Chapter XVI, HARD TIMES,

Otago Witness, Issue 1548, 9 July 1881, Page 25

Chapter XVI, HARD TIMES,

We worldly men, when we see frlenda and kinsmen Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand To lift them up, but rather set our feet Upon their heads, to press them to the bottom.

A late Spring followed on a long and severe winter. Spring in an East London parish ! Mrs Cope was city-born and bred, but even her heart sickened at times, and pined for the country, for green fields, and fresh, life-giving breezes. Not for herself, but for her husband and children. Yet how was that change to be obtained 1

Twelve years had passed since her marriage, and Arthur was still only the Curate of St. Bride's. A holiday for him meant paying a substitute to do his work — and was clearly out of the question. But the children — they must have change. At least Walter certainly must; he was Jane's eldest, and the delicate one of the family. The winter always tried him ; this last had nearly proved fatal. 'Sea-breezes,' said the doctor; 'fleabreezes, and an almost open air life for the next few weeks, or — ' Mr and Mrs Cope knew what ; yet they were impotent to avert it ; a month's trip, even to Margate, was utterly out of their power. Talk of rack and thumbscrew ! There was never yet invented torture greater than that which many parents (God help them) have to endure, of seeing their children pine and die by inches, £for want of the "free air of heaven." The Copes had had a hard struggle, and one great sorrow, but they had hitherto been enabled to surmount their difficulties. And, amid the hard grinding poverty of their lot, there was one thing they had kept sacred — family love — and though the struggle was hard, it had never become degrading. They had fought on bravely, keeping just clear of debt, and asking help from no one ; but now the parents' love grew stronger than their pride, and it was agreed that Jane's father should be appealed to. That he was perfectly well able to help them, they knew ; would. h£ be willing ? Mr Cope doubted, and it was gall and wormwood to him to have to make the experiment. His wife knew that, and insisted upon being the one to make the application. At the time of old Ralston's death her father had retired from the firm, and John Pelfe, who had then been a junior partner for some years, took the affair entirely into his own hands. Goldie went on the Exchange and set up as a stookbroker, urged thereto by his sister. Close as he was, she had acquired a complete knowledge of his business affairs, and the two worked in a sort of partnership. Mr Goldie, timid, vacillating, anxious, was fully conscious how much he owed to his sister's daring promptness and unscrupulousness ; yet he loved secrecy, and her interference often galled him. But between them they were ' coining ' money, as the phrase goes ; Golden Terrace little dreamed of the wealth they were accumulating ; Mr Goldie's. besetting sin was not ostentation.

Mrs Cope went to his office, trusting thus to evade Mrs Money, and find her father alone. It was the first time she had ever been there, and the dark, dingy, dusty place ohilled her hopes. They were almost annihilated when on entering the broker's sordid little den, she was confronted by her aunt's hard, cold face. Alone, her father might have been amenable to persuasion ; but now Jane felt her chance of success was' small indeed. Mrs Money was a 'good hater,' and had never forgiven her niece. Had Jane prospered, her early offence would have been condoned j but Mr Cope was worse off now than ever.

' Why, Jane, my dear,' said Mr Goldie, looking up surprised ; * this is an unexpected pleasure ; how are you 1 pray, be seated ;' waving his hand with vague benevolence.

Mrs Cope would gladly have accepted the invitation, for she had walked, and was very tired ; but as her father and aunt occupied the only two chairs in the room, it was hardly possible to do so.

' Thank you, papa,' she said, ' but you are, no doubt, busy, and my errand is soon told.'

' Have you come seeking an investment for your superfluous cash?' asked Mrs Money, maliciously.

' No,' said Jane, quietly. ' Papa, this has been a very hard winter.'

' It has indeed, my dear,' sighed that gentleman ; ' money never was so tight ; if there does not come a rise in the markets soon, I shall be ruined—absolutely ruined.' ' And you know,' persisted Jane, ' that Walter has been ailing for many months. Papa, the doctor says his life depends upon a change of air ; but with Arthur's small salary, and so much distress around us, we have barely been able to make both ends meet this year. We literally cannot afford a holiday ; will you help us ? A very, very little will save Walter's life — only twenty pounds !'

' Ho !' cried Mrs Money, triumphantly ; 'I told you bo, Jane Cope. I warned you of the misery you were bringing on yourself by marrying that pauper, but you would act in defiance of me and your father, and now you want to saddle hjm. with your husband, and, children !'

Jane compressed her lips ; she feared to answer her aunt, lest what she might say should ruin her chance of success. 'Papa, will you let me have the money?' ' Twenty pounds is a large sum,' hesitated he.

'Of course It is ;' snapped his sister, ' and only the thin end of the wedge — 'remember that.'

'Papa, if you will let me have this money, I will never aak you for another penny.' 'Promises are cheap,' sneered Mrs Money. 'You have evidently been sadly imprudent, Jane,' said Mr Goldie. 'You talk of " so much distress around you ;" but we should be just before we are generous ; charity begins at home. You have no right to give away what your own family need, and then expect others to make good the deficiency.' ' It is easy to be generous with other people's money,' added his sister, with the old fold of her lips. Jane crimsoned with indignation, but she controlled herself for one last effort.

