The Romance of a ked Cloak.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1540, 9 January 1874, Page 73

The Romance of a ked Cloak.

AtJTUOIIOJ? "JOHN lIESKETII's CIIAKGE," ETC. (Concluded,) IV. A tew minutes more and the stranger found herself seated in an easy chair by a bright fire. She could not help looking her grateful surprise at the unexpected kindness of the old gentleman. iShe did not guess that her face had become to him familiar as something which had entered into his daily life. He saw her glance at the clock, and noted the anxious expression of her pale face. "Are you far from home?" he asked. " Yes," she faltered ; " but I shall not be going home for hours. lam engaged every day teaching; my pupils will be waiting now. I must try to walk, it is getting so late." Walk ! why, you cannot even stand : the thing is impossible." She seemed so much distressed that he said hastily, " Write a note, relating what has occurred, and one of my clerks shall take it."

She thanked him, timidly ; but lie saw that she was unwilling to accept his offer, and added, "If you would rather go yourself I will send for a cab."

" Thank you, sir ; that will be much better than writing, and I should like to go at once."

Her manner was full of nervous excitement, and he saw her delicate face flush as she spoke. He did not know that, in the midst of her eagerness, she was anxiously debating the question of the cab-fare, and wondering how much money it would take to pay it. If the man of capital could only have investigated the interior of the poor little purse lying at the bottom of her satchel, so slenderly furnished, yet, alas! representing nearly all the worldly wealth of its possessor, how sadly it would have confirmed the misgivings which had been excited by a glance at the wellworn cloak, and the shoes obviously unsuited for the hard service which had been required from them. Five minutes later, a cab was rapidly bearing away the scarlet cloak and its wearer, and the benevolent old merchant was thoughtfully warming his hands before the office fire. She was gone, and he had gained no additional knowledge of her, except that she was somebody's daily governess. From that day he watched in vain for a glimpse of the red cloak ; he saw it no more, and concluded that the poor young teacher was unable to continue her daily journeys. She had given him the impression of one who hadto depend upon herself, but the reality might be still worse: for anything he knew, there might be others, even more helpless, dependent upon her. In spite of his repeated disappointments, Mr Hardman still took his post at the window, as though the habit yielded him a certain amount of pleasurable excitement which he was unable to relinquish.

A month had passed, it was an unusually bright day for December, when Mr Hardman took his seat in his comfortable brougham in company with an old medical friend, who had agreed to go home with him to dinner on condition that he would allow him to make one or two professional calls before the carriage was turned in the direction of Winchley. Assent was re.idily given. "Certainly, doctor, you shall be set •down wherever you wish; I shall not mind waiting in the least, for we have plenty of time on our hands before •dinner."

The doctor was about the same age as his friend the merchant, a portly old gentleman, with the kindest smile that could be imagined, and a benevolent face that must have considerably helped the healing power of his prescriptions. " I will not detain you long," said the doctor, as the carriage turned into a side street. " This is a new case; I was only called in the other day, but I am getting interested in my patient—or I should say patients, for there are two, husband and wife: my first visit was only to him, poor fellow, he is ill from cold and over-exertion in tramping the streets in search of a situation, and the wife met with an accident about a month ago ; she has not been properly attended to, and is also on my hands." " Have they no means ?" asked the merchant. "I fear not. As long as she could the Avife went out as a daily governess." " Ah! what was the nature of the accident ?"

•'A severely-sprained ankle, caused by a fall." " Bless me! I wonder if it is the young lady I was telling you about a few days ago." The doctor looked inquiringly at his friend. " Ah! I see you don't remember. Do you know whether your patient wears a red cloak ?" " So you think she may be your little heroine of the red cloak. lam not aware, for I have only seen her indoors."

" Of course not, how absurd for me to forget that. I should like to see these patients of yours. Can't you take me in with you ? they would think me another medical man." The doctor smiled, considered a moment, then said, " Yes, I think we can manage it."

As he spoke, the brougham stopped

at the door of a large dingy-looking house, sublet from basement to attic. A few minutes more, and the doctor had safely piloted his friend up a steep, dark staircase, to the door of a close back

•oom on the third floor, where a scene of

poverty and privation awaited them. Nearly all the chairs which the room contained had been put into requisition to form a couch, on which lay a young man, who was evidently weak and ill. Beside him sat a pale, slight creature, busily stitelling- at some coarse needlework. The fitful flicker of a meagre fire gleamed feebly on the faces of both.

As the visitors stood at the door they heard a voice saying, fretfully, " I am very cold, Grace, that fire gives no heat; I wish we had more coals." Instinctively Mr Hardman put his hand in his pocket, feeling thankful that it lay in his power to relieve the want of the speaker.

The next moment they were in the room; but the old merchant stopped short on the threshold, gazing in undisguised amazement at the inmates. One glance at the features of the young wife identified the wearer of the red cloak—a discovery for which he had been half prepared; but it was the face of the husband that arrested his attention. " Bless me!" he muttered, " that face seems familiar."

At that moment the young man raised himself on his elbow, saying excitedly, " Mr Hardman here!" The sound of his own name visibly startled the merchant. He hurried to the side of the impromptu couch, exclaiming, " It is Philip Holt." The poor fellow seemed much overcome by this unexpected visit of his old master, who, unfortunately for him, had been absent at the time when Mr Joyce, with whom he had never been a favorite, had ordered his dismissal. A few words put the merchant in possession of the sad story, which received double interest when he learned that the ills of poverty had been warded off by the heroic efforts of Philip's young wife, who had gone hack to her old work of teaching, ending the weary days by nights of exhausting toil at such needlework as she was able to obtain.

Here was a new reading of his little romance of the red cloak, and it is certain that it did not lessen his interest in the wearer; but he could not readily excuse himself from the blame, which he took to his own account, for allowing his partner's summary dismissal of an old clerk to remain without inquiry. He determined that the injury to Philip Holt should be atoned for, and he kept his word. When the young man recovered he was restored to his old place, in which he had ample opportunities for pushing his way, and gaining even the respect and confidence of Mr Joyce. Like a day of sunshine following a clouded morning, prosperity blessed the young couple, and the loving, patient wife had her reward.

Philip always traced their good fortune to the cloak, which she had worn because it was her mother's ; and

from that Christmas he decided that it should be treasured as a relic. Years afterwards, when he was a prosperous merchant, and Grace a happy matron with children growing up around her, he would say, in allusion "to their early days of trial, " My darling, if you ever find me growing selfish and forgetful of you and my duty, show me your old red cloak; it will preach a sermon that will be sure to set all right."