LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6704, 18 November 1889, Page 1

LITERATURE.

THE BELL OF ST PAUL'S. [Bt "Waxteb Besant.] [The-right -of publishing the "Bell of St PwxlV has been purchased by the proprietors of the Canterbury Times.] PAET H. Chaptbb XXVII. i THB"TWO WILLS. :** A. gentleman, Sir, wants to see you." "To ne me? Nonsense. It is the Doctor he wants to see." "No, Sir, if s you. He asked for Mr Indagine." The poet took the card. "It isn't a man," he said. "It is a flrmr-a firm of solicitors — Messrs Backet, Saye and Seal, Xmooba's Inn Fields. What can lawyers' want with me? Perhaps — " Ma thoughts, aa usual, running upon his great literary fame— "Perhaps they come from some firm of publishers." " I will go into the other room. "No— no why should you do that ? There is only Althea in the other room. Stay here. I have no secrets. Why, if you come to think of it, he must be Bent by some publishers. No one else can have any business with me. He has been sent to ask what price I put upon the new volume* Advise me, my friend. Standby me and assist with your advice. In all such things I am indeed a wretched bungler." "Shall we see, first, what he wants?" said Laurence, incredulous as to the firm of publishers. It was not the firm in person, but their representative, who waited without. He was a young gentleman, recently qualified, who esteemed himself fortunate in being able to find; in these bad times, a berth as clerk at a modest salary in so good ahouse. The casual wards are reported to be every night crowded with young solicitors, young barristers, young physicians, young surgeons, young engineers, young architects, young novelists, young dramatists and young poets on the tramp looking for jobs and finding none. He who escapes the casual ward is accounted happy. This young man bore his good fortune without boastfolness. Bat, being young and therefore easily put out by the unexpected, he was somewhat impressed, on being introduced into the room, by the strangeness of the place. One hsrdJy looks to find upon the Bank a student's library with all the properties complete and an unmistakeable student, ft man. of ink, in a brown velvet jacket and long white beard. Mr Clement Indagine?" He addressed himBelitothe Poet. " I bring you a letter and a packet/^- ■■■■•• .-, -■ ■■•-.■ "A letter? From what house do you come, Sir P" "From Messrs Racket, Baye and Seal. The letter is from your late brother, Mr J3neas Indagine." "Ifs the Professor!" cried Laurence. "I had dean forgotten the Professor. I should have told you, Sir, long ago, that on the steamer I made the acquaintance of a nephew of yours — one Sylvester Indagine." "My father's name was Sylvester. But —my late brother?" he held the letter unopened in his hand — " my late brother ? and my nephew ?" "One of the Professor's purposes in coming to England," Laurence went on, "was, he told me, to repair if possible some wrong. But I quite forgot him. Where is Professor Indagine ?" "He employed us to search for Mr Clement Indagine. For a long time we were unable to hear anything about him, and then the Professor was obliged to return to America. We learned his place of residence yesterday by a kind of accident through a certain barrister's clerk, Cottle by name." "I am bewildered," said the Poet. "Ton bring me a letter from my brother who has been lost to me for five and thirty years— you tell me he is dead: you speak of a nephew in search of me — actually in search of me and unable to find me— Me. And you go on to say that your firm— -a firm of solicitors in Lincoln's Inn— has also been in search of me, and that you have been able to hear nothing of me— nothing— nothing — of Me\" This is ■wonderful 1" "The Saturday Eoviewer remember," Laurence made haste to remind him, " was in just the same position. "Where," he asked, ** is Clement Indagine "?' « True— true." The ruffled Poet was easily smoothed. "These lawyers, you would say, knew my name and fame naturally— everybody knew that, but they could not learn my residence. I Bay, Sir," he turned to the representative, "that yon asked yourselves not— who was Clement Indagine, but where was Clement Indagine." The young gentleman who brought the letter began to understand that there are many things of which even a passed Bolioitor may be ignorant: he had suspected this before, in moments of depressions as, for instance, the name and fame of Mr Clement Indagine. - But he smiled and looked foolish,and because he felt that lie looked foolish, he blushed and looked more foolish atilL ** Had you not better proceed to read the letter F* said-Laurence. "Yes— yes. Is this the letter?'* Mi Indagine looked at it doubtfully. "It if a voice from the tomb. My brother whe is dead, is about to Bpeak to me." H< looked as if he was not anxious to heai this voice from the tomb. Well. Fen people-are. "My brother," he went on tunringthe letter about, but not opening it, "left ua five- and thirty years ago. Thii letter, my friend, ia going to revive th< memory of a wretched time, a miserabli tiate^&ttme which I had thought waa long since tapedVJWv&r-even,to be spoken -of a thought of. We had * miserable child hood, and & miserable up-growing. W< wereOhildren-cf a-Erison antUmg-gaola was our own undo whoeername I canno bear to pzonoonce." He tremWad "wifl agitation. '•*! say, -wretched memory— ; cannot ttss to open the letter* Ho— cannot* BwflKfcf flrtnejjny friend. Nobettor not. GUI ABbafe. if joa please She shall read the letter to me." Tbi name of nil bzoSher and theJetier -irfcie] hiybeH in-ha hand, recalled &*Qoeen' Bench toils nfad^BKfctka-dsjrß when h

" Althea, child, read tliia letter for me. Bead it aloud andlefc UB get it over. Itia from your tmcle, who is dead. I do not "know whether he did well or whether he failed. He went away years ago, and we have sever once heard from him. Bead it, my dear. He leaned his head upon his hand, expecting to be taken forcibly back to those days which Jiewonld eo willingly have forgotten. Althea opened the letter and read it. "My bear Brothbb, — I am told that I am dying. Daring the long years Bince we parted Ihave always looted forward to getting home and to eeeing you again. This will never happen— and I shall go to my long home without that happiness; I ought to have written many a year ago, but I have led so busy a life that I put it off from time to time until it seemed too late. I have been very busy and very prosperous, because I had the good luck to come straight out West. "Before I die there is a small thing on my mind. I say a small thing, but I do not know. It may have proved a very great thing. If mischief has come of it I am sorry. It is this. When I made up my mind that the only thing I could do was to run-clean away and so get out of the difficulties, which I still believe were caused by our dear uncle for his own purposes, I thought I would play him a certain trick which wonld be likely to cause him annoyance and trouble. Therefore, before I left Baekler's office I opened the tin box, containing Mr Norbery's papers ; I took them them all out, tied them up, and brought them along with me. ' "Well; I kesed them into my trunk and they came to America with me — and then, after awhile, when I settled down here and began to get work I forgot all about them. Mind, I fully meant to send them back. But I quite forgot. I fear that their loss may have caused more than annoyance. However, it is now too late to do anything more than send them back. 1 I suppose my uncle can hardly be living still : but you can give the papers to his executors. As, for me I have not opened the parcel, and I have no knowledge of its contents. My son will take it to England, and will place it just as I brought it away, in your hands. He will also tell you everyhing a bout me, but when you get the letter I shall be lying in the cemetery. " I hope, my dear Clement, that you are well, prosperous and happy. My son will be wealthy, and you must use him freely if you are in any or trouble; Farewell. "^Eneas." (This Story will be continued in our issue of Saturday next.)