LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1852, 29 January 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MAX CHALLONER’S FORTUNE, AND WHAT CAiiE OF IT. [From “Time.” 3 By Edmund Yates. ‘ Got yourself into difficulties, and ready to blame everyone but the right pereon for it, I suspect, young sir,’ was the mental comment of an elderly prosperous-looking man, with a complacent sense of prosperity being the reward of virtue, aa he glanced towards his fellow-traveller in a railway carriage, a young man of seven or eight-and twenty, who was for the second or third time going through an offcial-looki-’g lettir with a grave, thoughtful, and somewhat disquieted air. The first time for many a year Max Challoner found himself oat of difficulties. The letter he was so gravely conning had been hurriedly dashed off upon offico paper by an old friend to congratulate him upon the brilliant change in bis prospects, consequent upon his coining int > a large and entirely unexpected fortune. A man who a short week preH usly had had no mo r e to subsist upon than he could earn from day to day, and who suddenly found him elf in possession of something like seven thousand a year, might certainly be expected to look a little more cheerful over it than he was doing. The only son of a rich widower, he bad from hia boyhood been taught to regard himself as hia father’s heir. But ju»t as he was leaving the university, with the tastes and habits of a young man in expectation of a good income, hia father married a girl of eighteen, with a host of poor relations, and

Max Challoner was left to shift for himself as best he could. He accepted the change of affairs philosophically enough ; by the help of a friend obtained occasional work for one of the pipers, and soon contrived to earn bread and cheese, cheerily and independently ivlng the life of a poor man until this fortune had come to him. It had been left him by a distant connection, a bachelor of somewhat eccentric habits, who had not manifested any more interest in him than was shown in an occasional invitation to dinner. Nor was there any evidence that ho had intended to leave Max Challoner more than a small legacy, until a short time previous to his death. The will happened to be the last of a succession, all disposing i f the property in different ways. But there was no question as to its validity, nor the slightest difficulty in making good his claim ; and he thought himself the most favored of mortals, until one fact came to his knowledge. It had been mentioned carelessly enough by the lawyer, amidst the excitement which followed reading the will, but it had sank deep into his mind, and remained fixed there, the hosts of congratulations which poured in upon him notwithstanding. His handsome face wore an expression quite unusual to it as the train sped rapidly along the uninteresting Essex shore ; the least promising of all directions to take in search of the picturesque. ‘ Mudmarsh ! Mudmarsh !’ He rose, shook himself together, took his felt hat and battered looking bag from the net above, and, with a nod to his fellowtraveller, stepped out on to the platform the only passenger who alighted there. * Mudmarsh, yes ; that’s it straight as you can go, sir, ’ said the porter he had addressed, painting towards as ugly a bit of road as a traveller could come upon —fiat, dusty, unsheltered, aud flanked on either side by a dreary stretch of waste land. Max Challoner stood gazing at the uninviting prospect a few moments. th c n shortly inquired—‘How far?’ ‘A trifle over a mile, sir.’ ' I shall find an hotel there, I suppose?’ ‘Well, there’s a sort of a inn. Do yon want some one to carry your bag, sir?’ ‘ No.’ He was too much accustomed to earn a sixpence that way—so far as a sixpence saved is a sixpence gained goes —and too little realised the change which had taken place in the state of his finances, to avail himself of the suggestion. He was turning away, when it occurred to him to ask another question. ‘Do you know the name of Ayianin Mudmarsh?’ 1 Aylau ? Why, yes. to bo sure, sir. That’s the name of the old gent who goes about, looking after beetles and things in i he hedges and ditches ’ ‘ Where does he live ?’ ‘At Marsh —Marsh Houee so it is called } a big old fashioned place, halt falling to pieces Torn to the left, when you get into the High street, towards the Marsh—but any one will tell where the Aylans live.’ ‘ There is a family, then.’ ‘ Three children ; his wife died about a year ago; and,’ he added, ‘ mortal poor they are, by all accounts. ’ Max Ohallonor put an end to further revelations by shouldering his bag in workmanlike fashion, and turning away, ‘ Straight on. and then to the left ? Y*u can’t go wrong, sir.’ ‘ Thank yon. GooiJ.day.’

