UNKNOWN

Waikato Times, Volume IV, Issue 202, 26 August 1873, Page 2

UNKNOWN

Titu friendlessne i »9 of sonic poor 'genteel' people is a curious tiling to contemplate. We do not know, or understand it in ovilinr.ry circumstances, but when unusual incidents occur, il comes out in a very impressive way. There are people who occupy their own little grooves, do their own little woi k, c.irry their awn by no means light or little crosses, and whodo not appear to have anybody belonging to them or to whom they belong, \\ lieu the even tenor of their not too easy way w interrupted, and it becomes nocessary for themselves, or other people, to muster their resources. Mrs Reeve was one of this numerous class. She had lived for many years far remored from her never numerous early associations, and her life had had too much toil, care, and anxiety in it to j admit of the formation of new ones, even had she not been a reserved nnd silent person. Thus, it came to pass, that when her sudden death obliged her daughter to look about her for friends and counsellors, she found none, except the clergyman and his family, from whose house she had returned so short a time before that terrible event. But her friendlessness did not appal Florence. There was a period of overwhelming griei, an,d then one of painful investigation — bewilderment ; utterly strange business ; the looking into her mother's affairs ; the definition of the interval which laji between her and destitution. The affairs were simple ; thS! interval was short. When the lease of the dull house ax the . dull crescent had been sold, and the furniture was dis^ljeed of, at a valuation, to the incoming tenant, who also proposed to let lodgings, and who agreed to engage Martha, and to accept Mr Clint at a tenant for the parlours ; when all the debts, which had to harassed her mother, and which had been wholly unknown to Florence, were paid, there remained one hundred pounds. One hundred pounds in the world ; a dangerously fair face for any unprotected homeless girl to possess ; and tho chance that her former employers would take her into their service again ! These were Florence Reeve's actual and prospective circumstances ; and yet, she did not feel friendless, she was not afraid, she was not miserable. She hardly knew how everything hod been arranged. The doctor had been very kind, and Walter. She could not understand how it was, that he seemed like an old friend all at onee — but so it had been ; ever after that dreadful, day it had come quite naturally to her to tell* him everything, and to take his advice.. She had no relatives to take her to task, or friends to comment upon her, because she talked freely with a young man who was not a relative, and so satisfied was she, in her innocent frankness, that she needed, no otner friend than this one, who might so easily have been a wolf in shqep's clothing, discernible only by the keen-eyod trappers of society, in whoso experience fleece-bedecked wolves are not rare. Ho might so easily have been ! — but he was nob. Florence first trusted him, and very soon she lov.ed him with all the strength and (singleness of a finely tempered feminine nature. She did not love him, or, a.t least, she did not tell herself she loved him, so soon as he loved her, and unceasingly assured himself of the fact. He had loved her from the hour in which he had been obliged to tell her the truth, that her mother wa3 dead ; and he had) gratitude |and grace sufficient to recognise, with a curious sttd humility, not so uncommon in men as women believe it to be, that this lore, all unpropitious as were the external circumstances connected with it, was a saving influence — a, turning-point in his life. " The position was a very serious one, and; for the first time, Walter felt he had erred In failing to conciliate his father. For Florence's «ake, he would have made anj sacrifice, would have stooped to any concession, but tywas too late for sacrifice or concession to avail. The fancied grievances of his life at the Fire had been so supplemented by tho real irregularities of his conduct in London, as to render his father's estrangement complete. There was nothing for Walter but to discard all remembranoe of his expectations, to live strictly upon his allowance, and 'go in seriously' for his profession and a long engigement. At all events, he would not bo wronging Florence in inducing her to consent to this ; she had no prospect on which this would not be an improvement. He consulted her upon the point, but did not let her discover that there was any risk to bis future involved in such an arrangement. He had too clear a perception of her disinterestedness and generosity to enable her to refuse, him on the plea of its being done for his sake. He lepresented himself as hopelessly alienated from home-ties, and as absolutely friendless, and, in that sense, independent as herself. Florence heard him with pure and perfect joy. Never was there a prettier or more imprudent love stqcy than theirs. They parted ; she to return to her pupils at Windsor ; he, to resume his medical studies — which presented themselves now unde.r a very different aspect, and inspired h,im with quite other feelings — solemnly pledged to each other. Florence was very happy, notwithstanding the real grief with which she mourned her mother. Sorrow was strong : but love, the stronger, had come in and conquered. She Lad left Mr Clewer's house a pretty, bright, gladsome, timid girl, a charming companion and playfellow for her joung pupils ; she returned to it, a very lovely young woman, her beauty marvellously enhanced, her manner kinged with new djgnity,. and over, her person and demeanor a certain nameless tender grace diffused, lending her an added charm, which induced Mrs Clewer's ' particular friend,' Mrs Dunville, to inform that lady, confidentially, that she considered Miss 1 Sieve 4 unsafe.' 