than that. Tall, fair, i and stately, with eyes the colour of a 3 summer sea in sunlight and a wealth of - golden-brown hair, Mabel Gilmour seemed s to me then, when first she broke upon my , vision, as gracious and beautiful as one of '/ the fabled goddesses of old. But what j struck me much was the strange nielanJ choly that filled her eyes — strange, that is, r • in one so young — aud that gazed out at b you from their dark blue depths and that ; lurked like a shadow behind her smiles, i There was a sadneas, too, about the lines 3 of her mouth which caused her to seem 3 older than her years. "Her life holds 2 some great sorrow/ was my involuntary i thought. } Mr Lydford introduced me. Then he - added : " K you have nothing better to do 3 this evening, Dimsdale, come to my rooms" i about eight and bring with you that flute 3 whose dulcet notes I have had the pleasure ' of listening to more than once. Both - Mabel and I play a little, and we may ■ perhaps be able to manage a trio." ; Such an invitation needs no pressing to i secure its acceptance, and at five minutes ' past eight I knocked at Mr Lydford'b t door with my flute under my arm. That 1 evening was one of the happiest of my life. Miss Gilmour played the violin and her uncle the violoncello, and they both played in a style that put my poor performance to the blush. Two or three times I caught Miss Gilmour's eyes fixed on me with an expression in them I was at a loss [ to understand. It had nothing to do with , the music ,- I felt sure of that. The look , was rather one of quiot scrutiny, as though I interested her in some way to me un- ; known, and she was endeavouring to arrive at some conclusion respecting me in her ' own mind. I was not idiot enough to think ■ her interest in mo had its origin in any i other fueling than curiosity. With me it might be, and was, a case of love at first , sight ; but something seemed to tell me \ that Miss Gilmour had far more serious ■ objects than love-making wherewith to occupy her thoughts. When the evening came to nn end, we shook hands and bade each other good-bye till our next meeting, which, as Mr Lydford said, would probably not be for a couple of ', months at the soonest. " Bnt I promise you this, Dimsdale," he added, " that when Mabel is next in town; and has an , evening to spare, I will let you know, and , then if you and your flute do not join us it will be your own fault." All my dreams that night wore of those deep blue eyes, that with all their sadness were yet so beautiful. Under the influence of this newer and sweeter influence which had crept thus unexpectedly into my life, it seemed only natural that the morbid fancies as to the mysterious noises in the room over mine should fail to occupy my thoughts so frequently as heretofore. But, glad though I should have been to forget all about ; them, it was not fated that I should be allowed to do so. One morning, about a week later, I found ■ a letter on my table, addressed in an unknown hand. The writing being evidently ■ that of a lady, I opened it with a feeling of ' curiosity. The contents, however, proved i startling enough to turn my mild curiosity i into full-eyed wonder. Here is what was written : — ', " Sir, — Tt having como lo the know--1 ledge oi' fhc writer that you have been • disturb:'"! at various times by hearing \ stnvigc mu-ii s at midnight in tin empty I 1-oo.ns iuuiit'diately above tlio3e occupied

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"by yourself, for which yon are unable to account, and that you have spoken to different individuals respecting the noise in question, and are endeavouring to trace the origin of them, you are hereby most earnestly requested and entreated to proceed no further in tho matter. You will, the writer feels assured, not fail to accede to this request, when you are told that a family secret of a most painful and terrible kind, involving the happiness of several innocent people, depends upon your absolute silence in tho affair. In duo time all shall be revealed to you — what to you at present seems so unaccountable shall be fully explained. Meanwhile, the writer relies upon your kindness of heart and your honour as a gentleman, to "keep inviolate the. trust which is placed with implicit confidence in your hands." There was not any signature to the document, or anything to give a clue to my unknown corespondent. The fiist thing I did after recovering from my surprise was to endewour to call to mind how many people in all I had told about the footsteps. Beyond Mr Lydford and Daniel Ivy, I could remember but two. One of them was young Macintosh, a fellow clerk, and the other an old friend from the country who called upon me at my rooms; and with whom I went one night to the theatre. From which of these four persons could the writer of the letter have derived his or her information ? Not from Mr Lydford certainly, I decided without a moment's hesitation. Perhaps not directly from any one of them, but from some other person at second or third hand to whom the circumstance had been told as something curious and out of the common. In any case it was a point respecting which all the speculation in the world was scarcely likely to land mo at any definite result. I would have liked to lay my strange communication before Mr Lydford, and ask his opinion with respect to it, but the terms m which it was written, if I made up my mind to carry out the wishes of the writer, were such as left me no option in the matter. I felt that the trust thus imposed upon me was a sacred one, and that, however much my curiosity might be excited, the secret must be kept. Upon reaching home two days later I found a brief note from Mr Lydford, asking me to look in upon him as early as possible. I hurried off at once. As I ascended the stairs M. Latour was coming down. He raised his hat and stood aside for a moment to let me pass. " Good evening, Bir," he said, with that detestable .smile of his, which displayed the range of his sharp, white, wolfish-looking teeth. I muttered something in reply and hurried past him, taking two stairs at a time. Knocking at Mr Lydf ord's d-Dor, I turned the handle and went in. Mr Lydford came out of his bedroom ; he had his coat off and 'was washing hig hands. " Sit down ; I will be with you in two minutes," he said, in his cheery way, and went back to complete his toilet. I crossed to the window, but there was nothing worth looking at outside, so I Bauntered back to the fireplace, over which hung a choice etching or two that would repay scrutiny. While standing thus my eyes were attracted to the chimney piece "by something which was lying there. It was a poet letter with the address uppermost. I gave a great start when my eyes fell on it, and then I looked at it a second time more closely than before. The address was in the same handwriting as the mysterious letter I had received two days before ! Again I looked, in order to satisfy myself that I was not mistaken. But that was impossible. There were certain peculiarities in the caligraphy which proved that both documents had been written by one and the same person. I stole back to the window with a sort of guilty feeling at heart, as though I had surprised a secret which it was not intended I should know ; and there Mr Lydford found me a minute later when he entered the room. It turned out that a ticket had been sent him for the opera for that evening, and he thought I might like to make use of it. I did not fail to thank him. " You have no time to lose, so I will not detain you now," he said. "By the by I had a letter from Mabel this morning, in which she desired to be remembered to you. I hope to see her in town before we are many weeks older." Having promised to go to the opera I -went, but I am afraid that for once Meyerbeer's dramatic strains fell on unappreciative ears. Later, when I got to bed, J found sleep an impossibility. I could only lie and puzzle myself over the strange and. inexplicable turn that events were taking. If the letter I had seen on Mr Lydford's chimney piece was from Mabel Gilmour, then was my letter also from her.