THE SHUTES OF SHEFFIELD.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 28, 15 December 1883, Page 6

THE SHUTES OF SHEFFIELD.

FROM BELGIIAVIA. My wife and'l had given much thought to the question of house rent, and had decided that We should not be justified in exceeding £120 a year, but we hoped to find a pretty little place in the country at that rent. Our requirements were modest. "Give me a well-cooked chop, and a good glass oi sherry, and I can rough it anywhere," said the intending traveller. We only Wanted a thoroughly pleasant house, within easy distance of a country town where there, was good society, a really good garden, a stable and coach house, when one day,' after a morning of disappointment, we saw a charming one standing some little distance from the road, and a notice informed us that ii was to be let. We went to see it. It was simply perfect, and was surrounded by a garden which I loved at first sight. It was sheltered from every cold wind, open to eVery benign influence, and full of the most beautiful old-fashioned flowers, all growing as if they had been at home there for years ! A single glance showed me that some which I had long been vainly trying to cultivate were flourishing here with happy indifference to human care. My wife was delighted with the house— so was I —but it was Sic garden whioh completely carried me away. It was not very large, but there were wide open walks and pretty secluded paths and roses and fruit trees, a lawn and magnificent flower borders. Having once seen that garden, I never could be satisfied with any other. "It's pretty, 4>ir," said the housekeeper, observing how lovingly my eyes dilated. " A many pretty flowers grows here. They grow of their .own accord like, for the gardener has little trouble with them." " The gardener !" I exclaimed ; " I never let people of that kind run riot among my flowers V " Oh, lor, sir, well to be sure ! But there has always been a gardener here. That's his cottage there, |behind the trees," and she pointed out a pretty red cottage across the lawn. Little was visible but the tops of some dormer windows, for a high trellis covered with roses screened it from view. " What's the rent of Fairlawn ?" I asked in sudden fear, for the little bit 1 saw of the gardener's cottage was so well built that it alarmed me. 11 £160, sir." My w ife's countenance fell. With prompt decision she took off her spectacles, put them carefully in their case, and stowed them away in her bag as no longer needed. " One hundred and sixty pounds," I repeated, very sadly. " Yes, my dear, that settles it," said my beloved wife ; but she had no idea what regret I was feeling. "I suppose it's no use thinking of it," said I, with a sigh ; " but I never saw flowers do so well in any garden before." " Come, John," said my wife "It's only tiriug ourselves for no purpose — we had better <*o. You know as well as Ido that j we ought not to saddle ourselves with such a high rent." " Stop ! I have an idea," said I joyously. " We might reduce the rent by letting that cottage !" "So you might, sir," interposed the housekeeper. "It has six good rooms and a kitchen — it was let a little while back to the curate. It's only the last year or two the gardener has had it." We went to the cottage, and when I saw what an excellent house it was I decided to take Fairlawn. I settled the matter at once, and in ten days began to more in. I gave the cottage a name likely to inflame ardent and poetical minds, called it Eglantine Cottage, and advertised it freely. It had a verandah covered with roses, and a pretty little garden of its own in front sloping ( down to the high road. We had established ou twelves at Fairlawn, brought our dear only daughter home from school, and returned most of the calls made upon us by the resident gentry before we had an application for the cottage. At last a gentleman came— a man of five-and-thirty, with bushy brown hair, keen, inquiring gray ey^s, and a singularly intelligent face. His name was Shute. He had studied ior the bar, but was forced to live in the country on account of his wife's health, and now devoted nimself to art. They had no children, and did not object to a fortypounds rent, though I myself had feared it was rather.too much. All was soon settled, provided the references he gave me were satisfactory. . They were most satisfactory. Each of the two responsible and well-to-do gentlemen to whom I wrote had the greatest pleasure in testifying to the high character oi the > gentleman wished to be ,my tenant, and each conciuded by saying that sueji testimony on his part was almost unnecessary, seeing that the said gentleman was one of the Shutes of Sheffield, I read this, and ( straightway a fine flavour of respectability attached