LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 55, 3 August 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DENNY'S INTENTIONS

In Four Chapters, chapter ii. continued,

Charlie looked doubtfully up and down. • There's the shilling ?' he said at last. 'What shilling?' cried Denny. 'Have I dropped one, eh ? Hutton, hare I dropped a Bhilling V ' It's the shilling you said you'd give me. * Did I say I'd give you a shilling ? Come, come, my boy ; remember Ananias and Sapphira. Hutton, he won't do, after all, if he tells fibs.' 'The boy must have thought you said so. Here, Blake,' said Hutton, good naturedly, putting his hand into his pocket, ' we'll see if we can't find you a shilling.' • I won't have it now,' said Charlie, independently. ! And as for fibs—l know who tells the most.' baying which, he took to his heels, and didn't look back till he had got right over the bridge. When he reached home he found that he had kept dinner waiting, and that his father ■was very cross. After the atmosphere had cleared a little, he told hia adventure, leaving out the part about the shilling, for, as he hadn't got it, he didn't feel inclined to be rebuked for not refusing it. Mrs Blake was pleasantly excited about the matter. 'Oh Dick ! she said to her husband, ' perhaps he means to make Charlie his heir ! and people Bay he's worth no end of money.' Polly clapped her hands ; she was a couple of years younger than Charlie. " How jolly that will be ! Fancy Charlie with a fortune. You'll give me some, won't you V Charlie flushed to the temples: a hazy golden vision, a mixture of fortunes and Fanny Huttons floated before his eyes ; he felt for the moment quite a superior being. He would have no cold mutton then, and fat should be a thing unknown. Polly's keen eyes detected Charlie's momentary inflation;she called him Fortunatus ever after, and chaffed him unmercifully about his expectations. Denny took a good deal of notice of Charlie after that, and often asked him to the Manor farm, never giving him better entertainment than a stale gingerbread nut, and a glass of sour beer, but putting him through his facings as to what he learned at school, with great assuidity. Charlie would have shirked these visits, but for the canal \rhich ran through the fann, and was full of all kinds of fish—Jack-like young sharks, brilliant perch and bream as big as the kitchen bellows ; and there he'd fish all day long whenever he got a holiday, and, lying under the shade of a tree by the canal bank, would watch his float, and dream of being a rich man and old Denny's heir. The Manor farm didn't exactly belong to Mr Denny ; but it was as good as his, everybody said. It belonged to the cathedral of Bincaster, or to the bishop, rather and Denny held it under a lease—a bishops lease as they caljed it about there-paying twenty-five pounds a year as rent. Holdings under these bishops' leases were always reckoned as good as freehold. It was one of the best farms in the county, this of Denny s, consisting of five hundred acres and more of excellent land ; although a couple of a hundred years ago it had been a range of barren sand fields, producing nothing but a few nrs and birch trees, and abounding only in rabbits. It had been let at a shilling an acre then, and was let at the same rate now, although the land might well be said to be ■worth forty shillings or more in these days. Denny drove Charlie over to Bincaster one day when he went to pay his rent, and they diaed with a dignified old. gentleman in a

white cravat, who had something to do with the dean and chapter. He had a very fine garden, not by his house, which was in the cathedral precincts, but beyond the city walls —a garden kept in the extremity of neatness and good order. There was a summer-house there too, that was furnished as comfortably as a sitting room ; and here the two old gentlemen sipped their wine, whilst Charlie ran about the garden, strictly enjoined not to touch anything. It was a drowsy place, full of sunshine ; the hum of insects, the clang of the old cathedral bells mellowed by distance, the sleepy sounds of the country, twittering of song-birds, cawing of rooks, a dog barking afar off, made a sort of soothing melody that overcame Charlie's senses with sleep; And yet he was conscious of what was going on about him, and heard everything that passed. He knew that the two old men had come out of the summer-house, and that they were standing looking at him as he lay asleep on the grass. 'You've made a very good selection,-' said the bishop's man. ' Yes, I think I have. Good sound constitution there, eh 1 Just right age and everything.'

' You are quite right to be careful ; we never know what changes may happen ; there'll be a wonderful upset of everything when the old bishop goes. In these days of ecclesiastical commissions and spoliation of the capitular endowments, one never knows what may happen. Take care of young Charlie here,' and then he passed on. Charlie never could make out in what way he was connected with the interests of the cathedral people at Bincaster, but it was evident that old Denny had made him his heir, and he was a good deal puffed up at the thought, although he tried to think nothing more about it. But when Blake was a year or two older, he was sent to a grammar-school a long; way off, and getting among a rough set of boys, and into a new way of life, he lost sight of his old dreams and fancies for a while, and thought little more of Denny and his intentions. When Charlie was about sixteen, his father took him from school, and put him into a merchant's office ; and a year or two after that he died ; and his wife didn't long survive him, so that Charlie Blake and his sister Polly were left to shift for themselves. Richard Blake had been an artist, and had lived pretty much from hand to mouth ; but he had insured his life handsomely, and when all debts were paid and affairs wound up, there was about fifty pounds a year left for the brother and sister.

