CHAP. I.

I am not amiable, nor have I ever affected the character. Why need I? I am only the lodger, and, as such, require civility and attention to be offered to me, instead of offering them. Besides, I pay for being made comfortable, and if I do not find myself so in one house, have only to pack my trunks and flit to another. I am an elderly maiden lady, with a life-annuity quite sufficient for my wants; but the fact of its being only a life-annuity happens to be very well known, and so I am saved the annoyance of being "fooled to the top of my bent" to-day, by people who, hoping for a place in my will, wish that my last hour may come to-morrow.

Thus, being elderly, blunt-mannered, and plain-looking, and the few odd pounds, articles of plate, and old-fashioned trinkets in my possession, not being worth the committal of the second deadly sin, Covetousness, I have no reason to suppose that anyone wishes me out of the world particularly; unless, it may be, perhaps, the maid-of-all-work where I lodge, who, I am sure, considers me anything but an angel, however she may deny this herself, and say that, although I am queer," I am very good-natured;" yet I think she is chiefly influenced by this opinion immediately after I have given her one of my gowns, caps, or something of that sort. Being, however, as I have already said, plain-looking, elderly, and blunt, I am, as a natural consequence, only fit society for myself, and, like Goldsmith under similar circumstances, "the world lets me enjoy that society in great abundance."

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I have been an inmate of a number of boarding-houses, great and small, in the course of my unprotected womanhood; but at the date of the circumstances which I am about to relate I was the sole lodger in the house of a Mr. T

a commercial traveller for a firm in a large way of business, in Newcastle o-T-, where (that town being his head-quarters) he had a very neat house, his family consisting of a second wife, her child (about two years old) little Lizzy, and a grown-up daughter, Barbara, who was within three or four years of being as old as her step-mother-that is to say about six or seven and thirty.

Mr. T had married and become a widower very early in life; and, as immediately after her young mother's death, Barbara had been adopted by an aunt who brought her up, and at her death had left her all she possessed (about three thousand pounds), her whole life had been spent in a Welsh town, where she had known little of her father, and nothing of the wife whom he had married, after being a widower for long long years, during one of his business-visits to Dublin (the

matter being arranged there for him by a matchmaking mutual friend). Up to that period of her existence Mrs. T had held the post of companion to different ladies, old and young. Heaven help her! I suppose this accounted for her not presuming to call her soul her own on any occasion. She and her step-daughter never quarrelled. How should they, when, if Barbara thought fit to assert at one moment that the moon was one of her own Welsh cheeses, and the next that it was the hoop of her ear-ring, Mrs. T— would agree entirely with her to both propositions. For my own part, her uncertain nervous manner sometimes almost set ine crazy, and she would come asking my advice about the most silly things, in a frightened inconsequent way, in spite of the discouragement I gave her.

The one absorbing passion of her life (for, after all, like every person, she had one absorbing passion) was her love for her little girl, and it was something wonderful to see the submissive, almost broken-spirited woman fire-up and assert herself about anything relating to her small interests or comforts. Nothing should interfere with them-nothing-not even her father, during his brief visits to his family in the intervals of his journeys: indeed he-good, easy mangave himself very little trouble about them, coming home merely in the way of his business almost as to any other house at which he was in the habit of calling; and always reminding me of Washington Irving's ideal of Wisdom. making due allowance for difference of sexnamely, "a plump jolly dame, who sits in her arm-chair, laughs right merrily at the farce of life, and takes the world as it goes."

Barbara had a slight resemblance to him-not much-and she never looked as old as she really was, though her prim little figure was always attired in garments two or three fashions behind the time, and she wore a cap too evidently of her own manufacture over a very palpable brown front, as her own hair had always been scanty and of a bad colour; but her face was pleasant-looking, very fair, with large blue eyes, and a frank smile, which showed beautiful white teeth. Her temper had not hitherto been tried, as I have already stated; but I could not help fancying that if ever she should be seriously thwarted, the blue veins in her smooth forehead would cord ominously; and although her hands were small, as suited her size, the finger-joints were strongly marked-a peculiarity which I have never observed in anyone who had not a will, in the carrying out of which they might die, but never, even remotely, dream of yielding.

