DISILLUSIONISED.

Press, Volume LII, Issue 8991, 2 January 1895, Page 3

DISILLUSIONISED.

Bt Roy Tellkt. Author o* "The Outcast*, ,, " A Draught of Lethe," " Pastor and Prelate," &c., &c Neither of them occupied a great poiition, but his was certainly higher than her*. For, though he was only a bank clerk, he was a gentleman by binh, the eon of a clergyman, aud himself a man of ealture and refinement. He bad mt«sed ftie true vocation, as poor men so often do. He would have made an admirable clergy, rtian, schoolmaster, or professor, but as a bank clerk he was not a great success. He bad no genius for figures, and his handwriting vra« in a state cf constant rebellion tgainst King Copperplate. He was tolerated in the Bank —that was all. "Not a bad fellow. Mervyu, iv hia way," bat hardly up to our standard. Knows a lot of Latin and G reek, and rubbish of that nort-e» if that was auy good in the city I Still, l' e does his bear, poor fellow; we must make allowance for him."

Tbie was very human and Christian on the part of the manager, and it goes to ,tow that Mr Mervyn, if he was not thought much of from a business point of view. WR9 Tet personally popular. He certainly was very good-natured. Hβ would do anything for a fellow-clerk. Anything, that is to iay, that did not shock his fastidious sense of what was rlgbt and gentlemanly. For be was the soul of honour, and the figures amidst which he lived had subtracted nothing from tbe sensitiveness of his conscience.

He was no longer very young—about thirty. Hia father and mother were both dead. He had no brothers or ulsters—ln fact, no relation except a distant and crußiy cousin ever so much older than himself, who would have nothing to do with him. The old feilow was rich, and a miaer, and he fancied that his cousin would want to borrow of him if they were on terms of intimacy. This only showed bow little he knew his poor relation, for the bank clerk was much too proud ot borrow of anyone. Besides, he had no need to borrow. Hia salary was sufficient (or hit modest wants, and be had even jnaoaaed to put by a little.

Do you know what It is to be a clerk in London without relations ? Oh, the loneliness of the life 1 You get up early; jou go to work; you come back to your lodgings; y° u have your frugal meal. And then? There Is no home life for you—no sweet domesticity. You may «o to the reading-room, but you remain a stranger there—no one speaks to you—in fact, speech itself is prohibited. Then you eeme back and go to bed. You have been ■U day amongst your fellow-men and have been absolutely alone the whole time. And thiigoe* on day after day, week after week, year after year.

Of coarne, if you are young enough and reckless enough, there is another kind of life which is open to you—the life of the nunlc-halls and the Bodega*. But Mervyu had never cared for thta kind of life. Yet he was by nature sociable j he yearned for companionship. But it must be a true companionship, based on mutual affection, not the mere pursuit of pleasure in doable harness.

He was quite out of society. He knew so families in Loudon. Once in a way the' manager asked him to dinner. The electro plate was a trifle dazzling; the manager's wife a trifle condescending. As for the manager's daughters, It seemed to him that they regarded his chair as practically empty. So ho used to come away from tbe feast hungry and. unsatisfied at heart. >' It was in coming away from one such feast that hia fate overtook him. He lived at Hammersmith, and the manager's house was on Haverstock Hill. It Is a long way to go for a dinner which does not satisfy you. Mervyn returned by v omnibus—outside, of course, as it was summer-time, and, for a wonder, notraining. There was only one vacant seat and that one next to a young vtomau. Mervyn took It—a little nervously. Woman was still a mystery to him. Presently the conductor came up to him and jerked out his mechanical: "Fare*, please!" Mervyn paid his fare. The conductor, waited a moment, and then repeated bis refrain, jerking It this time towards the young woman who sat next to Mervyn. She turned half round and said quietly :— " I have paid you already." "No, Miss, you *aye not." '• But I assure you I have." The conductor, getting out of his mechanical groove, said he would be "biowed," and otherwise broadened the boundaries of his speech. It was in the days when directors were still guileless, and accepted such amounts as conductors were pleased to spare them. There were no tickets to prove* the payment of the fare, and the bell punch had not been Invented to supply the deficiencies of conscience. None' the less, there were honest conductors even In those days. During this episode the, young lady's face was turned towards Mervyn, and, as a man, he could not but notice that It was a very pretty face. And there was a wonderful air of candour and innocence about it. He felt that it was monstrous that the owner of such a face should be Insulted by an omnibus cad. So ho Interposed, not angrily, but firmly. " You should not use such language," he said, "especially to a young lady." '* Younglady be blowed 1" said the conductor. "If she was a lady, she would payme." "She has paid you," said Mervyn. "I am sure of It. But here—take thi--." He gave the man threepence, and the tempest was stilled. "You will excuse the liberty I have taken," bo said, turning to the young lady when the transaction was over. "It is too bad of him. These conductors are sometimes very rough."

