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LALL RIGHTS RmicimvziD.) ¡,.…

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LALL RIGHTS RmicimvziD.) ¡, THE HOUSE OYER THE WAY. I I By HORACE LASHBROKE, Author of To the Rescue," "An Unjust Stewctrd, "Forsaken" "That Cad Williams," "Poor Cousin Tim," etc. etc. HE NARRATIVE CONTINUED THROUGH EXTRACTS FROM PROFESSOR CLOUD'S PRIVATE DIARY. j CHAPTER X. BIBS. TRUSSETT'S HARDNESS OF HEART. September 12.-My interview with Mr. Wallia occupied only a portion of the morning and exhausted only an item in my days' work. In the days of my childhood I was instructed never to permit the grass to grow under my feet. 2hat wise precept impressed itself indelibly upon my juvenile brain, and I have endeavoured through- out life to act up to it. Whenever I have work to flo I do it with all my might, I work with both hands, and, when required, with both feet. Whough somewhat corpulent, I have walked more miles in the twenty-four hours than the majority of lean men would venture to compass. In spite of any physical drawbacks I have never permitted the grass to grow under my feet-never When I left the estimable Mr. Wallis he was fitill in a slightly lachrymose condition my words •of sympathy evidently touched the emotional side -of his character. Poor weak creature, the victim of social insignificance, neglected education, and an over-indulgence in alcoholic stimulants. His wife must have been a sensible woman. What earthly chance could he have in fighting against such a man as Richard Wingrove. None— absolutely none What chance has social insigni- ficance against social importance? Not a dog's chance. If Mr. Wallis of no importance had had a brother who had saved the life of Richard Wingrove oj importance, and Richard Wingrove had taken deep interest in Mr. Wallis's brother, and had suspected that he had been the victim of foul play at his brother's hands, he could have hunted the red- handed culprit down, and exposed his villainy with little or no trouble. But reverse the positions; put Mr. Wallis of no importance where he is, and Richard Wingrove of importance where he is, and the crime-if crime there has been-remains un- earthed, and, by the community at large, unsus- pected. This outcome of social inequality gives rise to -many distressing reflections. It is an awful thing to have to acknowledge to oneself that a man hold- ing a good position in society may cut your throat, strangle, suffocate, or poison you, with far less flanger of being suspected or found out than can a man whose social position is obscure and insigni- ficant. Mr. Wallis, the second-hand clothier, evidently suspects that Richard Wingrove has done his brother to death, and his suspicions are disregarded and laughed to scorn, not simply because he is eccentric and given to outbursts of intoxicated frenzy, but because he is nobody. This confirms use in the belief, that I have always maintained in my inmost consciousness, that everybody ought to 'be regarded as somebody, and that social distinc- tions should not exist. To acknowledge that belief to one's fellow-creatures would, taking into con- sideration the circumstances of my environment, The foolishness. My opinions, social, moral, and F>litical, are governed entirely by my surroundings. am, in short, just that which it best suits me to ;be for the time being. Moralists object to this. I let them object without disputation. Disputation is vexatious and leads to strife. Being a naturally amiable creature I avoid strife: it distresses me. Let dogs delight to bark and bite. For 'tis their nature to." Professor Cloud never barks, and never bites fllDless it be in self-defence. On leaving Mr. Wallis I promised to call and flee him again ere long, and suggested the proba. bility of purchasing a winter suit. I also assured him that a calm demeanour and a silent tongue pfere far more likely to bring about the confusion -of his enemies than useless declamation and violent • outspokenness. Mr. Wallis has already proved of Service to me; it is quite probable that he may prove of still greater service to me in the future, ffihe judicious expenditure of fifteen shillings on an overcoat purchased at his establishment may lead to the handling of thousands of pounds! Adonis my beautiful Adonis just think of that the handling of thousands It is wonderful what a trifling investment will sometimes lead to. I continued my voyage of discovery through the High Street without again halting until I came to a dull looking, old-fashioned house, on the door of which was a plate-an ill-polished plate-bearing ithe inscription, MR. RICHARD WINGROVE, Solicitor. Here, I reflected, is an instance of that irritating indifference to appearances that the well-to-do and successful can afford to