expect aninfant to be a man."
During the two hours I shared the carriage with this interesting family,I heard that mother use to her child about one-fourth of all the wordsin the English language--adding to each word the additional syllable"ee."
When the father ventured to open his mouth, and speak to the child inplain English, the mother would accuse him of scolding it; and then thelittle demon would set up a loud yelling, from which it would notdesist, until mother and nurse had called it every pet name they couldthink of--adding to each the endearing syllable "ee."
Becoming perfectly satisfied at the observations I had made of thepeculiarities of this pleasant family, I took the first opportunity of"changing carriages;" and left the fond mother to enjoy, undisturbed,the caresses of her spoilt pet. Perhaps, had Fortune been a littlekinder to myself, I might have felt less afflicted in such society. Butas I had no intention of ever becoming a family man, I thought theknowledge of "what to avoid," was hardly worth acquiring--at the expenseof being submitted to the annoyance that accompanied the lesson.
Volume Three, Chapter XXIX.
BROWN OF BIRMINGHAM.
On my way to Liverpool, I took the route by Birmingham--with theintention of breaking my journey in the latter city.
I had two reasons for this. I wanted to see the great city of ironfoundries; and, still more, my old mate--Brown, the convict--who hadworked along with me on the diggings of Avoca.
The morning after reaching Birmingham, I went in search of the place,where Brown had told me to enquire for him.
Just before his departure from the diggings, he had seen a man freshfrom Birmingham; and had learnt from him, that a young fellow--with whomhe had once been acquainted--was then keeping a public-house formerlymuch frequented by his father.
The old convict had said, that from this tavern keeper he should be ableto learn all about his family; and had directed me, in case of my evercoming to Birmingham, to inquire for himself at the same address.
I found the tavern without much trouble. It was what might be called,either in Birmingham or Glasgow, a "third class" public-house; but wouldnot have been licensed for such a purpose in any other city.
I saw the landlord; and requested him to give me the address of "RichardBrown." After some hesitation, my request was complied with.
On proceeding to the place, I had the good fortune to find my old mateat home.
I had no occasion to regret paying him this visit: for the happiness itseemed to cause him, was worth making a long journey to confer.
"You are the only one," said he, "to whom I told my story in thecolonies. You remember with what little hope I returned home; and Iknow you are just the man to be pleased at what I have to tell you."
"I am certainly pleased," said I, "at what I already see. I find youliving in a quiet, comfortable home; and, to all appearance, contented."
"Yes," joyfully answered Brown, "and I am all that I appear, even morehappy than you can imagine. But I must tell you all about it. On myreturn, I found my mother still living, and in a workhouse. My brotherwas married; and had a large family--fighting, as he and I used to do,against death from starvation. I did not go to my mother in theworkhouse. I did not wish to meet her there, in presence of people whocould not have understood my feelings. After learning that she wasthere, I took this house; and furnished it on the same day. My brotherthen went to the workhouse, took our mother out of it, brought her here,and told her it was her own home, and that everything she saw belongedto her. He then explained the puzzle--by bringing us together. Thepoor old lady was nearly mad with joy; and I believe that I was at thatmoment the happiest man in England. I am not certain, but that I am soyet. The pleasure I have had in placing my mother beyond the reach ofwant, and in aiding my brother--who only required the use of a fewpounds, to enable him to make a comfortable living--has far more thanrepaid me, for all the hardships and sorrows of the past."
Before I parted from him, Brown opened a door, and called to his mother,requesting her to come in.
When she entered the room, I was introduced to her, as a friend who hadknown her son in Australia. She was a respectable-looking woman, aboutsixty-eight years of age; and her features bore an expression ofcheerfulness and contentment that was pleasant to behold.
"I am greatly pleased to see thee," said she, addressing herself to me,"for thy presence here tells me, that my son had friends amongstrespectable people when far away."
I took this as a compliment; and was as polite to her, as I knew how tobe.
