/A
 
 3^ -^ - ^ / 
 
 3 ^^' 
 
 THE ALDERMAN'S CHILDREN.
 
 THE ALDERMAN'S CHILDREN 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES BRINSLEY-RICHARDS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " SEVEN YEARS AT ETON," " THE DUKE's MARRIAGE/* 
 
 AND "prince RODERICK." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 ^ufaltsfjcrs in ©rljinarg to |^cr fHajcstg tfje ©urcn. 
 
 1891. 
 
 {^All rights reserved.")
 
 
 •^ 
 "^^ 
 
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 JOHN AIRD, Esq., M.P., 
 
 IN RECOLLECTION OF THE PLEASANT DAYS SPENT AT 
 
 THE VILLA DE PRANGINS WHILE THIS BOOK 
 
 WAS BEING WRITTEN. 
 
 
 V:
 
 THE ALDERMAN'S CHILDREN. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 One of the blue tram-cars that ply between 
 Moorgate Street and the Archway Tavern 
 at Highgate stopped before the Cock at 
 Highbury, and Charlie Harrowell, who had 
 been smoking cigarettes since he left the 
 city, descended from the knifeboard with a 
 preoccupied air, and passed through the 
 gate of Highbury Place. 
 
 It was a very hot summer afternoon. 
 Dust rose in a haze from the pavements, 
 and the air was redolent of those smells 
 which form the July aroma of London — 
 warm asphalte, tobacco smoke, cheap fruit 
 and faded flowers. The paint on the panels 
 of the omnibuses was blistered, and the 
 grimy horses dragged heavily. The hansom 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 drivers had covered up the hoods of their 
 cabs with canvas or with rugs, so as not 
 to be blinded by the glare from the glazed 
 roofs. The policemen, stifling in their tight 
 thick tunics, sought shade under the awnings 
 of shops ; and the shawled women who sold 
 flowers or cauliflowers had opened their 
 cotton dresses at the throat, and squatted 
 red-faced behind their baskets, despondent 
 of selling their merchandize. 
 
 It was two o'clock, the hour of the day 
 when the outdoor life of the town is at its 
 lowest ebb. The boys were in school and 
 the city clerks in their offices. It was too 
 soon after luncheon for ladies to go shopping, 
 and the rattling milk-carts had not yet begun 
 their afternoon rounds. So Highbury Place 
 was deserted. Nobody was playing cricket 
 in the field, and there was a cool, rural look 
 about this green and leafy spot, once a 
 favourite abode of rich city merchants. 
 
 Charlie Harrowell removed his hat to 
 refresh his forehead with a light breeze that 
 came throuo^h the trees, and he stood fcr a 
 minute in perplexed thought. Then he 
 made for a substantial old-fashioned house
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 of prosperous appearance, and nodded to his 
 sister Ann, who was working at an open 
 window behind a box of geraniums in full 
 bloom. 
 
 She uttered an exclamation of surprise, 
 and came out to meet him in the hall, as he 
 let himself in with a latch-key. 
 
 " Why, Charlie, what brings you back from 
 the city so early ? " 
 
 '' I have something of importance to tell 
 you, Annie ; but, first, get me something to 
 drink, for I am parched." 
 
 '' What shall it be, dear, — lemonade ? " 
 asked his comely sister, observing him rather 
 anxiously ; for it was a startling event to see 
 her brother come home any week-day, but 
 Saturday, before six o'clock. 
 
 '' No, a soda and B, if you can ; if not, 
 some beer, and a biscuit with it, for I haven't 
 lunched." 
 
 "Very well, dear," said Ann Harrowell ; 
 '' but don't smoke in the dining-room, 
 Charlie ; you know papa hates tobacco." 
 
 ** Oh, the guv'nor will not be home for 
 another three hours ! " answered Charlie ; 
 and, taking the window-seat which his sister
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 had just vacated, he blew his cigarette 
 clouds into the open air. 
 
 Charlie Harrowell was a clerk in an 
 indigo house, and as good-looking, well- 
 dressed a young fellow as ever puzzled a 
 merchant to decide between the rival claims 
 of Englishmen and Germans for employment 
 in the city. A foreigner would have taken 
 him for a young man of property, and even 
 an experienced native money-lender — this 
 class being very shrewd in the appraisement 
 of externals — would have been puzzled for a 
 moment to determine to what particular 
 category of light-working, easy-spending 
 youth he belonged. Of course a few minutes' 
 scrutiny revealed that Charlie Harrowell had 
 neither the repose of manner nor the tranquil 
 superciliousness of the young gentlemen who 
 haunt West End clubs ; but he can be 
 described in a sentence, as one of those for 
 whom railway porters instinctively open the 
 doors of first-class carriages, and whom all 
 tradesmen address as *' sir." 
 
 He was tall and slight, with blue eyes, 
 brown hair, light moustache and whiskers ; 
 and there Avas a marked resemblance between
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 5 
 
 him and his sister, she being twenty-six and 
 he twenty-four. But Ann Harrowell had 
 the staidness and serenity which her brother 
 lacked. She had kept house for her father, 
 who was a widower, since she was eighteen 
 years old, and every room in his pre- 
 Victorian, essentially middle-class residence 
 bore its testimony to her orderliness. The 
 dining-room was innocent of all hankerings 
 after artistic furniture. In such rooms did 
 the merchants of the Georgian era eat their 
 beef and pudding, and sit over their smoke- 
 less desserts with a decanter of port. The 
 walls were covered with red flock paper ; 
 the laree table and the sideboard were 
 mahogany, and the chairs were covered with 
 dark vermilion leather. But all the wood 
 glistened w4th daily rubbing, the angles of 
 the black marble chimney-piece had not a 
 dusty chink, and the most piercing eye could 
 not have detected a crumb on the carpet. 
 