She smjgpd upon him ia return.

"You are very kind," she said; "You

tnuac let mc repay you some other time. The fact is, I gave this man my last threepence." He looked at her in astonishment. Was she so very poor, then » She certainly did not look it. There was light enough from the latrip* and the moon for him to see pretty clearly how she was dressed. Involuntarily he glanced at her Jvbere the disease of poverty is so apt to •how itself first. They looked quite new, *nd fitted admirably. "I am so glad to have been of any •«vlce, however trifling," he said, in his ow-ta»blonod way. "It i 3 very disagreeabls to lose one's purse/ Shel«, Kued a charmiug little innocent "ni the UukU of * chUd ' . «!,• \« l B « h * ye not loat '»* P«rse," she • »m The purse is all right, only there is nothing In jf," He was touched by the confidence, but ne hardly knetv what to answer. He could not place his own purse at the disv *, Perfect Bt ™»SM-the action Aught be misconstrued. *vT hej J*' £or a wbile in *»ence after US:. c «. as ? ,te * t0 m * ke oufc wuet position i* life she occupied. It seeoied to Mm that she talked like a lady. There was no cockney twang; there were no renegade aspirates. The'muUc cf her "Peecb was clear and uudeuled. And yet here she was, by herself, at night, on the top of an omnibus, and without a penny in her pocket. The problem baffled him. *He cast about in his mind how, without giving offence, he might learn more about her. "Ate you going tarV ho asked. "ToSloane Street." He made up bis mind that be, too, would I*t down at Sloano Strert. Uβ frit wonderfully drawn towards her. So, *ben she got down, he followed her. 'May I escort you homer , ho asked, **tr respectfully, whoa once more they

" I have no home," she answered, "but I live cloae by here. It is not worth while to trouble you."

Of course he said it would be a pleasure, and they walked a little together. All at once she stopped at the side door of a great draper's shop.

" This is where I live." she said. It gave him a shock. He had fancied that she occuphd a superior position. She guessed what was pissing In his mind.

'• I am only a shop-girl," she said. "Yo do not talk like one," he stammered.

" Well, perhaps not. I have been well educated. Iα fact, I have been a governcas."

He felt a certain relief. Sbe was, then, like himself, in position below that which she bad a right to occupy. " Poverty always means slavery of some kind," she said, "but the shopgirl is better oft* than the governess. She has her Sundays, at any rate, to herself." "And what do you do on Sundaysf" he asked, eagerly. "Well, next Sunday afternoon, I am going to Kew with a friend." •*Kew Gardens?" "Yes.* On tbe spot he made up his mind that he would be there to meet her. But he did not say so. He noticed that she bad rung the bell, so he raised his hat to her and wished her "Good night," rather formally. Then he walked back to his rooms. How cheerless and desolate they looked 1 What a new life it would be if some sweet woman's face were there to welcome him. He went to Kew early the next Sunday, and, of course, met her with her friend. "So there you are i" she said. " I never expected to see you again." " Why not ? " he asked awkwardly. "Well, you know, one no seldom does meet the people one would like to meet. It is the others that are always about." She said it iv the same frank innocent way in which she always spoke. And she did not cast down her eyes. On the contrary, she looked straight into his as she spoke. And the look seemed to stir his nature to its depths. No one had ever looked at him like that before. " I almost think sbe likes mc," he said to himself, timidly, as only half daring to believe iv a happiness so great. He had many such looks iv the course of the afternoon, but, in the long run, they disappointed him. They were so frank so ingenuous, that he seemed to miss something in them. And she talked to him as she might have talked to an old friend, or an elder brother.

