CHAPTER XXXVIII. MARY OSBORNE. ALL this time the acquaintance between Mary Osborne and myself had not improved. Save as the sister of my friend I had not, I repeat, found her interesting. She did not seem at all to fulfil the promise of her childhood. Hardly once did she address me: and, when I spoke to her, would reply with a simple, dull directness, which indicated nothing beyond the fact of the passing occasion. Rightly or wrongly, I concluded that the more indulgence she cherished for Charley, the less she felt for his friend-that to him she attributed the endlessly sad declension of her darling brother. Once on her face I surprised a look of unutterable sorrow resting on Charley's; but the moment she saw that I observed her, the look died out, and her face stiffened into its usual dullness and negation. On me, she turned only the unenlightened disc of her soul. Mrs. Osborne, whom I seldom saw, behaved with much more kindness, though hardly more cordiality. It was only that she allowed her bright indulgence for Charley to cast the shadow of his image over the faults of his friend; and, except by the sadness that dwelt in every line of her sweet face, she did not attract me. I was ever aware of an inward judgment which I did not believe I deserved, and I would turn from her look with a sense of injury which greater love would have changed into keen pain. Once, however, I did meet a look of sympathy from Mary. On the second Monday of the fortnight I was more anxious than ever to reach the end of my labours, and was in the court, accompanied by Charley, as early as eight o'clock. From the hall a dark passage led past the door of the dining-room to the garden. Through the dark tube of the passage, we saw the bright green of a lovely bit of sward, and upon it Mary and Clara radiant in white morning dresses. We joined them. "Here come the slave-drivers!" remarked Clara. Already!" said Mary, in a low voice, which I thought had a tinge of dismay in its tone. "Never mind, Polly," said her companion, we're not going to bow to their will and pleasure. We'll have our walk in spite Mary with another which said: "We shall see whether they prefer old books or young ladies." Charley looked at me - interrogatively. "Do as you like, Charley," I said. "I will do as you do," he answered. "Well," I said, "I have no right "Oh, bother!" said Clara166 You're so magnificent always with your rights and wrongs! Are you coming, or are you not?" "Yes, I'm coming," I replied, convicted by Clara's directness, for I was quite ready to go. We crossed the court, and strolled through the park, which was of great extent, in the direction of a thick wood, covering a rise towards the east. The morning air was perfectly still; there was a little dew on the grass, which shone rather than sparkled; the sun was burning through a light fog, which grew deeper as we approached the wood; the decaying leaves filled the air with their sweet, mournful scent. Through wood went a wide opening or glade, stretching straight and far towards the east, and along this we walked, with that exhilaration which the fading autumn so strangely bestow3. For some distance the ground ascended softly, but the view was finally closed in by a more abrupt swell, over the brow of which the mist hung in dazzling brightness. the Notwithstanding the gaiety of animal spirits produced by the season, I felt unusually depressed that morning. Already, I believe, I was beginning to feel the home-born sadness of the soul whose wings are weary and whose foot can find no firm soil on which to rest. Sometimes I think the wonder is that so many men are never sad. I doubt if Charley would have suffered so but for the wrongs his father's selfish religion had done him; which perhaps were therefore so far well, inasmuch as otherwise he might not have cared enough about religion even doubt concerning it. But in my case now, it may have been only the unsatisfying presence of Clara, haunted by a dim regret that I could not love her more than I did. For with regard to her, my soul was like one who in a dream of delight sees outspread before him a wide river, wherein he makes haste to plunge that he may disport himself in the fine element; but, wading eagerly, alas! finds not a single pool deeper than his knees. 66 to What's the matter with you, Wilfrid?" said Charley, who, in the midst of some gay talk, suddenly perceived my "I don't like to hear you talk so, Charley," said his sister, smiling in his face. "They ain't in the Bible," he returned. 66 No-and I shouldn't mind if you were only merry, but you know you are scoffing at the story, and I love it- -so I can't be pleased to hear you." "I beg your pardon, Mary — but your celestial city lies behind such a fog, that not one crystal turret, one pearly gate of it was ever seen. At least we have never caught a glimmer of it; and must go tramp, tramp- -we don't know whither, any more than the blind puppy that has crawled too far from his mother's side." "I do see the light of it, Charley dear," said Mary sadly not as if the light were any great comfort to her at the moment. "If you do see something - how can you tell what it's the light of? It may come from the city of Dis, for anything you know." "I don't know what that is." Oh! the red-hot city down below. You will find all about it in Dante." "Oh, Charley!" said his sister with "It doesn't look like that -the light I suppressed agony, "what a wicked see," said Mary quietly. 66 How very ill-bred you are such wicked things, Charley !" Clara. to say song!" "It is a wicked song," I said. "But I said meant it only represents an unbelieving, hopeless mood." "Am I? They are better unmentioned. Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die! Only don't allude to the unpleasant subject." He burst out singing: the verses were poor, but I will give them. "Let the sun shimmer! Let the wind blow! All is a notion What do we know? "You wrote it then!" she said, giving me— as it seemed, involuntarily - a look of reproach. "Yes, I did; but "Then I think you are very horrid," sail Clara, interrupting. 