itself to my tenant— !he was one of xhe Chutes of Sheffield. This being the case, I dedicated to his enjoyment the larger , part ,of a large hamper of fine ferns. which had been sent me from CumIberland, and went and planted them myself in telling spots. That done, I tied up h,is roses so that his wife might have the full benefit of their beauty. And now all care was ov,er, and we were really happy at Ifairluwn. My wife had her ponj' carriage and explored the .neighbourhood, and I had my garden and my ,box of books from the library. ,Mr Shutes furniture began to airive, and Mr Shute himself came to see all made ready for his delicate wife. He stayed with us, but he was ho busy that we did not see much pf him. He was, however, a very pleasant fellow, and we liked him. " I won't trquble you with my furniturearranging difficulties, my dear Mr and Mrs Peveril," said tie ; "but there is one little favour I should like to ask of you. Would you jnind having that trellis lowered a little ? It would be such a treat to my poor wife to haye just a glimpse of your exquisite garden from her sofa. She is so unfortunate as to be almost a confirmed invalid." sna^ fo ye . l 7 glad— "l began. , f ' £hank you \ thank you ! I felt sure you would be k^nd. Shall I give orders to have the trellis, removed, or will you ?" "Removed!" I had imagined that he aaid "lowered." Now, I like to throw off my coat and waistcoat when I am working \n my garden— but one can't behave ill to a delicate woman." "She is coming to-morrow," said he; " there is no time to lose." I had not the courage to plead for its only being lowered, and now the windows of Eglantine Cottage raked ray happy hunting grounds where I had hitherto been so full of liberty, and so alone. My heart ached for the poor roses which had been thrown down with the, trellis. Mr Shute began to pluck them, and said he would put them, in. Mater to help to, make the house gay for his wife. Then he threw jfchem down, exclaiming, " After all, she won't be here till to-morrow. lam sure you will give me a handful of fresh ones in tihe morning." . •'You have roses pf your own, "said lirapatjently; for ho had ( flung down all those Jje had just gathered— and it infuriates me to see fiowersfij^ireated. " I know I have," he «aid calmly j " but T don't want to touch mine. They make

the front of the house look well. My wife, Mr Pevoril, is quite the creature of impression ! Come and see how you like the look of the little place now that the furniture is in." Everything looked most charming. The rooms were large and low, with low, widelatticed windows and window seats. The view into my garden was delicious. I nevtr thought the Slmtes paid too much rent after I nad seen that. Their furniture was of the "Queen Anne " time, and suited the rooms to perfection. Eglantine Cottage wag infinitely prettier than Fairlawn. I began to feel unbounded respect for this scion of the Shutes of Sheffield, for all this delightful result had been obtained so easily. There was very little furniture in the drawing-room : the floor was covered with Indian matting and Persian rugs; the curtains were of Japanese muslin ; the Malls, hung with the most exquisite water colours in perfectly simple wooden frames. There were twelve or thirteen magnificent Turners ! I had only one, the gift of my rich undo, and I was accustomed to consider it a priceless possession. Mr Shuto actually had thirteen, and a Girtin and a Barrett as well ! Besides this, there were shelves full of beautiful china plates. I had never seen such a dainty abode before. Such richly hung walls were a most agreeable sight to a landlord ! Full of comforting inner warmth, I exclaimed, " Well, there is no fear of Mrs Shute not admiring this !" "You think so?" said he ; " I'm so glad ! I have had to be very careful what 1 did. You see, she is quite the creature of impression. $ should be miserable if she said the cottage was not pretty. By-the-by, did you Know that she was one of the Wilmots of Taunton ?*' Now I was not going to stand that. I had made up my mind to feel a great respect for theJShutes of Sheffield, and, if they all had as good an idea of furnishing as Edward Shute, they were emphatically worthy of it , but I was not going to allow my*elf to be so much impressed by any other family. Besides, what were the Wilmots of Taunton to me? I was well acquainted with every rose that was grown, I knew every pansy worthy of a place in my garden, but— l had never heard of the Wilmots of Taunton. We went over all the rooms ; one was fitted up as a studio. Mr Shute s easel was ■et up, his colour-box and palettes were ready ; but, of course, he had not begun to work yet. " I shall be glad when I get her safely hero," said he. " By-the-by, how am Ito fetch