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MARLOWE; OB. GRAPES FROM THORNS.
(Ccp-y fight.) MARLOWE; OB. GRAPES FROM THORNS. BY RICHARD SAVAGE LLOYD. -0- CHAPTER XXI. He had knelt down beside her, and taking her handø laid a tender kiss upon them. As she said the last words she drooped her eyes into her lap, and leaned her face back from him, as the beauty which shines in a woman's face when she loves came over It again. She was in a delicious reverie. Lewis looked up at her- but in another instant started to his feet, with a half. uttered exclamation— heavens What a face—like a fiend's «BPt heard a word or two of it, and looked in alarmWd amazement at Lewis, and out into the empty garden and at him again. What Is it ?" she asked, anxiously. "I was startled by something—never mind," he said, hurriedly. There was a footstep in the passage, and in another moment Oliver Marlowe had entered the room, looking, as he always did in Lewis's presence, self-possessed and quiet, but slightly supercilious. He seemed to contain oceans of contempt which he did his utmost to hide under a gentlemanly exterior. Whether the contempt itself really existed was known only tu himself. He threw himself into a chair and addres- sed a few cool remarks to the general audience, to which Margaret replied, finding Lewis did not. After a turn or two up and down the room Lewis left them alone: Margaret was about to speak, smilingly, when she suddenly felt a grasp on her wrist, so tight that it could not be mistaken for any .soving touch. She looked up in surprise and saw a face that checked the words on her lips. An evil spirit might have looked out of those eyes that were bent upon her, so terrible was the look. It was almost incredible that a calm exterior had but a moment before covered the burning volcano that now was revealed to her astonished gaze. She uttered no word but looked in silence at the apparition before her-the embodiment of passion- evil passion. I don't expect truth from you," he hissed from be- tween his teeth, presently. You love that fool-but I will not have him touch you! I am not to be played with; other women may toy with two lovers; but I tell you I am not to be played with. Either you obey me, or I will kill you." So amazed was Margaret that her brain seemed num- bed. She just sat silently, her eyes fixed upon him, and every particle of colour flown from her cheeks. Which was the hand he kissed with his cursed lips? he went on, after a moment. Shew me, that I may never touch it with mine; if he kiss it again I will cut it off. So, I must watch my mistress all day long, that she does not have her beauty kissed from her face by other men, even before it is all mine Fool that I was to trust your deceitful face and your looks of love; just the same, oh just the same you can give to him! He thinks to steal my beauty from me, does he ? I may think I have her, I suppose, but only second-hand. He's cleverer, after all, than I thought, the scoundrel! Margaret rose and put up her hand, as if to stop his words. "I suppose you must speak of me as you choose,' she said. "Indeed, I don't think you are in your right senses, and I will not resent the words you have used; but you shall not speak like this of my friend." '•My friend, indeed," was all Oliver's answer. II Do women let their friends kneel and kiss theit hands ad libitum ?" "You forget," said Margaret, that Lewis Assheton Is my brother in all but name, and has treated me as a sister since childhood." Then I should like a sister who would give me such a look as you gave him a while ago—how beautifully you blushed—how your eyes drooped. Ah, my ]a,ly, I know your face by this time Have I not seen the same look when my arms w3re round you, and I believed, fool that I WM, that it was all for me? You cannot deceive me. Margaret; I saw with my own eyes, through that window—and I will trust my own senses before any woman's word "Even before mine?" cried Margaret. You cannot love me if you doubt my truth. Oliver, I had just told him that I loved you-you saw only what was your own I" "Bah! said Oliver, pushing her from him with a muttered oath, dan't tell me lies like that!" Margaret covered her face with her hands. She could scarcely believe the story her own heart told her. If she had not loved him she would call this being more demon than man, and yet she still clung to him—her heart seemed to fill with pity as well as love when she saw how little he knew of the existence of truth-ho w little he could believe in the fidelity of another. Poor Oliver! to doubt me, who would die for him Is it not dreadful?" She turned aside, and moaned to herself as she thought of it. He did not know or understand her. Of what use were words or protestations at such a time as tMa? How could she appeal to him, to his inner self, whileIwwas wrapt in this cloud of passion? She looked up. after a silence, and found he was watching her sternly, his arms folded. He was calmer, 1 L -_I!J. but no softer. I dare not go away and