66 Charley!" I said, "you must not leave your sister to think so badly of me! You know why I wrote it - and what I meant." "I wish I had written it myself," he returned. "I think it splendid. Anybody might envy you that song." But you know I didn't mean it for a true one." been no progress before, there will be little indeed after." Now of all things, I hated the dogmatic theology of the party in which she had been brought up, and I turned from "Who knows whether it is true or her with silent dislike. false?" 66 Really," said Clara, "you gentlemen “I know," said Mary: "I know it is have been very entertaining this morning. false." "And I hope it," I adjoined. "Whatever put such horrid things in your head. Wilfrid?" asked Clara. true. "Probably the fear lest they should be The verses came as I sat in a country church once, not long ago." In a church!" exclamed Mary. "Oh! he does go to church sometimes," said Charley with a laugh. "How could you think of it in church?" persisted Mary. "It's more like the churchyard," said Clara. "It was in an old church in a certain desolate sea-forsaken town," I said. "The pendulum of the clock-a huge, long, heavy, slow thing, hangs far down into the church, and goes swing, swang over your head, three or four seconds to every swing. When you have heard the tic, your heart grows faint every time between — waiting for the tac, which seems as if it would never come." We were ascending the acclivity, and no one spoke again before we reached the top. There a wide landscape lay stretched before us. The mist was rapidly melting away before the gathering strength of the sun; as we stood and gazed we could see it vanishing. By slow degrees the colours of the autumn woods dawned out of it. Close under us lay a great wave of gorgeous red— beeches I think-in the midst of which, here and there, stood up, tall and straight and dark, the unchanging green of a fir-tree The glow of a hectic death was over the landscape, melting away into the misty fringe of the far horiOverhead the sky was blue with a clear thin blue that told of withdrawing suns and coming frosts. zon. For my part," I said, "I cannot believe that beyond this loveliness there lies no greater. Who knows, Charley, but death may be the first recognizable step of the progress of which you despair? ’ It was then I caught the look from Mary's eye, for the sake of which I have recorded the little incidents of the morning. But the same moment the look faded, and the veil or the mask fell over her face. One would think Polly and I had come out for a stroll with a couple of undertaker'smen. There's surely time enough to think of such things yet! None of us are at death's door exactly." "Sweet remembrancer ! knows?" said Charley. 666 Who Now I, to comfort him,' I followed, quoting Mrs. Quickly concerning Sir John Falstaff, "bid him, 'a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.' 66 "I can't say I understand you, but I know you mean something disagreeable. Polly, I think we had better go home to breakfast." Mary turned and we all followed. Little was said on the way home. We divided in the hall- the ladies to breakfast, and we to our work. We had not spoken for an hour, when Charley broke the silence. "What a brute I am, Wilfrid!" he said. "Why shouldn't I be as good as Jesus Christ? It seems always as if a man might. But just look at me! Because I was miserable myself, I went and made my poor little sister twice as miserable as she was before. She'll never get over what I said this morning." "It was foolish of you, Charley." "It was brutal. I am the most selfish creature in the world- always taken up "I am afraid," she said, "if there has with myself. I do believe there is a devil, 6. Something very like the God of Christianity, I think." "If it were so, there would be a chance for us. We might then one day give the finishing blow to the devil in us. But no: he does all for his own glory." "It depends on what his glory is. If what the self-seeking self would call glory, then I agree with you - that is not the God we need. But if his glory should be just the opposite the perfect giving of himself away then Of course I know nothing about it. My uncle used to say things like that." -- He did not reply, and we went on with our work. Neither of the ladies came near us again that day. Before the end of the week, the library was in tolerable order to the eye, though it could not be perfectly arranged until the commencement of a catalogue should be as the dawn of a consciousuess in the half-restored mass. CHAPTER XXXIX. A STORM. of a household is seldom sufficient to give character to an entertainment. "They tell me you are a buyer of books, Mr. Alderforge," said Mr. Mollet to the clergyman of a neighbouring parish, as we sat over our wine. 66 Quite a mistake," returned Mr. Alderforge. "I am a reader of books." That of course! But you buy them first don't you?" "Not always. I sometimes borrow them." "That I never do. If a book is worth borrowing, it is worth buying." "Perhaps if you can afford it. But many books that book-buyers value, I. count worthless - for all their wide margins and uncut leaves." 66 Will you come and have a look at Sir Giles's library? I ventured to say. "I never heard of a library at Moldwarp Hall, Sir Giles," said Mr. Mollet. "I am given to understand there is a very valuable one," said Mr. Alderforge. “I shall be glad to accompany you, sir," he added, turning to me, --if Sir Giles will allow us." "You cannot have a better guide than Mr. Cumberinede," said Sir Giles. "I am indebted to him almost for the discovery -altogether for the restoration of the library." "Assisted by Miss Brotherton and her friends, Sir Giles," I said. 66 A nephew," I answered. So many books of rarity and value had revealed themselves, that it was not difficult to make Sir Giles comprehend in some A son of Mr. Cumbermede of Lowdon degree the importance of such a posses- Farm, I presume?" said Alderforge, bowsion he had grown more and more inter-ing interrogatively. ested as the work went on; and even Lady Brotherton, although she much desired to have at least the oldest and most valuable of the books rebound in red morocco first, was so far satisfied