LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1285, 2 May 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CHILDREN OBJECTED TO. [Tinsley.] Continued. ‘ 0 you romantic little fool! But has your experiment proved successful, dear 1 And what about your trouble ?’ ‘You will see, dear Emily. At Sir William Barton’s I met my fate—a young man of sterling worth, handsome and wellbred and lovable in every way, with but one drawback to him —wealth, which I could gladly have dispensed with. Augustus Smith—bis name, dear took generous notice of the friendless poor orphan ; he loved the penniless governess—loved her with the chivalrous devotion of a knight of the olden times,’ ‘But, dear Elisa, where is the trouble in that, where the germ of unhappiness ? forunhappy you surely seem to be.’ ‘ Listen, dear Emily. Two days ago he formally proposed for [me, and I accepted him most joyfully. I then eagerly wished to tell him the real truth about me. I thought it would be so delightful to reveal to him that it was not a portionless bride, but a rich heiress, whom he was taking to his heart and home. I do not know how it happened that our conversation drifted into that channel, but somehow he gave expression to his own exalted notion of what should be the relations between lovers an I man and wife. Ue insisted that pure truth and absolute mutual trust alone could ever constitute the enduring basis of true love and esteem. He said he hated deception of whatever kind or degree. So-called white lies he looked upon as the worst of all lies. He warmed with his subject, and grew most eloquent upon it, little wotting how every stricture of his cut me to the quick. I could not then for the life of me have told him that I had deceived him, albeit with the most [innocent intent, in the matter of my fortune ; and it makes me truly wretched to think what may be the effect upon his mind upon his love for me —of the revelation which will inevitably have to be made. When he was leaving me, I told him, half playfully, half sadly, that I had a confession to make, which I would forward to him in a day or so. He looked a little surprised, but Lady Barton came in just then, to ask me to play and sing in the drawing-room. So he left, and I have ever since been endeavouring to devise a suitable form of “ confession,” but all in vain. Over and over again have I begun writing, but only to tear up sheet after sheet of letter-paper. Judge then of my heartfelt joy when, in the midst of my sad perplexity, I unexpectedly saw your dear loving eyes beam upon me. You, rny dearest friend, and my most trusty and trusted confidante in the days gone by - you will help me cut of this most unhappy strait —I know you will, dearest Emily !’ ‘You romantic little fool, I say once more, what a mountain to make out of a molehil' ! Why, dear Elisa, there is not a male creature in the world worth a thought or a tear of sorrow or regret on the part of a dear little puss like you. So your lover is a stern moralist, is he ? Leave him to me, dear. You know I am strong minded, and a determined champion of w oman a rights. 111 take the gentleman in hand. I’ll talk to him like a father. Don’t you laugh, miss; mean it seriously. What a little fool you must be to fear he will find fault with 'your half million additional charms !’

i There it is, you see, my dear Mr Vermont. I have set my heatt upon the house. It is such a veritable bijou—so complete and so comfortable in every part-and such elegant furniture ! It is dirt cheap at six hundred pounds a year. You know I have got “ Miss E. Wolfe” engraved on my cards, in the old American fashion. When he asked me abruptly, “ No children, I hope?” I did not quite understand the meaning of the question, and I stared at him. He gave me no time to answer, but ran on at once, “Of course not. How could Ibe so stupid! Miss Wolfe—l beg your pardon, madam ” So I said nothing about it to him, and agreed to take the house for two years certain, with six months’ notice of renewal, and gave him a cheque on Dunbane’s for the first half year. And now he sends me this wretched agreement to sign, with such absurd clauses and conditions ! If a, child stays there even for one night, I am to give up possession at once ! Now I certainly can on no consideration whatever separate from my darling children, and I have set my heart upon the house, as I tell you. What am Ito do, then ? Ho advise me, my dear Mr Vermont ’ < Well, Lisa dear, I think it may be arranged easily enough. The man must be a fool to put such clauses in his agreements. I will call upon him at his office, and talk to him about the matter. At the worst, I think, it will be a question of a few hundred pounds down by way of bonus, to make him let the children pass. And if you have set your heart upon the house, why, I know you will not let a few hundreds more or less stand in the way of gratifying your fancy. You may make your mind easy about it. Leave it entirely to me. Look upon it as settled.’

‘ Thanks, thanks, dear Mr Vermont! What a warm practical friend you are 1’ ‘Why, Lisa dear, 1 have known you from a babe, and your poor husband was my oldest friend. So give me the address, and 1 will look to it the first thing in the morning. Bat bo particular in your direc ions, please. You know 1 like precision in everything.’

Mrs Wolfe or Miss Wolfe, as she chose to call herself, after the old American fashion —was the widow of a New York millionaire. She had only just come over from the States, with her two little boys, three and two years old. Mr Jonathan Vermont was the head partner and present Loudon representative of tho great commercial and financial house of Vermont, Mackenzie and Co , of New York, Loudon, and Tatis, tie was a most

particular gentleman, who, aa he himself used to express it, would always carefully dot bis i’a and cross bis t'a. His intimate friends were in the habit of calling him Jonathan Precise. He was a little pompon? in manner, and, with all his professed preciseness, somewhat given to inflation and circumlocution in speech.

