LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 195, 23 January 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A BELEAGUERED HOME, It was the last letter in the post-bag that brought the news of our ruin as we sat at breakfast with the open to the ground, looking out on the sunny lawn, a silver streak of river beyond, and the mountains shining blue in the distance. The first day of spring, balmy and revivifying. I am no believer in presentiments; misfortune descends upon us unawares, without warning or foreshadowing, and the House Beautiful of our hopes is swept into ruin. We had been very happy in our married life, little more than a twelvemonth old, with everything seemingly clear and bright before us. And now all was doubt and gloom; our means had vanished into thin air. All my fortune that had been my mother’s, and that my father, a colonel in the Indian army, had generously resigned to me, was invested in the Lahore and Delhi Bank, and that had collapsed into ruin. We had settled in Wales on our marriage, where 1 took a pleasant little house situated on a sunny slope of a hill overlooking the valley; well sheltered by trees, embowered in flowering shrubs, and covered with creepers; quite an idyllic little place. I had made up my mind to buy it, but the owner required such a heavy price for it, that 1 hesitated about withdrawing any of my capital from an investment where the return was so handsome as in our bank; and now it was all gone. I had no profession, either, to fall back upon; I had served for a few years in my father’s corps, but the climate of India did not suit me, and as I was an only child, and

we had ample means, I retired and came home at the colonel’s wish. Then I married my old playmate and my father’s ward, Jane Hammond, to his great delight, he promising himself to complete another two years’ service, and then come home and live with his son and daughter. Whilst 1 was reading the letter announcing the fatal news, Jane saw by my face that something dreadful had occurred. ‘ls it papa?’ she cried, for she always called my father thus; ‘ has anything happened to him?’ She seemed absolutely relieved when I told her that nothing had happened but the loss of all our means. There is a kind of excitement about misfortune, when it first come upon us, that eases off a certain portion of the shock. We were quite gay over it, I remember, that first day. We were young, with the world before us. We must descend into the arena of life and fight our way to success; hitherto we had been spectators only; for the future we must be actors, heart and soul. We would sell off everything here and go up to London, where I must try for employment. Jane would go out as a daily governess. One circumstance interfered with any plans of immediate activity on her part. We were daily, almost, expecting the advent of a young stranger, and that must be got over first. Then there were several other hindrances. We had the house upon our hands for another six months at least.

Something could be done about the house at once my wife suggested. We could write to our landlord and ask him to take it off our hands, or to accept a specified sum in lieu of notice. With an impulse of newborn activity I sat down to write the note at once. Unexpected misfortunes, I wrote, had put it out of my power to occupy a house at such a rent any longer. Would my landlord kindly consent to some arrangement for relieving me of a portion of my responsibility, *He must do it; he’s sure to do it for his own sake, ’ said Jane, decidedly. *lf he won’t, we’ll put a chimney-sweep in the house, or the travelling tinker,’ But I didn’t feel quite so certain, knowing that landlords are usually tenacious of their rights. Our landlord was not a native-born Welshman, but a retired attorney from one of the large towns, who had bought the property a bargain, and was bent upon making the most out of it. He lived in a small cottage about a quarter of a mile away, with rather a bold-faced housekeeper. He and I were friendly enough, but Jane would never take the slightest notice of the housekeeper, and I think the young woman resented this hauteur a little. Mr Tranter—that was my landlord’s name—evidently thought me a good tenant, for I had spent a good deal of money in putting things to rights about the house, which had been before in rather a neglected condition. I paid rather a high rent for the place, as rents went in that out-of-the-way locality—ninety pounds a year paid half-yearly. The custom was in those parts to pay the rent on a specified day, a good while after it was due. Thus the Lady-day rents would be paid late in June, and the Michaelmas about December.