 Ann presently returned, followed by an 
 elderly maid-servant with a tray, and it was 
 in something of a maternal tone that she 
 said to her brother — 
 
 " I've had some sandwiches cut for you,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Charlie, and sherry will be better for you 
 with your soda-water than brandy." With 
 these words she prepared his drink with 
 her own hands, then sat down to resume 
 her crewel work whilst he ate. She was 
 dressed in a light summer frock of the 
 smallest shepherd's-plaid pattern, fitting most 
 neatly, but plainly cut. Her smooth hair 
 had no fringe ; a crimson rose was stuck in 
 her corsage, but she wore no other ornament, 
 except a gold brooch with a miniature por- 
 trait of a lady in ringlets — her mother, who 
 had died when she was a child. '' And 
 now," continued she, with restored com- 
 posure, as her brother began his luncheon, 
 "do tell me at once what has brought you 
 home so early ? " 
 
 " My story is a short one, though it's 
 precious unpleasant," replied Charlie, speak- 
 ing fast. *' To begin with, I'm not going 
 back to Mincing Lane any more. Old Blew 
 complained that I was always coming late, 
 and he promoted one of those German chaps 
 over my head ; so I took up my hat and 
 walked out." 
 
 " Charlie ! Do you mean to say you have
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 been dismissed ? " exclaimed Ann Harrowell, 
 in consternation. 
 
 " Well, not exactly that/' replied Charlie. 
 " Old Blew said he'd give me another chance 
 by sending me out to the firm's house in 
 Calcutta, and I dare say by this time to- 
 morrow I shall have closed with the offer, 
 though I was too disgusted to accept it this 
 morninor." 
 
 '' But what madness this is, Charlie ! " 
 answered Ann. '' Papa will never allow you 
 to go out to India." 
 
 '' I think he will," rejoined Charlie, sig- 
 nificantly ; ''for I have not told you all. I 
 owe four hundred pounds, Annie, and I must 
 tell the guv'nor of it to-night, for the money 
 has to be paid in twenty-four hours. The 
 fact is, I've been into a Stock Exchange 
 speculation. I applied for a hundred ten- 
 pound shares in a Bohemian mine that were 
 already quoted at a premium and were rising 
 fast. I was safe to win a hundred or two 
 on the settlement ; but the colliers suddenly 
 w^ent on strike, and the shares have fallen 
 four pounds, so I've got four hundred to 
 pay up."
 
 8 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 *' I do not understand a single word of all 
 this, dear," murmured Ann, gazing at him 
 helplessly; then, in the same breath, ''I'm 
 sure it is JMr. Travers who has led you into 
 all this." 
 
 "You are always going on at Travers," 
 ejaculated Charlie, rising from table. "He 
 is as hard hit as I am ; for how was he 
 to guess that those Bohemian miners were 
 going to strike ? These are the hazards of 
 speculation ; but how is a man to make 
 money fast, if not by speculating ? You 
 can't expect me to live on my salary of a 
 hundred a year and on the pound a week 
 extra which father doles out to me." 
 
 " But, Charlie, you have a comfortable 
 home, and all you get is pocket-money." 
 
 " There's not much left in my pockets 
 when clothes and cabs have been paid for ; 
 but that's not the question. Unless I have 
 four hundred pounds by to-morrow, I'm done 
 for ; I shall have to cut and run." 
 
 " Don't talk like that, dear. Papa will, of 
 course, pay the money if he has it ; but I am 
 wondering how he will bear the disgrace." 
 
 *' Come, "disgrace is a strong word," de-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 murred Charlie. " You wouldn't have called 
 it a disgrace, if I had succeeded in my 
 speculation. I ought certainly not to have 
 applied for the shares without having cash in 
 hand ; but if all business had to be done in 
 ready money, two-thirds of the offices in the 
 city would be closed." 
 
 Ann Harrowell shook her head. She 
 mio^ht not understand much about the Stock 
 Exchange, but she could see through a 
 sophistry. In the placid sequence of her 
 life nothing so terrible as this had happened 
 since her mother's death — and this event she 
 had been too young to feel severely at the 
 time. Day after day and year after year 
 had her existence flowed on straight, narrow, 
 and placid as a canal. She had had to pay 
 her brother out of a few school-boy scrapes, 
 but she had too much good sense to think 
 seriously of them ; and since Charlie had 
 held a situation in the city, he had given 
 her no cause for anxiety. If he seemed to 
 be a little extravagant in his clothes and 
 button-hole flowers, she had always imagined 
 that he could pay amply for his finery out of 
 his hundred and fifty pounds a year, which,
 
 lO THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 to her frugal mind, seemed a great deal of 
 pocket-money for a young man. Therefore 
 the revelation of Charlie's indebtedness struck 
 her deep, and withal there came to her a 
 presentiment that this shocking affair was 
 going to break up the family home. 
 