I did not board with the T's; I only occupied the drawing-room floor, with attendance; and, as the child was rather quiet, and I had

already married, is more than any one here can tell. I have reason to know he does not consider himself well used, that some of Barbara's money was not left to him, as he was nephew to the old lady, as she was niece, and he was once a great favourite: he may think any means justifiable to get possession of it: his cousin cannot be too cautious."

"Set a thief to catch a thief" was the adage which occurred to me as I listened, but I only said to her-"Well, why not make her father say all this to her? I confess it sounds reasonable enough, but what have I to do with it?"

"Her father went off on one of his long journeys this morning, she replied, "and, beside, even if I had anything certain to tell him, he is so careless that he would simply let things take their chance. My great hope is in you."

I was about to interrupt her with an exclamation, when she checked me with uplifted finger, and continued: "It is in this way-I know you have a friend in Australia, with whom you correspond; you have just received a letter from her will you answer it by the mail which leaves this week, and make inquiries about bim? People go about so much in the colonies, that if she never met him herself she may know some one who has. He will be with us this evening; come down and see him, when you will know better what to write. On receipt of your friend's reply I shall be satisfied, and never interfere again; but so far setting my own child's interest aside, I think I am only doing my duty, as her father's wife, towards my husband's motherless daughter, in seeking this information."

I hesitated for a minute or two before I replied; for though I knew all she said to be perfectly reasonable, strangely enough the very quiet earnestness of her manner made me suspect her sincerity. I fancied her anxiety that inquiries should be made concerning this man was merely a ruse to gain time for some purpose of her own. I would have trusted her more had she been nerYous and spoke in broken sentences, as was her habit; her shallow, light grey eyes, too, had usually a shifting glance; but to-day they met mine fully, as if she was sustained by some secret but fixed determination; and, on the whole, the only reply she could get from me was that I would take tea down-stairs that evening, and decide, according to what I observed, whether or not I should write to my friend as she desired. However, she assured me she was perfectly satisfied with this, and immediately, after apologizing for having intruded on me so long, bade me good morning, and left

the room.

CHAP. II.

A dainty tea-table, laid out in the frontparlour, which looked all the more comfortable this bleak March evening that it was furnished in rose-coloured damask, and had a bright fire burning in the grate. Mrs. T presiding at

the urn, fluttering about everything; Barbara, in the newest of home-made head-gear, and snowiest of prim collars, sat on one side, and Mr. Smythe, moustached and sulky-looking, at the other, wondering to himself, I felt certain, what that dreadful old woman (that is myself) did there; while I, who had the seat of honour between them, kept wondering, on my own account, whether I most resembled

Jove, in his chair,

Of the sky Lord Mayor,

or Jack Bunsby, the "chap as wot could give an opinion," winding up my cogitations by assuring myself that my dotage must certainly have commenced; or, that I, a woman, who had never been in love in my life, or had had love made to me, should not be thus mixing myself up in the matrimonial affairs of an elderly young lady, of whose existence I was perfectly unawares twelve months before, and a discontented looking gentleman, in a beard of true colonial growth, with regard to whose identity and concerns I was in a similar predicament, even long after that period. I do not consider I am in the least whimsical, although I know some people say I am; however, if my mind ever took a turn in that direction it certainly was on that evening, for, instead of getting cross, as most people do when they find themselves where they more than suspect their presence to be uncoveted, at least by some of the party, a sort of perverse inclination to amuse myself by forcing Mr. Smythe into conversation came upon me. This I effected, not by smooth, round-about observations, which might have been replied to by any one present, but by sharp, direct questions, addressed to him personally-"In what part of Australia were you, Mr. Smythe," was my first demand-I will not call it question. He did not raise his eyes from the morsel of teacake with which he was trifling on his plate, as he replied:

"Would you men

"In many parts." "Indeed!" I ejaculated. tion some of them?" "The diggings," was the answer, in the same indifferent tone as before.

"There are several diggings in Australia," I persevered: "which of them did you happen to visit ?"

He looked up at length, impatiently, as if about to make some sharp reply, when, meeting my eyes, in which, in spite of myself, I suppose some malicious fun was gleaming, he burst into one of those genial, pleasant laughs in which one is compelled to join by the mere force of its heartiness, and said:

"Upon my word, madam, your leading questions made me fancy, for a moment, that I had mistaken a witness-box for a seat at Mrs. T——ʼs tea-table; but now that I see it is you, and not Serjeant Buzfuz, whom I have the honour of being before, I have no objection to say that I have been in Ballarat, Bendigo, and Inglewood

diggings, at Melbourne, Sydney, Geelong, and, other places through the country.' "Oh! then you know the colony well?" I remarked.