exhibit. If Richard Win- grove were a beginner in his profession, or even an old stager struggling hard against opposition, he could not afford to allow his door-plate to remain in its present unattractive and unbecoming condition. It would be imperative that it should shine attractively through the agency of daily polishing. From the door-plate I turned my eyes to the windows, at one of which I beheld a face. Shall I write down, even in these private pages, the emotions that filled my sensitive bosom when 1 gazed upon that remarkable and distinctive visage. Adonis is nibbling at the end of my pen- 4holder while I pause and hesitate. I smooth his soft white coat with a gentle hand. He looks up at me with his beautiful and expressive pink eyes. "Adonis," I ask, "shall I soil this virgin page with a description of my emotions on behold- ing that wonderful physiognomy ? Adonis appears to give me a silent negative in response to my question. I, therefore, suppress fey emotions, and confine myself to facts. The face at the window looked out upon me with anything but a friendly expression. The small black eyes eyed me suspiciously, the massive chin obtruded itself inhospitably, and the nostrils of the gigantic nose dilated fiercely. A nervous man would have hurried from the spectacle as quickly as his trembling legs could have carried him; a man of fairly strong nerves would have walked away with anything but a pleasant sensation. I stepped up to the door and applied my hand to the knocker. Quite a minute elapsed before there was any response. Then the door was very slowly and very cautiously opened, but only wide enough to reveal the face I had observed at the window. Mrs. Trussett I believe ? I said, raising my hat in my politest manner. "What do you want?" answered that lady, Curtly. "A brief conversation that cannot fail to prove Of interest to you." I replied. Who are you?" she asked in the same un- friendly tone. A friend of your brother's, Mrs. Trupsett." What's your name ? I am Professor Cloud," I responded, handing her my card as I spoke. Cloud ? Cloud ? she muttered. Any rela- tion to the Clouds that used to live here ? A relation-a poor relation," I answered. lthis assurance seemed to at least relieve her of the grave suspicion with which she had received me. Come in," Bhe said, after a slight pause but you musn t stop many minutes." She ushered me into a dismal apartment, the Windows of which looked out into the street, and close to one of the same I seated myself with my back to the light. Mrs. Trussett sat with her face to the light, her large hands clasped in her lap. What have you to say? she asked time is precious." "I met your brother when I was abroad, Mrs. Truasett, and we became intimate. I might add, yery intimate." "Well?" Her indifference to her brother conveyed in the tone in which she gave utterance to her monosyllabic Answer chilled me to the marrow. He frequently spoke of you," was my next Observation. "Did he ?" It He frequently spoke of you aa his 'good .ter.' JJ Humbug I ejaculated Mrs. Truesett. What did he ever care for his sister ? "He appeared to care for her very much," J said. "He didn't care for her very much when he disgraced himself by robbing his employers an4 bringing shame on her name," replied Mrs. Trussett. When did that happen ? I asked. "When he was a lad of fifteen, living here in Winford." "He was very young, then, you know," I pleaded probably got into bad company and was led away." "There was no excuse for him—none—He'd been brought up respectable, pampered by his mother, and given an education above his position; a ten times better one than I, his sister, ever had." Perhaps," I observed, he was an exceptionally clever boy, and worth bestowing a superior educa- tion upon ?" "Clever?" said Mrs. Trussett; "he had a head on him that should have made a rich man of him in any respectable calling he'd chosen to take up with but he wouldn't go straight." "Sad, very sad," I remarked with a sigh "but not an exceptional instance. Perhaps, if his youth- ful indiscretion had been overlooked, and he had been given another chance, he might have pros- pered, poor fellow, in his native country, instead of wandering about in foreign lands an outcast and an alien." "Not him!" exclaimed Mrs. Trussett with brutal assurance of her brother's worthlessness. "I don't know what story he may have told you of himself, and I don't care. A parcel of lies in his own favour, I've no doubt. But whatever he may have said, you may take it from me he was a bad son, and got off more lightly than he deserved." Remember his youth at the time of his downfall, my dear madam-remember his youth," I pleaded. But Mrs. Trussett had not a shadow of mercy on her brother's weakness in the years long passed away. "Youth," she