I was a great simpleton, I thought afterwards, to write such a letter; for there is no need for a man to trumpet his misfortunes, which get wind soon enough without his aid. But I had at that time a stupid kind of confidence in the good-will of people about me, engendered by a careless, good-natured terrper, of which it has taken a good deal of experience to rid me. The day following that on which the sad news came was the 25th of March. All the sunshine was gone now ; a chill north-easter blowing; all the excitement, too, attending our misfortune was over, and the cold dismal reality clearly visible. The news of our trouble had got about, through the medium of Tranter and Company no doubt. Every one, at least so we fancied, looked queerly at us; a shower of unremembered little bills came drifting in upon us. In the course of the day came a reply from Mr Tranter—a note, at least, taking no notice of my letter, but reminding me that the half-year’s rent was this day due. The same evening about six I was told that David the fisherman was in the kitchen, and wanted particularly to see me. David had been my guide and companion in many a pleasant fishing expedition; a wiry little fellow; his face lined and seamed with smallpox, with quick intelligent eyes, and long lithe fingers that were deft at anything. David’s wife went out as a nurse, and in that capacity she had been retained by my wife for her approaching trouble. * Beg your pardon, sir,’ said David, touching his forelock in salutation, ‘I wish to speak with you very particular; yes.’ With that I took David into my own room, where I kept gun and fishing tackle. ‘Beg your pardon, sir,’ he said, breaking forth suddenly into speech, “you’ll think me a very impudent fellow, but do you owe Mr Tranter any money ?’ ‘Not I; why do you ask, David?’ ‘ W ell, sir, as I happened to make a call at the Skinners’ Arms just now, my cousin, Hugh Jones, came into the bar, not seeing me, and he said to the man he was with: “ Is it a good job I will have at Brynmor tomorrow?”’ “Capital,” said Morris—for that was the one he was with—“ there will be a week’s possession, and then the sale; and between Mr Tranter and me we will skin the young Englishman nicely. ” There’s for you. ’ This Morris, it seemed, was an auctioneer and agent in a small way, bailiff of the county court, and wrecker in general. A burly, downcast looking man, going about in a silent, stealthy manner; respectful to obsequiousness to persons above him in position, but with a hard cold eye that boded ill for any one at his mercy. But I was in no danger of any process of law. What could Morris be to me? Then in an instant I recalled the fact that this was legally the rent day, and that the law accords to a landlord, without notice or process, the right to seize his tenant’s effects and take possession of his premises. ‘ But,’ cried I, as all this flashed upon me, • Tranter would never venture on such an outrage.’ ‘ Indeed he would care little for what was said of him if he could make a trifle; and listen, captain —I heard Morris say that he has taken a fancy to your furniture, and means to get it all for the half year’s rent.’ Then I realised for the first time that I was in a very desperate position. I had only a few pounds in my pocket; everything else was locked up in this woful bank. Tranter had come to the conclusion that I was socially moribund, and hoped to have the picking of my bones. To-morrow my cherished home would be in possession of the roughs ; and to my poor wife, such a shook would perhaps be fatal. What should I do t

It was a cruel thing to contemplate quietly this invasion, of my home at such a crisis. Surely any man with a heart not altogether of stone would hold his hand if he knew all the circumstances of the case. With a violent effortl overcame my pride, and resolved that I would humble myself before the man and ask his forbearance.

