LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 433, 2 November 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CO. {From London Society.) Continued. ‘ In a few kind words to me,’ said Mr Dart, without looking up, ‘ she told me she had given her love elsewhere. I was trying when you came in to prepare myself to tell you I rejoiced in your happiness, Maitland. And now you —you come and say the same to me.’ Buried in one long, sad thought, the partners in the good old firm sat in their silent room, while the work and pleasure of the world went on without. But the day’s duties had to be gone through, and these were not men to shun them selfishly. ‘ I suppose we had better settle with Leslie about his holiday,’ remarked Mr Maitland that afternoon, sending to summon Tom to the partner’s private room. ‘ He will lose every glimpse of summer if he waits longer. ’ ‘ He should not have postponed his holiday. He had his choice. Well, Leslie, when do you wish to start ?’ inquired the senior partner, when Tom entered the room. ‘ You said about the middle of October, and this is the twentieth, ’ ‘ Thank you, Mr Dart, but if it would make no difference, I would rather take my holiday from the twenty-ninth. ’ ‘ Then it is to be hoped you are going on a visit,’ remarked Walter Maitland, pleasantly; ‘ for November days are not the pleasantest for a tourist.’ ‘lam not going on a visit, sir.’ Tom hesitated only a moment, then both his listeners were conscious of a new earnestness in his voice. ‘ I should like to tell yon, gentlemen, why I want my holiday then. The twenty-ninth is to be my wedding day. ’ Mr Dart returned quietly to his writing. Mr Maitland rose from his seat, and moved to the fire, turning his back on Tom. Be-

fore the eyes of both the partners, there hoveiecl a face which had led them, too, to dr am of a possible wedding-day—dreams from which they had so lately been awakened. 11 would be hard, with these memories rising thick, to talk to their favourite clerk of his good fortune; yet it was not in Walter Maitland’s nature to let any selfish feeling prevent him. ‘ Indeed, Leslie!’ he said. ‘I am s"rprised, but very glad, of course, to hear it. I prognosticate every happiness for your wife. Of course I cannot do so for you until I know who she is.’ ‘You know her well, gentlemen,’ said Tom, flushing. ‘ Her father, Colonel Conyngham, is my mother’s cousin. We have rarely visited them except when they were alone, because—at my mother’s cottage—of course we could not entertain their guests. We have always been —as old friends and relatives should be; and I have always loved Isabel. But it was necessary for us to wait a little. Though it would be difficult for you to realise the fact, gentlemen, a marriage ia an expense; and debt ’ * You can go, Leslie,’ remarked Mr Dart, without raising his head. ‘ And die holiday, sir ?’ ‘ Take your holiday when you choose ; only don’t make such a fuss about it.’ ‘ And is there nothing more you intended to say to me, Mr Maitland ?’ inquired Tom. ‘I should say,’ remarked Walter, with a jealous anger in his eyes, ‘it is an irreparable mistake you are making, to marry on your income—unless you had chosen a wife in your own position, and used to such a life as your mother’s. ’ ‘My mother’s life was such a life as Isabel’s, at Isabel’s age,’ said Tom, and for a moment his face was really handsome in its flush of honest pride; ‘and Isabel has known what my mother’s life is for many a year past. Would I marry her under any false pretences ?’ ‘ I presume, then, that m Miss Conyngham knows the extent of your income?’ asked Maitland, with compressed lips"; *or have you, in your foolery, been representing yourself as a partner in this bank ? Her eyes are open to the folly of what she is doing, eh?’ ‘ She knows everything, sir,’ rejoined Tom, his eyes much puzzled, and a little angry, ‘ and she does not call it folly, ’ ‘ You can go. ’ The clerk left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. ‘They must have had harassing letters,’ he said to himself, trying to account for the partners’ impatience. , They have a good deal of anxiety which we subordinates are spared.’ And thinking this, he took bis seat and wrote away more diligently than ever, while his fellow clerks wondered at his mood. * Leslie ought to go.’ Those were the words which at last broke the silence of the room which Tom had left. ‘Yes.’ Then the day’s work went on to its close, and the partners, separating ou the bank steps, went their sever. 1 ways, thinking very lovingly of one to whom both had been faithful, and very angrily of one who had been faithful to them. This was the first night, for many months, which either had spent without those bright, vague dreams of what his home might be with Isabel at its head, and their hearts were filled with resentment against the winner of the prize which they had coveted. * You knew this morning that she was to marry some one else—why should your thoughts be harder now that you know who has won her ?’ So a voice seemed arguing with them; but, below all, the angry thoughts surged on. ‘ For him to be the one to gain her—he, a paid servant in the bank !’ Chapter IY. When Mr Dart reached the Bank next morning, worn and harassed after his sleepless night, he found that Maitland, contrary to his usual custom, had arrived before him. Though the two friends greeted each other as usual, a most unusual silence settled presently upon them both. Eventually the senior partner, making an effort, remarked on the coldness of the weather, and his companion, putting down a letter which he held, answered leisurely. But his pleasant blue eyes were restless and rather dim, and the moment the answer was given the silence wrapped them both once more. For an hour the office clock had ticked a solo in the quietness, when Walter Maitland rose slowly from his chair, with the Times unfolded in his hand, and letting the paper fall, came and stood upon the rug beside his friend, who had just re-entered from the bank. Very gently he laid one hand upon senior’s shoulder. * Dart, old friend, I want to speak a few words to you in great earnestness. Since we met yesterday morning I have grown to feel quite certain of one thing—quite. The time has not in reality been very long, but it seemed so, and gave me plenty of opportunity for thought; and what I have grown to feel sure of is this—l shall never marry now. ’ ‘Nor I,’ replied Maurice, meaning it as men do not often mean the phrase, though they utter it as firmly. To be continued.