LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 56, 4 August 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DENNY'S INTENTIONS

In Four Chapters. Continued. chapter ii.

There was a little difficuly about Charlie Blake's appointment at the African coast, after all. He had imagined that he would be engaged with alacrity, like a volunteer for a forlorn hope ; but he found that there were half a dozen applicants for the place, and almost as much fuss in filling it up as if it had been a bishopric. Mrs Markham had, however, privately assured Mary Blake that she would take care that Charlie had the preference. Mary had written to Fanny some time ago telling her that Charlie was going to the Gold Coast, and coloring his prospects with the hues of hope ; and she had received a note from Fanny since saying she was sorry Charlie was going away, and begging him to accept her warmest wishes for his welfare, and so on.

Mary and her brother were setting at tea one evening talking over the future, and the few days that they would have to spend together, when they heard a vigorous florid double knock at the door, and the mistress of the house came and announced that a gentleman of the name of Hutton wished to see Mr and Miss Blake.

Mary colored brightly; the thought at once came into her mind it was Tom. Charlie was struck with a sudden thrill of hope and excitement. Denny was dead, and had made him his heir, and Hutton had come to tell him the news. It wasn't Tom Hutton, but the old gentleman, as he was beginning now to be called. He'd no particular news, he said, but he was in the neighborhood, having a little business at Manchester, and he thought he'd come over and sec them. Yes ; he'd have some tea, but nothing substantial, as he had only just dined. And how was Charlie getting on ? Pooh !he mustn't be down-hearted. A young man, steady, and of good abilities, was sure to get on in time ; but it wanted time. There were many inquiries after them at Silverbridge: Mr Denny was constantly asking for Charlie. Gold Coast ? Going to the Gold Coast ? Nonsense. It was madness for a young fellow like Charlie, and with his prospects, to Ming away his life, or at all events his health, in a pestiferous place like that. If, indeed, he had a chance of making a fortune in a few years, and coming home to spend it, then it might be worth while to encounter the risk ; but for a salary, and a small one- oh ! it wouldn't do at all.

'That's all very well, Mr Hutton,'quoth Charlie; 'but what am I to do? I have been trying for the last six months to get something, and have failed. It's a sort of happy despatch, I know, but anything's better than t'is, give me bread and cheese at home and I'll stop there.'

_Lffiell^Baid~-Huttoß,-' come Charlie, 111 give.you a. berth. I can't offer you very "'much, for you know nothing about law, and 'you would't be much use to me at first. But ' I'll give you seventy-five pounds a year, and ' you go on with that till you get something better. That's bread and butter for you. And you'll be on the spot to look after old Denny, and see that he keeps you in mind.' Charlie and his sister talked the matter over till late that night, and came to the resolution that it would be better to accept Button's offer, and throw up the African business. Next morning came a note from Fanny to Mary, begging her to use her influence with Charlie to make him give up the Gold Coast. Charlie had many wellwishers at Silverbridge, and things would be sure to turn out well, if he didn't give way to despair. She knew her papa was goiDg to make him an offer, and he would ' be wise to take it. And if Mary Blake would come and live with her brother at Silverbridge, it would be 'awfully jolly,' and the good old times would come back again. And with a view to effect such a desirable consummation, she had been making certain enquiries. Mrs Holbrook of the Grange, whose daughters were now growing up, wanted a non-resident to take the management of their studies. She '.would be only too glad to have ' Miss Blake.' Seventy pounds a year. And there is a set of ' three charming little rooms at the post-office in the village, close to the Grange, and a mile from Silverbridge ; the curate and his sister used to lodge there. 'l've pretty nearly settled it all,' wrote Miss Hutton ; t and if you disavow me now, I shall be having all kinds of actions for damages brought against me. So you must come.' ' It was really very nice to be the subjet of all this goodwill. And now with Charlie's seventy-five pounds a year, and Mary's seventy, and the fifty that they had of their own, they would enjoy a very comfortable income. It was a tame-cat kind of life, it was true, Charlie thought; but it was worth a igopd deal to be within reach of Fanny Hutton. After all, it is not a good thing to go back anywhere. Disappointment follows every attempt to put back the clock, to revive old associations, to live over again the past time. Silverbridge had been such a bright little place in tbeir memories of it. Now it seemed small, and dull and sleepy. Most of their old friends had died, or otherwise disposed of themselves ; the few that were left seemed rather aggrieved than pleased to see them, again. That was their first impression. , Afterwards, when they made up their mind to abjure reminiscences, and to treat the .place as it was, a comfortable, bat rather priggish country town, they got on very well. The Huttons had waxed in importance and position since those old days. Old Campion, the banker, Mr Hutton's uncle, was dead, and ,had left him a share in the bank ; and the old house in the corner of High street was now all offices, and the Huttons lived in a very nice country place, the Limes, about two miles away from the town. They rather looked down upon the old friendly society of the town now. They gave great dinner parties, and considered themselves to belong to the county. Tom hunted in pink, and Fanny was the belle of the county balls, and the great authority in all kinds of amusements, She wasn't a bit changed in other respects. She was just as bright and unaffected as ever, still delighted in her friendship with Mary, and glad to laugh with Charlie: but she was full of business — .of the business of pleasure—always on the wing ; as full as ever of dangerous fascination for Charlie.