her from the railway -station ? Do you mind lending me the pony-carriage ?" I said I would lend it to him, but I wished he had not said the pony carriage ; if he had said 'your pony carriage it would not have looked so much like a vehicle which belonged just as much to him as to me. Mrs Shute was a tall, pale, languid-looking woman ot eight and twenty, with fair hair — which was by no means all her own —and dull blue oyoa. She spent most of her time on the sofa. "I do so wish we had a little bit of ground at the back of our house, " said Mr Shute one day to my wife ; "if it were Bver so small. My poor wife never gets out ; she can't sit in our garden, for it is so near the road, and being so much in the house is so dull." Haring 3aid this, he looked anxiously into her eyes to see how much Christian charity she possessed. My wife, poor, dear woman, was taken by surprise, and replied : " I wish Mrs Shuto would use our garden sometimes — when my husband is not working in it, I mean ; for when he is busy he likes to be careless about appearances." "Oh! thank you. How truly kind!"! exclaimed Mr Shute. " Then we will have a key made. You know there is a door from our back yard into your garden, and we will have a key made for it at once, unless you have one you can lend us." And now my poor wife knew what she had done, for of course it was out of the question for an invalid like Mrs Shute to walk all the way round by the lane to the proper entrance, and yet. if she had a key and could come and go when she liked, all my pleasure in my garden would be gone. "You won't go when my husband is at work *" she said in desperation to Mrs Shute, and then trusted to her delicacy. What fk poor weak thing to trust to ! They . got the key— they used it. Mrs Shute, who was not stiong enough to go round to the proper entrance, meandered for mileß along our gravel paths and lawn. I could always trace her presence, for she plucked every flower she fancied, and flung it as quickly away, and I saw my slaughtered innocents lying bruised and withered in the aun, and could have slain her in turn. Mrs Shute might be the creature of impressions, but the flowers were the creatures of impressions, too, and bore the marks of her ridiculous high -heeled shoes as she crushed them down in her indifference and passed on. For some little time she respected my feelings, and never entered the gai-den when I was at work. Soon, however, she came j when she chose, and frequently I, hard at j work in my gray flannel shirt, would see a sylph-like form arrayed in spotless white glide toward me, which planted a camp stool within a yard of me, and seemed determined to enter into a prolonged conversation. If I moved away Mrs Shute was certain to follow me. It was beet to try not to mind her being there, and let her sit admh-ing her pretty feet and openworked stockings, and uttering weak little remarks. She was always affable. "I see, Mr Peveril, you are quite au bout dcs tioigU with all your flowers/ gaid she one day most kindly. u H'm," 1 replied. "Yes, I like (lowers." " I worship them \ I even admire a lot of great, ugly ferns we have in our^ own garden !" Thus did the creature of impression speak of ' the lovely, rare ferns which I had sacrificed to the tenants who w ; ere to help me to pay my rent. " Don't you like ferns ?" I said, half inclined to make an effort to get them back again. " Well, yes, in the woods ; but I like Pelar-r-rgoniuma' in gardens} nothing looks better. ' If I had plenty" of money I'd just put hundreds of them in front of our house. What a thing money is, Mr Peveril ! and there are actually some people who are so crowded with' it that they j don t know what to do with it jbut make an ostentation of it !" ' • " I am very sure I should know what to do with mine, if I had a little more," was my thought — for I was forced to endure this lady's company for Want of a miserable forty pounds a year.' " ■ She perhaps found me unusually dull, for she said she would "•troll about a bit," and hastily knotting up a " guinea switch of hair" which was rolling down her back, , she went away. Presently she returned with the Grosvenor book which I was looking forward to the treat of reading when my work wag done. She had obtained it by thrusting in her arm at the open window, and removing it from the table where it was lying awaiting \ my return. She and her husband, too, were extremely fond of possecsirig themselves of whatever they happened to want. She borrdwed a book in this nefarious way. He came in a panic