 How would her father bear it ? Reflectinor 
 on the task that was to devolve upon her 
 that evening of communicating the news to 
 Mr. Thomas Harrowell — for Charlie now 
 told her that he counted on her assistance in 
 this respect — her heart sank. She had never 
 had to speak of unpleasant things to her 
 father, and she knew that debt was of all 
 things to him the most abominable. Then, 
 was it sure that Mr. Harrowell could dispose 
 at a day's notice of four hundred pounds ? 
 The household at Highbury Place lived well, 
 but the city merchant — he was in the tea 
 trade — was parsimonious to a shilling, and 
 had never told his daughter what he was 
 worth. He was not the man to take a cab 
 when an omnibus w^as available, nor to buy 
 himself a new hat until the old one had 
 served its full twelvemonth. Quarterly he 
 handed hi^ daughter a cheque for household
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I I 
 
 expenses ; but, at the same time, he audited 
 her accounts for the previous quarter, always 
 kindly, but with the precision of a veteran 
 business man. 
 
 Ann turned these things over in her mind, 
 and, as she did so, thought of one far away 
 from England — the only man who could 
 have given her advice in this dilemma. By 
 a coincidence, w^hich seemed like a readinof of 
 her thoughts, her brother drew a newspaper 
 from his pocket at this moment, and brought 
 a sudden colour to her face by saying — 
 
 " By-the-by, Annie, I have brought you 
 a second edition of the Morning Express, in 
 which there is another long letter of his from 
 Egypt. He has been doing splendid work 
 again ; there is not another war correspondent 
 can touch him." 
 
 *' Oh, Charlie, our trouble is too serious to 
 speak of such things," faltered Ann, but with 
 a heightened colour and a grateful look at 
 her brother, for he alone knew the secret of 
 her love — requited love — for one of the most 
 brilliant newspaper writers of the day. 
 
 "Well, Annie, you'll do your best, won't 
 you ? " Charlie said, with an appealing look.
 
 I 2 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " Yes, dear, yes ; but I must go upstairs 
 and think it all over." Saying which, Ann 
 took up the newspaper to carry away with her. 
 
 ** And, I say, — not a word of this to Lucy," 
 added Charlie. " Where is she ? " 
 
 *' At the church, helping to decorate for a 
 flower service." 
 
 " No, here she is, and without the curate, 
 for a wonder," exclaimed Charlie Harrowell, 
 with a not very good-natured laugh. And the 
 next moment his younger sister Lucy entered 
 the room. 
 
 She was even prettier than her elder sister, 
 but, although four years younger than Ann, 
 she looked colder, more prim, and more 
 demure. She was dressed in black, and 
 wore a somewhat conventual-looking bonnet 
 and a long mantle ; she also had a large 
 black prayer-book and a long pair of scissors, 
 with which she had been cutting flowers for 
 pulpit decorations. Too much engrossed in 
 ecclesiastical affairs to notice that her brother 
 was at home at an unusual time, she evinced 
 no astonishment at his presence, but an- 
 nounced calmly that Mr. Ramshart, the 
 curate, wa§ coming to dinner.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " Papa said I might invite him, so I have 
 asked him for this evening," she said. " He 
 wants a subscription for the new lectern." 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " ejaculated Charlie. 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked Lucy, turning 
 sharply round. 
 
 " Nothing," answered Charlie, meekly ; for 
 he was a little afraid of his younger sister. 
 But when Lucy had left the room, he re- 
 marked despairingly to Ann, '' If there is a 
 man to exasperate the guv'nor it is Ramshart. 
 This is bad luck for me." 
 
 " I am half afraid," whispered Ann, " that 
 Mr. Ramshart is going to propose for Lucy." 
 
 m^
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Harrowell was returning 
 home from Mincing Lane that evening, quite 
 as much troubled in mind as his son. It 
 was his custom to take an omnibus at the 
 Bank ; but instead of doing so he wandered 
 to Moorgate Street, and there, having glanced 
 at his watch, prepared for a walk up the 
 City Road to the x-Vngel at Islington. He 
 was a portly man, with a buff waistcoat and 
 o-rey cotton gloves, who wore his hat at the 
 back of his head, and carried his umbrella — 
 a stout friend of ten years' standing, biennially 
 resilked — over his shoulder. And as Mr. 
 Harrowell walked along he stroked his white 
 whiskers and shaven chin, musing whether 
 he ought not this very day to tell his family 
 what was the exact state of his fortune. 
 
 Many a man has found this City Road a
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 5 
 
 via dolorosa when he trod It with anxieties 
 of this kind, wondering whether he should 
 make an avowal to his dear ones at home of 
 unlucky speculations and Impending ruin. 
 But Mr. Harrowell was hesitating as to 
 whether he should confess how very rich he 
 was. He had been thinking over the matter 
 for some time ; but a decision had been 
 almost forced upon him this day by a sudden 
 invitation to stand for the vacant alderman- 
 ship In his city ward. He had begged 
 twenty-four hours for reflection, but kept 
 saying to himself — 
 
 " If I am to become Lord Mayor of 
 London, everybody will learn that I am rich, 
 and my children ought to be the first to 
 know It." 
 
 Thomas Harrowell was a Londoner, 
 actually born within the city. He had been 
 a Bluecoat boy, and had begun life as a clerk 
 in the office of a tea-merchant, whose partner 
 and son-in-law he became, at one and the 
 same time, by marrying his only child. His 
 marriage was for love, not money, as Mr. 
 Gleene's firm was then among the new ones 
 of Mincing Lane ; and yet, from a worldly
 
 1 6 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 point of view, Thomas Harrowell was con- 
 sidered to have done well for himself, w^hen, 
 at thirty years of age, he settled in his home 
 at Highbury Place with an income of about 
 eight hundred pounds a year. 
 
