;

BY WILLIAM BLACK, AUTHOR OF

CHAPTER XXV.

ARMAGEDDON.

"Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,
And over all old things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as all we love her.
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear."

BLOW, wind, and shriek, tempests!
Let all the gases be lowered, and
thunder roll through the gloom! Trem-
ble, ye forests of canvas, where twisted
oaks and shattered elms bear witness to
the of the scene; and let the low
agony
music of the violoncello and the throb-
bing of muffled drums announce that
dreadful deeds are brewing! Alas! we
had no such thrilling accompaniments
to the tragedy being enacted before our
eyes on the fair shores of Grasmere.
The lake lay as blue and as calm as
though no perplexed and suffering
human souls were by its side; and
instead of the appropriate darkness of
a theatre, we had the far hills trembling
under the white haze of the mid-day heat.
Yet my Lady saw none of these things.
Her heart was rent asunder by the
troubles of the young folks under her
charge until I seemed to see in her
speechless eyes a sort of despairing wish
that she had never been born.
"And yet," I say to her,
No. 155.-VOL. XXVI.

:

66 'you don't

"I refused you."

"You made a pretence of doing so. "I wish I had kept to my first resolution."

"I wish you had, since you say so. But that's of no consequence. I saved you from committing suicide, as I have frequently told you.'

The small creature looks up, and with an excellent calmness and selfcomposure, says

"I suppose you never heard of a young man-I thought him very silly at the time, myself who walked about all night, one night at Eastbourne; and in the morning-long before my mamma was up-aroused the servants, and sent

A A

in a letter-a sort of ultimatum it was -with all sorts of vows of vengeance and despair. That young man wasn't Arthur Ashburton; but when you complain of Arthur's mad follies

"Madam," I say to her, "your sex protects you go and live. But when you say that I complain of Arthur, and in the next breath accuse me of always bringing forward excuses for him

But what was the use of continuing the argument? My Lady smiles with a fine air of triumph; confident that her ingenious logic had carried the day, as, in fact, it generally does. The man who endeavours to follow, seize, and confront the airy statements made by a lady in a difficulty, resembles nothing so much as a railway-train trying to catch a butterfly; and who would not back the butterfly?

We were now placed in an uncommonly awkward fix. The arrival of Arthur at Grasmere had produced a complication such as we had not dreamt of; for now it appeared as if the situation were to be permanent. We had somehow fancied that, as soon as he overtook us, some definite arrangement would be come to, settling at once and for ever those rival pretensions which were interfering with our holiday in a serious manner. At last, my Lady had considered, the great problem was to be finally solved; and, of course, the solution lay in Bell's hands. But, now Arthur had come, who was to move in the matter? It was not for Bell, at all events, to come forward and say to one of the young men "Go!" and to the other

Stay!" Neither of them, on the other hand, seemed disposed to do anything bold and heroic in order to rid us of this grievous embarrassment; and so the first afternoon passed away-with some more walking, visiting, and boating-in a stolidly and hopelessly reserved and dreary fashion.

But every one of us knew that a mine lay close by, and that at any moment a match might be flung into it. Every word that was uttered was weighed beforehand. As for Tita, the poor little woman was growing quite

pale and fatigued with her constant and nervous anxiety; until one of the party privately told her that if no one else asked Bell to marry, he would himself, and so end our troubles.

"I don't know what to do," she said, sitting down and folding her hands on her knees, while there was quite a pitiable expression on her face. "I am afraid to leave them for a moment. Perhaps now they may be fightingbut that does not much matter, for Bell can't have gone downstairs to dinner yet. Don't you think you could get Arthur to go away?"

"Of what use would that be? He went away before; and then we had our steps dogged, and letters and telegrams in every town. No; let us have it out here."

"I wish you and he would have it out between you. That poor girl is being frightened to death."

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Say but one brief word, my dear, and Arthur will be feeding the fishes among the reeds of Grasmere before the morning. But would you really like Bell to send Arthur off? Is he really to be told that she won't marry him? They used to be pets of yours. I have seen you regard them, as they walked before us along the lanes, with an amiable and maternal smile. Is it all over? Would you like him to go away and never see us any more?"

"Oh, I don't know;" cries Tita, with the anxiety and pity and tenderness in her eyes almost grown into tears.

That was a nice little project of hers Iwith which we had started from the old tavern in Holborn. It had been

tolerably successful. If Bell were not in love with the Lieutenant, there could be no doubt, at least, that the Lieutenant was hopelessly and over head and ears in love with Bell. It was a pretty comedy for a time; and my Lady had derived an infinite pleasure and amusement from watching the small and scarcely perceptible degrees by which the young folks got drawn towards each other. What would have been the beautiful pictures of English scenery we had driven through, without two young lovers in the foreground, trying

to read their fate in each other's eyes, and affording us elderly folks all manner of kindly and comic reminiscences?

It had all turned out very well; until, suddenly, came the revelation that the greatest happiness of the greatest number had demanded a human victim; and here he was before us, with gory locks and piteous eyes, demanding justice. Never before had my Lady fully realized what was meant in the final sending away of Arthur; and now that she saw before her all the consequences of her schemes, she was struck to the heart, and dared scarcely ask for some re-assurance as to what she had done.

"Oh," she says, "I hope I have done right."

"You! Why should you assume any responsibility? Let the young folks arrange their own affairs as they like best. Do you think, if Bell had been willing to break with Arthur, that your packing off the Lieutenant to Germany would prevent her making the acquaintance of some other man? And she has not broken off with Arthur. If she does so, she does so, and there's an end of it; but why should you vex yourself about it?"

