LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1983, 2 July 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MY GODMOTHER’S WILL. [An English Barrister’s Story.] * I Clarissa Bamford, et cetera, et cetera, being of sound mind, et cetera, et cetera, do hereby leave and bequeath all my real and personal property (and here a long list followed, and my heart beat so, that I thought the lawyers would bear it) unto Claude Elliot Biversdale, barrister-at-law, of Gray’s Inn, London (here I breathe freely again, and tried to look unconcerned), on condition that the said Claude Elliot Biversdale consents to espouse within six calendar months, dating from the day of my decease, Mary Beatrice Ellis ton, of Homey, in the county of Northumberland. Should either of the afore-named parties refuse to fulfil the above condition, I do will and bequeath my entire property unto whichever of them do declare his or herself to be ready and willing to obey my last wishes.’ It burst upon me like a thunder-clap. For a moment I was too utterly astonished, confounded, and disgusted, to be capable of either speech or movement; a second more, and a full sense of the disgraceful way in which I had been treated rushed into my mind, filling my heart with gall and bitter, ness. Was it for this that my infant years had been a burden to me with black draughts and catechism ; that my school-boys days had been embittered (I should say sweetened, perhajs, but it is no joke to me) with brimstone and treacle ; and my college terms rendered vapid by her setting her veto on cigars ? Was it for this I had dined with her twice a week since my arrival in London, eating milk pnddiogs and drinking villainous port ? Was it for this that I had cut her canary bird’s toe-nails, taught her poodle to ring the bell, condemned French novels, and called the Pope Antichrist ? Oh! if she could but have lived again one hour—one one little hour 1 wouldn’t I have kicked the poodle and strangled the canary ? Wouldn’t I have smoked the strongest procurable cheroots under her very nose, and read French novels aloud in her drawing-room ? As for marrying the said Mary Beatrice BUiston, I never for one moment thought of such a thing. I did not even know who she was ; had never even heard my godmother mention her. At any rate, it did not matter. I had had enough cf Miss Barnford’s fancies and predilections stuffed down my throat, and submitted patiently enough, but a wife of her choosing was more than my long-suffering nature could contemplate, and I mentally conjured up an awkward highshouldered lassie, with a strong nerthconntry accent, and contrasted her with a certain tall, bright-eyed young lady in the square hard by. Georgie and I were not regularly engaged, bat we understood each other perfectly, and she knew as well as I did that as soon as I came into possession of my godmother’s property, I and it would be laid at her feet. And it was this very understanding of ours which caused me to regard Miss Bamford’s will with so much indignant disappointment. What right had the horrid old woman to keep me in bondage vile and servitude most galling ? to drag me to missionary meetings where it was considered impious not to eat currant buns and drink innumerable cups of weak tea at some unearthly hour of the afternoon, and to annonnee publicly that she considered me as her heir, and then die, and leave me her fortune on such conditions as made it impossible for me to accede to them? I positively hadn’t the courage to go to Bryanstone Square that day. I thought of poor Georgia’s disappointment (for she was really awfully fond of me, poor little girl !). and I thought what Mrs Lomax’s face would be when, as in honour bound, I should announce to her my altered prospects. On the whole, I thought it advisable to defer my visit until my plana for the future were matured, and as a preliminary step I sat down and wrote to Miss Beatrice Mary Elliston’s lawyer, and announced to him that I refused to accept the condition which would impose his client upon me. Would you believe it ? The next day bnt one brought me a letter from the young person—l won’t call her a lady—herself, positively offering herself to me. Yes ; after the decisive, manly, disinterested letter I had written to her lawyer, this badly-brought-up young woman had the impudence to beg me—for my own sake, forsooth! —to reconsider my determination; and then, after such a brazen beginning, went off into a long rhapsody about natural delicacy—can’t say I perceived it—trying position, extreme regret at being brought into collision with my interests, and snob like rhodomontade, ending in a proposal that I should pay her and her aunt, or grandmother, I have forgotten which, a visit, in order that we might make each other’s acquaintance. The letter was certainly beautifully written —indeed, I never remembered having seen so pretty and clear a hand—but then we all know that the most uneducated people often write well, and of course she had taken pains in penning the epistle, which as she thought, would win her a husband. I fancy my answer must have undeceived her for ever. I flatter myself that I can write a good deal of substance in a few words, and I never tested my powers more carefully than I did when answering the communication of that female, Miss Mary Beatrice Blliaton, whom I assured, in the plainest language a gentleman can use would never be a wife of mine.