Brown informed me, that he was then engaged in the hay and cornbusiness; and was making a little money--enough, he said, to prevent thegold-dust he had brought home with him from getting scattered.Notwithstanding what he had done for his mother and brother, he expectedto find himself at the end of the year worth as much money, and a littlemore, than when he landed in England.
I know not what others may think of the incident here described; but Ifelt upon parting from Brown, that it had been worth all the trouble Ihad taken to call upon him; and I will, at any time, again undergo thesame trouble to be present at a similar spectacle.
Under the guidance of my old mining partner, I visited many of the greatmanufacturing establishments of Birmingham; and, after seeing much tocause me both wonder and admiration, I proceeded on my journey toLiverpool.
Volume Three, Chapter XXX.
IN SEARCH OF LENORE.
From having resided so long in Captain Hyland's family, I was familiar,as already stated, with the names of many of their acquaintances.Amongst others, I remembered a Mrs Lanson, who had been on veryintimate terms with Mrs Hyland and Lenore.
I knew her address; and from her, would be sure to obtain theinformation I desired. After arriving in Liverpool, I proceeded almostdirect to her residence. At Captain Hylands house, I had often met MrsLanson; and on presenting myself, had no trouble in getting recognised.I was received with courtesy--even cordiality.
"I am very anxious," said I, "too see my old friends--Mrs Hyland andher daughter. Having been so long abroad, I have lost all knowledge ofthem. I knew that you could inform me, where they are to be found; andit is for that purpose I have taken the liberty of calling upon you."
"No liberty at all, Mr Stone," said the lady; "on the contrary, I'mvery glad to see you. Of course, you've heard of the change that hastaken place in Mrs Hyland's family; and that they are now living inLondon?" I answered in the affirmative. "The address is Number --,Denbigh Street, Pimlico. That is Captain Nowell's residence. Pleaseremember me to them!"
Not many more words passed between Mrs Lanson, and myself. I know notwhether she noticed my confusion, as I stammered out some common-place,leave-taking speech. I was too much excited to know what I did; orwhether my behaviour was remarked upon.
It was not necessary for me to make a memorandum of the address thusgiven me. I had one already in my possession--which I had been carryingin my pocket for weeks. More than that, I had called at the houseitself--on that occasion, when Captain Nowell accompanied me to theBank.
I know not why this discovery should have given my mind such a painfulshock. Why should the thought, that Lenore had married a man with whomI was acquainted, cause me a more bitter pain than any I had yetexperienced?
Captain Nowell was a person, for whom I felt a sincere respect--amounting almost to regard. Why then was I so disagreeably surprised,to discover that he was the man who had found the happiness, I hadmyself lost? I knew not; and I only sought an answer to this mentalinterrogatory--in the hope, that, by finding it, I might be able tocorrect some fault that existed in my own mind. I had accomplished theobject of my journey; and yet I returned to London with a heart achingfrom disappointment. I had learnt where Lenore could be seen; and hadgone all the way to Liverpool to obtain that information, which mighthave been mine at an earlier period--had I but hearkened to the requestof Captain Nowell to visit him at his house.
My reasons for keeping away from Denbigh Street
were now ten timesstronger than ever. I no longer felt a desire to see Lenore; and neverwished to see Captain Nowell again.
My desire to depart from London was greatly strengthened by thediscovery I had made; and, much as I disliked Liverpool, I resolved toreturn to it--for the purpose of taking passage thence to Melbourne: asI had learnt that there were several Melbourne ships soon to sail fromthat port.
On conferring with my brother William, he expressed his determination toremain in London. He had bought shares in a brewery; and had everyprospect of doing well. He endeavoured to persuade me against returningto the colonies--urging me to go into some business in London, getanchored to a wife, and live happily like himself! Little did Williamsuspect how impossible it would have been for me to follow his counsels.
The arguments he used, only increased my desire to be gone; and Idetermined to start next day for Liverpool.