Miss Elisa Wolfe was the daughter of the late Mr Wolfe, of New York, by his first wife. At the time of the opening of this little sketch she was not aware of her stepmother’s arrival in England. Miss Emily Hunter, Elisa Wolfe’s fast and faithful friend, was a young lady of independent fortune, very beautiful, highly accomplished, strong-minded, and a most uncompromising champion of what she was pleased to call the inalienable and imprescriptible rights of woman —woman oppressed and down-trodden, as the fair advocate would ardently aver, by the wretched male creatures, who presumed to look upon themselves ns ‘ lords of the creation.’ Lords of the creation, indeed! They with their glaring intellectual, mental, and moral inferiority to woman! * * # # *

It was about half-past ten o’clock in the morning when Mr Jonathan Vermont walked up the staircase on the right to the first floor of West Australia Avenue, Leadenhall street. He found the first door on his left-hand side numbered 9, the second 8, the third 7. * Now, would anybody believe,’ he muttered to himself, ‘ the carelessness and want of preciseness of these females! Here has Lisa written down, as plainly as can be, Mr Austin Smith, West Australia Avenue, first floor, No. 17, third door on left hand side. She knows how precise I am, and that I like the minutest exactness in everything. Now here I find the third door on the left-hand side marked No. 7, not 17 ; and here is the name on the plate, “Mr Augustus Smith.” Augustus is Austin, as every child knows. She is clearly ten out, therefore, in her written direction to me, in which she protested to me she was most particular and exact. Really one should never put faith in anything a woman says or does,’ he concluded with a grave shake of the head. He knocked at the office-door. Now it so happened that Mr Smith had not yet arrived, and the clerk, who had only just run down for a bun, leaving the door unlocked, had met a friend, who detained him in a most interesting conversation about the approaching Derby and the probable winner thereof. So, of course, no invitation came from within for Mr Vermont to enter. That gentleman, always rather impatiently given, waited not long before he turned the handle and walked in, passing through the clerk’s office straight into Mr Augustus Smith’s sanctum. Finding this also unoccupied, and seeing a door at the other end, he walked up to it and knocked, and receiving no reply again turned the handle, and opened a large wardrobe, hung with office-coats, overcoats, hats, and other articles of apparel. ‘ What a careless set—what a criminally careless set! ’ he muttered, disgusted with the negligence displayed. ‘lt is disgraceful, positively disgraceful to put temptation thus in the way of some poor devil, who might come up here quite innocently, like myself, and might not be able in his poverty to resist the attraction of so much portable and easily disposable property. Old K. is quite right: where the gross carelessness of one man leads to the perpetration of a theft by another man, it is Master Careless who ought to be punished, and not the unhappy thief. I shall make it a point to talk to this man Smith about it the moment he comes in. Why, there is a ten-pound haul here if there is a pennyworth! ' At this precise juncture Mr Augustus Smith walked in, just in time to overhear the concluding remark about the monetary value of the ‘ haul.’

‘What are you doing there, fellow?’ he shouted indignantly. ‘ How dare you come into my office ? Leave those things, alone, will you! ’ Never before in his life had Mr Yermont been addressed as a fellow or spoken to in this insulting manner. He faced round on the instant, with his dander up to boiling-over-point, and his face as red as an angry turkey’s crest, almost yelling out, in a voice nearly inarticulate with passion, ‘Fellow yourself! How dare you, sir, call me fellow ? Why leave your door open, and no clerk in the office to receive people who have occasion to call upon you ? Why leave portable property unprotected, to tempt some poor devil to theft ? Why, I ask you, sir ? Why, sir, why ? ’ Augustus Smith was rather taken aback, as mnch by the highly respectable appearance as by the fierce words of his suspicious visitor. The broadclotb-clad portly person before him, with heavy gold chain across his waistcoat and diamonds for shirt-buttons, certainly did not look an office sneak, and there was the unmistakable ring of genuine passion in his angry outburst. He cooled down then, and apologised handsomely to the gentleman for his ridiculous mistake, which he insisted, however, might under the circumstances be looked upon as not altogether inexcusable. Mr Yermont, on his part, rightly remembering that ho had a mission of conciliation to perform—which certainly had not been initiated very propitiously—gladly accepted the apology tendered ; then proceeded, with some embarrassment, to inform Mr Smith that his name was Yermont, of the wellknown house of Yermont, Mackenzie, and Co., and that he had taken the liberty of calling upon him to offer an explanation on the part of an esteemed friend of his, in a matter of no great import, indeed, he added somewhat airily, but which still, he thought, should and might be arranged to the mutual satisfaction of all parties. He was sure, he added, with a Ikttering suasive glance, there could bo no difficulties in the present case, with a gentleman and a man of the world on the one and a charming woman on the other side. Mr Smith looked puzzled. ‘ Will you kindly explain, Mr Vermont r ’ he said. ‘ I must confess I do not quite understand.* ‘ You will understand at once, Mr Smith, when I tell you that the lady’s name is Miss Elisa Wolfe, with whom, as I have been authentically informed by tbo lady herself, you are on the point of entering into what I may, perhaps, be permitted to qualify as “ domestic relations,” Eh, do you take, my dear sir ?’ with an air of proud satisfaction at this witty conceit of his, which be fondly fancied was a neat propitiatory way of opening the matter to the stern landlord. (To be continued.)