 At forty Thomas Harrowell was a widower. 
 He had loved his sweet young wife with a 
 heartful tenderness, and his mourning for 
 her was not put off with his hatband. All 
 the romance of his life, all its happiness, 
 all its lessons in well-doing, charity of mind 
 and true religiousness, had been compassed 
 within those ten years Vv'hen he had enjoyed 
 the companionship of a faithfully loving, ever 
 trustful and trusted guide. His memory 
 turned to this period day by day and hour 
 by hour, for exhortation and comfort, — so 
 much so, indeed, that he had a habit of com- 
 muning with himself, and asking on occasions 
 what his Emmie would say to this and to 
 that. He had Q^rown rich without noticins: it, 
 for he would not leave his house, nor suffer 
 anything in it to be changed. The furniture 
 was the same as when his Emmie lived 
 there ; and the maidservants whom she had 
 engaged were still in his service, though he
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 7 
 
 had been a widower for two and twenty 
 years. Every Sunday morning he went to 
 the parish church of St. Mary's, IsHngton, to 
 worship in the pew where his wife had sat 
 with him ; and daily, morning and evening, 
 he read prayers to his household out of a 
 book that had been hers. Thomas Harro- 
 well's city friends and partners — for the firm 
 of Gleene, Harrowell, and Sheeves was now 
 one of the first in Mincing Lane — often won- 
 dered that he should live at Highbury in 
 a style so much below his means ; but none 
 suspected the cause. Excepting his children 
 and servants, in whom he had by his example 
 inculcated veneration for the memory of their 
 mother and mistress, not a soul guessed that 
 Thomas Harrowell had no other object .in 
 life but to abide in his old home, and to keep 
 his son and daughters contented with it. 
 
 Mr. Harrowell had not gone far up the 
 City Road when a hand was waved to him 
 out of a hansom, and, as the horse drew up, 
 a dapper little man, with a grey beard and 
 a white hat, jumped out, opening a yellow 
 alpacca sunshade the moment he stood on 
 the pavement. This was Mr. Asher Blew, 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 i8 
 
 head of the great indigo firm in which Charlie 
 Harrowell was employed. 
 
 '* Good day, Harrowell. I was just driving 
 out to see you," began Mr. Blew. " What 
 an atrocious city this is for heat ! I declare 
 it's only in India they understand how to 
 keep you cool. I was going to say that I 
 have had words with your boy this morning, 
 and he went off in a huff." 
 
 *' He has not been misbehaving ?" 
 
 " Not exactly that, but he's unpunctual 
 and careless," said Mr. Blew, wiping his 
 sunburnt face with a red silk handkerchief. 
 *' I threatened to pack him off to Calcutta, 
 but that was only to frighten him — though, 
 egad ! I should have jumped at such a 
 chance if I had been a youngster. My 
 jolliest days have been in India, and if it 
 weren't for my liver " 
 
 '' Hasn't Charlie taken well to your 
 business ? " asked Mr. Harrowell, with a 
 composure which astonished Mr. Blew, who 
 had expected that the merchant would be 
 very indignant at his son's conduct. 
 
 " He has no business aptitudes at all, so 
 far as I cai^ see."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 9 
 
 " Are you serious ? " 
 
 " Well, try him in your own office. I 
 know you told me that you thought the boy 
 ought to get his training in another house ; 
 but Charlie wasn't made for desk work. 
 Why didn't you get him a commission in the 
 army, or send him to the university ? To 
 tell you the truth, I don't believe any good 
 comes of grinding down the nose of a young 
 fellow who is heir to ten thousand a year." 
 
 " You talk as if you were my banker, 
 Blew," answered Mr. Harrowell, rather 
 stiffly. 
 
 *' I wish I were," acknowledo^ed Mr. Blew. 
 " You pass for being a very rich man, 
 Harrowell, and I don't suppose you are 
 going to leave all your money to hospitals. 
 However that may be, I think you ought 
 to impress upon Charlie that business is 
 business." 
 
 " Wait a moment," interposed Mr. Har- 
 rowell, as his friend was about to shake 
 hands. '* What do you think Charlie's apti- 
 tudes are ? " 
 
 " He can draw women's heads on his 
 blotting-pad," replied the indigo merchant
 
 20 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 gravely. " He sings comic songs in office 
 hours. I've heard he can do strange con- 
 juring tricks with cards and half-crowns, and 
 everybody likes him. There's stuff for 
 anything but business in a young fellow so 
 gifted." 
 
 The two parted, and Mr. Harrowell con- 
 tinued his walk, with a heightened colour and 
 q^iickened stride. He was mystified, but not 
 angry against his son ; he upbraided himself 
 for having misjudged the boy and for not 
 having acted fairly towards him. Why had 
 he not let Charlie share the benefits of his 
 wealth ? Why had the lad been sent to a 
 commercial school instead of getting the best 
 education that money could buy, and, after 
 that, a start in life according to his tastes } 
 Would Charlie's mother have advised that 
 he should be treated thus, while money was 
 being stacked up in useless hoards by his 
 father ? 
 
 '' But I didn't really feel that I was 
 becoming so rich," muttered Mr. Harrowell, 
 as though replying to a small voice within 
 him. " Capital embarked can't be counted 
 as profit in hand. I did for the best."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2 I 
 
 However, his mind was already made up, 
 and, during his drive from the Angel to 
 Highbury in a 'bus, he was only cogitating 
 as to how he should inform his son and 
 daughters that his position and theirs was 
 better than they had fancied. When he 
 reached his door he had got so far as to 
 determine that his daughter Ann should be 
 the first to hear his secret. He would feel 
 his way to a fully confidential explanation 
 with her after dinner. 
 
