YOUNG CAFFYN'S IDEA.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1160, 25 May 1894, Page 8

YOUNG CAFFYN'S IDEA.

By C.P., in St. Paul's. Mr Sidney Caffyn, barrister-at-law, was smoking a cigar in chambers in Pump Court, and waiting for his first brief. Ho had been engaged in the same occupation, with occasional variations in the shape of pipe and cigarette, for twelve months. Ho was not an altogether amiable young man, Mr Caffyn, not an unselfish man, or he would never have been where he was ; but to his own mind he was as full of fine qualities and magnanimous intentions as any high-souled hero of romance. From which we may infer that, if no man is a hero to his valet, most of us aro heroes to ourselyes.

Mr Caffyn, senior, had left two children and the sum of twelve hundred pounds, loss the expenses of his funeral. The elder of the orphans was the gentleman who still waited for solicitors, an unobservant race, to discover his abilities; the younger was a girl, plain but good-hearted, who had readily agreed to her brother choosing an unsuitable profession, and spending money which might have been very much better employed in qualifying himself for it.

“ I am not a business man,” Sidney had declared. " I have no tendency towards commerce ; for me to take a berth in the City would be sheer waste of time, for I should never rise above a clerkship to the end of my days. No, my dear Marion; with our twelve hundred pounds I can not only pay my fees, but, with economy, wo can livo together in lodgings until I am in receipt of an incomo. I shall go to the Bar.”

Marion had responded: " Do, dear Sidney. Of course, you aro right.” And though she was far less sure of the fact to-day, to her credit be it said, she had never put her doubt into words. Mr Caffyn finished his cigar and threw the stump with an impatient gesture in the fireplace. He was reflecting what an undeserved misfortune it was for an engaged man to have a sister to support. By falling in love while ho was still waiting to be called, Mr Caffyn had complicated his position still further, and, though he had concealed the imprudence as long as ho could, the truth had recently reached Miss Marion’s ears.

It had leaked out at a stage when their capital was almost exhausted, and there had been the nearest approach to a scene that had ever occurred between them. Marion had told him that his obvious duty was to break off the engagement, and to write to a half-brother of their late father avowing their position. " You are very clover, dear, and I am certain you will do great things by-and-by,” she had added; “ but in the meanwhile a sum of money is most necessary to both of us. Our father helped Uncle Alfred much in their young days. lam sure, if you put the situation in the right light* somo return w T ould be made to us, and gladly, too.” Alfred Caffyn had for many years been in business in the United States, and was supposed to bo doing well. Sidney, after much demur, wrote as advised. He declined to break off his engagement, but in his letter to his relative he avoided mentioning it; he had enough wisdom for that. He explained that his sister was wholly dependent on Ins exertions —which was net literally true, as she had taken to writing a little ; lie said that as a young professional man his income was very slight, and he requested a loan large enough to defray their joint expenses for a couple of years. This had happened six weeks ago, and so far no answer had been received. In the meantime the banking account had been reduced still more, and the prospect of his marriage was no further advanced. Mr Caffyn’s gloom, it will be seen, had some excuse.

While he sat staring at the cigar-stump, still smouldering in the fender, and anathematising himself for having waived his dignity for nothing, there came a sharp rat-tat at the door.

He rose, and perceived the moment his eyes fell on the envelope that the longexpected reply had arrived at last. liis face paled a little as he tore it open. There was a draft enclosed, and his fingers were tremulous as he unfolded it. The amount was fifty pounds. He stifled a groan of disappointment, and turned to the closely-written sheets. When he had read them through, his face was paler still, and for some minutes he sat plunged in thought. Then ho smothered an exclamation of dismay and read them through again, more attentively, and with increased disgust. The letter was not from Mr Alfred Caffyn, but from his younger brother Stephen, of whom Sydney had heard far less. The gentleman wrote that the delay in answering was due to the consideration that both he and his brother had thought it desirable to give the matter before expressing any decided opinion upon it. The opinion they had now come to was that Sidney was wasting his time as he was, and that ho would do much better to devoto his mind to business, and to go out with the idea of making a fortune in trade in the United States.