with what she was told concerning the worth of the library, that she determined to invite some of the neighbours to dinner, for the sake of showing it. The main access to it was to be by the armoury; and she had that side of the gallery round the hall which led thither, covered with a thick carpet. Meantime Charley had looked over all the papers in my chest, but, beyond what I have already stated, no fact of special interest was brought to light. "He was a most worthy man. -By the way, Sir Giles, your young friend here must be a distant connection of your own. I found in some book or other lately, I forget where at the moment, that there were Cumbermedes at one time in Moldwarp Hall." "Yes-about two hundred years ago, I believe. It passed to our branch of the family some time during the troubles of the seventeenth century-I hardly know how I am not much of an historian." - I thought of my precious volume, and the name on the title-page. That book might have once been in the library of Moldwarp Hall. If so, how had it strayed In sending an invitation to Charley, into my possession alone, yet more to Lady Brotherton could hardly avoid send- me than all that was left behind? ing me one as well: I doubt whether I We betook ourselves to the library. should otherwise have been allowed to The visitors expressed themselves astonenjoy the admiration bestowed on the re-ished at its extent, and the wealth which sult of my labours. even a glance revealed - for I took care to guide their notice to its richest veins. The dinner was formal and dreary enough the geniality of one of the heads "When it is once arranged," I said, “I fancy there will be few private libraries to stand a comparison with it-I am thinking of old English literature, and old editions: there is not a single volume of the present century in it, so far as I know." I had had a few old sconces fixed here and there, but as yet there were no means of really lighting the rooms. Hence, when a great flash of lightning broke from a cloud that hung over the park right in front of the windows, it flooded them with a dazzling splendour. I went to find Charley, for the library was the best place to see the lightning from. As I entered the drawing-room, a tremendous peal of thunder burst over the house, causing so much consternation amongst the ladies, that, for the sake of company, they all followed to the library. Clara seemed more frightened than any. Mary was perfectly calm. Charley was much excited. The storm grew in violence. We saw the lightning strike a tree which stood alone a few hundred yards from the house. When the next flash came, half of one side seemed torn away. The wind rose, first in fierce gusts, then into a tempest, and the rain poured in torrents. None of you can go home to-night, ladies," said Sir Giles. "You must make up your minds to stop where you are. Few horses would face such a storm as that." "It would be to tax your hospitality too grievously, Sir Giles," said Mr. Alderforge. I daresay it will clear up by and by, or at least moderate sufficiently to let us get home." "I don't think there's much chance of that," returned Sir Giles. "The barometer has been steadily falling for the last three days. My dear, you had better give your orders at once." "You had better stop, Charley," I said. "I won't if you go," he returned. Clara was beside. "You must not think of going," she said. Whether she spoke to him or me, I did not know, but as Charley made no an swer "I cannot stop without being asked," I said, "and it is not at all likely that any one will take the trouble to ask me to stay." "You will sing, Mary, if Lady Brotherton asks you, I know," said Mrs. Osborne. Do, my dear," said Lady Brotherton; and Mary at once complied. 66 "I had never heard her sing, and did not expect much. But although she had little execution, there was, I found, a wonderful charm both in her voice and the simplicity of her mode. I did not feel this at first, nor could I tell when the song began to lay hold upon me, but when it ceased, I found that I had been listening intently.. I have often since tried to recall it, but as yet it has eluded all my efforts. I still cherish the hope that it may return some night in a dream, or in some waking moment of quiescent thought, when what we call the brain works as it were of itself, and the spirit allows it play. The close was lost in a louder peal of thunder than had yet burst. Charley and I went again to the library to look out on the night. It was dark as pitch, except when the lightning broke and revealed everything for one intense moment. "I think sometimes," said Charley, "that death will be like one of those flashes, revealing everything in hideous fact for just one moment and no more." How for one moment and no more, Charley?" I asked. 66 Because the sight of the truth concerning itself must kill the soul, if there be one, with disgust at its own vileness, and the miserable contrast between its aspirations and attainments, its pretences and its efforts. At least, that would be the Ideath fit for a life like mine a death of disgust at itself. We claim immortality; we cringe and cower with fear that immortality may not be the destiny of man; and yet we I do things unworthy not merely of immortality, but unworthy of the butterfly existence of a single day in such a world as this sometimes seems to be. Just think how I stabbed at my sister's faith this morning-careless of making her as miserable as myself! Because my father has put into her mind his fancies, and I hate them, I wound again the heart which they wound, and which cannot help their presence!" "But the heart that can be sorry for an action is far above the action, just as her heart is better than the notions that haunt it." The storm increased. At the request of the ladies, the gentlemen left the libra- "Sometimes I hope so. But action dery and accompanied them to the drawing- termines character. And it is all such a room for tea. Our hostess asked Clara muddle! I don't care much about what to sing, but she was too frightened to they call immortality. I doubt if it is comply. worth the having. I would a thousand |