A SPIRITUAL VISITANT

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1747, 30 August 1905, Page 6

A SPIRITUAL VISITANT

(By Alfred Tennyson, author of “The Little Princess.”)

Mr Abraham Hale, the corn chandler, was a tall, rather stout man, with sandy hail* and reddish side-whiskers. His face was healthy and of a ruddy hue, and his somewhat prominent chin gave indications of obstinacy of character. If you walked down one or the streets, or rather lanes, which led to the wharves at Lynemouth—narrow, cobbled streets they were, with old-fashion-ed, gabled, bow-windowed. houses on either side you passed Mr Hale’s house. The shop windows looked out on the street, and if (as it was poss.bie tor anyotae of moderate stature to do) you looked through them you could see With some degree of pleasure the sanded floor, the shelves with bags of gram and meal neatly docketed, and perhaps behind the counter the agreeable, portly form of Mr Hale himself, and his red figure-head gleaming rosily amidst the drab of canvas and deal with which he was surrounded. At the back was a cosy parlour, with comfortable, chintze-cov-ered chairs, tall grandfather’s clock, ticking drowsily and sedately, jars of bright coloured flowers, and red window curtains, between which a prospect was obtained of the wharf, with its stone quays covered with coils of rope, planks, rusted anchors, and all the other paraphernalia of shipping. All day long one could see the jolly figures of mariners slowly consuming their nipes at the quay edge or gazing contemplatively at the decks of the vessels lying at the wharf. A tangle of spars and rigging made always a network of the blue, and the river swept out to sea beneath the eye, bearing upon its waters a continual variety of craft. It was in this pleasant room, with this prospect of all that made the life of Lynemouth, that Miss Dolly Hale, the corn chandler’s niece, held sway. Miss Hale was a young lady of considerable personal attractions, a fact which was generally recognised by the younger and more susceptible of the male population, of Lynemouth; but save for one tri ling flirtation some two years ago, when she was only a girl, and which her uncle had sternly suppressed, she had shown no inclination to make a choice amongst them, though her offers had doubtless been numerous.

Mr Hale had selected a partner for her himself, but neither had she shown any symptom of the tender passion for him —a fact hardly to be wondered at, as he was little younger than her relative, and decidedly plain in countenance. It< is indeed to be feared that Mr Hale encouraged the match from, mercenary motives, as Sana Parrot was currently reported to be a warmish man and had a little property in the town, which made lim a very respected member of society. Still, in spite of his niece’s obstinacy, Mr Hale continued to nourish a hope that she would at