“Your Uncle Alfred and I/’the letter went on, “ are not in partnership; and I, as a bachelor, may perhaps be able to assist you in your now career more than he. As an example of what a poor man with energy and perseverance may accomplish by middle age in this country, I would cite myself, and I strongly advise you to discard your profession without loss of time, and to turn your thoughts in a more practical direction. You may then hope to remit weekly out of your salary to your sister, and by degrees to acquire an independence —a thing I cannot think likely to happen to you in old England. I enclose a draft for fifty pounds, intended for your passage. Should you decide to remain in London, however, you will use the money for other purposes, but neither your Uncle Alfred nor I will think that you act wisely by doing so,”

Mr Caffyn crushed the communication into his pocket. Then ho picked up his hat and wont to consult Miss Stella Cunningham©, tho lady to whom ho was affianced. " What shall I do ?” ho demanded. “ What do you think about it ?” " I should go,” said Miss Cunuinghame. "Give up my profession!” Ho had wanted her to say " Remain.” "In a year or so wo might bo able to marry,” she murmured.

" But to throw up my chances of making a name!”

“Of course,” she said, “ there is tho sacrifice.” She thought him rather selfish, and her tone was cooler.

" Would you be satisfied to livo in America ?” he asked.

“ With you ?" “ Witli me, of course,” said Sidney. “ What else aro we talking about ?” “ Yes,” said Stella, " I should bo quite satisfied. But don’t consider me alono in the matter ; you must think of yourself.” “I am,” ho said, truthfully. "Well, wo can discuss the subject again, and arrive at a conclusion later. There is no need for hurry, anyhow.” She was very pretty, and a little of a lover’s ardour flared into his next speech. “ You know I’d do anything on earth to get you, Stella,” he exclaimed. "If I could see my way to marrying you in a year, as you say, I’d go like a shot! The trouble is ”

“ What is the trouble ?” she inquired. "Well,” he confessed, "they—you soo, i:liey might lose their interest in mo if I proposed to marry just when they aro starting me in the world, as it were. Thoy might think I had no right—you know what I mean. If Igo out there, into some detestable office, and then find myself as :'ar from making you my wife as I am now, I might to all intents and purposes just as well stay where I am. I should have made i;lie sacrifice for nothing.” ” If you can afford it,” she said, "if your salary is large enough you can surely do as you like with it.” " Old men aro so funny,” ho returned, "so odd.” Ho did not care to toll her that lis sister depended on him so greatly, and that his uncles would most certainly remind him of her claim. " Old men are so :tinny,” ho repeated, "and I should bo >ound to humour their crotchets, you see. I really consider that if I do throw up the 3ar and go out there, I am making a speculation. If it comes off, of course I shall have advanced our marriage by several years; but if it doesn’t, why, I shall always reproach myself for abandoning the slow and sure means here. Do you think your mother would object to your living in the States ?” Miss Cunningham© shook her head.

“My mother would be too glad to see us married to put obstacles of auy kind in our path, I am sure,” she answered. "Her lealth is so precarious, you know, and our means ”

" Yes,” he said, " Yes, I suppose she would consent. Well, dearest, I'll go home and smoke a pipe on it. We’ll send a reply disposing of the matter one way or the other by next mail. Kiss mo !” So she kissed him, and he went back to die Bayswator lodging debating what he should do. There were two women to advise him to accept the offer —even to describe it as " the chance of his life —and his irresolution ended by his deciding to proceed to the States forthwith. He was unpleasantly conscious that he was expected to leave a goodly part of the fifty pounds with Marion, so ho actually did leave her a tenpound note, reminding her that with this, their minute balance, and her literary earnings, she would be provided for in a cheap boardinghouse for the next three months and more.

He booked his • passage, and ordered certain things which seemed indispensable —clothes, lie had heard, were dear in America, and it was an excellent excuse for the extravagance—and gave himself and Miss Cunninghame a little dinner up West, designed as a kind of funeral oration over his dead career. Ho was firmly convinced that he was making the greatest sacrifice that ever was laid on the altar of Hymen yet, and when at length he stood on board the Germanic and watched the landing stage getting smaller, and the frontage of Liverpool fading into a distant smear, there was a feeling of Childe-Harold melancholy in his breast that sent him towards the saloon bar with unsteady legs. Mr Stephen Caffyn resided in Buffalo, and after 24 hours in Now York, to see what it was like, Sidney accordingly went on there.

The luxury in which he travelled—for they are certainly ahead of us in the matter of trains across the Atlantic — disposed him to view things couleur de row when Buffalo was reached, and stepping down on to the platform, he made his way towards the address from which his uncle had written.