leave you unless you make a promise, which you will not dare to break, that no passages of love pass between you and this man." She stood for a moment looking at him as if scarcely knowing how to act, and then, suddenly, her heart seemed to break from her and take the action into its own hands. She told him how terrible it was that he could not believe in her, how she was entirely his and her whole life altered, coloured, guide Y^y her absorp- tion in him. Much more she told him, giving him now, In her defence, a confidence he had never won from her before—pouring out her secrets to convince this man, who could not believe in the jewel even w'len it lay in his hand-until the agitation became too much for her, aItd. without seeing what effect her words had had, she fainted for the first time in her life. She did not even know that Oliver's arms were round her when he saw her about to fall, and that he was calling the curses of heaven on his own folly for thus destroy- Ing and spoiling the beauty which was his own. Oliver went to college at the appointed time, not quite in a contented frame of mind, for he could not wring any promise from Margaret about Lewis, ne i the r could he see any plan by which he could lessen their Intercourse. Oonsequently he left home in a ata.te of suppres- ^H^could' find no cause of complaint against Mar- garet save that she utterly refused to make any pro- mise, and that in itself was sufficient cause for jealousy in such a nature as his. If he had been consistent, it should have somewhat relieved him, for he professed entire disbelief in the truthfulness of the female sex, and seemed to regard them as continually employed in weaving tissues of deceit. Like the rest of us, how- ever, he was inconsistent; and he went away believing that Margaret would not pledge her word not to let Lewis make love to her, because she did not wish to Ibreak it. He had no conception of purity as a quality he was blind to the fact that Margaret shrank from his accusations, and grew silent under them becaus o sne could not endure to aerena nerseit; ana yet 1iilali she clung to him through all because her love was so deep and true "Lewis," said Sir Joshua, one day, some little time after Oliver's departure, "you promised long ago that you would paint the girls for me. Don't you think you had better begin, for they are getting terribly marriage- able 1" Lewis smiled as he looked at "the girls." They were at the opposite end of the room, busy with some affairs of their own. Perhaps I had," he answered, "though I should like to have done it in the summer." Don't put it off, if you have time to begin," said Sir Joshua; "there is no knowing what may happen before then. Choose one of the rooms for your painting- room and begin as soon as you can." The arrangements were soon made; and Lewis set to work to make the two fair faces into-not what he detested, a portrait—but a picture. I will not attempt to describe it; those who saw it, remembeied it long after. Lewis put a great deal of himself into that pic- ture. And who can wonder ? For there, on one can- vass, side by side, he painted his two loves. Yes, his two loves. Day by day he realised this more fully, and with the growth of his work, grew bis under- standing of himself and of these two women. He began to see that Margaret was spiritually his elder sister she could not complete his nature, she could only in-, crease one portion of it. If he should spend his life with her, he would learn to lean upon her and let her lead him. He fancied that her strength would bnt make him weaker, for the old languid habit must have recurred, of seeing the right and the beauty of things but letting her speak the i-iglit and do the beautiful deed. Yes, in this, as in all else, she saw the right more clearly than he did there was a bond between them, but it was that of brother and sister. And when he found himself free again he was almost surprised to discover how closely enwrapt with his life was that of another—how strongly and silently round his heart the tendrils of a clinging love had wound themselves. Now that he had no thought of Margaret, save as a sister, hemarvelled that he had not felt before theleaning upon him of this young life, one so frail and tender that it necessitated his being strong. She it was that kept him at home—that made the change of relation between himself and Margaret so natural and easy—that filled his life so that there was no room for emptiness or dead hopes all uncon- sciously to herself it was Muriel—Muriel, with her pale, abstracted face, and listless air; her sweetness, faint, like the fragrance of an early rosebud, by the side of Margaret's richness. Thus it was he painted her. He did not hesitate to give to her face all its weariness—its donbting expres- sion-the curve of the month that told of morbid thoughts and baffled cravings—the soft sad eyes. No; these were part of Muriel; and it was just these things that drew him to her and bound him by an un- breakable