‘Wait here, David,’l said, ‘I may want you;’ and I hastily took my hat, and went out to Tranter’s cottage. I thought I saw his face at the window as I passed, but when his housekeeper came to the door, she laughed in my face, and denied that he was at home. He had gone out, and probably would not be back till the next day. Evidently Mr Tranter had taken precautions not to be spoken to on the subject. Ire turned home dejected and miserable. The housemaid was looking out for me as I reached the gate. Her mistress was taken ill; David had been sent to seek his wife, and I must go and fetch the doctor. At midnight things were still in suspense. The doctor and the nurse were in the house, but Jane was still in her trouble. The doctor talked cheerfully, but looked a little anxious. In one of the intervals when he came downstairs for a little refreshment I told him of the position in which I was placed. ‘You must keep them out,’ he said, ‘at all hazards. If my patient has anything to agitate her, it will be her death,’ I took David, who still remainedabout the premises, into consultation. He brightened up when I told him what I intended to do, and entered heart and soul into the enterprise. We were to stand a siege; it was necessary to lay our plans carefully, and there was short time for preparation. At any time after daybreak the enemy might be upon us. In the first place, as to the outworks—the stable and coachhouse—these must be locked up, and the pony in some way got rid of, for it would be impossible to feed him during the blockade. David volunteered to ride off with the pony, and leave him with a friend up in the hills, among whose pastures he would be safe from possible capture. Then we must get rid of useless mouths. Cook and housemaid must go home for a holiday, and David undertook to get them out of the house. It would be my business to look to the inner defences of the citadel. The house was long and low, with a gable at each end, and a covered porch between. In one of the gables was the kitchen, and the servants’ bedrooms were above that. The other wing contained dining and drawing rooms, over which were our bedroom and the guest chamber, with another small closet bedroom lighted from the roof. My own little snuggery was at the back on the ground-floor. To this room and the kitchen I determined to confine myself whilst the siege lasted. I went round the house therefore with gimlet, screws, and screw-driver, fastening all the windows, securely closing and barring all the shutters. I. muffled all the bells in the house. There were was no knocker to the hall door, the upper part of which was glazed to give light to the hall. The windows of the upper rooms I secured in the same way, except that of my wife’s chamber, and of the bedroom I occupied myself, the catches of which were perfect, and closed by strong springs. The back door I bolted and barred, but the hall door I simply locked—this to provide for sudden ingress or egress on the part of the garrison. These precautions taken, I felt rather easier in my mind and sat down to reflect upon the conditions of the contest, and my relations with the outside world.

First, as to supplies—bread would be indispensable, and milk. For the rest there was a quarter of mutton hanging in the larder, and the cellar was pretty well stocked with wine and ale. I had almost forgotten the necessity of firing, and that our coals were kept in a shed outside. Bringing this to mind with a start, I took a coal scuttle and pail, and brought into the house as much coal as would suffice for a few days’ consumption, David presently returned in high glee at having saved the pony from the enemy’s hands, and to him I confided the difficulty as to the bread and milk. The latter he undertook to bring night and morning in a can, and at a concerted signal I was to lower a cord and hook from the upper window and hoist it up. Bread enough for three days’ supply he undertook to obtain. Night dragged wearily on—a long night of trouble and anguish for my poor wife, of anxiety almost amounting to despair on my own part. She was passing through the shadow of death for my sake, and I could not put out my hand to help her. The doctor’s face grew graver and graver ; the nurse, cheerful and chatty at first, looked fagged and dispirited. Strength was becoming exhausted, life hung in the balance, and every moment the balance, was more unfavorably inclined.

At last, just as gray dawn was breaking, a piping babbling cry resounded through the house, announcing the advent of a new life upon the earth.

‘ Well,’ said the doctor, grasping me heartily by the hand, * it’s a fine boy, and we shall do excellently now ; only perfect quiet, and stillness, and rest. She wants to see you—but you must not stop a minute.’ As I stood by her bedside, with her poor fevered hand in mine—and I couldn’t speak a word, or I should have made a fool of myself —I heard the gate slam to, and I saw, through a crevice in the blind, two men coming down the gravel drive. They separated at the shrubbery, and one of them concealed himself among the trees, whilst the other made his way towards the hall door. * Don’t go,’ whispered Jane.

* But the doctor orders it.’ And I tore myself away, and hurried down to the door Just in time. The doctor had gone out for a mouthful of fresh air, and unwittingly left the door ajar. I threw myself upon it, and it slammed to against the ready foot of Mr Morris, whose burly form was shadowed against the ground glass panes, Eap-a-tap-tap went his stick against the door.

‘ Don’t trouble yourself to knock again,’ I whispered through the keyhole, ‘ for you shan’t come in.’ Then warning the doctor of what had happened, I ran rapidly through the house to examine the fastenings. The siege had commenced. To be continued.