LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1575, 7 March 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

M? LODGER’S WIFE.

( Concluded.)

I did not see Mr I ewis all day, nor his wife, but just at twilight I was startled by the latter coining quietly into my little kitchen, and asking me for the milk. She was a pretty-looking young woman, wearing her hair in short curls ; it was fair hair, and she was fair, too quiet and shy in her manner. speaking in a voiee so low that I could scarcely hear her. She exp l ained that her husband had unfortunately, taken a severe col 1, and would be obliged to keep his bed for a d-y or two. Of course I offen d any assistance in my power ; she thanked me and went upstairs When she had gone I could do nothing f r the life of me for many minutes, but sir. and think of her ; there was a i unaccountable feeling, quite a certdntv, it seemed, of having known her hef..re, a'th ugh when or where I could n >t say. So strong and strange was this impression that it wan almost terrible to me, and, as t sail, I could think of nothing else for a long time. However, I shod; the feeling off at 1-st, and went about my work, seeing no more of my lodger o c ids wife that night.

Robert, at the White Lion, told me, when he brought the supper beer, that, although it was bushed up as much as possible, yet it certainly was the Fenian who had escaped.

and that it wai one ol the most desperate and ingenious escapes ever heard oh 4 ma’am.’ he said, ‘as I believe in any of your ingenious escapes i don’t believe in a man doing with si rusty nail, cr two orongs of a dinner f< rk, or some t.vch idling, m four or live hour**, what it would take a couple of smiths all d»y to do with a basket of tools. It’s the Warders, ma’am ; and they make these excuses -tha'.’s what it is, ma’am.” This wac the opinion of Kobert, at the While Lion, and 1 must own that, I had on similar occasions heard many people in Weymouth express themselves to the same, effect.

Once or twice the next day I saw Mrs Lewis, and each time the impression that ! had previously met her grew stronger, I fancied, however that my looking straght at her, to try and renumber whe>e it Could have been, disturbed he l- , so I avoided doing’ so as much as possible, but f r the life of n e A could not help doing it sometimes. On the following morn ip g I had to go out for an hour or two. and when I came '>ack 1 f nmd my windows cleaned, the nm-Slcl in the flower boxes turned over and various little things done which told me that Lewis had been at work, as indeed, I found was the case. He had, unfortunately, been taken very unwell before I came home, but previously he had been busy, as usual, in front of the house.

As all attempts to recapture the convict had failed, and so there was no longer, I suppose, a hope of keeping it quiet, that night great bills were stuck up about the town, offering £SOO reward for the apprehension of the Fenian Colonel —for it was he, after all—and one of these bills was stuck up on an empty house just opposite to my own door. I naturally got talking about this with Mrs Lewis; at least, I talked and She listened, for she said hardly a word, and at last, When J. Struck a light to find something she was Crying’, I told her she was weak and low, that her loflg journey and her husband’s illness had upset her, and asked her to let me make her some port wine negus the last thing that night. She thanked me, but declined, and when she went away the remembrance of her face, with the tears on her cheeks, seemed ten times more familiar to me than ever. 1 determined to ask Mr Lewis, wlmn I saw him, if his wife had ever lived in Weymouth, but it seemed as though I never coaid see him again. However,- I did see him that even* ing. I had been up stairs lat some time, and I was looking over the contents of an old drawer, I was very quiet, and my lodgers thought I was out; but presently I came down, and met I ewis ascending, carrying a light. I was iu the daik. ‘Good evening, Mr Lfi'wis,’ I said, ‘I hope you are better. ’ He looked up and paid, ‘Yes, much better, thank you,’ He passed on, and left me a moat petrified. It was not the same man. There was the same dark skin, moustache, hrdr and whiskers; the same clothes; but this man, although short, was taller than my lodger, decidedly stouter, and had altogether a harder, sterner expression. There was no pos ible mistake, H-s voice, too, was wholly different; and I st'ggered, ra-her than walked, into my kitchen, feel ing ss though I had seen a ghost. I had not strength to procure a light; but in a few minutes Mrs Lewis—sent down, as .1 found, by her husband —came in with one. Seeing me sitdng so pale and scared in ray chair, she said, ‘ Are you id, Mrs Gerran ? My husband fears yon are.’ An if a flash of lightning had suddenly penetrated all the dark places of mind, I saw as she spoke tho meaning of all that had been myatedous, and by her face I saw she knew her secret was revealed. She w s my lodger, she was the Mr Lewis I had known. Altered and changed in every respect as she was T knew her now. hhe locked her hands together, and twisted her fingers with a nervous, frightened air, and looked anxiously at me. ‘Who-who are you?’ I asked ‘Why are you dressed like this ? Who is the man ?’