length see reason,. and so made encouraging reports to his crony about his progress till that worthy, who was nob conceited enough to have had very h gh hopes of success at: first, began to look in regularly of an evening “to have a pipe with Abraham Hale” after stimulating bis courage at the Anchor. Though he had not been very keen on the thing originally, the - honeyed words of his friend Mr Hale and his' infectious confidence had at length made him feel so certain of success that he actually began to like the prospect of married life in company with such a charming person as Miss Dolly Hale. When, therefore, all these hopes were dashed to the ground the shock to his vanity was rude. It was then in a very gloomy and disgusted frame of mind that he was discovered by the senior conspirator one afternoon in the aforementioned hostelry. “Hullo, Sam.!” cried Mr Hale, “why you do look down in the month—what’s the n atter ?” Mr Parrot made an indistinct reply. - An inspiration as to what; bad . happened suddenly flashed across Mr Hale’s mind. ;r You ain’t done it, have you, Sam?” he asked, excitedly. Sam replied that be had “You are a fellow V’ said'Mr Hale, admiringly. “Fancy sneaking off all alone and doing it when I wasn’t thinking anything about it. And now it’s all over and you’ve been successful, you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t, eh P Just the same as ever. What a rum fellow yon are, Sam! Well, I congratulate you.” “But she refused me.” “Refused you ?” sa'd Mr Hale. with, his eyes almost starting out of his empurpled face. . . “Yes; and what’s more she went and giggled as >ihe did it.” “Giggled ?” exclaimed his friend, almost speechless, with wrath and astonishment. So great was his indignation that Mr Parrot was almost moved to mirth in spite of his own m'sfortunes. “Yes, and said I was old enough to be her father.” “Well I’m blessed !” said his friend. “Of all the aggravating and obstinate creatures women is the worst.” Mr Parrot nodded his head in agreement with this sentiment, and seemed to think' that he was rather well out of the affair than otherwise. “I won’t stand it!” exclaimed Mr Hale, excitedly. “Here have I been looking after this girl for ten years, and the first little thing I want' her to do she goes and refuses me. It’s monstrous, Parrot! You stick to me, and I’ll see this thing through !” The latter seemed at first to think he had had enough of it, but he was at length overborne by his crony’s protestations. Mr Hale returned home in what might be described as a bad temper. He was met by his niece, who greeted him with a smile. “Supper’s ready, uncle,” she said. The table was spread with a clean white doth. An appetising round of beef, with pickles, mustard, and all the other delicacies usually associated with that viand, with a prime Stilton cheese in just the right condition, all invited Mr Hale to make a hearty meal. But he d a not fall to with all his usual alacrity. After trifling with the slices on his plate for a few moments he said: “I want to speak to you, Dolly.” “Well, unde?” “It’s about Mr Parrot.” The girl looked up with a smile, but finding her relative uncompromisingly gloomy, she in turn became serious. “Is it true what he told me?” His niece had recourse to feminine evasion, and remarked that she was unaware to what, her unde might he alludmean that he proposed marriage to you this afternoon, and that you refused him?” “Oh unde, it m true —and natur “Why naturally, may I ask, miss?” “He’s old enough to he my father.”