"Yes," he said, carelessly, "pretty well; I have travelled nearly through the entire of it." He handed me my cup, which had just been refilled, and as he did so I continued my remarks by saying, although without any hidden reason just then: "Then you must have been in the Victoria Bush: I have friends there. Did you ever happen to meet the G--'s? when he coloured to the very roots of his hair, the hand which held the cup shook, and a portion of its contents went over my nicest silk dress and black lace shawl. He immediately apologized profusely for his awkwardness, and was very much confused; though, that all the confusion was to be attributed to the accident I was not at all sure. I, however, made nothing of it, as I was anxious to return to our interrupted conversation; although at another time it would have really fretted me lest the silk should stain. Barbara, however, to my great annoyance, would fuss about me with a napkin, unheeding her step-mother's unusually self-possessed requests to her to sit down, that she was merely disturbing Miss Wilson, until by the time she was quite satisfied my skirt was rubbed dry, her cousin's confusion had quite passed away, and returning, unasked, to our late subject: he told us many amusing stories of his adventures at the antipodes, but never, as I observed, laying the scene of them in the place I had mentioned, neither did he answer my question as to whether he had known the G's. However, his avoiding to do either, unconsciously to him, defeated his own purpose; as, taking his whole manner into consideration, I was now fully determined to write to my friend for information concerning him, and to request a speedy reply, which I trusted would arrive soon enough to prevent the marriage, were there any good reasons for doing so, as it was not to take place for four months, Barbara insisting on wearing mourning for her aunt until that time.

As Mrs. Trose to leave the room, having some household affairs to attend to, I saw, by her flushed cheek and the triumphant glance she stole at me, that she considered her cause all but gained; and when, soon after, Mr. Smythe asked Bab to sing some of her Welsh airs, which she did in her native tongue very sweetly, and after that got whispering to her in the same language, I also, seeing them so well occupied, withdrew, and was soon in bed, to which I always retired rather early; not, though, until I had been waylaid on the stairs by Mrs. T――, who addressed me in her broken way: "Now, Miss Wilson, pray don't you think don't you-"

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cerning how he had spent the time of his absence, I think it would, and I will write by the mail going out, as you desire."

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"O thank you!-thank you!" she began. "No need for you to thank me," I said, shortly. "I do it for poor Bab's sake, although I suppose she would give small thanks for my pains, if she knew. I like him too," I added, "and hope sincerely nothing may come out likely to part them."

"Ah! but I fear there will," she said-"I fear it."

If she did, her fear seemed very pleasant to her, for there was a smile on her thin lips, not often seen, unless when she was looking at her child, to whom she was going up now, she told me, as I passed on to my room, when I heard her mutter to herself-"Time! if I could only gain time."

Martyn Smythe had gone home; he had a lodging a short distance off. The house was closed for the night, and I was lying awake an hour after, with Barbara sitting beside me, telling me, in every sense, her somewhat late lovetale. She had come to me under pretence that her light had been accidentally extinguished, looking for a lucifer; but I, knowing as well as if she had confessed as much, that her coming in the darkness was only "a bashful art," lest I should see her while she spoke to me about what lay nearest her heart, told her, as I was not inclined to sleep, she was not to mind her candle just then, but to stay awhile and chat with me. Poor thing! how obedient she was. I had scarcely ceased speaking, when she had found a chair, and was leaning on the side of the bed. I did not quite like that, as I feared it would give the clothes a tendency to fall off, and I immediately felt a fidgetty desire to bid her sit up; but for once I did not put my thoughts into words, but waited silently until she should speak. At length she said:

"It was very kind of you to come down to us this evening."

When, not deeming, at her time of life, that it was necessary to be very round-about with her, I said: “Í always mean to be kind to you, my dear: I like you. And now tell me all about Mr. Smythe and yourself; for I think there is some understanding between you."

"Oh, Miss Wilson!" she exclaimed, at once giving utterance to what I suppose most troubled her. "Oh, Miss Wilson, do you think I am very foolish. Would such a marriage be very unequal?"

I intentionally affected to misunderstand her, so I said: "Is he not as respectable as yourself? I thought you were relatives.'