He was wholly ignorant of the nature of his relative's business, and it was* with a sensation of blank dismay that, on reaching his destination, ho saw the name of “Caffyn" painted over the windows of what we should call a linen-draper’s establishment. So aghast was he by this revelation that he found it impossible to present himself at once.

He retraced his steps until he came to an hotel, where, taking a seat in the hall, he solemnly ruminated for half an hour. He had been prepared for the conventional office, where the routine would be unpleasant, but “gentlemanly"; it was suddenly displayed to his perception that the American sees nothing to be ashamed of in keeping a shop. If it had not been too late, Mr Sidney Caffyn would have declined to participate in such dishonour with scorn and indignation. But the time for that had passed. He got up heavily, and slowly returned to the detested door. It was a large shop: there were a score or more assistants behind the counters on the ground floor, and in reply to his enquiry one of these salesmen

“guessed” that Mr Caffyn was in the carpet warehouse upstairs. Sidney ascended the staircaso to ascertain. A big, good-humoured man, in hi* shirt-sleeves, was inspecting some samples of carpets which a commercial traveller was unrolling, and, assuming him to be tho manager, Sidney repeated his quostion to him.

“ Can you tell mo whore Mr Caffyn is P” ho said.

“ Yes, sir, I’m Mr Caffyn,” returned tho other, “ what can I do for you ?” I’m your nephew,” said Sidnoy, weakly. And then his hand was gripped in a monster clasp, and tho introduction was accomplished. “ Is that so !” said tho big man, genially. “You're my nephew, oh? Well, well, and you're going to try your hand at trade ?” “ Yes,” said Sidnoy, faintly, “ I—eh—l’ve taken your advico, you see. I’m glad you think I've done well.” He eyes roved round tho shelves and fixed themselves in depression; on the samples still unrolled. “ It’ll be a change,” ho added, “ it will be a great change for me 1” “ Make a man of you!” said his uncle heartily. “ Put the dollars in your pockets, and make a man of you. Europe’s played out—this is the country for a young fellow to get on in. I had nothing when I came here, and look at me now!” In truth, it was a sufficiently pleasant countenance to look at. Forty-five years or so of life had not lined it very deeply, or done more than grizzle tho close-cropped beard, and the eyes were at once gentle and shrewd.

Sidney mentally questioned whether he was-going to be offered a partnership, but nothing definite concerning his prospects was said during the conversation, and when he turned into bed that night, his uncle’s intentions on his behalf wore a sealed book still.

Mr Stephen Caffyn lived in tho house of his brother and sister-in-law, and it was there that Sidney found temporary quarters. He had nothing to complain of in the reception accorded him by any of his relations, and within a weok of his arrival he felt himself perfectly at home.

It was when he had been there a week that the subject upon which ho had been so anxious was broached. Stephen Caffyn offered him the post of book-keeper at a salary of twenty dollars a week. “ You must be content to work yourself up,” he said, when Sidney’s jaw dropped. “ With twenty dollars a weok you can keep yourself in a boardinghouse in tho city, and remit seven or eight dollars a week to your sister. Many a young fellow would jump at such an opening—and young fellows with business experience, too.” The ex/-barrister-at-law found it objectionable to bo referred to as a “ young fellow.”

“ I had othor views,” he said ; “it is a poor prospect for me.” His uncle regarded him dubiously. “What did you look for, sonny?” he asked.

“ I scarcely looked to give up a profession,” said Sidney, “ and to take a situation in a sh—er —in a house of business with so small an inducement as twenty dollars a week.”

“ How many dollars a week did your profession bring in ?” said Stephen Caffyn, calmly.

This was not an inquiry calculated to advance Sidney’s argument, and ho temporised. "Of course,” he said, “ you know best how much lam worth to you. If that is the most you can ofFer me I shall not refuso it; on the contrary, I shall accept it, and simply hope to do better things in time.”

He received a smack on the back

“ Put your shoulder to the wheel, and you’ll make a fortune before you die, the same as I have done,” he was assured. “ And remember, you’ve got a sister at homo to work for, and that a man with a girl depending on him mustn’t be too particular as to what work he does ! Let’s have a cocktail.”

Sidney groaned in his soul, and wondered what this American uncle would say if he suspected he was engaged. He removed, as suggested, to a boardinghouse, and he went to the dry goods store daily from nine o’clock till six. But the boardinghouse was dearer than he had been led to expect, and the evenings, moreover, were long, without amusement. He did not care to go to his relations too frequently, and he went, instead, into billiard saloons, and to the theatre once or twice a week. His salary, under these conditions, seldom permitted him to remit to England, and Stephen Caffyn discovering the fact from his casual admissions, was troubled. He was troubled about the disposition of the young man, from whom he had hoped great things, and also on the score of the niece in England whom ho had not seen.