Mr Hal© had already been moved to wrath, by thissghrasie, ahdlits 'repetition irritated him in'as hgular ritaiiiier. 1” he shouted. “Mr JB&rx&b l would make a very .good husband. &£>; course, he’s not as young as some, hut. got -what's hetter than. /youth, and.that’s money, lsuppase someone’s been..) /filling your head with isilly romantic j stuff;” '*• ‘ r:- ; ' *‘Oih, uncle, I couldn’t! Such a funny . old thing, too.” .. ... ... .. iv He’s not at all funny!”'retorted Mr \ Hale, hotly, resenting the aspersions oil'his friend. “I Heard something else to-day,” he went oh, eyeing his n eoe bu spaciously, “hut I* ,diclri’t beUeve it then.” " , .^sWhat was that?” asked Miss Hale. ■; ;“Only ,that you were seen walking out.with that young sailor-fellow . Well, ’ 1 do believe it is true,” he .exclaimed,, j as he.saw his niece flushing. '“I suppose Mr Pan ot told you that! too?” said Miss Hale. (“Spiteful, little beast!” she added under her breath.) : '"“’Never mind who told me,” answered 1 her un-cle, loftily: . fancied, all that; nonsense was finished two years ago. -If'] 1 thought it really was true. I’d > Words failed Mr Hale, and he left: his Sfuture proceedings in that event to I ;■ laßwgjecfcur©..;' ' <•- ' > ; ; • “Suppose it is true,” retorted his! niece. ‘Haven’t I got a right to choose, i for myself, instead of having a nasty, old thing I ke ——” -l'.:" “Silence!” roared her uncle at thei top of his voice. “Qf .course you’ve igot a right to choose for yourself. ; I aup-; pose you can have any idle, good-for-! nothing scoundrel you wish if you don’t; mind him spending your" money andj • running away for two or three years at ! a time,..and probably never coming back ’ agami” • - v ■'•v; v i - Miss Hale employed the last 'feminine resource and bu <st into tears. • 1 te l think you’re very cruel and Unkind,” she sobbed “end I shall go up- ] iSKtahßß.to my bedroom at oiioe!” •' ; i As the door closed behind the graceful ■ igare -af his rr’ece w-th a very pro- j nounoed b"> ng, Mr H 1 e 1 drhi + +>ed souae--whab gloomily to himself that he had J made .-a mess .of it . > derd^ : tm which he j Helt aurelined to endorse mere +ha,n Price; -aiurrag the next two or three days. ... ■* -v V;* ; - * A day or two after these events, ias ' 3fr Hale was seated reading the paper ■ behind the counter he reee ved a visit “jfccrmra pe-rson who requested’ thqfnvo-ur an interview. It was with an orin-1 rrims Foreboding that he conducted, him into rhe room already described. ;; - ' .(Eh© wind and the salt of the sea-air ifead novere-d the aoHe-l ke. coirnteiidnce the visitor with a network of in numerable wrinkles, and flecked either •cheek with a vivid spl ash of red, so that -it had at once the littleness and the foolour otf a : child’s. A red muffler was wound round his throat, and his in-! SaarbUe'body arid limbs were encased in.! •a osuit of very ms+v black. His legs; 'were short and incredibly •-bin, arid at ! afihe end of these somewhat farcical mem-• >' dbere..stuck out at -right- angles a pair of ! ffeet of such prod gious size 'hat it be-: oa-Tneapuzizle to know Tv w be managed l ttb lift them when he had occasion to walk about. ' !' :Mr Hale already knew Captain Lath- '• am, vlio had a small post at the port, : dfcy -sight, and had oerh ips met .him two: .or three times in company, but their ; iricqaiaintanee was of the most casual.! 'The 'conversation . was, 'therefore, bforl *ome .time of that kind when neither' aoff 4 th® -two persons eng ged in :it knows ’the other well, and yet is, at the ©lame ! time. sure that there is an unpleasant: iffl|j«Bt to discuss, -before- ..they part. ; What this was both men 'knew, well, but j ripo strange is human., nature that they a sShowed the greatest unw to approach it. With many tacks and nautacail manoeuvrings the captain beat up /towards the goal, but no sooner did thei ■peeSs -through which he- must pass appear in sight than he would sheer off ■ again to open se.i. It was. however, me who at length mustered up courage; ix> -©peak. . •/! “I don’t know if you know my -son,i •Mr Haile?” he said. . • ■“! don’t exactly recollect that *1 do/* paid the other, mendaciously. 1- \ .» .“He’s a rare fine fellow,” said Capbain Latham, with /enthusiasm, “and fm proud to have him at home.’” “Oh, he’s been away ?” said -Mr Hale, , politely. ■' .. - “Yes, he’s a sailor, like his dad, and lie’s only just, ho-nie from a two years' 1 voyage in a tramp steamer. I expect .‘he'll have a ship of his own before Long,” said Oartain L«;t.ham, as /enthusiastically. as before. ’! v ; Mr Hale remarked that Captain Lahhiam veas fortunatt- to have such a son. ....... T? '

“Yes, he’s always been a good boy +o pa©,* r replied tihe old mwfiner, “and so 1 felt in duty bound to do- what I could for him.” .-: '• ■ •• “.Very proper, I’m sure.” replied Mr ‘Hale, curtly, as.he Felt that the critical moment was apmo-chin.g and .that he .XDust .be on his guard ■ a Oapta : ri Litih'm coughed and took a Igrip&ck ilook-:; at Mr Hale. “The latter was obviously braced up neoeive- H-h «a : .wr>s c-omirig.. His rosy face was ranidiv becoming a rich purple, arid his chin stuck out obstinately. The sailor was, •however; quite as strongminded as his adversary, and Was riot to be rfrighteried -bv these-signs of tjomink -storm. •-'•' ■- -•■’ - - —*••• -i- :