 The presence of Mr. Ramshart did not 
 prove so exasperating as Charlie Harrowell 
 had anticipated. It was rather welcome to 
 the merchant, as it helped him to tide over 
 the dinner, though it must be owned that 
 he did not like this young curate. He had 
 an old-fashioned idea that clergymen ought 
 only to be seen in their churches, or in formal 
 visits once or twice in the year. The new 
 school of clergy, active, exuberant, and 
 money-collecting, were to him as a race of 
 duns, and he regarded Mr. Ramshart as 
 one of the most irrepressible members of 
 this fraternity. Striding through the streets 
 with his coat-tails flying and his umbrella
 
 22 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 swinging, Mr. Ramshart would call out to 
 him, " Aha ! Mr. Harrowell, I've got you 
 down for a subscription to our school treat ; " 
 or, '' Mr. Harrowell, I know you are burning 
 to give something to our poor old women's 
 Michaelmas dinner." Mr. Harrowell burned 
 to do nothing of the kind, and he would send 
 the curate empty away, with the same gruff 
 answers as he vouchsafed to beggars. 
 
 If he had only known what it cost the 
 Reverend Tobias Ramshart to endure these 
 rebuffs ! The poor man, as any physiogno- 
 mist could have told by his readily blushing 
 face and shy smile, was as sensitive as a girl. 
 He loathed to ask, and it embarrassed him 
 as much to receive as to be denied ; but he 
 was for ever wrestling with the demon of 
 Timidity, and, to manifest his trium.phs over 
 this carnal foe, he said and did things which 
 made him pass for a curate brimming with 
 audacity and devoid of tact. 
 
 *' And now, sir," he said breezily, as the 
 fish was removed and Mr. Harrowell began 
 to carve the joint, *' the next thing I shall 
 be asking of you will be something towards 
 our new lectern."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " Has the old one broken down, then ? " 
 
 " We have not had one as yet, papa," 
 interposed Lucy Harrowell. '' The Lessons 
 have always been read from the desk." 
 
 "And the right place, too," grumbled Mr. 
 Harrowell. It was a sore point with him 
 that Lucy did not attend the parish church, 
 but went to All Saints'. '' Lectern indeed ! 
 Last year it was a brass altar-rail, and the 
 year before a stone pulpit ; next year it will 
 be a stained-glass window." 
 
 '' We mean to have a stained-glass 
 window," said Lucy, decisively. 
 
 *' Not a shilling of mine goes towards it, 
 though. If you'd look at the poor rates, 
 church rates, and charity subscriptions I 
 pay, you'd think I did enough. I do." 
 
 Mr. Ramshart, reddening, bent his nose 
 over his mutton; and Charlie Harrowell 
 thought this a very unpromising prelude to 
 the evening's business. Still less hopefully 
 did he augur of his coming conversation with 
 his father when the latter, instead of sitting 
 for the customary half-hour over his wine — 
 half-hour always followed by a nap, — took up 
 a decanter of port and a glass, and said that
 
 24 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 he wished to speak alone with Ann in his 
 study. 
 
 This study overlooked a garden, which 
 was a pretty large one, as London gardens 
 go ; but at the time when Mr. Harrowell 
 had taken his house, Highbury was on the 
 outskirts of town. In those days there was 
 no North London Railway or tram-cars ; 
 Highgate, Hornsey, and Stoke Newington 
 were villages ; the Green Lanes were still 
 green, and the view from Highbury Vale 
 stretched to Hampstead and Barnet. 
 
 There was but one picture in the study, 
 painted by a young artist who had since 
 become an Academician of fame. It was a 
 life-size portrait of Mrs. Harrowell, in a 
 white muslin dress, and carrying a basket of 
 roses. She seemed to have just come out 
 of the garden, and was passing through a 
 curtained doorway, one corner of which she 
 was lifting with her right hand. The picture 
 was a trofupe-Loeily standing on the floor and 
 flat to the wall — so real, too, that strangers 
 entering the room often started, thinking it 
 was a living lady who was coming towards 
 them. Mr. ^Harrowell never walked past
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 
 
 the portrait without a kind glance at it, and 
 his writing-table was so placed that he 
 always had a full view of the picture. 
 
 " Sit down, Annie," he said, drawing his 
 chair nearer to the open door-window, 
 throuofh which came a summer evening scent 
 of roses and mignonette. '' I met Mr. Blew 
 to-day, and he told me what had happened 
 with Charlie." 
 
 " You know everything, then, papa ! " ex- 
 claimed Ann, unspeakably relieved. *' But 
 you won't blame Charlie? He's always been 
 so steady till now." 
 
 " I don't blame him, my dear ; I'm only 
 sorry that we did not understand each other 
 better. But now, as you're a sensible girl 
 — just like your poor mother, — I want to 
 tell you something." And without further 
 preface he launched upon his pecuniary 
 affairs. 
 
 He told how his wealth had gathered. 
 He had taken partners and extended his 
 business. He had bought house property 
 in the Chinese Treaty Ports which had 
 quintupled in value. He had freighted fleets 
 of tea-ships year after year, and had lost
 
 2 6 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 none. Latterly he had been investing super- 
 fluous capital in Ceylon plantations, Cuban 
 coffee and tobacco — even in foreign loans 
 and railways ; and all his speculations had 
 been lucrative. " I suppose I've been suc- 
 cessful because I was never in a hurry to 
 sell," he said in conclusion ; " but if I were 
 to realize to-morrow and retire from the firm, 
 I dare say I should be worth a million of 
 money." 
 