cord. She, by her weakness, made him strong. He felt that this child had it in her power to make a man of him. Her utter trust in himself, and her looking up to his light and knowledge, would com- pel him to stand erect and strive to bring his head among the stars of heaven. She did but need a hand to lead her into nobility of life-ana he-well, he needed the constant friction of an aspiring, doubting mind to stir him to better things than this languid existence of his. He put some of this new-born energy and strength into his work. He began to crave for approval from Muriel's lips. Young as she was, she was very critical -critical in excess of her own work, and of those im- mediately around her. A great deal of her idleness was the result of her conviction that it was useless to do anything unless you could do it very well. She constantly threw aside employments because she could not see any promise in herself in them. She lacked perseverance, people said; but that was only a small part of her lack. She lacked the faith of the worker. She did not believe that by labour she could acquire any power. Lewis had always found her more difficult to win praise from than Margaret, who, though she would point to a higher standard, always encouraged. She Vid enough of the milk of human kindness, too, to fjel for all the inferior members of an art and the lower workers in the world. She could appreciate that nil contained some light and some poetry and beauty, though in a lesser degree—that all, in fact, had part in God's plan, and held their own place because the Divine sight had seen fit so to place them. She could comfort even while she blamed, and fill you with hope even while she convinced you that you were making a mistake. But to Muriel's more finite vision the smaller fry of the world appeared to be superfluous. As she could find no clue to the cause of her own idle existence, neither could she find any to that of others who were in their own lives insignificant. Why should a small artist toil and strive and besmear himself with colour in the vain effort after that which a genius would accomplish with a few clean touches? Whv should the lesser people grasp after an eminence which never could be theirs,, while, unseen by them, the few to whom it is granted to be great pass with a giant stride over their heads ? Why weep over rejected manuscripts ? why spoil reams of clean paper, and groan, because the book dies? Why not pass into a preferable nothingness, if no teaching, no silent listening to the words of the great ones, will make us great ? These were some of Muriel's thoughts, and Lewis was very conscious that though she leaned upon him and looked up to him as n, man, yet as an artist she wa s not so sure of him. She saw no signs of greatness to come, because, though a power dwelt in his brush, yet a terrible indolence barred his way to deeds of might. Pleasant work, done when it pleased him (and bearing, indeed, such a stamp of this pleasantness upon its face that it was cherished by those true art-lovers who knew of it), this he accomplished, and this was all. But no soul-stirring work had he done—nothing to make the hearts of men answer as they look, and even to make the glorious critic half afraid to patronise- This he must do before Muriel would praise him, he well knew. She would say nothing for the pretty work which scarcely surpassed that of a crowd of other artists. So the firsb fruits of the new light let into his inner life was the painting of a pictnrc as hediad never painted one before. Nsver had he worked so hard never had he so striven, never had he so longed for the brush of genius, never so nearly attained it. Sir Joshua was amazed, even in the early stages of the work, when lie came on his visits of inspection, at the marked advancement on Lewis's former work. He began to have new hopes that his favourite would cast off his Incorrigible laziness and make his mark in the world as he ought. And, as these grew, the more vexed was he that Margaret should have overset his old plans, and cast her lot as she had. Time passed pleasantly by,and the picture was nearly finished. Also, Oliver was soon expected home again. Margaret was sitting alone one day knitting, and thinking about Oliver, and her expectance of his re- turn. It even now amazed her to feel how entirely she was devoted to him—how in spite of the jealousy that would creep out now and then in his letters—in spite of their strange character and the wildness which was as visible in them as in his talk, she yet longed for and looked forward to his return. Alread T I she had so learned to lean upon his superior strength, his determined character and resolute mind, that she fnnnd r.omfnrt in dependence on him counterbalanced tne fears which of ten- filled her as to how he wouia harmonise with her own people-how far he would repress himself and how far openly rebel. Both were painful, but it did not matter she could bear any- thing by his side; and she smiled to herself as she