ART AND LITERATURE

Wellington Independent, Volume I, Issue 33, 23 July 1845, Page 4

ART AND LITERATURE

THE WIFE.

Like ivy, woman's love will cling Too often round a worthless thing. It was midnight in London, the'.Stheatres were closed, the houseless jwanderer sought the dark alley which had sheltered his wretchedness many a miserable a night, and lay crouching to the wall, lest he might be dragged forth from his hiding place and deprived of his sole remaining possession, personal liberty. Labouring men and honest trades-people had been long asleep, the side walks were deserted, save by the midnight reveler, the abject, and the vicious, but through the fashionable thoroughfares carnage after carriage swept by,Jtheir splendour but half revealed by the blaze of the enameled lamps they carried. A. fashionable house in the West End was thrown open to the distinguished of London that night, and lordly equipages rolled to and from the illuminated mansion. The rainbow light that streamed through the drapery of each tall window had fallen on many a beautiful form gliding up those steps, but in no instance had it touched a being more lovely than the fair young girl who paused with modest grace to gather up her scarf before she followed her companion, an elderly lady, through the labyrinth of statues that lined the broad staircase. She reached the drawing-room; music was swelling through the glittering crowd assembled there —the strains of a light cheerful waltz. A glow rushed over her cheek, and the folds of azure gause that covered her bosom rose and fell with its pleasant throbbings, till the sprig of white jessamine that gathered them at the throat trembled as if shaken by the night wind. Lucy Sprague was seventeen, and this was her first ball, the first time that she ever stood an equal in the gay throng. It seemed like enchantment to hsr, the glitter of diamonds, the swelling music, and the crowd of breathing life, bathed in that glowing lamp-light. It was no marvel •that her bosom heaved and hersofteye sparkled as she gazed upon it. As Lucy Sprague, the orphan heiress, had descended from her carriage, two young men were crossing the street, arm in arm. They had just come from a neighbouring club house, and an observer might have detected the glow of wine on their cheeks, and a sparkle of the eyewhich betrayed excitement, if not confirmed inebriety. One of them uttered an exclamation of delight as his observation was drawn to the young heiress, and springing forward he the shadow, grasping his companion's arm, and with his eyes rivetted on the girl till she disappeared from the staircase. ' Come! fortunately I have an invitation,' he said, forcing his companion towards the door. 'Surely you will not attempt it; remember the wine you have taken. You are already half intoxicated.' ' With the beauty of that girl, boy, not with wine,—come!' ' No; if you wish to present yourself to the countess in this condition, I will be no party to the outrage ; why, man, that hair is falling over your forehead like an unpruned grape vine.' ' Confound such comparison! You can think of nothing but grapes and the blood of grapes. I tell you the sight of that heavenly girl has rendered me sober as a cardinal,' and as he spoke the young man dashed back the raven curls that had in truth, almost concealed his forehead, gave them a twist from the temples with his hand, and turned with a laugh to his friend. ' There, that will do ? Am I sufficiently presentable ?' ' As you will be to-night, , replied the more reasonable companion, smiling in spite of himself, for there was something so spirited in the handsome face turned towards him, that he saw no hopes in contending against his project of entering the house, and could only resolve not to bear him company. ' So you will not go?' ' Most assuredly I will not!' ' Good night, then —breakfast with me to-mor-row, and I will tell you all about her.' 'Good night.' They shook hands. The next minute young Burke was ascending the staircase of that palace dwelling. He urged his way through the crowd, and reached the dancing-room. Many a smiiing look fell on him from the dancers as they whirled by, for Burke was the fashion. Though a younger son, wild, impulsive, and prodigal, his great personal beauty, his accomplishments, and die facination of his address, rendered him a favourite even among the elder ladies, who could not make up their minds to discountenance him altogether, though terrified every day of their lives least he might persuade some of their aristocratic daughters to throw themselves away and share his extravagance and poverty, or redeem him from the latter. ' Ha, Burke, are you here playing the wallflower V said a young gaurdsman, as he turned from escorting his partner to a seat. ' How is it. that I have not seen you among the dancers?' Burke muttered some vague answer to this address, and did not seem inclined to become more sociable. The guardsman was passing on, hut at that instant he caught a glimpse of Lucy Sprague, where she sat half concealed by her protectress. An expression of pleasant surprise came over his face, and after convincing himself by a quick glance that it was impossible to cross the room, he bowed. Burke was looking at the young girl; he saw the smile accompanied by a gentle bend of the head with which she acknowledged his friend's lecognition, and turned eagerly toward him. 'Do you know the lady?' he said. 'Know her! of course I do; how beautiful she has grown! Shall I present you? , ' Certainly.' The guardsman looked up. It was not usual that thefatidious young man before him permitted an introduction, now he seemed eager for it.