“I noticed,” he continued, “that since h'siomeeoming this tiirie my son was a bit fidgety and restless, and I thought perhaps that he might have got iiito some trouble. I - know that even tne best go that way sometimes. So I asked him one day.jif there was anything on hi a mind 5 if thea?e was, .L -would do my best to help hi m, whatever it might be. Alter a hit he -bold me that he' had formed an attachment to a young woman of his acquaintance, and was anx-i-ousrto marry her. I asked was his attachment returned. He said it was, but that the guardian of the young lady had forbidden him the house. Now, Mr Hale, what I want to say is that my boy Is a good boy, and fit to be a husband for any man s niece, and there is.no reason why .he should be prevented From marrying the girl of his choice.” Mr Hale preserved a diplomatic silence for a few moments alter the captain finished speak.ng. Then, withdrawing the pipe from his lips, he said slowly—“Pm sure I don’t know why you should choose me to oome to with this tale?” r ’ “Becaiige the girl in question is yorir niece,”" replied. Captain Latham. ~ “Well, you’ve come to the wrong box, that’s all, Captain Latham,” replied Mr Hale. “When I siay no I mean no, and I .ain’t going ,to alter my m.nd.” J “But surely it’s worth considering -a little?” replied the other. “I’ve dome all the considering part ‘already,” .said Mr Hale, smacking his knee with the palm of his hand to emphasise his remarks. “I don’t . want .some young oaf, only just in breeches, walking oof with my g.rl. G.ve i me a feller who knows his own mind and ain’t above staying an shore and minding the shop.” Captain Lath-am with difficulty kept him temper at this attack on his profession, but he was determined not to .get angry. ' " “And I don’t think much of a young feller who daren’t oome here himseli hut sends his father to do all the talkng.’’ “But I tell ypu that wasn’t the reason at ail,” replied the old sailor, “in the first place, I offered to come here; and, in the second place, my son thought that -two old 'chaps like you and me would have it out better.” “Well, he’s wrong there,” replied Mr Hale; “it wouldn’t make any difference if the King of Fm gland was to come -and ask trie. When I say I won’t have it I won’t, and that’s the long and the Short of it.” - •“Well. I -suprtose it’s no .good saying any more,” said Obtain Latham. “It ain’t a bit of . good,” replied M’\ Hale, unoompro<misingly. ■ Twilight had approached while the two were wranglins r . and it was almost dark when the little sailor, much incensed at the ohstiuapy ■ .and rudeness of Mr Hale, took his leave. Through the parlour window, which was half open, Mr Hale, could see the lights being lit on the ships in -the harbour. The wharves became completely deserted as the various workmen finished their day’s jobs and trudged off to supper. It beca<me practically dark in the parlour. Miss Hale still kept the dignified seclusion of her bedroom, and iri her absence the! oil had run out, as Mr Stale discovered when he endeavoured to light the lamp. He threw himselj’ into the armchair with .an expletive, and, after lighting a pine, started to ponder over Ine events of the last fevr days. Whatever was the • tenoar of h ; j= reflections, he was obviously not m«ditatirig altering his previous standpoint : For, as the dusk deepered in the room, and the evening mists began to creep over the river outside, he exclaimed but loud, with an expression of which the tone rnd the language were alike reprehensible, that he would see himself rn a very unpleasant situation before he consented to the marriage At that moment he felt something hop quickly on to his knee. .• He looked down. A pt&euliar frightful sersataon came over him as he saw suddenly a pair of little red eyes gassing : at him in the dusk: With a feelirig of. horror., he observed that they belonged to a creature of driisky hue, with a kng tail, which was 'Seated on his knee. So great was “be effect of the apparition that Mr Hale sat rooted in his chair as if'fixed there with iron clamps. He could not have •moved hand or foot, and his scant .and sandy locks seemed to rise up on bis isoalp. With a- rapid movement, the creature stood on its legs and pushed a black hand.into the interstice between bhe buttons of Mr Hale’s shirt,'thrusting for; an instant its fiery eyes and grinning countenance into the petrified corn chandler’s face. Then, so quickly that the eye could not follow it, it vanished in the dusk. Mr Hale still sat as- if turned :to stone. “Good evening, Abraham,” said Sam Parrot, .who had just looked in for his evening smoke. “Why, wbatever’s the ■matter with you ?” he exclaimed, noticing the dejected .attitude of his friend. -. “There’s nothing the matter with me,” answered Mr Hale, shortly. ' “That's not true, Abraham,” replied Mr Parrot. “I ©an see there’s something wrong, simply by looking at you. You’ve been sitting here all in the dark.” ' ' • ' “Well. I suppose I can sit in the dark if I like?” said his friend, testily. “It costs nor bin g, Anyhow.”; • : .: Mr Parrot Looked at Mb crony in