thought of it.. < Smiling over your knitting?" said a voice beside her. How amusing you always seem to find that dull work! I wish I could find out where the amuse- ment in it lies." „ "In my own thoughts, not in the knitting," said Margaret, without staying to look up; for she knew it was Muriel's voice. Muriel sate down in the window by her cousin, and watched her knitting. After a long silence Margaret glanced up at her. She paused in her work and looked again. "You've got something to tell me, coz, she ex- claimed. Muriel blushed all over as she smiled an answer. "What quick eyes you have Oh, Margaret What am I to do! I am so unhappy—and so happy. Oh dear, it's very dreadful! I wish things wouldn't liap- pen." "What can it be?" inquired Margaret, as she made puzzle lines in her smooth, fair brow. Tell me, Muriel." For answer Muriel gave her a letter, which Mar- garet read through, and then looked up with a glance which was like a flash of light. I am so glad!" she cried, I. so glad he will be my real brother." t( "But perhaps he won't!" exclaimed Muriel. don't know! Oh, I don't know." Don't know what?" He's too good for me! He's so much in earnest, and seems to love me so much, and I-oh, Margaret, I don't think I've got all those depths of love in me Margaret turned eyes of amazement upon her. Was it possible that a woman could ever dotibb-coiill feel an indecision as to whether she loved or not ? So rich in giving was Margaret's heart that she could hardly conceive a state so half-ripe as this. A long talk between the cousins ended in Muriel's doing much the same as she would have done without the talk, writing a refusal to Lewis, the words of which had such an air of timidity and doubt about them, that the effect upon Lewis was only to bring him down that same evening. He succeeded in persuading Muriel to allow that they should be considered as engaged, by themselves; but no other human being was to know of it, save Margaret. She had never had a secret from her father in her life and yet-for women will break their life-long habits when it comes to their affairs of love-she in- sisted that he should hear nothing of this at present, she made Margaret promise to tell no one, adding not even Oliver." "That is too bad," laughed her cousin. "If you ex- pect such keeping of secrets you must teach me how to do it." Oh, but you must!" cried Muriel, horrified at this light way of treating it. Oh but you must Promise me you will tell nothing, or I must give it up. I cannot bear anyone should know. Oh, promise me, Ifargaret. Quite surprised at the child's vehemence, Mar- garet promised; pondering, at the same time, in her Own mind, on the curious differences there are be- tween: people's characters. Ah, Margaret, the world Would be very monotonous,and novels very unwritable, Kit were not so.. > "• U contimied.y
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NEW MfcWLCAL WORKS BY DR SMITH. Now ready, free by post, two stamps, DEBILITATING DISEASES, bheir cause and cure. Or health lost and regained. A. guide to the home treatment of infirmities of youth or manhood, either hereditary or acquired. By Henry Smith, M.D., of the. University of Jena, author of the Vounteers' Manual," Wo- man," &c. This work gives Dr. Smith's treatment (the re- sult of 26 years' special practice) for the cure of all diseases of the nervous system, nervous de- bility, mental and physical depression, palpitation of the heart, noises in the head and ears, inde- cision, impaired sight and memory, indigestion, loss of energy, pains in the back, constipation, blushing, hysteria, timidity, self-distrust. dizzi- ness, love of solitude, groundless fears, muscular relaxation, &c., resulting from exhaustion of nerve power, the eftect of overtaxed energies, enervating habits, and other abuses of the system. Gives instructions and prescriptions. Illustrated with testimonials from grateful patients; with means of cure used in each case. Sent free by post in an envelope on receipt of two penny stamps. Address, Dr. H. Smith, 8, Burton-crescent, Lon- don, W,C. Also by the same author, post free in an envelope thirteen stamps. WOMAN; Her duties, relations, and position. Subjects treated :-Girlhood, maidenhood, court- ship, marriage, motherhood, female education, female health, female hygiene, domestic medi- cine, &c., &c. This is a work on subjects of vita- importance to woman. Beautifully illustrated with engravings on wood. Address, Dr. H. Smith, 8, Burton-crescent, Lon- don, W.C. Important to country patients, DR. II. SMITH, the eminent specialist, who may be consulted with the greatest confi dence for the cure of all debilitating and conta- gious diseases, will, for the benefit of country patients who cannot consult him personally, on receiving a description of their case, sends his opinion, with advice and directions for the most successful restoration to health and vigour. Address, Dr. H. Smith, 8, Burton-crescent, Lon- don, W.C.
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