' Then you refuse to help me V 'N~-no,' hesitated her father; 'not exactly— not quite that ; though I would be fully justified in doing so. As your aunt has said, you married against my wish, and were fairly warned. How is it that Arthur still remains a curate 1 has he no sense of the duty he owes his family ] no ambition V

'Or is it want of ability V suggested hii sister, viciously. ' Ah !' sighed Mr Goldie ; ' you made a poor choice, Jane, a poor choice. I should be the last to countenance my children in marrying merely for money, but I say — once for all — poor people have no right to fall in love with each other. It is much to be regretted that you did not act as wisely as your sister.' ' Ah — h ! I told you you would live to repent,' struck in Mrs Money. Twelve years ago Jane would have replied hotly, but she had learned some lessons since then.

' I do not repent,' and a proud, sweet smile lit up the pale face. ' I never have repented ; I thank God I did not follow the example of poor Mary.'

' Poor !' cried her father, while Mrs Money opened her lips and locked them again, unable to find words to express herself.

Jane was silent ; she would not say what she feared ; that, judging from the tone of Mary's letters, the ' cares of this world and the deceitf ulness of riches ' absorbed her to the complete exclusion of higher things, and that with all her wealth, she was not happy. 'Henry,' said his sister, sharply, 'it is three o'clock ; do you intend to sit talking there all day, or will you draw me out these transfers at once !'

' Papa, will you give me that money 1 ' asked his daughter. 'I do not say lend it, for I tell you frankly we oannot repay it. lam sure you can well afford this trifle. I got nothing when I was married, remember.'

' Trifle,' said Mr Goldie, fretfully; he had been hoping that the request would not be renewed ; ' she calls twenty pounds a trifle ! in these hard times, too ! one would think I was made of money. But there — I don't wish to be hard — suppose we say ten pounds ; and if ever Arthur should receive preferment— but no, I will not count on that ; some people are born to be shiftless, and unlucky. Shall we say ten pounds, eh, sister Jane?'

' No, nor ten pence,' said Mrs Money curtly, determined, out of sheer Bpite, that Mrs Cope should not gain her point. 'But Jane, my dear Jane,' urged her brother, in a whisper ; 'if the child is really ill, you know ; and if anything were to happen, what would be said V ' That people must bake as they have brewed. You are not bound to provide for your grandchildren while their parents are alive.'

' Well, Bay five pounds then !'

'As you like : I can easily find lodgings elsewhere. You must choose between us.' A favourite threat of Mrs Moneys, and one that never failed of its effect. She had never set up an establishment of her own, preferring the free quarters at her brother's house, where the two ruling passions of her life — economy, and a love of managing people — had full scope ; nor had she the remotest intention of doing so ; — simply using the threat to obtain her own way.

Mr Goldie was in a quandary j- he always coveted the 'golden mean,' and shrank from having to chooae and follow a bold, marked line of action. To turn Jane away, might set people talking; while ten pounds would make him the benefactor of the whole Cope family, and, of course, earn their everlasting gratitude. Besides, he could put that money down under the head of Charity, and be absolved from giving to any other object for at least a year. On the whole, Mr Goldie considered it would be ten pounds well laid out. But there was Mrs Money — who must be humoured ; she was quite capable of putting her threat into execution ; how could he answer it to his conscience if he allowed that old woman — his only sister too — to leave the shelter of his roof, and too probably fall, with her immenae fortune, into the hands of designing strangers. Did he not owe it to hia family collectively that that wealth should, at all hazards, be retained within their circle 1 He must sacrifice inclination to duty. So — 'Jane, my dear,' said he, turning suavely to his daughter ; ( I am truly sorry for your troubles, though you Twue brought them qu yQurjolf j and. I hope

and trust that it may please Providence to spare your child. You shall certainly have my prayers, but — ' 1 But I shall not have your money,' interrupted Jane, bitterly, ' Well, we will do without it. Poor and troubled as I am, I would not be either of you, for all your wealth. You will have to die, some day.' And, lest she should forget that he was, after all, her father, she hastily left the room. But nothing they had said rankled in her heart as her parting words did in Mr Goldie's. 'You will have to die some day ;' the words repeated themselves over and over again in his brain, and would not be silenced ; they succeeded in making him, for the reat of that day, very thoroughly miserable. Mrs Cope had left the office proudly enough, but, the excitement over, came the memory of her child's wasted form, her husband's bent and weary figure ; and the sickness of disappointment was almost more than she could bear. But * the longest lane has a turning,' and Jane had reached, at length, the end of hers. Upon entering her house she was greeted with a joyous shout from her two younger boys, while Arthur came forward with a brighter face than he had worn for many months, and taking her in his arms, kissed her fervently. 'Good news, my dearest.' < What 1 Oh, Arthur, is it— a living V Mr Cope grew grave. i 'Not that— not yet, we must have patience. Meanwhile see !' And he displayed to her wondering gaze, a one hundred pound Bank of England note. ' For us ! But who sent it V A question which Arthur could not answer ; the note had come by post, the envelope was addressed in an unknown hand, and the single line within ' Not for the Parish — for yourselves ;' bore no signature. ' You see, we need not fear to use it ; and now Walter can have his trip.'

Mrs Cope's nerves were unstrung, and this glad surprise waß too much ; she burst into sudden tears. Arthur drew her into his study, while the boys, sobered by this reception of their news, looked at each other in dismay, and crept quietly off. Jane cried her heart out ; — it did her good, — and then she was able to talk their plans calmly over. ' By-the-by, what success did you have?' asked her husband, presently. ' None, Aunt Money was at the office ;' and though urged to describe the interview, that was all Mrs Cope would tell. ' Disagreeable things were best forgotten,' she said.

And then she brought a Bradshaw, and they fell to planning their journey.