‘O, Mrs Gerran!’ she cri"d, throwing herself down at my knees, before I could move to stay her, ‘ forgive my deceivhig you, and still be my friend —be my husband’s friend. If you are not kind and true to us we a»e lost. We have no home but this—no friend but you. It will soon, I *rnst, be different; but at this moment my poor husba- d is a fugitive, an outlaw, a convict, and a price is set upon lua head ’ ' A price upon his head !’ I echoed. ‘ls he then ’

‘Yes,’ she said, interrupting me, although she was eobt-ing as if her heart would break —‘ yes, my husband is Colonel La Troul’e, the Fenian. We are Americans, and we are only waiting for the pursuit to cool, when we shall cross to France, aud then easiiy regain our home—never more, I trust, to leave it. *

‘Rise up, my poor dear girl,’ I said, lifting her on to a chair, ‘ aud believe me that no money would tempt me to betray your husband —for your sake, at any rate, I will bo true to you both. I hope, for your sake, too, that he will leave his dreadful aud desperate schemes.’ ‘O, Mrs Gerran, * she answered, ‘do not think him a bloodthirsty man. There never breathed a gentler or kinder being. He was sadly deceived in the business which brought him here ; but pray come and see him, that he may know he is safe under your roof.’

I went with her. and found this desperate Fenian quite a mild, gentlemanly person. He was full of gratitude to me; and although his close-cut hair, he sat without his wig, and his dark face made him look stern enough, yot his eyes swam with genuine tears over and over when he spoke of his wife and her devotion to him.

Of course, everyone can see how it was managed. When he was sent to Portland his wife came down dressed as a man, and, while lodging with me, took care to familiarise the ne’ghbors Mith the fact that I had a young man lodger. One of the warders had already been gained over—so Robert at the White Lion was not ho far wrong in his guess —and he it was wi’h whom I had seen the suppo-ed Mr Lewis talking, and who came to my house twice. On his second visit he came to say that all was arranged, and that her husband would get aw*y soon after dark the next night. It was, fortunate y for the sol erne, a very stormy one, so La Troulle got pa a the station, aud followed the Ohesil bank until he thought it safe to strike the line, and then got over the railway bridge m ithout being recognised. He had a large railway rug over his shouldets, which hid his convict dress, and the only really dangerous part of his journey was through the streets to reach my house; but the dreadful storm cleared away ail passengers, and he entered our street without having met half a dozen people. His wife, watching from her window and seeing him, slipped down and opened the street door without my knowing about it. Then they removed the staius from her face, hands and neck with washes which she had brought with her, and he wore a wig made to resemble her short curia. Poor young thing ! she showed me such beautiful locks which she had cut off to enable her to look like a

( man ; they must have been a >»«* i long, lam sure They thought no place as sife as Weymouth, and they we»e right, for the officers; were hunting an over London, and Ireland and Liverpool, goodneasknowswherobsir.es. > a Irnvme ; showed himself a little, but not too much, and no one ever suspected the change in my lodgers. In about a fort dght ha got quietly on board » fruit sloop which was going bank to Franco, and both he an i his wife wrote to me when they got there and aho when they arrived at New Oilcans. I don t know who the warder was nor what he received for hi» services ; but I heard shortly after, from Robert at the White Lion, that one of them ad left Portland to go an 1 take a ve-y hands me public house in London ; so I had my suapi nous. I know that if I wanted money, which I am happy to say, thanks to my poor dear husband, I do not, I should only have to tell Mrs I a Troulle <or go to the great house in i.iveipool, of which they gave me the card, and I c mid have ad I wanted, She woul-i mike me accept her gold watch and chain, and I have vv rn it, and shall continue to do so, in memory of her.