Common politeness would not allow me to leave, without writing CaptainNowell a note. It was necessary I should let him know, that I hadchanged my mind about returning to the colonies in his ship.
On the morning after this last duty had been fulfilled--before I hadtaken my departure for the train--Captain Nowell was announced; and Icould not well avoid seeing him.
"I have come after you," said he, as soon as he entered the room. "I'msent to take you prisoner; and bring you before two ladies, whom youshould have called upon long ago. You cannot escape--so come alongimmediately!"
"It is impossible for me to go with you, Captain Nowell," protested I,"I start for Liverpool by the next train; and I shall have scant time toget to the station."
"I tell you," said the Captain, "that I can take no refusal. Why--doyou know what I have just learnt? My wife, and her daughter, are oldacquaintances of yours. Don't you remember Mrs Hyland, and littleLenore? I happened to mention the name of Rowland Stone this morning--on reading your note of last night--and there was a row in the houseinstantly. My wife sent me off to bring you, as fast as a cab can carryus. Unless you go with me, we shall have a fight. I daren't go back,without you."
"Stop a minute!" I cried, or rather stammered out the words. "Let meask you one question! What did you say about your wife?"
"I said that my wife, and her daughter, were old acquaintances of yours.I married the widow of Captain Hyland."
"Great heaven!" I exclaimed, "did you not marry his daughter?"
"No. What the devil makes you ask that? Marry Lenore Hyland! Why,Stone, I'm old enough to be the young lady's father; and I am that:since I married her mother."
"Come on!" I exclaimed, rushing towards the door. "Come on! I mustsee her immediately."
I hurried bare-headed into the street--followed by Captain Nowell, whobrought my hat in his hand, and placed it on my head.
We hailed a cab; and ordered the driver to take us to Number --, DenbighStreet, Pimlico.
I thought that a horse had never moved so slow. I said everything Icould, to induce cabby to drive faster. I did more than talk to him: Ibribed him. I threatened, and cursed him--though the man seemed to makeevery endeavour to satisfy my impatience. The horse appeared to crawl.I thought of jumping out of the cab--in the belief that I could gofaster afoot; but my companion prevented me.
We did reach Denbigh Street at last; but after a drive that seemed to meas long as any voyage I had ever made across the Atlantic Ocean.
I could not wait for the Captain to ring his own bell; but rang itmyself.
On the instant that a servant girl answered the summons, I put thequestion:
"Where is Lenore?"
The girl's face assumed an expression of surprise; but, seeing me in thecompany of her master, she opened the door of a drawing-room; and Iwalked in.
Lenore Hyland was before me--more beautiful, if possible, than ever!
I was, no doubt, taking a great liberty, in the ardent demonstrations Iat that moment made towards her; but my consciousness of this could notrestrain me from doing as I did--though I may have acted like a madman.
"Lenore," I exclaimed, clasping her in my arms, "are you free? Is ittrue, that I have not lived and toiled in vain?"
The young lady made no answer--at least not in words; but there wassomething in her silence, that led me to think, she was not offended atmy rudeness.
Gradually I recovered composure, sufficient to conduct myself in a morebecoming manner, when the Captain called my attention to Mrs Nowell--inwhom I recognised Mrs Hyland, the mother of Lenore.
My long continued misapprehension--so near leading to a life-longmisery--was soon fully explained. Mason, whom I had met in Sydney--andwith whom the error originated--had been himself the victim of amistake.
He had called to see Captain Nowell on business; and the latter, notbeing at home, the old steward had asked to see his wife. Mrs Nowellbeing engaged at the time, her daughter had come out to receive him;and, as Mason had been formerly acquainted with Captain Hyland and hisfamily, of course he recognised Lenore. This circumstance--along withsomething that had occurred in the short conversation between her andthe steward--had led to the misapprehension; and Mason had left thehouse under the belief that Lenore Hyland was Captain Nowell's wife!
