Splendid Miserg.

Otago Witness, Issue 1456, 11 October 1879, Page 21

Splendid Miserg.

A NOVEL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEVS

SECRET," <te.

Chapter IV. Family Secrets. EXT day was rainy — quite a shameful day for the end of June, Flossie remarked indignantly ; so the captain, who i did not seem in the least indignant at the aggravating state

of the weather, spent his morn-

ing with the two young ladies, selecting all the interesting bits in the Times to read aloud to them, while Barbara worked diligently at a strip of cambric embroidery. Flossie idled, and relieved her oppressed spirits with occasional prances round the room, like a spirited horse amusing himaelf in a loose box.

The only kind of needlework Flossie cared for was the alteration and reconstruction of her gowns, mantles, tippets, and furbelows. Of that occupation she never tired ; but it was an untidy species of work, which could only be done in strict retirement, and Flossie's mind waß to-day sorely exercised by a sense of divided duty. She would like to have been in her own room, adapting her last year's muslin to the latest fashion of this year, but she felt that she ought to stay downstairs and play propriety for Barbara. She liked the captain's society also, and was just a little in love with him on her own account ; not enough to make her uncomfortably jealous or unkindly disposed to her sister, but so much as sufficed to give a zest to his society. They talked a great deal when all the not absolutely dryasdust paragraphs in the Times had been exhausted ; they talked of India j they talked of England, of the past, the present, the future ; and by-and-by the two girls began to talk of Their own paßt history. They told the captain how long they^had occupied the little house in South lane ; how they had discovered the spot by accident ; how the garden was a perfect wilderness, the house both outside and inside deplorably in want of paint ; and how by degrees they had made house and garden *hat they now were.

" It has been up-hill work," said Flossie ; "I am not ashamed to tell you that I have done a good deal of whitewashing and painting myself. You'd hardly know me, I believe, if you were to see me standing on a hassock, on a kitchen-table, with my head tied up with a handkerchief, whitewashing a ceiling. It's very exciting work," added the damsel, " but not altogether pleasant, for the whitewash will drop into one's eyes." " And I suppose you have lived at Camberwell ever since you lost your father," said the Captain presently, after they had exhausted the subject of whitewash.

" Lost our father !" echoed Flossie. "We never lost our father. The author of our being ia still in existence." "Really 1" exclaimed George Leland, with a puzzled look. To have been living under a lady's roof for the space of three months, believing her a widow and her children orphans, and*tto have a husband and father sprung upon him in this way, was enough to disturb any man's equanimity. " I really thought your mother was a widow," he faltered. "Yes: mother is absurdly reserved upon the Bubject," answered Flossie. "For my own part I prefer perfect frankness. She has a husband, we have a father ; but I am sorry to say that in both relations he is a decided failure."

The subject was Berious, but Captain Leland found himself smiling. Flossie's pert little face, as she stood opposite him, supporting herself against the end of the sofa, and twisting her pinchbeck watchchain in her fingers, was provocative of anything rather than gravity. "Wemight justly say wehaveno'father," said Bab ; "he has never done a father's duty." " Nonsense, Bab ; don't be so hard upon the author of our being. 1 perfectly remember one Sunday when I had my first frock with a pocket, papa gave me sixpence to put in that pocket, and he used to call me his little maid. I think those were two nice traits in his character, at any rate." " It would hava been nicer of him if he had paid his debts, and kept a roof over our heads, instead of squandering his money," said Bab, with a touch of bitterness.

" What kind of a man was — is your father 7" asked Captain Leland. "I'll describe him as I have often heard him described — in five words, ' nobody's enemy but his own,' " answered Barbara.

" Oh !" said Captain Leland, as much as to say that was a bad case. " He is a moat good-natured person," said Flossie. " You could hardly put him out of temper, if you tried. He will swear at you occasionally, but not savagely. He has threatened to throw me downstairs or out of the window ; but he doesn't mean it. I daresay he finds me rather trying."