 A private soldier who had inherited a 
 large fortune was asked by a solicitor whether 
 he would like an advance of funds, pending 
 the completion of formalities, and he answered 
 that he should feel obliged by five shillings 
 to eet on with. Ann Harrowell could no 
 more perceive the possibilities of immense 
 w^ealth than this man ; she only saw that her 
 father could afford to extricate Charlie from 
 his difficulties. 
 
 " Then it won't be any trouble to you to 
 pay Charlie's losses, papa," she said plead- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Losses ! What has Charlie been los- 
 mg? 
 
 '' Why, "I was thinking you had heard it
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2/ 
 
 all." And it was now her turn to explain 
 tremulously to her father how Charlie had 
 run four hundred pounds into debt. 
 
 Mr. Harrowell frowned. Debt, from the 
 reckless disposition it indicated, was bad 
 enough, but it twinged the millionnaire to 
 think that his son had been driven to a petty 
 jobbing speculation in order to win a paltry 
 hundred pounds or so. 
 
 *' Do you think Charlie takes any interest 
 in mining speculations ? " he inquired, after 
 a moment. 
 
 ** I don't know, papa. I have never heard 
 him say so." 
 
 " I thought, perhaps, his talents might be 
 in that direction," remarked ]Mr. Harrowell. 
 ** Let me see what these mining shares are 
 worth." He took up a newspaper and 
 scanned the share list. " The last dividend 
 was good. Mines in Bohemia are not like 
 those in South American Republics. We 
 must get hold of the scrip of these shares, 
 and hold it till there's a rise. It strikes me 
 this is only a temporary depression, and the 
 shares, if there's anything in them at all, 
 ought to be worth considerably more than
 
 28 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 their present quotations. It may turn out 
 that Charlie will lose nothing." 
 
 " But he said that he must pay four 
 hundred pounds to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, of course he must pay his differ- 
 ence, unless he can get a prolongation. I'll 
 see to that." 
 
 '' And you won't be angry with Charlie, 
 papa dear ? " entreated Ann, to whom all this 
 was Greek. 
 
 '* No, but he must have a lecture. Send 
 him in to me."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The next day towards noon Charlie Harro- 
 well walked into the Fleet Street Office of 
 the Cheapside Mail, better known in the city 
 as the Black Mail, and asked a printer's 
 devil, who sat on a high stool with his legs 
 tucked up, whether Mr. Travers was In. 
 
 '' Editor's kerrectin' proofs, sir," said the 
 boy, pointing to a door with ground-glass 
 panes. 
 
 With a light rap of his knuckles on the 
 glass, Charlie entered the sanctum, and a 
 pair of keen eyes glanced up at him through 
 2. pince-nez, across a table littered with papers. 
 
 "Well, you're a cool hand, Charlie. Do 
 you call this ten o'clock ? " 
 
 " I couldn't get here before," answered 
 young Harrowell ; "but I've brought the 
 money."
 
 30 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " Oh, you have," replied the other, molHfied. 
 " After all, there was no great hurry." 
 
 " I wish to goodness you had told me 
 yesterday that there was no great hurry," 
 rejoined Harrowell, rather excitedly ; '' you 
 would have saved me from a nice mess." 
 
 *' With your father, eh ? " laughed the 
 editor. *' Never mind. We will put ce cher 
 papa into good humour again one of these 
 days. Our next speculation won't turn out 
 so badly as this one." 
 
 " Never do I speculate again," replied 
 Charlie, bringing down the point of his stick 
 determinedly on the floor. ''And, Travers, 
 will you, please, let me have those hundred 
 shares which you bought for me — at eleven 
 pounds each, wasn't it '^ Here's a crossed 
 cheque with a blank for the name of your 
 broker." 
 
 There was that in Charlie's tone that made 
 Mr. Travers look up again from his proof; 
 and, after a second glance, he laid his pen 
 aside, and began watching his friend very 
 intently. An undeniably clever face had 
 Chauncey Travers, and he had a most 
 gendemanlike manner and a pleasant voice
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 3 1 
 
 too. But a quicker judge of character than 
 Harrowell was, would have been suspicious 
 at seeing such a man in such a place. In a 
 Government office, in a diplomatic chancery, 
 or in the manager's parlour of a bank, Travers 
 would have appeared to be in his element ; 
 but what train of hazards had brought a man 
 of such evidently superior intelligence and of 
 so elegant an exterior into the squalid room 
 where he was sitting ? 
 
 The weekly financial newspaper, of which 
 Travers was editor, sole writer and publisher, 
 all in one, had an office which consisted only 
 of two rooms — the outer den where the 
 printer's devil was waiting, and this editorial 
 chamber with two windows overlooking 
 Fleet Street. The grate was red with rust, 
 and the fender strewn with torn envelopes. 
 Heaps of dusty papers lay in corners, the 
 floor was uncarpeted, splashed with ink, and 
 dirty with the mud of unwiped boots. A 
 Post Office Almanack was wafered to the 
 wall ; and on the mantel-piece, between two 
 verdigrised brass candlesticks, and amid an 
 array of empty ink-bottles, cigar-boxes and 
 business cards, stood a wretched eight-day
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 clock that was never wound up. The only 
 new things in the room were a row of re- 
 ference books, on a shelf surmounting the 
 editor's table ; that is, a Post Office Direc- 
 tory, Peerage, Clergy and Army lists, etc., 
 all for the current year, and resplendent in 
 their cloth bindings. 
 