Everybody thought that, under these circumstances, old Denny would have come forward and proposed to do something for Charlie; but he made no sign. He was anxious to know all their future plans, and bade Charlie earnestly to be sure and tell him of all his movements. He didn't offer them them any assistance, however, and Charlie was too proud to ask for any. Charlie made no great hit in business. He had inherited a good deal of his father's artist nature, and perhaps it would have been better for him if he had been permitted to follow the bent of his inclinations; but Richard Blake had tasted too much of of the bitterness of such a career to wish his son to pnrsue it. The best possible intentions and resolutions are unavailing to overcome the bent of natural capacities. Then the dim expectations that floated in his mind, of future wealth, of indefinite possibilities and chances, interfered with any vigorous efforts on the part of Charlie to better his present position. Altogether, the few people who took any interest in his affairs shook their heads over him, and said he had'nt turned out well. Fifteen years after the first introduction of Charlie Blake to old Denny of the Manor farm, the former was living: at Liverpool in lodgings with his sister Mary. She was a daily governess in the families of several well-to-do merchants, whilst Charlie hnd nothing to do at all. He had grown sick and tired of writing advertisements that never received any answer, of writing answers to advertisements that nobody ever took notice of. The occasional response that raised his hopes sometimes, always turned out to be given by ' a party' who wanted money in some way as a deposit, a premium, or an advance. Then there were constant calls to be made at merchants' countinghouses, kicking his heels for hours, waiting the convenience of some self-important principal, to be dismissed with a shake of the head and a wave of the hand—' Come again in three months, if you like.' 1 Polly,' said Charlie, flinging himself on the sofa, after an unsuccessful expedition of this nature, ' I cannot stand this any longer. I shall enlist, if I'm not too old ; or I'll join the police, if they'll have me. Oh, why didn't father make me a blacksmith, or give me a craft I could .always turn my hand to. To go about cringing hat in hand, asking leave to earn my bread. I can't stand it Polly, any longer.' 'lt is vexing,' said Polly, who had grown up into a very nice-looking young woman, with a full placid face, broad forehead, and brown hair in smooth bands above it—' it is vexing, but you must have patience. We have enough to live upon, you and I, and it's a great comfort to be together.' ' Do you think, Polly, that I can slay In e any longer, to live upon your scaniy earnings? You could be very comfortable but for me, lay by money, and by-and-by you'd get married.' ' That isn't at all probable, Charlie,' said Mary, coloring a little ; l I'm not likely to meet anybody here who would suit me, or whom I should suit.' ' Who said anything about here ! Polly, when did you hear from Fanny Hutton ?' ' Well, I had a letter this morning.' 1 And did she say anything about Tom?' 'Nothing particular. He's gone into partnership with his father, that's all.' ' I wonder whether you'd be so keen about corresponding with Fanny, if she hadn't got a brother Tom !'

' Charlie, I assure you that there is nothing whatever between us ; you shouldn't put such things into one's head. You might as well say that Fanny writes to me because I've got a Brother Charlie.' ' Oh, Polly, if I thought so I But what would be the use of it. No ; I can't do anything to keep myself, or anybody else ; I'll go and list for a soldier.' Charlie jumped up and looked for his hat, as if with the intention of immediately carrying out his resolution.

' Don't do that, Charlie—please don't, for my sake ; don't Charlie ! Sit down and talk reasonably, for I have got something to tell you ; I have heard of something for you.' _ Charlie threw himself on the sofa again. Well, let's hear it,'he cried. 'lt's all bosh, I daresay.' «You know Mr Markham, whose daughter I teach, is an African merchant.'

«Well, go on.' ' I have spoken to Mrs Markham often about you. She is such a nice kind woman, and she takes quite an interest in you.' Charlie groaned. ' Well, go on.' «I wouldn't tell you before, Charlie, because I didn't want you to leave me ; but, after all, it is better that you should risk something than go on in this way. Mr Markham has ships which go to the coast of Africa—the west coast, you know ; Sierra Leone, and so on.' The white man's grave. I know.' ' Well, it appears that they want a clerk or something out there, at a salary of a hundred and fifty pounds a year. They have lost six within the last few years, but then Mrs Markham says she thinks they drank, and were dissipated.' ' And you would be willing for mc to go, Polly !' ' I shouldn't like it, Charlie ; but' He turned his face to the sofa cushion, and thought bitterly for a few minutes. Polly wouldn't have him go for a soldier, because it would wound her pride to have a brother a private soldier ; coming to see her, perhaps, in his staring scarlet uniform, as if she were a servant maid ; but she didn t mind his risking almost certain "death in a quasi-genteel occupation. ' I'll go, Polly,' he said at last, 'if they'll have me ; I'll go like a bird. As you say, anything is better than this.' [End of Chap. I.] To he continued.