LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1574, 6 March 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MY LODGER'S WIFE.

The alarm from Fenian outbreaks is too recent to require any description here, even if I were capable of writing one ; but as a plain widow woman—which I am—l have no pretension to write history. I only know that down in Weymouth, as well as everywhere else, we were always being startled by some fresh report of what the Fenians had done, or were going to do, generally the latter ; this was common to all places, but we had special interest: in them at Weymouth, because most of the men, when convicted, were sent to Portland, and we sometimes caught a sight of them on the platform of our station, when they were changed to the little branch line, I suppose almost everybody who reads these words knows that Portland Island is only two or three miles from our town, and that there are nearly two thousand convicts there. They have built the breakwater, and made a regular castle on the island, and so have done a good deal of work there, if they never did any before they came. JSTow and then one escapes, but he is nearly always retaken directly, or gets drowned in trying; to swim off to some boat. My husband, who was a master fisherman, saw one drowned. Although he was a convict my husband tried to save him, but he went down like a stone not twenty yards from his skiff. My husband was very much upset by it, for, instead of being a forbid-ding-looking ruffian, like Bill Sykes, in Oliver Twist, he was a mild-looking, fairhaired young fellow, who didn't seem above one or two and twenty. However, my poor husband was drowned himself not long after this ; and I have lived ever since on a very little income he left me, and by letting furnished apartments in the season. In the winter Weymouth is very dull, and I, living alone, would almost have been glad to accommodate any one for nothing, in order to have company in the house; so I was very pleased to have a chance of letting my first floor rooms to & very respectable yonng man, who wanted them at a reduced rate. I had been, with many others, to the station, to see a batch of Fenians change for Portland, but we were obliged to come back unsatisfied, because the railway companies would not allow any strangers in ; this was the more annoying, as we all wanted to see a Colonel La Troulle, a Fenian from New Okans, who had fought desperately when taken, and he bad been terribly hurt about the head, and rendered senseless because he would not surrender. As it happuind, we were not able to see him, so we all. went back as we came.

I had been home about ten minutes, and was warming my cocoa for my nupptr, when I heard a knock at the street door, and on opening it I saw a very good-looking ynvng fellow—very slight, very dark, -with a black moustache, and altogether a foreign air. spoke English, however, and said he had been advised to apply to me for cheap apartments ; that he was not very rich ; he

had come to Weymouth belwviat? he should have »n appointment in one of the hotelshe looked as if he would have made a capital waiter—but was disappointed for the present, He wished to remain in town, to be in readiness, and so had applied to me. I was glad he had done so, aDd offered him my rooms cheap ; he agreed to take them, and sent for his boxes from the stat'on at once ; he bad a great deal of luggage, more than most young men possess. I never had a quieter, gentler lodger in my life than he was; no trouble, no noise, never oat of an evening by any chance; and his manner was always so soft and quiet th»t, as I used to tell him. it was more like having a gi'l in the house than a man. He would lauyh at this, and say the same thing had often seen remarked before. At first he seemed to make no inquiries after any situation or to visit his friends at all ; but after he had been with me about a fortnight he went out marly every day and all daylong. I was glad to see that he did so, for really he mewed himself up in his room so constantly that 1 hegan to fear he would injure his health, What puzzled me Dot a little was the finding that he spent a great part of his time on the island —not that; Portland is really an ieland, only everybody calls it so. In the winter there calmot be a dreary in the world than Portland ; the storms seem to rage there often or and fiercer than they do anywhere else. Tne roads are bad, the bouses are small and mean, and exot-pt for the wild, romantic sea view which Hp,b all around you, and the awful Race of Portland, whim no vessel on cros«, there is nothing to be seen. My niece paid me a visit abcut this time, and nothing would do but I must go with her over the island. I did so, and, to my surprise, I saw Mr Lewis—for such was my lodger's name — leaning against one of the huge blocks of stone which lie about the quarries, and gazing so thoughtfully out to sea that he never noticed na dri/ing by. Then my niece's husband came to fetch her home, and as he had never been to Weymouth before, he, too, must see the island, and 1 must go with him and his wife So a second time I went, and a second time, to my great surprise, I saw Mr Lewis, To day he was talking to a tall man in plain clothes, who had just the look of J;a warder out of his uniform. They were in the middle of the road, so Mr Lewis might have been asking his way ; but I was confident, from their eager, hurried manner, that he was not. Yet, when he recognised me, he raised his cap, and the warder—l am sure he was a warder—printed along a path, as though he was giving some direction, and then we lost sight of tnem j but I did not forget the incident