4 ¥n?afo!' exclaimed Mrs Glewer, a pure-minded Irish lady, genuinely unconscious of her sagacious friend's meaning. ' Unsafe how ? Unsafe to whom ?' 4 Well, my dear — I don't mean to alarm you, you know ; but your Percy is very young — and those things do happen,' said Mrs Dunville. 4 Oil, Percy !' and Mr« Clewer looked rather red and uncomfortable : 'heis a mere boy, you know ; and I shall take care to keep her out of his way.' Mrs Dunville said no more ; but she always had her doubts of dear Ellen's common sense, and now they were confirmed. None but a fool could hara made such on answer to such a warning. Mrs Qlewer's eldest son come home from college when Florence had been six months his sisters' governess. \ .Her pupils were still children ; she. was surprised to find their brother 'quite a young man.' Wisdom was very speedily justified iof heo children, in the instance of Mrs Dunville. Percy Clewer so distinctly and speedily ' made a fool of himself by falling ia love with the pretty penniless governess, that things bocamc. exceedingly uncomfortable for Florence, and Mrs Glewer waa frightened out of her small allowance of • wits. She ,resoFted to subterfuge, the resource of the weak, and found so much fault with Miss Keeve's method of teaching, with her toleration of Jessie's stoop, and Lilian's inartistic poso of her hands on tho piano — whereas her own blue eyes, fair skin, and elegant figure were the real grounds of objection — that poor Florence was forced to take the hint, and to feel that with one precious, inestimable exception, she was now friendloss indeed. She wrote to tho exception, who thereupon took a resolution, imprudent to the last degree, but not unnatural under the circumstances. ' It is the only way in which I can really protect her,' thought Walter j ' and if lean live on my allowance, as I am doing now, I'll back her woman's wit. economy, and self-denial to jr.ake it do for two.' Florence told him that she was in daily dread of receiving her dismissal. He entreated her to forestall such a possibility, by resigning at once, and begged her to come to London, where he would provide a lodging for her, and tell her what he had thought of as a resource for the future. Simply, unhesitatingly, Florence obeyed him, thereby affording immense relipf to Mrs Clewer's troubled mind. If she had dismissed Miss Reeve, she must have explained matters to Mr Clewer, and that gentleman was not a comfortable subject for domestic explanations. Now she could tell him that Miss Reeve had given her notice. She did tell him so, adding, that she w as leaving th«n to 'better herself,' a white lie which did not disturb Mrs Clewer's conscience— her moral sense, like that of many excellent women, was singularly somnolent, except where her domestic interests were concerned — and which perfectly satisfied the Rev Jackson, Mrs Clewer did not concern herself to know more of her — it was no business of hers; and really, she could not bo sufficiently thankful, or sufficiently cautious in future arrangements. Walter Clint was of age; Florence Reeve was an orphan, too unimportant to have guardians, and unpossessed oi ' next friends j' consequently, there was no difficulty about their marriage. Florence was greatly startled at first, when she learned the plan which Walter had devised ; but it was en«y to persuade — nnd she hnd no adequate notion of the rifk wbieh Walter was incurring. He teemed to be almost us friendless us hroclf, and the difficulties of their engagement were really greater thnn those of a marriage. A Aery short time then found Walter Clint in the incongruous position of a medical student with a wifp, living in a C\U bonrdmg-hoiibC — all his familiar friends being aware oi the fact, but united in <vi honorable compact 'tQ keep it dnik*