exclaimed, "isn't an excuse for thieving. He was put in a house agent's office, had good money given him for a boy of his age, and then wouldn't go straight. Why, he falsified the books and robbed 'em of close upon two hun- dred pounds, not a farthing of which was ever recovered." And his employers prosecuted him ?" I said. Of course they did. Mr. Wingrove appeared against him, and brought his crime home to him as clear as daylight; but his mother, who thought more of him then she ever thought of me, pleaded so hard for him when he was found guilty, that he was let off on account of his youth under the pro- mise that he should be sent abroad." "And he was sent abroad ? If Yes; with an outfit that coEt I don't know how many pounds-the savings of years-just as though he done something to be proud of." Banishment from one's native land, my dear madam, even with an expensive outfit, is a terrible punishment," I observed. "Rubbish! Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Trus- sett. His punishment, as you please to call it, was just the thing he'd always been craving after. He was always wild to go abroad." And when did this happen, madam, if I may ask the question ? Thirty years ago, or thereabouts." si And you have never heard of your poor brother since ? "Never-nor never wished to," replied Mrs. Trussett. "Then I fear my visit will prove of small interest to you," I answered. "Nothing interests me," said Mrs. Trussett; nbut if you want to say anything about one as never did no good to nobody, you can." Mrs. Trussett's knowledge of the grammar of her native tongue is painfully limited. "I have little to say, my dear madam," I observed, beyond the fact that I made the acquaintanceship of your unfortunate brother in South America some years ago that I became attached to him; that he reciprocated that attach- ment and that I did all in my power to advance his interests." Knowing him to be a thief?" interposed Mrs. Trussett, with a brutal bluntness that positively made me shudder. "At that time, madam," I answered, "only knowing that he had committed some error in his youthful career that had driven him from his native, land. Had I been aware that he had been guilty of theft—a fact that he disclosed to me at a later date-it would not have alienated my affection or mitigated my endeavours in his behalf. I judged him by what he was, not by what he had been. Who is to prosper in this transitory life, dear madam, if their sins are never forgotten or for. fiven, or if true repentance, as exemplified in a etter existence, is not sufficient atonement for past errors ? Don't preach, please exclaimed Mrs. Trus- sett, curtly. I threw no more pearls at the feet of swinish Mrs. Trussett, but resumed in the following more matter of fact strain. "Your poor brother, madam, on his death-bed confided the history of his life to me. He spoke of the youthful error Theft interrupted Mrs. Trussett. Theft !I madam," I answered, "is an tnpleasant word when applied to those for whom we have enter- tained feelings of affection, and whose memory is dear to us. He spoke, I say, of his youthful error with sincere and unfeigned remorse. He remem- bered vividly how thoroughly his crime was brought home to him by Mr. Richard Wingrove; how that gentleman left no stone unturned to bring him to justice; and how he even tried to silence your mother's pleading for mercy on her boy." And quite right too said Mrs. Trussett, her beady black eyes glittering with approval of Richard Wingrove's merciless prosecution of her brother. "The impression, madam," I resumed, "left upon your poor brother of the stern and implacable manner in which Mr. Wingrove carried through the prosecution against him rendered him, on his deathbed, uneasy as to yourself! "As to me?" exclaimed Mrs. Trussett, with evident amazement. "That is so, madam; uneasy as to you. 'My sister,' he said, 'was attached to Richard Win. grove in her girlhood's days, but with little hope their relative social positions being so unequal. Still, I believe Richard Wingrove was fond of her. I have heard that she married someone else, that that someone else died, that Mr. Wingrove was still unmarried. Possibly, therefore, Mr. Win- grove may, after all, have married my sister. Should you, on your return to England, visit Winford, will you discover if such has been the case, and if it be so, whether or no my sister is happy as Richard Wingrove's wife ? He was a stern, hard man, and would, I fear, make a stern, hard husband. I would not like to think that Sarah was unhappy. To describe the variations of expression that Mrs. Trussett's remarkable visage underwent while I delivered the above speech, surpasses my des- criptive powers. My brother," she said, 1"1 must have died mad Mr. Wingrove marry me? Me, his