He strode along the road, too much absorbed in thought to take any further note of its dreariness ; a fine, tall, handsome man, accustomed to healty exercise, mental and physical; hia every look and movement vigorous and decided, with enough geniality in bis frank gray eyes to balance the hint of cynicism about the firm set mouth; he stepped out well, and did the mile without changing the position of the bag; on reaching the town, he had no difficulty in finding the house he sought; five minutes’ walk brought him to the end of the High street; and the first person he inquired of pointed to the old house, standing apart, and so to speak, outside the town ; he slackened hia pace, now that it was in sight, beginning to feel more alive to the c iffioulty of the task he had set himself ; but while he hesitated, Its steps becoming slower and slower, his oy< a curiously bent upon the gloomy looking old house, three sides of which turned sullenly away from town, to front the dismal stretch of marsh land, they suddenly lighted upon the word ‘ apartments’ on a card in one of the windows ; this at once suggested a way out of the difficulty, and he very quickly decided to avail himself of it. A scending the steps, he knocked at the door, smiling to himself at the way things seemed to be arranging themselves for him. After he had waited some time, the door was opened by an elderly woman who regarded him with distrustful eyes. ‘ What rooms have you to let?’ ‘Rnoms?’ she ejaculated; ‘do you want any ?’ ‘ Yes ;if they suit me ’ She stood aside for him to enter, eyeing him still doubtfully, then crossed a good sized square hall and ushered him into a large, sparely furnished, dismal looking room - its bay window overlooking the marsh. 1 This is the sitting room, and there’s plenty of bedroom—three or four if you like, and everything’s clean and quiet.’ Now that she grasped the fact that he was a bona fide applicant, becoming suddenly voluble in her anxiety to put every advantage before him. But the moment she paused to take breath, bo quietly but dooidedly declined to enter into negotiations with any one but the master or the mistress of the house ; in vain did she asscre him that she could give all necessary information; he was not to he persuaded ; and she at length reluctantly gave up the point; and, saying she would tell her mistress, quitted the room. ‘ Ob, Hannah! Must I—couldn’t yonj tell him wh»t he wants to know ?’ ‘He says he can’t decide without seeing the master or the mistress ; there ain’t no master to speak of—but you are the mistress, I suppose,’ returned Hannah, who was of the opinion that she was a great deal more competent to make the arrangement than was a girl of seventeen. *lf I wasn’t thought fit, I don’t see what yon can do ’ ‘ But I must try ;oh Hannah, it would be so dreadfal to lose a chancel’ ‘lf |yon only looked a little more like—’ with adi approving look at the beautiful young face ; ‘it isn’t such as you lots lodgings.’ * But I could make myself look older with som<- of mamma’s things,’ said the vonng girl ; 1 ask him to wait two minutes, Hannah.’

And Winifred Avian ran lightly upstairs, and into one of the bedrooms, where she hastily fluns! open the doors of an old wardrobe, and after a moment’s hesitation, looking with sorrowful eyes and white fao° at the neatly arranged contents, she took out a matronly cap, very different to the ooquetish little head dresses in vogue, and putting it on, tucking back as much of her gold brown hair as would consent to be hidden ; then she pinned a little three-cornered shawl across her shoulders, t ; ed on a black silk apron, drew a pair of black lace mittens over her little hands, and flattered herself that the desired end was gained. * I certainly look very different from myself !’ she thought, turning for a moment to examine the effect in the dressing-glass ; ' and perhaps he is old, and will not notice much,’ she mentally added, as she descended the stairs ; 1 1 have only to behave in au elderly way, like ; yes, I will try to imitate Mrs Frost we lodged with when mamma went to Broadstairs ; now. recollect you aro Mrs Frost, you know’—turning the handle of the door, and ent ring the room with a staid step and a face which gave no other indication of the quaking heart than by being a little whiter than usual. ‘I understand you wish to see me before deciding about the rooms?’ she gravely began, her small trembling hands folded primly at her waist, in Frost fashion He turned and met her eyes; and for the moment both were too much astonished to a word ; sha had not expected to see any one like this ; and he was fairly dumbfounded at sight of the dainty little figure before him in its qnaint costume ; the lovely little face with its broad low trow, soft brown eyes delicately curved mouth and ctin, and pure trne expression, so oddly and yet so charmingly framed, with old-fashioned frilled lace. He bowed 1 >w, and courteously replied ‘ I thought perhaps you might not object ?’ ’ Oh, no,’ with an elaho r arc assumption of ease. ‘ Vour housekeeper tells mo you would bo willing to let a pi rtion of your house V ' Yes, we should be— ’ she was going to say delighted, but recoil* cted in time, and added, ‘ Wo have three or four r hub to let ’ VThat in the world ought I to say next ? she w-mdered. Then her thoughts ■ everted to M ra Frost again, and she wenton, 1 On-- rooms aro clean, and—big, and we can cook—that is, a great many things,’with a sudden remunbranoeof Hannah’ad* ficicnciea. ‘ And—and—-there is a vi-iw of—the marsh.’ ’Yes; oh yea; very satisfactory,’ with a gleam in the corner of his eyes as he turned them for a moment towards tho desolate marsh. ‘You would not find mo very exacting, I think ;’ then, feeling that acme sort of explanation rai h ht be expected as to his motive for wishing to reside at Mndmarsh, he added, ’1 only want a quiet, ont of-the-way place for rest and study.’ * We aro out of the way of e- erj thing.’ with unconscious pathos; 1 and you oonld bo as quiet