 Chauncey Travers, who was slight and of 
 middle height, was about thirty-five, but 
 sometimes looked much older. His high 
 arched head was perfectly bald, excepting for 
 a fringe of black hair which ended in two 
 carefully brushed locks above his ears. He 
 had a thick black moustache, good teeth, 
 a well cut nose and chin and a taking smile, 
 when he did smile. But the most con- 
 spicuous points in him were his hands and 
 feet — the former delicately white and well 
 set off by a long length of starched wrist- 
 bands, the latter small as a woman's and 
 daintily cased in blue-striped silk socks and 
 patent leather shoes. 
 
 Travers's linen, necktie, and clothes, his 
 signet ring and watch-chain, were all of the 
 best quality and of faultless taste. He was 
 one of those enigmatical persons who hav(
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2)3 
 
 manifestly received an excellent education 
 somewhere, but never speak of their school- 
 days, and move in no distinct social circle. 
 He belonged to no old established club, and 
 had no friends of long standing, though 
 he claimed intimate acquaintanceship with 
 various celebrities who were dead. He had 
 been to America, knew the principal cities 
 of the Continent, spoke French and German, 
 played the piano, sang a little, and had some- 
 thing to say on any subject of conversation 
 that was started. Foreign politics and sport, 
 music and cookery were discussed by him 
 with the cheerful fluency of connoisseurship, 
 and he always left an impression that what 
 he had said was worth hearing. Over 
 women and very young men he exercised a 
 decided fascination, and until this morning 
 he had every reason to believe that he held 
 unbounded influence over Charlie Harrowell, 
 of whom he had seen a great deal of late. 
 
 Yet, as he sat back in arm-chair with his 
 hands joined at the finger-tips, he scrutinized 
 his friend as though to make out what 
 sudden change had come over him since 
 the day before. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 **You can have the scrip to-morrow," he 
 said at length. '' I suppose your father has 
 been telling you that you ought not to sell 
 at the present quotations ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's it," answered Charlie. '' And, 
 I say, the guv'nor told me to ask you some 
 questions. I've written them down. I was 
 to ask you the name of your broker, and 
 whether I couldn't get a ' prolongation ' if I 
 paid a sufficient cover." 
 
 " Then you told your father that you had 
 been dealing through me ? " 
 
 "Yes, I told him everything," replied 
 Harrowell, colouring. "He put me upon 
 my honour." 
 
 *' Fve no objection, I'm sure," said Travers, 
 quietly, — though clearly he did object. '' I 
 shouldn't think your father had ever heard 
 my name before ? " 
 
 "Oh, but he had though," blurted out 
 Charlie, and then stopped short, embarrassed. 
 
 " Speak out, man ; don't be afraid to say 
 it, if the respected author of your being has 
 been abusing me." 
 
 "Well, I think you ought to know," ex- 
 claimed Charlie, starting from a rickety
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Windsor chair. " I hate a fellow to be 
 blackguarded behind his back, and I took 
 your defence ; but my guv'nor said your 
 newspaper was * a scoundrelly sheet,' — those 
 were his very words, — which lived by levying 
 black-mail on city companies." 
 
 " My dear fellow, I'm not in the least 
 surprised at what you say," replied Travers, 
 with composure. '* Mr. Harrowell is an old- 
 fashioned business man — one of the city's 
 preux chevaliers^ for whom two and two make 
 four, never three or five. But he knows 
 nothing about these new fangled Joint Stock 
 Companies which are started to prey upon 
 the public. Now, I've made it my business 
 to protect the public, and of course the 
 scamps whom I have prevented from 
 marauding go about abusing me. Cast your 
 eye round this room. Does it look like the 
 retreat of a man who makes a good income 
 of black-mailing ? " 
 
 " No, it certainly does not," confessed 
 Charlie, with an attempt to balance himself 
 on his lame chair. '' Indeed, Travers, I've 
 often wondered that a man of your refined 
 tastes "
 
 36 THE alderman's CHILDREN, 
 
 ** You're not the first who has said that," 
 ejaculated the editor, with a resigned sigh. 
 " My dear old friend Lord Goldborough — he 
 Avas once Chancellor of Exchequer, you 
 know — used to say to me, 'My dear 
 Travers, if you would give up trying to set 
 the world right, and attend to the filling of 
 your own purse, you'd be a wiser and happier 
 man/ But que voulez-vous, inon cher, I have 
 set a duty before me, and I try to perform 
 it." 
 
 Chauncey Travers could always abash 
 Charlie by trumping up the name of a lord, 
 but now Charlie had a sudden longing to 
 put himself level with the friend who had 
 hitherto patronized him. Yielding to an 
 impulse of vanity, he retorted — 
 
 " You are mistaken in your estimate of my 
 father if you imagine that he is old-fashioned 
 in the caring only for small profits. My 
 guv'nor is worth a million of money." 
 
 '' A nice fortune," remarked Travers, coolly. 
 ** Did he tell you this himself ? " 
 
 "He did — last night; and he said that I 
 was now to choose a career for myself. I am 
 not going back to Blew's any more."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. ^J 
 
 ** What shall you do ? — go to the Bar, 
 travel, take to politics ? " 
 
 " That will require consideration," drawled 
 Charlie Harrowell, drumming nonchalantly 
 with his stick on the point of his boot. 
 '* You see, the guv'nor's communication fell 
 upon me rather like a douche after the 
 hot room of a Turkish bath. I had been 
 perspiring with anxiety, whilst he jawed 
 me about this debt of four hundred, and, 
 then, lo ! came this refresher ! Yesterday 
 I thought I should have to emigrate to 
 India : to-day I feel like going to see Paris 
 and Rome. The guv'nor told me that, if 
 I wished to travel, I could start when I 
 pleased." 
 