n every quarter whence it might, by mischance, reach the ears of Walter's ' governor.' That was a pretty love story enough, with all its prose, and tho young couple wore very hippy and harmless Walter's adaptable disposition lent it3clf readily to the quiet routine of their undciuablv dull life, mid Florence would have been perfectly content, if she could only have helped Walter in some way She proposed to do so by giving lessons in the neighborhood of their abode, but she had not strength for any exertion ot the kind after a while, and it soon bt'catno necessary to draw upon the fund which constituted her whole worldly wealth. A little cottage mas near an imitation of the country as the district oust of London attainable by omnibus could supply, was taken for the young wife, and there she lived in ompleto retirement. After his marriage, Walter gave his father no more cause for complaint in Aflney matters ; his demands ceased. But Clint was none wit more pleased with him for that. Ho could not brook the notion that the son he had almost dis-eo-tded could get on without him ; and secretly chafed because the young man, whose homo ho had made so intolerable to him, displayed no eagerness to induce him to repeal the sentence of his banishment from it. Walter, meantime, was profoundly uneonscnus of, and serenely indifferent to, his father's state of minrl He was very happy, very much in loie, and delighted with, the knowledge that he had done a bruvi> nnd manly thi'ig in shielding from her sad and desol ite f:ite tins young girl, who repaid him so richly in absolute trust, and simple, unc,u stioned devotion. Walter had ninde no false cilcnl.ition when he counted on the self-sacrifice and the frugality of Florence. They were remarkable, and they availed nmich, but they could not ward oIF poverty and distress when Florence fell ill some tune before (he birth of her .child — who only lived a few hoii"s — and continued weak and ailing for many weeks, reqi.n ing ease and nourishment, and medical attendance, which made a great devastation of the hundred pounds which formed their sole provision against a rainy day. It did not only rain op tho young couple, it poured. Walter's own health became impaired, by the absence of comforts to which ho had (alwnjs been accustomed, and previous prolonged confinement to London air. When Florence was recovering from her illness, and beginning to investigate their financial condition with alarm, Waller made a new acquaintance, who was destined to influence his after-life in a degree second only to that in which it had been affected by the young lady who was now his wife. ' You've no notion what a capital fellow Daly is,' he said to his wife one evoning, when he had beeu coaxing her to confess she felt well enough to allow him to invite his friend to tea at the cottage m L+eorge Lane, Waustcad ; she was well enough, but had been unwilling to make the admission from economical considerations, of the drinkables ' to folfow,' involved in an invitation to tea 'He really is such a nice fellow, Flo., and wonderfully good looking. Not one ot your lady-like men, or languid swells, but a fine, tall, •well-built, manly fellow, with features like a Greek statue, xmly, they've plenty of meaning m them, and a voice which I'm sure you coujd not resist.' 'H'm! that would depend on what the voice said,' was Flo 's sage reply. ' What is Mr Lawrence Daly to be pI she added. ' I can't tell you. You have posed me there, little Flo. ' He talks of bein^ a doctor, and is stud) ing, not so seriously as lam studying, though ; you ->cc, he has not such motives • but I don't think he will make much of it. The toiling one's way up in a profession is woik 100 slow for him, I faney — lie is dashing, you know. I don't mean t(» ! sa) ho is not industrious : but he's more dashing, and I fancy— he has not told mo much about himself as yet — he has not been very well treated by his family, or by some one pr other. In that respect, he and I are much of a muchness. I think.be will be off to the other side of the world some j day, and come b.icfc a rich man.' ' But people don't get rich at the other sido of the world, nny more than here, if they have not money to begin with, xb they ?' ' True, little Flo. ; but then, they don't want so much to begin n ith, and the) make a great deal more of it ' ' Let us go, Walter,' said Florence, in an innocent halfjest, half-earnest way, 'to the other side of tho world, and j make some money.' Florence had found out by this time how much more expensive a luxury life was than she had thought ; had discovered that her satisfactory seeming calculations had ex/eluded such accidents as infants and illnesses, and was getting frightened. Walter took a few turns about the room, glancing at her with an anxious furtive look, before ho answered. 'It might not be a bad plan, Flo. ; there's no getting on here, for people without money, or more brains than I've got ; and we are always on the verge of a precipice as well. My lather would stop ray allowance, and leave us to starve, if ho knew' ' Walter said Florence, with a very pale face, and an alarmed voice, ' you told me jour quarrel with your father was hopeless before. I never knew that there would have been any chance for jou ! I never knew I could make tlnng3 worse ! ' ' Nor can you, my darling,' said Walter, hurrying to her, and taking her in his arms tenderly. ' I never had tho ghost of a chance of anything more than he does for me now, and our marriage has really been the means of my keeping that, for I never could live within my allowance before. If he found out about it, he could do no more than he might have done any day, on any pretext, or none. But, darling Flo , things aie getting serious, and we must consider what it would be best to do.'