housekeeper? Mad Mad to imagine such a thing. And is that all he sent you to find out ?" "My dear madam," I answered, "I sincerely trust that you -recognise and appreciate the loving spirit that prompted your dying brother to solicit a friend to enquire after your happiness." "Rubbish 1m snarled Mrs. Trussett; "he'd no love in him. What was his love on his dying bed worth to me if he'd had any ? Impudence, you: mean. He was always impudent, and impudence made him ask you to come here." I I Madam," I said, reprovingly, "people are not usually impudent on their death beds." "If," replied Mrs. Trussett, not condescending to notice my mild reproval, "he'd sent you with money, or to tell me he'd left me some property, I might have believed in his love and repentence, but sending you, as he seems to have done, just to spy into my private affairs, I neither believe in him nor thank him." She rose frbii-,hii--Siat while speaking, as il anxious to close the interview. He died, madam "-1 commenced. (C I don't know nor care how or where he died," she interrupted. If Under a false. name, no doubt." "He died under his legitimate name, madam," I I said, severely. How do you know t" she replied, insolently. i' He died ujider_the ^name of Henry Drew," I said. "That was his correct name, was it not? You were Miss Drew," I believe. Pah ejaculated Mrs. Trussett. A good thing he told the truth for once in his life "I am deeply sorry, madam," I said, "that my labour of love in coming hither to acquaint you with the decease of your poor brother, and with the revelation of his deep affection for you in his dying hour, should have been received in so harsh a spirit." "Don't apologise; I hate apologies," retorted Mrs. Trussett. "I had hoped, madam," I resumed, that I might have found-if I may presume to say so much-a small corner of appreciation iu your heart as the friend who held your brother's hand in his when he expired. Trespassing on that privilege, I had proposed seeking your influence with Mr. Wingrove in my favour. It is in my mind to settle in Winford as a teacher of languages and other subjects. Mr. Wingrove's influence amongst the aristocracy would be of service to me. I am about to look out for a suitable house for my scholastic purposes." I turned to the window as I concluded speaking, and looked across the road at a melancholy and much dilapidated looking residence over the way. "A place of that description, for instance, standing in it's own grounds," I observed, would suit me admirably, if put into proper repair." "That place I" exclaimed Mrs. Trussett, who had glided up to me, while my eyes were averted, in the most silent and ghost-like manner, and who now clutched me by the arm. I I That place No one in his senses would take that crumbling ruin." There was an expression of absolute horror on her face as she said this. It appears to be a substantial and well-built residence, my dear madam," I replied, "requiring only some slight repairs to the roof, and, doubtless, re-papering and repairing within." The place is decayed—rotten nobody will look at it, nobody will have anything to do with it. It swarms with rats-swarmb with 'em!" Mrs. Trussett's face, contorted with inexplicable fear and excitement, was more hideous and repul- sive than it appeared to be in her calmer moments —even then it was superlatively hideous. Swarms with rats, my dear madam I" I said, quite cheerfully; I have no fear of, nor dislike to, those eminently tractable little creatures, who, when trained and fostered by a kindly hand, become the friend of one's bosom. Observe my dear Mrs. Trussett, observe I illustrate my con- tention 11 Slightly inclining my body, Adonis emerged from the seclusion of my waistcoat, and ran swiftly up on to my shoulder. Mrs. Trussett shrieked, and fell back several paces. "Take it away!" she exclaimed-" take it away I" Madam," I said, you have nothing to fear, Adonis, the companion of my wanderings, the friend of my bosom, is as harmless as a newly- fledged skylark in its rural nest!" Take it away insisted Mrs. Trussett, "and yourself with it." Adonis, obedient to a stroke of my hand, retired from the vulgar gaze of Mr. Wingrove's house- keeper, then wishing that menial a polite good morning "-after promising to see her again-I gracefully retired from the house. v When I got into the street, thankful to breathe once more the fresh and invigorating autumnal air, I crossed the road and stood for some considerable time gazing at the house over the way. Mrs. Trussett, I felt confident, would be watching me, and my continued interest in the house over the way would, I hoped and believed, aggravate and disturb that detestable specimen of the female gender. I (To be continued.)

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