A few nights after this I was surprised, on answering a knock at the door, to find some one inquiring for Mr Lewis, for he had never had a visitor before. The stranger gave the name of Brown, and was at once invited up stairs. After a visit of about half an hour he left; and then my lodger, who had seemed, I fancied, to avoid me of Jate, came into my little kitchen, and began in the chatty manner which bad made him so pleasant, to talk about the gentleman who had just lift. He said ha was connected with one of the chief hotels, and called to speak about an appointment. Mow, I had lived in Weymouth maid, wife, and widow, for thirty-two years, and I knew by sight every gentleman connected with every hotel there, and this was none of them. And, if my jndgment was worth anything, this man was a warder from Portland, and what was more, was the very warder I bad seen Mr Lewis speaking with on the island. I was quite sure of this, and knew, therefore, that for some purpose n y lodger was deceiving me ; but I reflected that every family has its secrets, so supposed he had reasons to mislead me. Just now a complete change took place in my lodger's habits, for whereas he had previously been the most retiring creature, keep'ng himself so totally within doors that scarcely a soul in the street knew him, he now never seemed to be tired of hanging about the front door. He cleared my windows twice as often as I had ever cleaned them ; he painted my shuttcs ; he painted my flower boxes, and was frequently trimmiDg the flowers in them; while he actually went two or three times to the White Lion, the public-house at the corner of our street, and drunk his ale at the bar, instead of allowing the potman to bring it for him, as hitherto had been the case I took the liberty of saying—for I was quite old enough to be hia mother —that I hoped this last would not gr-w into a habit which might lead to harm, when to my surprise he burst out crying, and he cried so bitterly that I thought he would go into hysterics. I tried to soothe him, and took his hand in mine—he had a soft arsd delicate hand, too ; but he rose, and mastering himself by a great effort, went up to his room. In the morning he apologised for disturbing me by hia absurd ways ; he had bad news from home, he said. Of course, I told bim not to think any more of auch a trifle ; but in my own mind I wondered where he got letters from which had so upset him, as I was quite certain the postman had not been near the house all day. A.ll this time I heard no more of the situation he expected ; but soon after the same stranger called again—Mr Brown, I mean. He called very late one night, and went straight up to Lewis's room, came down in a very short time, and left without a word, as before. As I had admitted him, I had a fair chance of confirming my opinion; he was a warder, I was sure. He was a tall, big-bearded, big-whiskered and moustached man, who stood very square when he spoke to you, as a soldier does ; weather-browned, as all Portland warders are, and with a certain quick, watchful look of the eye, which they all acquire very soon. The next morning brought a heavy fall of rain, with gnats of wind from the sea ; and on taking up Mr Lewis's breakfast, I noticed that he looked excited, if not wild, and I feared that he had taken cold. I told him so, but he said : ( No. The fact is, Mrs Gerran, I must now tell you a little secret: lam mairied, and I expect my wife from town to-day.' ' Indeed!' I exclaimed, for I had never dreamed of such a thing. 'Yts,'he went on, 'she is coming this evening, and I am rather worried to tbink what an unpleasant ride she will have.' 'She certainly will, poor thing,' I said, ' but I will do my best to make her comfortable, Mr Lewis,' 'I know you will,' he replied. 'I thank you heartily, Mrs Gerran. We rely on you very much.'