Having thus relieved my mind, [I felt equal to calling in Bryanatone Square, and met with a rather better reception than I had anticipated. Mrs Lomax lalked a giod deal about young people’s Imprudence, but she did not forbid me to think of her daughter, aa I half expected she would do, though she did stipulate that our engagement, if engagement there must be, should be kept strictly private. They were off to Baden Baden immediately. she said ; so I must say good-bye to them for some months. She supposed there was no chance now (with a great stress) of my running over there to pay them a visit. Georgie took my altered prospects very quietly. ‘ It’s very tiresome, of course,’ she said; ‘ but it is no use worrying one’s self about what can’t be remedied. You must work hard and get on while I’m away, Claude, and become a serjeant-at-law, or a Queen’s counsel, or something, for I shall want a carriage, you know. JPoor old Claudxe, you are looking worn with all the horrid, tiresome worry. Never mind, it will be all tight in the end.’ So the Lomaxes departed for BadenBaden ; and I. having a good deal of work on hand which could be done just as well out of London as in it it, engaged lodgings at Sandileat, a small village on the south coast, highly adapted to literary men, the advertisement ssid, as being retired, and yet within an easy jourrey of London. Alas, for human expectations! For the second time within a week mine were knocked over and otherwise annihilated. Sandfleat, announced in the paper aa a place fast rising into importance, possessing comfortable private hotels, a reading-room, firstrate beach, &c , turned out to be a miserable collection of cottages built on the brow of a cliff, down the perpendicular frontispiece of which the venturesome and long-winded tourists were forced to descend by no leas

than two hundred and odd steps, in order to reach the sands, where half a dozen superannuated bathing machines stood, drawn np above high wat .r mark ; for wha* quadruped could be expected to descend two hundred and ten steps to draw them into the water T What I underwent and lived through in this little village would wring the hardest heart to hear it described. My landlady, Mrs Brown, possessed the ugliest children, and provided the coldest, greasiest mutton chops I ever saw. There were six of them (the children I mean), who all contrived to get under one’s feet at once; and then, if one happened to tread on some of them (as it was a physical impossibility to avoid doing), they set up a yell that would not have disgraced an Indian brave. To add to my other troubles, I actually received another communication from the young person at Homey. Keally, “her impudence exceeded the belief of man. She actually told me that, s.ita of my refusal to have anything to do with her. the had made up her mind to see me, acd—if she liked me—to marry me ; concluding her ladylike epistle with the assurance that my seeking to avoid her was useless, as she never failed in anything on which she was specially bent Cool, wasn’t it 1 of course, I took no notice of the letter, which was forwarded to me from my chambers in town. But I could; not help chuckling when I thought how she would come up from Northumberland, to find me flown.

More than a fortnight of the month for which I proposed remaining at Sandfleat had elapsed, when, as I sat one evening cowering over a wretched fire that would not burn X heard the unwonted sound of wheels rattling over the village street, and a miaute later a fly drew up at Mrs Brown’s door. * Another lodger, I suppose,’ I said to myself— * children, perhaps ;in shat case I go. Mrs Brown’s are unbearable eaongh as it is and i indignantly waited for the squall which I felt sura muse arise in the passage. * There 1’ I exclaimed, as the scream eventually burst on my ears expectant. ‘ This is really intolerable and I rang my bell more furiously than I had ever done before or since. * Mrs Brown,’ I said, with a touching mixture of pathos and dignity, when that female entered ‘ all of a flurry,’ as she called it, and wiping her nose with her-apron, as was her wont in momenta of intense mental agitation, ‘ since I have been here I have borne a good deal from your children without complaint, and I had intended keeping on the rooms for another month ; but since I find that you have alodger who has as many ohildi en as yourself.

*As many children as I! Lawk a massy, sir, she is not even married ;’ and Mrs Brown, evidently amused at the idea, began laughing violently. * I certainly heard a child scream, Mrs Brown,’ said I, with much majesty, * and I do not see why it should not ba jour own. lodger’s However, I am glad to hear it Is not so.’

All the rest o' the evening, as I sat over my books, I found my thoughts wandering to the new arrival. IV hat in the world could have induced a young girl (for Mrs Brown has said her inmate was unmarried) to corns to such a place as Sandfleat ? Weil, at any rate, it would be a pleasant relief from Mrs Brown, her chops and her children, and I resolved to commence the acquaintance the very next morning by sending np the “Morning Post ” and the last week's ‘‘Punch.” The first thing to ascertain was of coarse her name, and remembering that I had not yet heard her boxes carried up the narrow stairs of the cottage—an operation I could scarce have omitted to notice, as it must have been attended by a damp at every step—l stepped cautiously (for it would not have looked well to have been caught peeping) into the little passage. There they stood ! Three of them, two trunks and a bandbox —all neatly enclosed in canvas covers, and aU neatly labelled, as 1 am a man, with the name of ‘Miss Xabitha Kezia Smith.’

* 1 had just sufficient presence of mind to avoid betraying myself by a groan of horror, and that was all. I staggered into my room again, threw myself into an arm-chair, and instead of a smelling-bottle, drew Qeorgie’a photo towards me. (To le continued .)