—his wife was ill; would wo let him have half a dozen bottles of old port? Or he was suddenly seized wit)) admiration of one of our water colours. We had three good ones, but he was not satisfied with anything less than our Turner, and asked if we I would allow him to take it to the cottage for an hour or two, and place it on an easel ! near his wife's sofa— it would help to while away the weary hours, and she was the— * | Rather than hear him say that she was the creature of impression I hastened away !to get the picture for him. His wife did not care for pictures 5 why did he borrow I them for her ? She did not care for books . either. She was entirely uneducated, and I though possibly a Wihnot of Taunton, she certainly was not a lady. She wished to be pleasant, though, and, was very fond of sympathising with me whenever she observed certain small green insects which she calletl " nasty aftrites " on my roses. Had she been reading " The Persian and Turkish Tales?" I wished an ill-disposed affrite would carry her oft*, but nothing ever did carry her away from my side but the sight of the gardener going toward the kitchen garden. Then she said in a moment, "Dear Mr Peveril, Edward and I are so fond of fresh vegetation — may I go and ask that man to cut some little trifle for the cottage V" and I, rejoicing at this momentary good fortune, always said, " Oh, pray do." And she went and commanded him to bear to her abode cauliflowers and peas, lettuce and apricots, or whatsoever else was agreeable to the palate of a creature of impression, For my part, I should not liavd cared what went to 1 the cottage so long as nothing came from it 1 — to sit by my side, I mean. But my wife said too much went • They had now-laid eggs, milk, cream, and more butter than we could well spare, and they did not pay as they got it, but let the account run on. '' Be patient," said I ; " don't complain, and don't offend them. We should have been very hard up without these Shutes, for I have spent more than I ought on the house and garden, and it is an immense comfort to have such rich tenants. They must be rich, for those pictures on their walls are worth thousands. Don't let us think of the Shutes. Let us enjoy our happiness !"' Our dear daughter had got a lover — not a declared one, but one who was evidently in earnest. He was a thoroughly conscientious, upright man, and had a small estate which had been in his family for a couple of centuries. Our joy about this made us tolerant of the Shutes. The young folks met constantly, and the moro we saw of Mr Ducie the more we liked him. Perhaps it was a lucky thing that Mrs Shute liked sitting on my lawn better than driving with my wifo, for if &he had used our pony carriage, my daughter would have had to stay at home, and Mr Ducie would have had iewor opportunities of seeing her. One day, after irritating me by calling my penstcmons antirrhinum.-*, when I should have disliked to hear her bestow such an appellation on my snap-dragons, she, who knew nothing of our secret hopes, suddenly exclaimed, •' Mr Peveril, don't you think that Mr Ducie who comes to your house i.s a very charming young man ! We have asked him to the cottage and he is coming ! There are a great many nice young men in thio neighbourhood. lam going to invite my sister to come and stuy with me —she is such a nice girl, and so beautiful !" I could see the connection of ideas. She was going to invite her sister to the cottage in the hope of her fascinating some one — most probubly ouv Mr Ducie ! This uas fatal, for if Mrs Shute made up her mind to deprive us of anything which seemed good in her eyes, nothing remained to us but to resign ourselves to letting her have it. My poor Dorothea ! I sighed heavily. That marriage on which we had set our hearts was not to be. Mrs Shutes sister, a Wilmot of Taunton, and probably also a creature of impression, would come and win away Mr Ducie's affections from my daughter, and my wife and I would be such fools that even we would allow ourselves to he drawn into doing our part toward producing that result. I was silent for some time ; 1 was afraid she would notice it ; I did not want her to know what we felt about Mr Ducie, so I said, " I suppose your husband is hard at work this fine morning V" " Yes, he is busy copying— painting, I mean,' said she, in some confusion. '"Copying nature, I suppose," said I ; but it occurred to me that considering he was a landscape painter, Mr Shute fctayed a great deal indoors. Miss Wilmot came. She was as brigh t and rosy as Mrs Shuto was pale, and hardly had she arrived than tho Shutes began to borrow out pony carriage freely, and asked us to lend them our lawn for a tennis party they wished to give, to introduce her. " They want to invite Mr Ducie !" I exclaimed, when my wife told me this. "It is too much '! It's like seething a kid in its mother's milk ?" "And we shall have to supply the strawbei'iie" and the cream, and lend the teacups and teaspoons, and a couple of