Bat it wan not at all as a sister that he regarded her. Before the afternoon was over, he was desperately in love with her. He could not deceive himself about that. He had never been in love before, and he was over thirty—a very dangerous age to take the complaint. It should be got over, if possible, much earlier—like the measles. Not that he looked at the matter in this light. On the contrary, he was proud of this new and unexpected achievement of hie nature. There was something in him after all. He was not the mere drudge of the desk, but complete in his humanity. And what a vista of happiness this new feeling opened out before him! No more loneliness, no more pining for intelligent sympathy, no more weariness of life. That is to say, if he could get her to return hi* love. If 1

Hβ was satisfied that she would suit him as a wife. True, she occupied a humble position, but she was a lady by education and doubtless by birth as well. Her talk was delightful to listen to, so simple, so unaffected, so full of a frank knowledge of the world. A little pessimistic, no doubt, but that was evidently due to the hardness of her present life. In a home of her own she would be all sunshine. "

Hβ had enough to marry upon—with management. And a wife brought up in poverty would not be extravagant. She would know how to make their modest income cover all their wants. Yes, she would 9Uit him exactly, and it would be an added happiness to him to think that he had been the means of rescuing her from the drudgery of the shop.

Still, he couldn't propose to her at their second interview, and when, at parting, he asked her if he might see her again, she would give him no appointment.

In these circumstances he did what any man might do—he took an opportunity, a few days later, of going iuto the shop and buy tag a pair of gloves. Afc first he did notseehei; but after a while he discovered her engaged in the cashier's desk. Then he went up to her, and asked her how she did. It was not possible to shatce hands with her with any degree of comfort through the aperture for cash transactions, and he felt this to be a hardship. But a greater hardship was the interference of the manager, who bore down upon them in all the dignity of a sleek frock-coat and nipped their conversation in the bud.

At Kew he had told her his name and that of the Bank in which he was em. ployed. And now, a few days after he had seen her In the shop, he was surprised and delighted to receive a note from her. A woman's hand, delightfully undisciplined, at if to match her nature. Bat the con* tents were not delightful.

Dear MrMorvyn.—A great mleforfune has overtaken mc. I have beep accused of embezzling some of the cash in my keeping. I have no right co ask your help, bat you have been so friendly I thought I would write and tell you. Yours truly, Lilith Grovjb.

Poor girl! How monstrous that she should be suspected In this way! As if her lot were not hard enough already. Would he help her, indeed 1 How could she doubt It for a moment I Bat she did not really doubt it, or she would not have written to him at all. He was all impatience to get to her. Hβ looked at the clock. It was already three. There was an hour to wait, and the hour began spreading itself out into a time that seemed interminable.

However, four o'clock did strike at last, and he took up his hat and rushed out. It was luckily a slack time at the Bank, or he might have had to stay fer another hour or bo after the doors were closed.

When he reached the shop and asked to see Mlse Grove, the manager came , forward, frock-coated, polite, emotionless, and invited him into an inner room.

"This is an unfortunate business, ,, he said.

"There must be some mistake,' answered Mervyn hotly.

The manager raised his eyebrows and spread out his hands, deprecatingly. Then he brushed a particle of dust from his frock-coat. He, at any rate, was, and would remain, immaculate. " I fear, on the contrary, that the case is a clear one. She alone had access to the money." "Can I see her?" asked Mervyn. His blood was bci'ing. The idea of such a creature daring co asperse the character of a girl like Lilith! The manager rang the bell and sent a messenger to summon Miss Grove. While they were waiting he said: " You are, I presume, one of Miss Grove's relations—a cousin perhaps? She tcld us she had no relations, but that might only mean no near ones." *• Whatever Miss Grove told you is sure to be the truth," said Mervyn. "lam no relation, only a friend.'' "Oh," said the manager, discovering another speck on his coat. Then the door opened and Lilith entered calm, collected, with the same frank look in the eyes. Sbe smiled as she saw Mervyn. " I was sure you would come," she said. "Of course. What is the meaning of this infamous accusation against you?" " You must ask Mr Walker, lam sure