" Then you see him sorrieiitaea f " 0 yes. We are on visiting! forms. Mamma seldom goes to see'hfm 1 , because, you see, having left him— l bdieve he pretended to be terribly cut np about it at the time— she has a kind of delicacy about calling upon him. But Bab and I sometimes favour him with a call. He is a solicitor, and has chambers in Gray's Inn. He has not been at all fortunate in his profession, poor man ; but he goes on somehow, and he generally contrives to have chambers, and tin boxes japanned the colour of tortoiseshell combs, with people's names painted on them in whit© letters ; and I believe he has a few old Cornish clients. 1 know I have seen the same names upon the boxes ever since I can remember."

" How glad he must be to see you V* said Captain Leland, with conviction. "Do you think so?" asked Flossie, with a speculative air. "I am afraid I have rather an aggravating effect upon him sometimes, or he wouldn't threaten to throw me out of the window."

" Does he threaten to throw you out of the window V asked the captain of Barbara, who sat, with drooping eyelids, intent upon a strip of embroidery. "O no. Bab never aggravates him. She dosen't ask him for thingß, as I do." " O," said the captain ; "so you ask him for things, Flossie !"

" Yes. I'll give you a little sketoh of our visit, if you like. Scene, a solicitor's office : solicitor discovered writing or trimming his nails — more often the latter. Enter Mr Maulford, articled clerk, ushering in two young ladies, in their best bonnets, got up generally regardless of expense. We try to make a favourable impreasion on the author of our being, though he is a dismal failure."

"Flossie, you are getting diffuse," said Bab ; " pray come to the point." " Mr Maulford announces, * The Miss Trevornocks,' and lingers in the doorway to hear as much as he can of, our conversation. 'O,' says Mr Trevornock, without looking up— in a general way the author of our being is not given to looking up. 'It's you, is it? How do?' We greet him as effusively as circumstances permit. 'How's your mother?' he asks. We reply, without entering into details as to mamma's last headache or the touch of rheumatism she had on Tuesday week. There is a pause, and then our parent asks, 'Any news from the west?* We impart so much of the contents of my aunt's last letter as we think likely to interest him. He doesn't seem to listen, but I believe he hears. A second pause follows, and then I begin my attack, 'Papa,' I murmur meekly, 'could you let us have a little money ? Barbara and 1 are dreadfully in want of summer bonneta, and poor mamma is worried about the water-rate. Two or three sovereigns would be a great boon.' On this the author flares up. He asks me if I think he can go out in the streets and pick up money j if I Buppose he can coin or forge? I don't, but I do suppose inwardly that he might for once in a way earn a littlemoney. He goes on desperately for sometime, but generally ends by producing a sovereign, or a sovereign and a-half, perhaps. We both thank him— indeed, I go so far as to march up to him and kiss him, while this stupid Barbara sits like a statue and twiddles her parasol. Then I proceed to ask him for a little silver to pay for our cab home. Of course vom never do have anything so horribly extravagant as a cab ; but it's a polite way . of extorting a little more cash. Now he begins to lash himself into a dreadful passion. I am a heartless minx. I would take the coat off hie back, or the teeth out of his head — as if I wanted his teeth, poor thing ! — but he finally brings a few shillings out of his trouser-pocket, which rattles as if it were full of money ; and I am sure, from the careless way he carries his gold and silver, mixed up anyhow, he ought to be a millionaire. Then I ask him for a few pence to buy some buns for our lunch ; and when I have got those I ask for a little stationery — a quire or so of foolscap, and some sealing-wax, and quill pens — and then he says he feels strongly tempted to throw me — I am afraid he says ' chuck ' me — out of the window, or to fling me downstairs. But after that I change the conversation, and before we leave him he gets quite friendly."

" A curious state of things," Baid the captain, with a tender little look at Barbara, as who should say, "Sweet flower, not for you should fortune's wind blow so roughly." " May I ask if these filial visits are frequent ? "

" No," said Flossie ; "if they were we should be rich. We just contrive to make our parent provide our bonnets and pay the water-rate. We have never risen above that."