One day when Sidney was biting his pen in his office, and thinking of Stella, with whom marriage seemed, if anything, further off than ever, Stephen made a proposal to him. “ I have been talking things over with my brother,” he remarked, “ and we both think that your sister must be very lonely in London, living by herself. We advise you to write her to join you.” Sidney stared.

“ With an increase of ten dollars a week on your salary,” pursued the eider man, “ you would both be able to live quite comfortably here. Here is a draft for her travelling expenses; send it by the next mail, and tell her to come.”

“You are awfully good,” said Sidney; u I will!”

That night he sat meditating in his room and wrestling with a startling temptation.

It had struck him how easy it would be to send the draft to Stella, and to bring her here instead. It seemed to him that they might marry in New York when he went down to meet the boat, and that ho could live with his wife in Buffalo instead of his sister.

Stephen never went to his place to see him—-he had no visitors whatever j and

when he and Stella went to visit Stephen, why, Stella would be called “ Marion,” and that was ail about it.

It was a reckless, desperate, harebrained notion, but it fastened on him, and would not bo put aside. The explanation with Stella could be postponed till they met—she was as sharp as a needle —and ho need have no fear of her betraying tho deception by any mistake. All that was necessary for him to do by mail was to send tho bill of exchange and bid her start. When Mr Stephen Caffyn’s draft left Buffalo it was enclosed in a lovo letter and addressed to Miss Stella Cunninghame, 9 21, Torrington Crescent, London. For eight days Sidney moved about in a sort of trance, waiting for his fiancee’s roply, which he had begged her to dispatch by cable. On the eighth it came, and informed him she would leave for New York the week following by the White Star boat Majestic. The die was now cast. He told his uncle that Marion had arranged to join him, and expressed a wish, which w'as applauded, to meet her in New York when she arrived. It was on the date fixed for Miss Cunninghame’s departure that Mr Sidney found himself unable to attend to business by reason of a severe attack of Eussian influenza. He was confined to his bed, and a doctor had to bo called in. Tho patient’s feverish anxiety to leave for New York at all hazards a few days after did not tend to accelerate his recovery. The morning before the one on which it "was essential he should start the doctor distinctly forbade him to leave the house for at least a weok. “I;” said his Uncle Stephen, who had taken to looking in upon him during his indisposition, “ I will go in your place, my boy—don’t worry !” Sidney stifled his feelings, and fought to obtain his way. His entreaties and declarations were all unavailing, however, and, since his undo had so kindly offered to act as his deputy, there appeared, besides, no reason for him to insist. There was nothing for it but to let the othor go, and to defer the wedding until the trip which he would arrange in his “sister’s” company upon his convalescence.

He wrote, not without considerable difficulty, owing to his pains and his excitement, a brief caution to Stella for his uncle to deliver. He told her what ho had done and impressed upon her the vital importance of her pretending to be the person she was not. To his uncle himself he insisted, with all the vehemence the influenza had left possible, that the missive was to be handed to the young lady at the very instant of greeting. When he had done all this, he recollected with a ghastly shock that Stephen would ask for her as “ Miss Caffyn,” and be told that there was no such passenger on the ship. He broko out into a cold perspiration, and lay quaking. Then ho had an inspiration, and prayed to his lucky star that it might prove practicable. Among his possessions was a large photograph of Stella, with “ yours truly ” and many endearing additions at the back. He devoted an hour to carefully erasing this inscription, and when his uncle next appeared, showed it to him as the likeness of his sister.

“ You will probably watch the people as they come down the gangway in the Custom House,” ho said; “if you study this likeness you will recognise her at once. I want you, I may say I beg of you, to give my note to her before you speak at all, or she may think you have como to toll her I am dead; or goodness knows what. She will know my writing immediately”—be now remembered a horrible difficulty in the way of addressing the letter, and quaked again. “ 1 will even begin my message to her outside the envelope,” he continued, recovering himself. “I will say: ‘ Tho enclosed to explain why I’m prevented meeting you Sidney.’ That will allay her fears directly.” Mr Caffyn, who thought him fidgety, even for a sick man, promised his instructions should be obeyed. “ I shall certainly know her at once,” he added; “ she has so distinctive a face. You do not resemble her, Sidney.” “Ah !” said Sidney; “ you think not ? Er—er—we have often been considered much alike.”