servants ! And she wants to borrow our long dining table to place under a tree on the lawn, and has not got a tablecloth long enough to cover it, but is sure that we have, and won't mind lending it, and — " "Say no more," said I, decidedly. "We must draw the line somewhere, and I draw it at giving up Mr Ducie to them." He was there even when we were speaking ; he told us of his visit afterward, and said he thought Miss Wilmot a very charming girl, though it was easy to see that, like the fat boy in Pickwick, he knew a nicerer ;" but how long would he continue to put my Dorothea in the first place if those Shutes began to angle for him in ear-, nest? Our experience was that they always managed to get what they wanted. He began to go to the cottage a great deal more than I liked. My wife said it was because from the Shutes windows he could sometimes see Dorpthea walking in gup garden. I did not know. Why did he not come to us ? • j He did come to us, and sometimes asked Dorothea to stroll with him, in the garden ; but no sooner did they go out than Mrs Shute and Mis» Wilmot joined them. I called the latter "The Abominable, that uninvited came," but how could the mind revert to poetry in the midst of such vexa* tion as this ? While everything was in. this wretchedly uncomfortable state, I received a letter from my uncle—the unqle I did not want to offend, It was rather cold, and it ended thus:, "I think, John, , you must; now see that I had every reason to yrarn you against taking, that foolishly expensive house of yours ; but you need not have soUi your ' Turner,', and.. yftu, ought .to have had at least another hundred for it. Besides, J would inlinitely rather have lent you some money myself than have that exquisite drawing go out of the family !'•' It Tiad not gone out/ of the family ~l had not sold it, and .never meafit 1 to do' so ! ' It had been ai} act of greai self-sacrifice to lejt it go to the cottage for a few' days, but now I had got it back and would Ifeep it. My uncle's letter made me , feel inclined to' go and look at the drawing. I took it down to enjoy it thoroughly. It had been taken out of its frame. Why had that been done ? lat once went to the cottage to ask the question. The ladies were out. They had

hired a carriage and gone to spend the day with Mr, Duoie's mother. They were evidently in terrible earnest about that affair, and it was a , most' significant feature that they had hired d oarriage) instead of insisting on having ours. , "Mr Shute is in the stiidlb, sir ; will you walk upstairs *" said the servant. I walked upstairs, but he was not there. On the tables and easels I saw a number of water-colour drawings in various stages of progress, all of which he was copying from others. Mr Shute copied Turner drawings, and sold them as originals ! I saw it in a moment. And he had copied mine ! Or had he perhaps sold the original and sent me back the copy ? Then the drawings on his walls were copies, too, and I had hot such tv well-to-do tenant after all, for those Turners on the walls had been my sheet-anchor of safety. Perhaps the rent of this cottage, for which I had sacrificed so much', would never be paid, and my oreain and new-laid eggs, my fruit, my vegetables, my peace of mind, even my hopes for the future, were all to be as nothing. Letters with foreign stamps lay on the table, doubtless orders from the antipodes for valuable drawings, which my clever tenant had no difficulty in supplying, and , even now his wife and her sister were twining their meshes round — I looked up suddenly, and saw from the Shutes window my Dorothea and Mr Ducic walking in the garden below, hand in hand, Joy took possession of my heart. He hae fled from the two Wilmot sirens in search o: my Dorothea ! We never saw the Shutes again. Thai same evening they left Eglantine Cottage Next morning two emissaries of the lav took possession of it. Mr Shute was deeply in debt, but lie had taken away nearly evei*y thing that was valuable. All that remainec to satisfy his creditors was a certain amoun' of Indian matting, two pairs of flimsy cur tains, a few rush -bottom d chairs, empty picture irames, and some furniture too heavi to be moved. The china plates which ha( looked so imposing were cracked in eve 17 direction, ana neatly mended. Not one oi them was worth a' shilling ! Everything else was much the same. This littli paradise of cestheticism bad faded away ii an hour or two. My wife and 1 were so happy that wi did not grieve «ver our lost rent* M; uncle lent me £100, and three months after ward came to Dorothea's wedding, on wind occasion he satisfied himself, and me too that my Turner was still on my walls an< that the estimable Mr Shute of Sheffiel< had contented himself with making a copy Markakkt Hunt.