I don't know. He says that some of the money is missing.'' "Between four and five pounds," said tbe manager." " And you .think Miss Grove capable of embezzling a paltry sum like that?' asked Mervyn furiously. "I certainly think she has embezzled it." Then something happened which was and remained unique in the experience of the manager. He suddenly felt a man's flat full between tbe eyes, and the next instant he was sprawling on bis back across the coalscuttle. And Mervyn was standing over him, flushed, indignant vindictive. " How dare you insult a lady in that way ?" he cried. The manager did not answer. He was not stunned, only astounded. But he retained enough self-possession to see that silence would be golden at this particular juncture. He got up slowly and awkwardly. The frock-coat was sadly rumpled. "Come with mc, Miss Grove," said Mervyn. But Lilibh was well aware that such a step would be futile. "No," she said, "I will stay here and face it out." The manager stalked stiffly to the door, opened it, aud got outside. Then, holding the handle, he said :— " I allowed Miss Grove to send for you, sir, meaning to give her one more chance. If you had been willing to replace the money for her, we might have refrained from proaecutlon. But after your outrageous conduct we shall show no consideration." Then he'slammed the door viciously, as though to drive home his words. "There, Lilith," said Mervyn, "Ihave done you a mischief, after all. And I was so anxious to help you." "You have done mc good," she said. " I have always hated that man. If I bad been etrong enough 1 should have knocked him down myself long ago." Her eyes were flashing. Mervyn looked at her with admiration. What a spirit the girl had I And how natural her indignation 1 Then another light came into her eyes— and, before he knew what was going to happan, she had thrown her arms round his neck. " There 1" she said, " I don't know what you will think of mc, but I must give you one kiss, to thauk you for what you have done. Perhaps we shall never meet again." Hia heart throbbed tumultously. There could be no longer any doubt that she loved him. Hia happiness was so great that it took away tor the moment all his strength, and at first he could not speak. " Oh, my dearest Ihe said at last. A golden haze transfigured the dingy room. There was a noise outside the door, and the two starred asunder. "You had better leave mc now," she said. "We understand each other." "Bub what will happen to you?" " I don'c know, but I muse face it out.'' " Well, here is my purse," said Mervyn. "Perhaps you can bribe that ruffian. If not, I will go ball for you, and employ a lawyer to defend yon. and pay any fine that may be imposed." It was hard for him to leave her, but he saw himself that, after his fracas with the manager, his continued presence could do her no good. And she knew how to manage her own affairs. She offered to replace the money which was alleged to bo missing, and the offer was accepted. Perhaps the proof against her was not quite so complete as tbe manager had said. Perhaps he thought it would do no good either to him or to the establishment to institute a prosecution. He may even himself have been a little careless as regards supervision. At any- rate, the matter ended with Miss Grove's dismissal. " Mervyn had found a temporary home for her in the house of a widow lady with whom he had at one time lived himself. Here he paid her a visit on the evening of the day after her arrival. They met as lovers and both were for the moment happy. Lilith was all frankness. "We need have no secrets now," she said, "and I don't mind telling you that I did not care for you much until you knocked that man down. Till then I had no idea that you were so brave and strong." Mervyn had no Idea of it himself. It wtis love that had brought out the Hon in his nature. "He brought it on himself," he said. "How could he dare even to think that you took the money ? " Lilith laughed merrily. "Oh, we needn't pretend any longer," she said. "It is all right now." He opened his eyes. " I do not understand you, Lilith.'* "Why, of course, you know I stole the money." .*- Don't Bay such a thing even in a joke Lilith dear." " But lam hot joking. What's the use of keeping up this humbug. We under, stand each other now." "Oh, God!" said Mervyn. " Why, you mu9b have guessed Id," said Lilith. "You saw mc try to cheat the omnibus-conductor. When people are poor they must do something. But you are ill, dear?" His fi.ee looked ashen m the grey twilight. He staggered to bis feet. "Yea," he said—"very ill. I must go out into the fresh air—Good-bye." > It almost seemed as if he meant to leave without giving her a caress. But she went straight to him and put up her face for a kiss. Then he took her in his arms, kissed her passionately, and flung her from him. The next instant ho was outside the house.

His dream was over. He went back to his dreary rooms. A lawyer's letter was on the table. He opened it. His cousin wa- dead—intestate. That meant that he —Mervyn—was now a rich man. What did he care ? Then another thought struck him. He took a half-sheet of paper and wrote a few words upon it, leaving all he possessed to Lilitb Grove. His landlady, and* the servant signed their names as witnesses.

The next morning he did not come down to breakfast at the usual time. The landlady knocked at his bedroom door. There was no answer. In alarm she called her husband. The door was broken open. They found the bank clerk lying lifeless on the bed. Aα empty bottle labelled "Laudanum" was on the table at hie side.

Of course, there was an inquest. His fellow clerks gave «lm the highest character. His accounts were all in order He was in comfortable circumstances. He had no troubles. Be had bought the laudanum long before when suffering from, toothache. So the jury recurned a verdict of death from, an overdose of laudanum, taken to relieve tooth' ache. But it was not toothache.