amazement;! this reception was so -unlike hL ordinary cheery greeting that he felt sure there must be something ser- j ously the matter. ELis emotions, however, were of a more definite character when the latter added, in a despondent tone: — • “And what’s more. Sam Parrot, it’s no good hanging about my girl. It’s Off P’ “Oh, it’s off, is it?” said Parrot, in a choked voice, as his feelings nearly got the better of him. “Hanging about, ■do you call it? ho was it suggested it, I should like to know ? Who was it made me hr ng my pipe and' ’bacoer up here when I might have been sitting posy in the parlour; at the Anchor ? Who . was it . made me dangle iround a . grit young enough to be my darter?” “It no good you getting angry with me, Sam,” interrupted ...Mr Hale. “There’s icasons for what I do.” “Bloomin’ good reasons, too, 'I expect !” rejoined Mr Parrot, earcastically. ..“Parrot, Pve had a vision,” said his ■friend, solemnly. “A what?” asked the other. : . ‘‘A vision,” replied Mr Hale. “What, same as the prophets used fx> have in the ibook?” '■• -•■• “I reckon that’s the size of it,” said the'Other, gloomily. : Mr Parrot looked at his friend earnestly. The robust frame and temperament of M.f Hale seemed so unlikely to have anything to do with any spirits except those which stood on the sideboard, that he drew an obvious inference. " !• ' “You ain't been nipping, Abraham, have you?” ' ' Mr Hale shook his head, despondingly. “Wish I had.” he said v “but it ain’t tihat.” ■ - v “Well, what is it?” said Sam Hale, irritably. “What with your chopping and changing and your visions and so forth, you ain't company for a plain man.” •ji “I can’t tell you. Sam; it was too terrible —had me all in a tremble. I feel I shall never get over it.” Mr Parrot’s curiosity was not proof against such allusions. © ‘‘Oh, let’s have it, Abraham Hale!” he tried. •Mr Hale gave a shudder, but after, a moment he replied with an ashen face, “Sim, Pve seen the devil!” “Heaven bless me!” exclaimed Parrot, involuntarily drawing hack. “Yes. I have,” said his crony, with a rush now that his reserve concerning the incident was banished. With a pallid countenance and a hushed voice hei told the story of what had occurred.-' “What was he like?” asked Parrot, whose first feelings of awe had begun gradually to d.s ippear, and were succeeded by considerable interest as to the appearance of our ancient enemy. “Tt was an awful little black imp,” said Mr Hale, with Lis teeth ohatter ng; “and the first thing noticed was him sitting on my knees with his eyes flashing red in the dark and grinning up as maliciously as anything into my face. And whilst I was sitting there all in a maze he slipped his hand inside my shirt just over the hejrt. and I felt the blood run oold in my vet ns.” .Mr Hale buried his face in his hands n-ni remained silent. When he lifted his head again it was to find Parrot.