" His portion of domestic responsibility is not heavy. May I ask how long your mother and Mr Trevornock have lived apart ? "

"You may ask anything," replied Flossie ; "lam candour itself. Besides, you have been so kind and friendly — salmon, ham, strawberries, Dundee marmalade," she repeated inwardly — " that I am sure we ought to have no secrets, from you. Ma left pa when Bab and I were very little. They had no vulgar quarrels, you know ; tut he never gave her any money for the housekeeping bills, or the servants' wages, or anything, and there was usually an execution in the house. Perhaps you don't know what that means V

" Yes, I have an idea of the process." "Taxes meant one succession of sum monses," pursued Flossie. "Of course I was not old enough to know anything about it then, We always had dinner,

and I had no idea^that we were' on the brink of starvation. But the debt and the executions and the worry were killing poor ma. She is honest by nature, poor dear, and she could hardly breathe in an atmosphere of dishonesty. Pa used to go to his club, and to races, and to gam-bling-houses,-and- enjoy himself, leaving histderkls <. without' their salaries. The clerks used to come to ma — welived over papa's offices'in those days— and ask her for money 'on a Saturday afternoon, when pa shad - made - himself scarce. It was dreadfully -trying, and' at last ma felt /she could >not /bear it 4 any longer ; so one day she 'packed her boxes, wrote pa a polite note,' and 'cameaWay with us in a cab to Bome.';lodgings; in the Old Kent road, which had been taken for her by her old nufsejavfaithful'old hanger-on, who used to come 'to' tea' occasionally. We were quite < 'little ; in those days. Bab had chubby-vlegs. 1 ■ Don't- blush,' Bab ; you could* 'hardly I*have1 * have existed without legs of some tikind,'- and there's no harm in saying they"irere:>chubby. And ma has toiled 1 ifor»«B,*<and striven and thought for 'viM everJ since; and educated us, and dress'edsnsj-and made us supremely happy ; and if we did; not; 'love her — which we. do, thank XJodMr^we should;- be < hard-hearted little-W retches. ~ And now you know the histoEyofvpur.pa.."'.'- S- < "It is very good of -you to. give me your c6rifideneby# said the captain. " No,- it isn't.; I-rather "enjoy? talking of 'him?!" And on a wet 1 day like this — there ioughtto be a .law against >wet days in summers-one must talk' about some-

thing;" T>.i>d'±).' '1 . , ')<• i■> t ■ "Wduld ybu-ijUke to go to a picture-galleryji'wj-'asked the' captain, thinking tha.t)if->he I »ould>get the two girls into a gallery he might have this silent Barbara alHto'hi'mselfy iwhile {Flossie stuck her impertinent little > nose' into 'the pictures, whioMwasihectwayoi looking at art. •■ She

»aidi«hejwanfed tcfind' out how it was

done^havingiproclivities towards pen and inki ; caricature^' and : thinking Herself an artiafc'.on thetstrength-thereof;:- -i- •. .'•' iNoytfi}ni& "Flossie resolutely., v" That would 1 me^n noleridofcmoney spent- upon 1 cabs/fjilcjniawj.what-anextravagant oreatuue'/yousare. m "No, .-we will all .stop at

honie:'/bfi£"i"

'* Captain I 'lceland' niay be going to his clubV ' *eni6nstrated\Batbara. ' ' '•*If -he wantß to go to his dub he can eayifo," retorted' Flossie, who had taken th'e^OaptaiinT'under'her protection, and talked, of 1 and to him aB if she were' 1 hiis^iifolher,'- 1 " > v He has the power : of Bpe6bh c as t lfr'ell'asl. -I was about to bb-Bervfe'-'that'twe wbuld f all ' stop at home, and Captain Leland ' ' should tell us about the Sikh war!'- 1 * H

.^NBfitfkse'^Ploiteie • I'm J sure you mu&be'tired^fUhe' Sikhs. }? " ' that' you want to- be off to yoiir dlub ?"• asked Flossie. > ■ ' -'• ■ • :^'Not; at ' all; ; ' It ' is not 1 a'< tempting afternoon' for the' West-end. " ; \ • ■ '• jtist as soon sit here land conteinpiate t>ur dripping garden' and tell utM'atJbtft'Hhe "Sikhs.- ' Or' perhaps : you * wo-fild- lifie{tb'giVe' «Tsbb' a lesson in Hindo'Btan^e'>Ji'i v-( I «'■»■* ■ vil-it.:-. -. ' ■ (l ,

had 'been teaching Barbara Hiriaoßtknee 'during^ the last six weeks, cKftfhHdr" tl/e 'anititfenient of the > thing; thbftgH Mbßßie"inaikedi that if ever-Bar-" bara°<?3iit dut'ffsa governess it would 'be 1 a gre^t^ddrant^ge to her' to know Hindolstarfee'-''' 00 '^ •"J >- f »•--•<.] „