She was not to be comforted. She shook her head, and continued to sit there, with her eyes full of anxious cares. When, at length, she went off to dress hastily for dinner, it was with a determination that from that moment she would endeavour to help Arthur in every way she could. That was the

form her repentance took.

If the young man had only known that he had secured such a valuable ally! But just at this time-amid all our perplexity as to who should first precipitate matters-what should the reckless young man do but startle us all with a declaration which wholly altered the aspect of affairs!

We were seated at dinner. It was in the private room we had engaged; and the evening light, reflected from the lake outside, was shining upon Tita's gentle face as she sat at the head of the table. Bell was partly in shadow. The two young men, by some fatal mis

chance, sat next each other: probably because neither wished to take the unfair advantage offered by the empty seat next to Bell.

Well, something had occurred to stir up the smouldering fires of Arthur's wrath. He had been treated with great and even elaborate courtesy by everybody

but more particularly by Bell-during our afternoon rambles; but something had evidently gone wrong. There was a scowl on the fair and handsome face that was naturally pleasant, boyish, and agreeable in appearance. He maintained a strict silence for some little time after dinner was served; although my Lady strove to entice him into the general talk. But presently he looked up, and, addressing her, said in a forcedly merry

way

"Should you like to be startled?"

"Yes, please," Tita would probably have said-so anxious is she to humour everybody; but just then he added, in the same reckless and defiant tone

"What if I tell you I am going to get married?"

An awful consternation fell upon us. "Oh," says my Lady, in a hurried fashion, "you are joking, Arthur."

"No, I am not. And when I present the young lady to you, you will recognize an old friend of yours, whom you haven't seen for years."

To put these words down on paper can give no idea whatever of the ghastly appearance of jocularity which accompanied them, nor of the perfectly stunning effect they produced. The women were appalled into silence. Von Rosen stared, and indifferently played with the stem of his wine-glass. For mere charity's sake, I was driven into filling up this horrible vacuum of silence; and so I asked-with what show of appropriateness married people may judgewhether he had formed any plans for the buying of furniture.

Furniture! 'Tis an excellent topic. Everybody can say something about it. My Lady, with a flash of gratitude in her inmost soul, seized upon the cue, and said

"Oh, Arthur, have you seen our sideboard?"

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Now, when a young man tells you he is about to get married, it is rather an odd thing to answer Oh, Arthur-or Tom, or Dick, or Harry, as the case may be-have you seen our sideboard? But all that my Lady wanted was to speak; for Arthur, having accomplished his intention of startling us, had relapsed into silence.

"Of course he has seen the sideboard," I say for him. "He was familiar with the whole of that fatal transaction."

'Why fatal?" says the Lieutenant. You see, we were getting on.

"Bell will tell you the history. No? Then I will-for the benefit of all folks who may have to furnish a house; and I hope Arthur-after the very gratifying announcement he has just made-will take heed."

"Oh, yes," says Arthur, gaily, "let us have all your experiences about house matters. It is never too soon to learn." "Very well. There was once a sideboard which lived in Dorking

Here the Lieutenant begged to know what piece of furniture a sideboard was; and when that was explained to him, the legend was continued:

"It was a very grand old sideboard of carved oak, which had regarded the dinner-parties of several generations from its recess. At last, it had to be sold at public auction. A certain agreeable and amiable lady, who lives on the banks of the river Mole, saw this sideboard, and was told she might have it for a trifle of ninety-five guineas. She is an impressionable person. The sideboard occupied her thoughts day and night; until at last her husband-who is the most obliging person in the world, and has no other desire in life than to obey her wishes

Here there were some interruptions at the further end of the table. Silence having been restored, the speaker went on to say that the sideboard was bought. "It was the beginning of the troubles of that wretched man. When you have an old oak sideboard that farmers' wives will drive twenty miles to look at, you must have old oak chairs. When you have old oak chairs, a microcepha

lous idiot would know that you must have an old oak table. By slow degrees the home of this unhappy man underwent transformation. Rooms that had been familiar to him and homely, became gloomy halls which ghosts of a cheerful temperament would have fled from in despair. People came to dinner, and sat in the high-backed chairs with an expression of resigned melancholy on their faces; and now and again an unlucky lady of weight and dimensions would, on trying to rise from the table, tilt up the chair and save herself from falling by clinging to the arm of the man next her. For of course you can't have castors on old oak chairs, and when the stumps of wood have got well settled into the thick Turkey carpet, how is the chair to be sent back?"

"That is quite absurd," says a voice. "Everyone says our dining-room chairs are exceedingly comfortable."

"Yours are; but this is another matter. Now, the lady of the house did not stop at oak furniture and solemn carpets and severe curtains. She began to dress herself and her children to match her furniture. She cut the hair of her own babes to suit that sideboard. There was nothing heard of but broad lace collars, and black velvet garments, and what not; so that the boys might correspond with the curtains and not be wholly out of keeping with the chairs. She made a dress for her own mother, which that estimable lady contemplated with profound indignation, and asked how she could be expected to appear in decent society in a costume only fit for a fancy ball."

"It was a most beautiful dress, wasn't it, Bell?" says a voice.

"But far worse was to come. She began to acquire a taste for everything that was old and marvellous. She kept her husband for hours stifling in the clammy atmosphere of Soho, while she ransacked dirty shops for scraps of crockery that were dear in proportion to their ugliness. During these hours of waiting he thought of many thingssuicide among the number. But what he chiefly ruminated on was the pleasing and ingenious theory that in decoration