Stephen got into the city of New York the morning before the Majestic was due, and by enquiry at the shipping office learnt the time that she was expected was about noon. At noon, accordingly, next day he formed one of the attendant crowd upon tho pier. The boat was late—indeed, it was past three o’clock when the passengers and luggage commenced to fill the huge shed wherein he waited. They came in—the passengers—one by one, and Stephen, standing beside tho narrow gangway, scrutinised the faces as they approached him.

Almost the last to appear was a girl, whom he immediately recognised from her portrait. As she reached the ground he was beside her in a moment.

“ Miss Caffyn,” he said. The girl, taken by surprise, turned and hesitated.

“ Caffyn ?” she repeated, questioningly. “ I have a note to you from Sidney,” he said, and gave it to her. Her face changed as she read, and it was evident that she was greatly discomposed. “Do not be alarmed for him,” said Stephen, quickly. “He is fast getting all right again, and you will soon be able to see him. In the meanwhile, you must consider yourself in my charge. Let me see after your baggage.” He got it through the Customs for her with Yankee promptitude, and after giving her some luncheon, bore her off to the depot and “on board” the outgoing train. Sidney was sitting in an armchair, wrapped up with rugs, when they reached Buffalo, and Stephen went round to tell him of her safe arrival.

“ It won’t do to bring her her© yet,” he said, “for fear of any infection—we don’t want two invalids on our hands at once,

you know, my boy. I have taken her round to the house —your aunt is fixing her up for the present—and sho will join you as soon as tho doctor thinks it is quite safe.”

“ Is —is she anxious to see me ?” said Sidney, mopping his brow. “Very,” rejoined Stephen, cheerily; “ she says sho must see you at the earliest moment possible. Now I must go back.” Sidney wiped his face again when he was alone, and upbraided tho malignant fate that amused itself by creating complications.

A later post brought him a note from her which did not go far towards soothing him. She told him that ho had behavod very badly, and she declined to lend herself to “so odious a deception.” She said she averse to trusting her pen to express her feelings on the subject, but sho would speak to him very fully -when they met. Also, she signed herself, “ Yours sincerely, Stella Cunninghame.” With the prospect of exposure at any minute before him, at the best a week to wait before he could hope to overcome her scruples, Sidney Caffyn’s frame of mind "was not enviable.

Stephen, on tho other hand, was in the best of humours. Whenever ho called he told Sidney his sister was a most charming girl, and they wore extremely glad they had had her out. lie said her future might be considered provided for, since sho w r as certain to marry well. In fact, he added, his brother’s w’ife had already a parti in her eye. Sidney had to express pleasure at this good news. Tho interview, -when Stella was permitted to come, was a very unpleasant one. The girl exclaimed that sho felt an impostor—as indeed she was —and commanded him to confess tho truth without delay. He promised hor to think it over, and, since sho had taken so unexpected an attitude, was, on tho whole, contented when Stephen informed him that they wanted to keep her “ up at the house ’’ for several weeks more. Stephen, anomalously, seemed less jubilant —in fact, Sidney began to think ho had a secret worry.

When the invalid returned to business he discovered his uncle had developed a dreamy and unhappy air that sat oddly on him. Stella, again, had never been in gayer spirits than when Sidney paid a visit to his relations one evening. Stephen was unhappy, and Stella was radiant, and Sidney was on the horns of a dilemma. Then tho crisis restored tho balance.

Ono afternoon Stephen came into the counting-house, and said to Sidney—

“Miss Cunninghame and I aro # engaged to be married.”

Si Inoy simply gasped, and said nothing. It may be that Stephen’s gratitude for so charming a wife accounted for the leniency with which Sidney w\as treated, or it may be that Stella, for auld lang syno, interceded for him. Anyhow, he got off much better than he deserved after tho fraud ho had attempted, and to-day has a very respectable business in oils and cheese out West. Mr and Mrs Stephen Caffyn speak of him very frequently—indeed, he dines with them as often as he “ comes East ” and Marion, who was sent for directly his deception was discovered, and subsequently married a millionaire, who owns something like a street and a half in Chicago, has just as exalted and mistaken an opinion of her brother’s character as ever. So as it turned out, nobody has anything to complain of.