I never passed a more happy evening, than that upon which I again metLenore--though my happiness did not spring, from the "disenchantment"promised by Cannon. I did not think of poor Jessie; and also forgot allabout my intention of returning to the colonies, until reminded of it byCaptain Nowell--as I was about to take leave of him and his family forthe night.
"Stone," he said, "now that you have found your old friends, you mustgive them as much of your time as possible: for you know, in a few days,we are to sail for Australia."
This speech was accompanied by a glance, that told me the Captain didnot expect my company upon his next voyage.
I proudly fancied that Lenore interpreted it, in the same sense as I haddone: for the blush that broke over her beautiful cheeks, while addingbloom, at the same time led me to believe that my remaining in Londonwould be consonant with her wishes.
Volume Three, Chapter XXXI.
A CHILD OF NATURE.
One morning as I sat in my room, impatiently waiting for the hour when Icould call upon Lenore; and pondering over the events of my past life--especially that latest one that had given such a happy turn to it--I wasinformed by Mrs Nagger that a lady was downstairs, who wished to seeme.
"What is the ladylike?" I inquired, still thinking of Lenore.
"Like an angel in some great trouble," replied Mrs Nagger; "and more'sthe pity! sir, for she's a very nice young lady, I'm sure."
"Did she give any name?"
"No, sir; and more's the pity, for I should like to know it, but sheseems very anxious to see you, and more's the pity, that she should bekept so long waiting."
I descended the stairs, entered the parlour, and stood face to face withJessie H--.
She appeared to be suffering from some acute mental agony; and when Itook her hand I could feel her fingers trembling in my grasp. A hecticflush overspread her cheeks; and her eyes looked as though she had beenweeping. Her whole appearance was that of a person struggling torestrain the violent expression of some overwhelming sorrow.
"Jessie! What has happened?" I asked. "There is something wrong? Youlook as if there was--you look ill, Jessie."
"Yes," she made answer. "Something _has_ happened; something that hasdestroyed my happiness for ever."
"Tell me what it is, Jessie. Tell me all. You know that I will assistyou, in any way that is in my power."
"I do not know that, Rowland. There was a time when you might havesaved me; but now it is too late--too late to appease my aching heart.I have waited a long while in anxious doubt; and, perhaps, would havedied with the secret in my breast, had I not met you again. It wouldhave been better so. Oh! Rowland, after meeting you once more in thisstrange land, all the memories of the past came over me, only to fill mysoul with sadness and despair. Then it was that my l
ong pent-up griefgave way; and my heart felt shattered. Rowland! I have come to you inmy misery, not to accuse you of being its cause; but to tell you thatyou alone could have prevented it. No mortal could live with morehappiness than I, did I but know that you had the slightest love for me.Even should we never meet again, there would be joy in the thought thatyour love was, or had been mine."
"Jessie! Can you speak thus when--"
"Peace, Rowland! hear me out. I am nearly mad. I will tell you all--all that I have suffered for you. For that reason have I come here.They want me to marry a man I do not love. Give me your counsel,Rowland! Is it not wrong for me to marry him, when I cannot love him--when I love only you?"
"Jessie, I cannot hear you talk thus. I told you, when we parted inAustralia that I loved another. I have met that other since; and I findthat she is still true to me. I hope never to hear you speak sodespondingly again. To all, life is sorrow; and we should pray forstrength to bear it. Fulfil cheerfully the promises you have made. Wecan still be friends and you may yet be happy."
I could perceive, by the quick heaving of her bosom, that her soul wasagitated by powerful emotions, that only became stronger as I continued.
At length this agitation seemed to reach a climax, her arms were thrownwildly outwards; and without a word escaping from her lips, she fellheavily upon the floor. She had fainted!
I rang the bell, and called loudly for assistance. Mrs Nagger camehurrying into the room. I raised the insensible form; and held it in myarms--while the old housekeeper rubbed her hands, and applied suchrestoratives as were near. It seemed as if Jessie H--was never again tobe restored to life. She lay against my bosom like a