LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5165, 21 November 1884, Page 3

LITERATURE.

AN OLD WIFE'S TALE. (World.) Though by birth and education ft thorough Cockney, I never could acquire a proper indifference to my next-door neighbours. On the contrary, their habits and pursuits were, to me, matters of the deepest, though most thoroughly goodnatured interest. The merry little daughter of the widow lady next door was a great delight, and helped me over manj a weary hour, when sickness confined me to the house ; and I must confess my regret was far greater than my acquaintance warranted when the cheery family on the other side sought another house, and my garden wa3 freed from incessant incursions in pursuit of lost balls or sirayed bantams. For some reason this house remained vacant for a considerable time; but one day a lady and gentleman drove up, and by the intense civility of the grimy, a_ '* not too sober, caretaker, it was evident tht came on business. In a few days aftt - their first visit of inspection, MrsCaretake uioved out, and they moved in. They wer-.-an ideal couple, of the type found far more generally in fiction than in fact: he a handsome stalwart Englishman, devoted body and soul to his newly-made wife; she a dainty little body, who looked too delicate and lovely ever to know care. How I watched those two, the lady especially ! The husband left the house daily after breakfast, only return in «r in the evening, when his reception was a sight to behold. No one was ever allowed to open the door to him but herself ; and I firmly believe the intense housewifely care which made the little lady tell her maid on the doorstep to " lock the gate after, master, because of those dreadful tramps, Jane," owed its origin far less to tlie trespassers aforesaid than to a desire of rushing out to unlock it for "him." My pretty couple were evidently well-to-do, for a wellappointed victoria was nearly daily at ray lady's service, while Monsieur rode to and from business, and few horses have gone through such a course of petting and overfeeding as did that handsome chest— ut thoroughbred. The only variation in my neighbour's life seemed the occasional absences of her husband, whose return *?_ 5 always watched for, and greeted wit— extreme delight. As spring came on, our respective tastes in ijardeniug (or rather pulling plants about, which Londoners call by that name) li-il to a sort of acquaintance between us, and we nodded and smiled across the hedg-s and inquired after each others health. My little neighbour's conditien was evident, even had it not been emphasised by the tender care of her young husband, who, when at home, seemed scarce able to bear her out of his sight, or to allow her to do a single thing for i *>rself. A rather severer attack than usu:il confined mc to my bed for some time. ar_<l when I began -to crawl out into th » .1. a again, a respectable elderly woman v.— 3 walking up and down my neighbour -"s gardon, with a baby in her arms. Ti_3 was irresistible, and very soon nurse and I made friends over t!i? " precious infant,** which, to my eyes at least, fully d-?s«.*rv. I the praises lavished ou it by its devo>:i

attendant. Ere long she confided to me that she had nursed "Miss Emily, leastways Mrs 8., and kept house for master after poor missis died." My new acquaintance certainly told me far more than I suppose I had any right to learn ; but i£was such innocent naif gossip, where was the harm ? Master, I discovered, was a clergyman, who, losing his wife the day he gained his daughter, had at the same time lost all interest in the world, and led the life of a hermit in his distant country parish, dividing his time between hia books and his parishioners. How ''Miss Emily" and her husband became acquainted was not too clear, though it was scarcely uncharitable to fancy the acquaintance might not have ripened so quickly under a mother's keen eyes as it did under those of the absent-minded rector and the fond old nurse. Be that as it may, they they became attached, engaged, in course of time married, to the satisfaction of every one. " Young master," the son of a colonel in the H.E.1.C.5., was " something in the City " ; so he and —is young wife settled in London, and thither nurse had followed them, to help her darling through her hour of trial. For some days my daily inquiries received satisfactory answers, and mother and child seemed to be progressing as well as persons in their case should do. But a change came, and one morning nurse told me, with a halfchoked voice, that her darling, her pet lamb (for in her grief the poor soul fell back on the old nursery endearments), was gone, " and this blessed innocent," holding the child out to me with an unconscious dramatic effect, "i 3 motherless ! And who's to tell master, I can't think. And, O ma'am, young master is too awful ! If he could but cry, it would he better ; but men, leastways gentlemen, can't, I think ; and there he goes about, hard and cold, like a stone ; and, when I said something of the child, told me to take it away, for God's 6ake !" Comforting the poor soul as well as I could, I went i—j my heart Lining, for the grief sho had described. A t-.w days after wa3 the funeral, with an old broken-down man, evidently the "master" so often referred to by nurse, and the young widower, with the same hard, crushed look she had mentioned, as chief mourners. Next day the father of my pretty little neighbour departed, taking nurse and baby with him, while the husband went off a day or two later, abroad for change, it was said ; the pretty home was broken up, and the house again was empty. A couple of months later, as I was going down Bind street in the afternoon, I was attracted by the singularly harsh voice of a lady passing from one of the shops to her carriage, and turned to look at the speaker. Her appearance matched her voice ; but my attention was at once engrossed by her companion. He was — my neighbour's husband ! " Not very faeinatii ig, is she ?" whispered my friend. "Do you know them ?" I rejoined hastily. " Who is the gentleman ?" " Her husband, to be sure ; and I expect he ha 3 found long ere this how heavy matrimonial fetters are, be they never so well gilded." It was trua ! My heart-broken widower has been for seven or eight years the husband of the unattractive lady he was escorting, whose teaux tjev.x certainly appertained to her cassette • ami my pretty, gentle, little neighbour — God help her ! — had been what ?