«anee.•^IflMW lfiko^it bf:>irthings, r '' said OjJtWJteaM^ /so; the grammar .'-'an^' vocabulary aiM' J . 'childish! "kittle ' reading b6ttiP^afe B bK^h^o&^ 1 and, 1 presently' Barbara^as iii an'exercWtypoir tHe'4% WVq, !while' thfe^Wheads bent' BiSff^ ,p^ 7 8^ft6 the* ' bpoks^. the ? captam explaining Exiii 'expounding, •'ahdj.'in'dee'd, ' domrthje J |r^er paiti'd^Ke work. 1 They we^'as' ; hapii3f ? aa 'at play , ' t an:d aKno^t'as^innobent.' 7 It'Waa ,oiily' Flossie wh^d'jOptild 1 seet he other side of the 1 cards. THal far seeing' damsel sat scribbling pea afid'nik^plcttires' tipoh asheet'of J i;he solicitoir'S £6oWcap^pa'perj and feeling 'as v if she Wer'e'making^h'er 'sister's fortune. ' .y^^he^^ouidn^t'^ha'te haif'so^jmuch of his^Bociet^W I'^srere nqt always by to play propriety, "reasoned Flossie, " Poor vn^ is^p .absorbed in, the house that it is almqsf'as if she had no existence between bte^lifast'.and, tea. . lam really a most valuable young person, and ought to be hjan^Uomely^ rewarded by-and-by, when ojir j»aptiai ! i , boarder is' a general^' and. he and," Bab Have a house in Portman

epuare, , The 'lphg summer afternoon was not one 'minute too long for the .captain and Barbara, though Flossie had ' to stifle more than* one yawn, and grew.desperatelyc wpary of watching the p'er'ambulations.bf a. neighbour's favourite tabby on the top'^of "the "garden wall. The roses were all, dripping. The grass looked sodden. The distant roofs and steeples were dar^ ( blot.ches upon the universal gray. For anybody except lovers the day was qhiljy and depressing ; but for those two yonder^ . bendiug - over the grammar and Exercise book, it was as if they sat in ajsunlifc garden made musical by a choir of nightingales. " I wish ma would let us have a fire at tea-time!" exclaimed Flossie, shivering ; "and, 0, I hope she has made us a hot , cake for tea. I'm half- frozen, and quite ravenous. And* to think that wo are on the brink of July." Tea and the hot cake came at last, with MraTrevornock, who looked brisk and smiling, having made a careful toilet, after a day of" household grubbing, such aa her soul delighted in. When tea was over there came music and song and much talk ; and the, evening growing fine, with a big ROUAd moon that shed glory pyer all Cam-

b^rwell^- the captain and the two girls topk a, walk in the wet, glistening garden. "I've a proposition to make," said Cnptain Leland, throwing aside his cigar, w^iich he was permitted to smoke during these moonlight promenades. " Gracious,"- thought Flossie, "he is going to propose, to Bab in my presence ! Bjow hideously unromantic !" ' i" I know to-morrow will be a glorious day. Let us all go to • Greenwich, and see the Nelson Gallery, and stroll about the Park, and wind up with a whitebait dinner. The fish will be as big as herrings by this time, but that doesn't matter."

j"I agree to it fill," said Flossie, " except the whitebait. Why go and squander money on' dinner ?" she demanded contemptuously. "It is only you gluttdnous men who can recongile yourselves tq spending sovereigns on a single dinner. W en one of us care a straw about whitebait. Let us have our day at Greenwich, aid'come back to one of ma's meat teas. Ajnice leg of- lamb and a salad, for .instance."

("That sounds tempting," said the captain, whose exchequer was not so deep tliat ■he should, desire to waste money on Greenwich dinners ; " and if your mamma and you would really like it as well— !' ■ , - ("Millions of times better," answered Flossie ; and Bab was of the same opinion.' „ i So it was decided they should drive to London Bridge early next morning, and take the train to Greenwich.