hat and stick in hand, preparing to leave the room. “You ain’t going, Sam?” he said. “I think I must,” answered his friend, slowly. “Don’t ; go, Sam,” cried Mr Hale, wildly. ' “Supposing if it was to coma back?” J 1 .•'* “That’s just- What I was thinking,'* said Mr Parrot, maliciously. “Beside©, it’s you it wants to see, not me.” 4 “SamT” said Mr Hale, in an imploring voice. But ■ his friend was already outside the door. He found time, however, to stick his head into the room again and observe with a grin—“Get your niece to take car© of 'you, Abraham j” Mr Hale remained where he was for some time after his friend had gone. Then he walked half way to the door, turned back to his armchair and then moved towards the door again. Evidently he was in a state of - indecision. As a matter o-f fact, the parting shaft of Mr Parrot had stuck deep in" his mind. Why not make up with hia niece?” “‘Dolly he called at -the foot of the stairs. There was sileinoe above; he called again. “Yes. uncle,” at length replied a voice. “Would, you mind coming downstairs, I want to speak to you?” Mr Hale’s tones were so very submissive that Miss Hale realised -at .once, with a woman’s ‘instinct, that she had conquered. In another moment she appeared on the threshold. ‘*Qh! Dolly,” said Mr Hale, “I wanted to say that—er—l’ve changed my mind, and that I see no objection to your asking young Latham to pay me a visit.” - Miss Hale did not abuse her victory, as she might have done. She threw her arms round her uncle’s . neck. “I knew all the time you didn’t mean it, dear,” she whispered. “I’ll write to .Fred fco-night.” : The only sign that still showed Mr H,lie’s tender point was that, at the word ‘Fred” he gave a slight start* -* V* • . , The livery stable carriage containing the married pair had just driven off to the station, with a somewhat immature coachman on the box, bedecked- with, -favours, and handling the ribbons with, an air .of ceremony which a riaturally mobile countenance arid a strong- mclination to grin rather discounted. The respective fathers watched the bridal cortege depart with widely different emotions; but while one was naturally averse to revealing his chagrin, the other was as unwitting to show a joy which might, considering the circumstances of the -case, have seemed in-' decent. “Well, Mr Bale,” exclaimed Captain Latham at last, “won’t you come in and drink their health?” It was a bitter blow to the pride of Abraham Hale to have to confess defeat. and it was still more bitter to have to enter in under hisvadyersary’s roof-tree in a spirit of rqcprjciliation, but comriionsense told him t'h'at’it was no gr'od to refuse an invitatioiiftibviously offered in no So 'with ' --t : he he marked his willirumoss to step iri for a moment.

but that hie must be going soon, as he . had several things to do. ' - After rummaging in a cupboard the old sailor, with a wink, produced a small bottle of champagne. He extracted the cork with deliberation, and beamed with satisfaction as the golden liquid ran or earning into the glasses. “Well, here’s luck to the lass and my /• own boy,” he said, “and another ten thousand a year to you, Mr Hale.” The latter responded, and felt in *pite of himself the better for the cheery greeting and,a gulp of the generous liquid which he had just imbibed. - Captain Latham filled the tumblers once more, and then launched into a glowing eulogium of the wine. His praises, however, were cut short when he noticed sn expression of consternation and astonishment on the face of his guest, whose eyes were following some object f on the floor, a little to the rear of the v captain’s right- foot. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “What is that, captain?” asked Abraham Hale, in a shaking voice. Captain Latham turned. A small black monkey was sitting on the floor behind him, unconcernedly busied about some detail of his toilet. r “Hullo, Jncko!” sa’id the captain. The animal turned its head at the sound of the captain’s voice, chattered in an amiable fashion with its Jteeth, and then bounded, with the agility of <me of those acrobats which nature trains in the forest; on to his master’s rihoulder; where he sat, to all appearance, very contentedly. “My son brought him home last voyage,” said Captain Latham. “He’s a good little beast, and rare fond of me; alin’t you, JackoP” He scratched the monkey dexterously with the forefinger of his right hand. /J “1 didn’t know, you had a monkey,” said Mr Hale, in a tone which he strove to render indifferent. “No, we didn’t let him out much till be got used to the place, for fear of losing him. He did get out of the house one evening—the evening I came to see you about ■” "i - Captain Latham suddenly remembered what an unpleasant experience that interview had been, and turned the conversation in embarrassment. i “3ELo! Jacko,” he cried, “salute the gentleman.” _ The monkey raised his hand to his head, on which was perched a species of forage cap trimmed with imitation gold lace. Be lifted the cap gravely from his head and made a courteous bow to Mr Hale. , The conversation was continued after this, but Mr Hale was obviously not in the mood for talking, and it was not long before he rose to take his departure. . " “Well, I hope we shall see something of each other in the future,” said Captain Latham, amiably; “we’re so alone and all that, don’t you know, that it really would be a pity if we didn’t.” The hatchet was buried, no doubt, but - why, as he made his way to the Anchor for a quiet pipe and a glass of his favourite tipple did Mr Hale mutter to himself more than once—“ Abraham, you’ve been and made a blessed fool of yourself?”