As soon as the Blakes had fettled in their new abode, Charlie went off to pay his respects to old Denny. The Manor farm had an old-fashioned house of stone, with mullioned windows acd three gables. There was a grass plot in front that formed a run for the poultry, and a paved footway led through it to the hall door. This opened into a cool brick-paved hall, containing an old-fashioned bureau, a broken-weather glass. a row of deal pegs, on which were hanging three white beaver hats in various stages of decay, the pony harness, and old Denny's whip. A passage to the right, at the further corner of the hall, led to the sitting-room which Denny always used—a scantily-fur-nished room, but always cool in summer, with., an undescribable country fragrance about it, not unpleasant. He had changed very little during the past fifteen years. Drier, sharper, harder-looking than ever; a little bent now, and his hand shook as he held it out to Charlie : but there was< plenty of life in the old man yet. Charlie caught himself appraising critically his looks, and noting the signs of wear and decay. Suppose that it was, as everybody hinted to him, that Denny had never altered his will since he had made him his heir, what a wonderful change any little accident to the old fellow might bring about! Mr Denny scanned the appearance of Charlie with an equally critical eye. 'Well, soyou'vecomeback, likeabadpenny, hey 1 Glad to see you, my boy, and looking so,well too. You really are well—quite strong and hearty. Yes, yes ; I see you are taking after your poor father. Not but he'd have been a long-lived man too, if he hadn't taken to the painting business. But your grandfather —there was a wonderful man I ninety-seven when he died, and every tooth sound in his head when he was eighty! And you take after him. 1 1 don't care about getting to be an old man,' said Charlie; 'a short life, and a merry one for me.' ' But tish, tish ! my boy ; that's very wrong; that's Binfnl : I hat's going against the Bible and everything. Health is the greatest blessing of all—health, and a long life. Never you neglect your health, my boy. Why, yon were talking of going to Africa; it gave me a quite a shock when I heard it.' ' Why should you care anything about it, Mr Denny ? Nobody else did.' ' Ah, ah !' said the old man, his eyes twinkling: 'I daresay you'd like to know. Come, come! that would be telling. Time will shew, my boy ; time will show. You keep yourself strong my boy and take plenty of exercise, and don't let that fellow Hutton work you too much. If he does, and you feel getting poorly, come and tell me ; do you hear? Now, we must have something to drink on the strength of this. What shall it be I —a glass of beer, eh V Charlie shuddered, remembering what Denny's sour ale used to be like. • Come, we'll have something better than that, cried the old man, getting up from his chair ; and going to a sort of locker or cupboard in the thickness of the wall, he took out a black bottle and a couple of old-fash-ioned wine glasses, holding about a thimbleful each. 'lt doesn't do to take it every day,' cried Denny, ' but once in a way, once