I left him hiß breakfast and went down stairs, considerably astonished by what I had heard. The weather grew worse during the day, and by night it was little short of a tempest. I often thought of the poor young woman who was coming all the way from London on such a night; and what made it worse was, that I could not offer to go and meet her, for, strange to say, Mr Lewis did not know by what train she would come, or whether she would travel by the Great Western or South-Western fine. It blew harder and harder; the furious blasts of wind swept through our little street, and drove the ram before it, so as almost to blind you if you tried to face it. There was not a gaslight which was not blown out, and I need not say that the sky was pitch dark. On such nights I always sit and think of my poor husband, and of many others who.earn their living on the dreadful sea ; and I can hear nothing, attend to nothing, but the howling of the storm. So it was no wonder that tbe potman knocked two or three times when he brought Mr Lewis's beer before I heard him ; and when I opened the door it was a 1 most blown out of my hand by the force of the wind, ' It's a terrible night, Robert,' I said, for ha was a very civil young man, and had been at the White Lion for years, 'lt is indeed, ma'am,'he said ; 'there's a sea on to-night that's a flying over the Chesil Bank like yeast. They've been firing artillery on the island; but except now and then, in a lull, you couldn't hear the guns 'Firing!'l said; 'firing! What is that for, Robert ?' 'More convicts is off, ma'am,' was his answer; ' and I hear there is some fellow of

cousequeaoe ammZ ' em - 'W ohap! bo\< L;nre to be caught such * m Z h * 8S c thiS v~ he hagu't tumbled over the . J:ace ot a chff

■ already.' v i I badfl him good night, and efoiisec! tu° door, still sadder in my mind than I bad previously been. It always made me sorrowful when I heard of the poor convicts trying to escape. Whatever their faults may have been, liberty ia sweet to all of us, and very few of th#m ever succeed in getting away —hardly any,' although many a one has lost bis life in trying, I took the beer up to Mr Lewis's room, and tapoing at bis door, said, ss I generally did, ' Here ie your beef,- Mr Lewis •' and, as usual, the door was opened,, and he took it from m F , Instead of having his lamp burning, as was his custom, his room was in complete darkness, so that I could hardly see Sim to give him the jug, and in the gloom he seemed t> look stouter and taller than usual. He did not speak, whereas ha generally had a little joke ; but now he took the jug in eilenoe. I lingered for a moment,' but that he did not speak, I wa« going downstairs when I thought of his wife, Mr Lewis had almost closed the door, when I said how anxious I felt about her getting safely in through the st-rm, when, to my amazement, he replied, without opening the door more than a few inches, 'I am much obliged for your kindness, Mrs Gerran, but my wife has been in for this hour past.' I never was so astonished in my,life, I had made two or three little preparations to comfort her, and felt hurt that I should not have been informed of her arrival. ' Yea,' he continued, 'she came when the wind was roaring so loudly that you did not hear her knock. I let hpr in ; and as she was tired and wet, I thought the best thing she could do was to lie down at once.' Well, perhaps it was; but I could not help fancying that, for all that, they might have treated me with a little more consideration. However, I could say nothing ; and so I went to bed, acd, as soon as the st ">rm would allow, to sleep. The first thing I heard in the morning, from my milkman, w*s that only one of t! 0 convicts had tried to escape and that for the present he was still at large. It w; a rumored in the town that ib was Colonel La Troulle who had got away, but the Government people would not say much about it; the whole place was astir, he said All day loDg I heard the same kind of tidings repeated ; and, in fact. I saw enough to convince me that extraordinery exertions were being made to capture the runaway. Ihe w hite Lion was searched by a party of officers, and so was a house in the same street as my own, where a number of young men lodgers were taken I heard too. that the railways were watched, not only at our station, but that the trains were examined at places twenty or thirty miles out, in case the , convict should have got in at station. It was supposed, however, that although those precautions were taken, he was still in the island, as, from his wearing the prison dress, it would be so difficult for him to escape notice, (To he contiwifid.)