' But you must dance, I can see by her face that she is dying for a partner—unfortunately I am engaged.' ' With all my heart, , repliedßurhe; ' but who is she V. 'An orphan of good descent, and heiress to a neat fortune. Stewart, the great banker is her guardian, and that ie his wife, sir. How her diamonds light up the beauty of my own sweet friend as she leans over her f There is no fear of losing cast in that quarter, she will set half the town crazy in a month.' When the next quadrille struck up, Lucy Sprague stood in the circle with young Burke ; her small feet trembling to the music as she waited her turn to dance, and her cheek glowing with blushes called forth from the admiring eyes that fell upon her from every direction, now that her beauty was rendered conspicuous by the attention of a partner so distinguished. The dance was over and Burke still lingered by the side of his partner; the wine which he i had drunk, the brilliant beauty that he gazed upon, music, and the voluptuous breath of flowers, all served to excite his wondrous powers of pleasing. The warm, wild poetry of his nature was aroused, it burned upon his lips, and gave expression to his eyes. The young girl listened, and it was enough. The rich tones of that voice seldom found their way to a heart which was not subdued by their eloquence and earnestness, for though wayward and dissipated, Burke was always sincere. His faults were the more dangerous that there was a dash of chivalry and much that was noble always mingled with them. 'Shall we dance again, , he murmured, 'or would you prefer the air of this balcony, it overlooks the garden." 'The balcony,' she said, with girlish eagerness, then checking herself she added, blushing, ' the heat is oppressive here. , Burke lifted the mass of crimson darpery that fell behind the seat they occupied, and, flinging open a sash, the young pair stepped forth to a full view of the moon-lit garden, its shrubbery, and the flowers that greeted them with their gentle breath. The music came softly from within, and all around lay the quiet moonlight. It was a dangerous hour for the heart of that guileless creature—dangerous for them both, for with him love was salvation, or injustice—with her, life or death; she was a woman, and to her love was but the beginning of immortality. • ***»• Lucy Sprague was alone in her chamber, her palm yet warm with the clasp of her partner's hand when he had whispered ' Good night' at the carriage door. There was music still hovering about her senses—not that which had made her feet tremble on the chalked floor with childlike eagerness for the dance, but the heart thrilling music of a human voice—his voice who had conversed with her on.the balcony. When she sunk to sleep that night a smile lay upon those lips as she dreamed; it broke over her whole face like sunlight on a magnolia flower. It was all a dream, a wild sweet vision, and, when the sunshine stole through the curtains of her bed-chamber, the young girl awoke smiling, and with a blush on her cheek, a blush brought there by the memory of visions that haunted her slumber—visions of a village church with the strong light shut out by creeping ivy, and two persons kneeling together in the holy calm thus created. She arose and hurried on her dress; for it seemed late, and she was not certain at what hour young Burke would call. * * * • • - * ' Lady Stewart desires your presence in the library. , Lucy bent her head to the footman who had delivered this message, and he turned away without observing the pallor which it brought to her face. She arose, put aside the drawing she had been employed upon, and made several other self-deluding excuses for remaining in the room, though her hand trembled more and more every object she touched, and her face became absolutely pale with apprehension. At length she made a desperate effort and went down, more nervous and unpleasantly agitated than she had ever been in the whole course of her life. Mr. Stewart was a grave, gentlemanly person, who had outlived every thing like impulsive feeling, years before he became the guardian of that or phan girl. She came to him in his spacious library blushing as if she had done something to be ashamed of. The banker received his ward courteously as ever, though an anxious and stern expression lowered on his forehead, and he sat down evidently pondering some unpleasant subject in his mind. She knew what it was, and placed herself in the darkest corner of the room, mustering what courage she might for an interview which under any circumstances would have been embarrassing, and was now peculiarly so. For some moments the man of business sat in his easy-chair looking askance at the changing features of his ward, while he toyed with the Eages of a volume which lay on a table where is right hand rested, evidently wishing to seem occupied with it alone. ' I wish to converse with you, Miss Sprague, on a subject which is far from a pleasant one to me at least. Mr. Burke has j ust left me.' He paused as if expecting some reply, but Lucy sat with her eyes fixed on the carpet. ' Your silence convinces me of what I before suspected, , he said, more quickly, ' that the young spendthrift was not authorized by you to make the assertion which he did make.' Lucy looked up now, and the colour settled to a red crimson on her cheek. ' Mr. Burke had my permission to speak with you, , she said with gentle firmness, ' my full, free permission you would not have been troubled else. , ' It pangs me to hear it,' he said, 'for I never can consent to a union which must bring you to certain poverty, perhaps to a worse fate.' Lucy turned pale, but met his eyes firmly, as one who had made up her mind. The banker arose, sat down on the fauteul she occupied, and took her hand with a degree of parential kindness never exhibited to her before. 'Let me entreat you,' he said, 're-consider this matter; you cannot know the character of this young man.' ' I know it better than his detractors; he acknowledges his faults, he conceals nothing,' said the young girl gaining power of voice and con-