a? you pleased.’ He bowed, and then, as she did not broach the subject, rather heaititingly began, ‘About rent there will, I think, be no difficulty ?’ ‘Oh no,’ trying to look calm, as a landlady should, and to speak in a matter-of-course tone. As he seemed still to hesitate, she added, with what she thought was a master stroke of diplomacy, ‘ If you do not mind telling me what you have been accustomed to give, I dan say we could take that 2’ He had been accustomed to tight shillings a week for a back bedroom at the top of a house in a street running out of the Strand, and shift during the day as best ha could ; and he had not yet taken any steps to alter his arrangements in accordance with his improved prospects. But after a moment ho gravely replied, ‘ I require special advantages, and my means are ample. Would four or five guincs a week meet yonr views?’ ‘ Four or five guineas! ’ Did people ever pay so much as that? she asked herself, recollecting what they had paid Mrs Frost, and failing to take it into account that she lived in a little back street where only po r peop'e lodged. Four or five guineas ! It would bo a fortune ! If he only stayed long enough they would be able to pay everybody! Noting her suddenly flashed cheeks, he sad, ‘1 named that only as a suggestion. Yonr rooms will exactly suit me, I think, and the rent is of secondary importance I am quite willing to —’ ‘ Oh, no,’ hurriedly; * it|s a great_ deal more —that is, it will be quite suffi'.ient, quite.’ ‘And I may consider myself accepted as a tenant at five guineas ? ’ • Yes,’ finding it difficult to prevent herself from saying thank you. ‘ Petbaps you will allow me to give you a cheque upon my bankers for the first month’s rent, in lien of reference?’ ‘Keferenoe? Oh, certainly,’ in utter bewilderment at thegreat good fortune. But it bad occurred to Max Ohalloner that it would not at all serve his purpose to give his real name; that might put an end to everything at once. Fortunately he had the bank notes which the old lawyer had been so eager to press upon him for his immediate use, as soon as the contents of the will were made known. He took out his pocket-book, selected two ten-pound notes, and placed them upon the table before her. ‘My name is Max.’ ‘What ought I to say next ? ’ she wondered, her gaze riveted upon the magical pieces of paper. He solved the difficulty for her. ‘ I will leave my bag, and take a stroll through the town for as hour. Perhaps your housekeeper will get some dinner for me by the time X return. I don’t care what—anything you happen to have in the house ’ Anything in the bouse ? What would he say to the remains of the mutton which had already served them four days; ‘ and enough too,’ the butcher had somewhat roughly intimated, ‘ for such customers as the Aylans.’ He opened the door, bowing low, and passed ont after her. As soon as the hall door closed upon him, she was a girl of seventeen again. Crossing the hall, she opened a door, and rushed breathless into a large, barely-furnished room. At the table in the bay window sat an elderly, whitehaired man, peering through a magnifying glass at a small insect which he was turning over with the point of a fine needle, while consulting a book .-.t his elbow. At another table were two little girls, of about seven and nine years of age, a great deal too anxious, and quiet, and delicate-looking for their years, whispering confidences as to the end of a half-finished fairy story, in the book they were bending over. ‘ Papa, the rooms are let! A gentleman has taken them, and these ai-e the references,’ waving the banknotes in the air. ‘ Very good, my child ; very good. Had the stripe upon his back been diagonal, instead of transverse, the matter would be quite beyond dispute ; and even as it is— ’ But they heeded him as little os he heeded them. Old Hannah had entered the room, eager to hear the news, and Winifred Aylan was explaining as well as she could, amidst the ejaculations and questions of her three auditors, the wonderful good fortune that had come to them. * Mrs Grayson said only bats and owls would ever look at the card,’ ejaculated Lina ‘ And she said that fairy stories never came true,’ said Tna, ‘when it’s just like the prince who knocked at the doer and asked for a night’s lodgings.’ ‘Do you mean to say that ha gave all that money down ?’ asked Hannah, hardly able to grasp so stupendous a fact; ‘ twenty pounds I’ ‘Yes, and—oh, I had nearly forgotten. He is coming back in an hour for dinner. ‘ Anything in the house,’ he said, but of course the bone of mutton won’t do.’ ‘No; but he can’t expect much in an hour. However, I must pat my best foot foremost. And you’d better let me have one of them notes to pay off a little all round. It’ll keep ’em quiet for a bit, anyhow,* looking over the shoulder of the young girl, who had hastily divested herself of her matronly attire, and Was seated at the table, summing up tbo baker’s and butcher’s books. ‘ That’s Mrs Grayson,’ added Hannah, as a knock sounded at the door, gath»ring up the hooks and notes, and going out to admit the visitor, (To he continued.')