in a way, It's very strong, Charlie—very strong ; it'll make you cough, I daresay. We won't have a whole glassful, but up to the cut—up to the cut, as Parson Goldthorp used to say. Ah, there was a fine man, lived to be ninety-one, and might have been a hundred, if he hadn't broken his leg in kicking a parishioner downstairs. One of the good old school, Charlie, like the old bishop.' ' He's dead, too, isn't he?' ' He's dead, poor man ; yes, he's dead—more's the pity. A fine old man, too, and would havt lived ten years longer if they'd let him alone, Come, I'll give you a toast. What! you've drunk your liquor already! My boy, my boy, that's extravagant. Stop, I'll give you a tiny little drop more to drink my toast—Long life to us both ! Long life to us both !'

' Here's long life to you, Mr Denny. As for myself. I'm content to take my chance.' Oh, my boy. my boy, you mustn't talk in that reckless way. take care of yourself, my dear Charlie, for if anything were to happen to you I think it would kill me.' Mr Denny spoke with such fervor that Charlie was a little touched. What could have induced the old fellow to have taken such a fancy to him ? These things were unaccountable. At all events it was a very capital thing for him, for after the hints Denny had given, it seemed hardly possible to doubt that he had remembered him handsomely in his will. When he went away, Denny repeated his expressions of good-will, and told Charlie, if ever he felt the least weariness or depression to come down to the Manor farm, and get set right again. Charlie thanked his friend for the offer, but hadn't much faith in the remedy. Half an hour at the Limes with Fanny Hatton, would be worth a whole week at the Manor farm in recuperative power.

Charlie's position at the office was not a very comfortable one. He felt himself that he wasn't of much use, and nobody took any pains to put him in the way of being so. The other clerks looked upon him as an interloper and intruder. The managing clerk treated him with elaborate, somewhat sarcastic politeness. If Charlie asked him a question, he would reply that he didn't know what Mr Hutton's views were, and thai, he would be obliged if he would speak to him on the matter. Fanny, too, often came sweeping into the office. There was a picnic up the river, or a croquet party at the Limes, and Charlie was to come. ' I've made it all right with papa,' she'd cry to Marrables, the managing clerk, who would look astonished from his desk, and rub his nose in perplexity. Charlie was good at all kinds of games ; he had a natural talent for acquiring anything that couldn't possibly be of any use to him, and was in great demand in consequence. At the time he would be delighted to be called away from copying that dismal tautological deed in which he was always beginning at the wrong ' whereas,' spoiling a new skin, and having to start again ; but afterreflection told him that all this pleasure was of a very baseless kind. One fine summer day, the chimes were tinkling drowsily in the sultry air, the High Street of Silverbridge seemed a glaring desert of white hot road, and whiter hotter stones ; nothing was stirring except the stout policeman, who stood under the scanty shade of the confectioner's awning, his helmet in his hand, mopping his forehead with a cotton hankerchief ; and the railway 'bus, that was descending to meet the 12.30 train, accompanied by a swarm of pertinacious flies. It was high noon, and an off-day in the town ; work was rather slack, even at Mr Hutton's office, Mr Marrables had just sent out for twopenn'orth of sherbet, which he was about to mix in the office tumbler with the office paper-knife—in this oriental weather, oriental luxuries were not inappropriate—when Mr Denny's pony-chair stopped at the corner of the High Street, and the owner dismounted and walked into Mr Hutton's office.

' Well, Mr Denny,' said Marrables affably, ' how does this hot weather suit you ?' ' Pretty middling, pretty middling.— Where's Master Blake ? Is he within 1'

'Oh,' said Marables with a sniff, 'picnicking as usual. Miss Fanny came and fetched him off. It's well to be him, Mr Denny.' ' What ! is he often going out, then, with Miss Fanny 1' ' Oh, it isn't my place to say anything about what goes on, you know, Mr Denny ; and, indeed, why shouldn't he go out with Miss Fanny, if everything they say is true. He will prove a very good match for her, and needn't trouble himself to do any work for his living.'

To be continued,