fidonce with each word; 'you judge him harshly sir 'I judge him as the world judges, with the experience of sixty years to aid my observation. I know that he will never become a good mart, or a kind husband to any reasonable woman, much less to one beautiful, warm-hearted, and gently nurtered as you have been.' Lucy felt the tears start to her eyes, for some part of the banker's speech had brought-to her mind the memory of those who had indeed nurtered her infancy with such affection as young parents sometimes weave about an only child. She felt how beautiful a feeling domestic love was; how much of heaven might be gathered under one roof, and these reflections did not aid the banker in his attempt to dissuade her from the heart-dream that had in truth bewildered her better judgment. 'He is poor and extravagant,' persisted the banker, mistaken the source of her emotion. ' I have money enough for both; his fine taste need not be thwarted,' was the generous reply. The banker pressed his lips together, for her firmness disturbed even his philosophy. 'Nay, hearties he is not— it r is unjust, cruel, he does not deserve it—if he were all this, I have one firm defence to make for what 1 intend to do!' she broke off and her cheek became crimson beneath the tears that flowed over it. 'May I inquire what reason it is!' said the banker. ' I love him!' 'And are doubtless persuaded that he seeks you from love in return, and not for the thousands left by your father. . There was a touch of sarcasm in the bankers voice, and it fell harshly on the struggling heart of his ward. ' I know that he loves me for my self alone. I am as certain of it as that my pulse beats, or my voice is now filling your ear —I want no better proof than beats my own bosom —heart answers to heart in this !' There was something beautiful in the confidence which filled that young heart—beautiful but dangerous ; fora moment the cold eye of the guardian lighted up with admiration, but he saw the precipice on which she was standing, and proved how deeply his interest was enlisted in her welfare by the trouble which he took in dragging her away. ' I cannot consent to this sacrifice— will not consent. , ' I grieve that this is your determination, , said Lucy, with dignity, ' but my word—my soul is pledged ; I cannot war forever against his pleadings and my own heart.—He has faults—l acknowledge he has —no one admits that more frankly than himself, but he will amend them. You do not know how warm and true his na ture is!' The banker shook his head. 'Let it be so, then,' she added, smilling through her teais, '/can love him in spite of his faults.' 'This js sheer infatuation,' muttered the banker, pacing up and down the library after his ward had left him, ' but if she will fling herself away, I am exonerated—there is no legal power by which it can be prevented. That dream was accomplished in the church which stood on her own beautiful estate. Lucy Sprague knelt by the side of that dangerous man. The good pastor who held her at the baptismal fount pronounced the words of union, but his voice broke and he looked compassionately on the young creature kneeling at his feet, as the task he was performing were painful to his good heart. The ivy that crept over the little porch, and the tall windows were filled with a dirge-like 'wind, and the tablet sunk in the wall to her parents seemed like a scroll written over with reproaches. She stood up, with a golden circlet on her finger, the veil of Mechlin lace swept to her feet, and the pearls on her neck lay motionless in the dim light. But when the bridegroom pressed his lips upon her hand and whispered a few words unheard by the rest—the pearls heaved upon the rosy swell of her throat, a happy blush shone through the gossamer veil, and when she went forsh, when the bells pealed a welcome, and children scattered a carpet of blossoms under her feet from the church door to the carriage; when the horses crushed them as they dashed off, a happier bride could never have breathed than Lucy Burke. And if love —true, warm-hearted, ill regulated love—could render a heart happy, her's might well be so? for if ever a human being doted on another, with the whole strength of his manhood, that being was Thomas Burke. She did him no more than justice there ; his thoughts were all on the young and lovely woman he had wedded; not on her possessions—possessions which had now become his own, saving a trifling settlement prepared by the guardian, and signed unread by the husband. No, no, Thomas Burke cared nothing for the the money; it would have been better perhaps, if he had indeed possessed more of the mercenery character imputed to him 'My sweet wife—my sweet wife!' How strongly though musical the works fell upon her ear—how full of tenderness were the soft eyes that dared not look upon the face of that manly made husband—so young, so gloriously beautiful—turned upon her with all that wealth of tenderness beaming through? They sat in silence, for the full tranquility which brooded in their hearts was unfitted for any effort at conversation, save the fragmentary symbols so gently endearing which now and then broke from the lips as with linked hands the husband and wife looked forth on the dwey morning together. ' How changed everything seems here,' murmured the bride; 'I did not know that our home was so full of pleasant objects; the garden smiles like an Eden this morning. , ' It is an Eden, and here,' said the young husband, kissing the forehead uplifted to his face here is my Eve.' ' They went into the house together, and sat down to breakfast, happy and confident in the future. (To be continued in our next.)