 Some such flashes as shoot through the 
 eyes of the hawk when he sights the pigeon 
 fluttering out of the dovecot, illumined 
 Chauncey Travers's eyes once or twice while 
 Charlie was speaking ; but it was in his 
 nicest tone, slightly tinged with a new 
 deference, that he began paying his whilom 
 protdgd some compliments. 
 
 '' I'm sure you'll succeed in anything, 
 Harrowell. I've always thought you were
 
 o 
 
 8 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 thrown away In a trumpery clerkship. The 
 only pity is that your father could not start 
 you a few years ago, when you might have 
 gone to Oxford or into the army, and have 
 chosen a crack regiment.'' 
 
 '' That's the mischief of it," agreed Charlie, 
 in the tone of one ill-used. " I don't know 
 what I'm fit for now, but one thing at least 
 is certain — that the dot-and-carry-one busi- 
 ness doesn't suit my complexion. I've had 
 enough of the city. Good-bye to the nine 
 o'clock ' bus to the Bank." 
 
 '*And to the shilling stand-up lunch in 
 the refreshment bars." laughed Travers. 
 
 " Yes," cried Charlie in the same vein. 
 " Meat and vegetables ninepence, glass of 
 bitter twopence, bread a penny. What 
 stuff one used to eat " 
 
 He felt he ought to be going, yet he 
 lingered. His father had cautioned him 
 aofainst Mr. Travers, and there was a vagfue 
 feeling in his own mind that he and this 
 gentleman would eventually have to part 
 company. But for the present he could 
 think of nobody in his whole circle of 
 acquaintances with whom it would be so
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 gratifying to speak at leisure about his 
 altered circumstances as with Travers. His 
 fellow-clerks might envy his good luck, or 
 wish him joy of it, according to their dis- 
 positions ; but they could give him no hints 
 as to how the sweets of a large fortune 
 were to be sucked forth ; whereas Travers 
 was a connoisseur in such knowledge. He 
 knew what *' life " was — could point the 
 way to tantalizing delights, and preach an 
 epicurean philosophy. 
 
 Moreover, another reason kept Charlie 
 dallying ; for Travers had a very pretty 
 sister — the quite young widow of a foreign 
 baron — whom he had twice met at dinner 
 with her brother in West End restaurants. 
 Timid as young men are in the society of 
 lovely women, Charlie had always borne 
 himself awkwardly in the presence of 
 Baroness de la Neva — for so was this lady 
 named, — but he was now persuaded that 
 he could meet her with much more assurance, 
 and he was tempted to see what effect his 
 rise in the world might produce upon her. 
 The bright eyes of the Baroness were the 
 only lights at which for the present this
 
 40 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 young moth could singe his wings, and 
 moth-Hke he flew at them. 
 
 " I hope — a — your sister, the Baroness, is 
 quite well ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 ** Yes, thanks ; though I believe she will 
 be going to Hombourg shortly, for she is 
 rather delicate." 
 
 " I say, do you remember my promising 
 that if our speculation succeeded I would 
 take you and her to dine at Blanchard's 
 and then to the opera ? " continued Charlie, 
 shyly. 
 
 " Yes ; but our speculation failed." 
 
 " Well, but that doesn't matter now. 
 Couldn't we arrange a party for to-morrow ? 
 The guv'nor has given me a little money." 
 The fact is, he had a ten-pound note which 
 was burning a hole in his pocket. 
 
 " I'll ask my sister," said Travers, amused. 
 ''But has your father given you car^e blanche 
 about dining out ? " 
 
 ''To-morrow's Thursday, you know," 
 answered Charlie, with one of his youthful 
 blushes, " and they never expect me home 
 on Thursdays, because that's my night for 
 glee practice at our Choral Club."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDRExV. 4 1 
 
 " Oh yes, I remember. Well, we'll practise 
 a glee at Blanchard's to-morrow. What 
 hour shall we say ? — seven ? " 
 
 At this moment there was a knock at 
 the door, and an elderly, shabby little clerk, 
 with gooseberry eyes and a shock of grey 
 hair, popped in his head, and said — 
 
 '* I'm back from dinner, sir ; and the boy 
 says he must have the proofs, or the printer 
 will make a trouble." 
 
 ''In five minutes, Jiffkins," answered the 
 editor. Then, in an off-hand way, he recurred 
 to the Bohemian mining shares : '' What 
 is it you want, Charlie, — the scrip, or a 
 prolongation ? " 
 
 " Doesn't it come practically to the same 
 thing?" 
 
 '' No ; in theory it does, practically it 
 doesn't. The operation which we undertook 
 was to buy a hundred shares at the end of 
 the month for the price at which they were 
 selling on the first of the month. The scrip 
 isn't bought yet, and it's worth four pounds 
 per share less than we have got to pay 
 for it." 
 
 " But we can ' hold,' " observed Charlie,
 
 42 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 using a term of which he but imperfectly 
 understood the meaning. 
 
 ** Yes, we can 'hold' by paying the broker 
 his cover and risking a further fall. I mean 
 to sell out my two hundred ; for I bought 
 two hundred, you know." 
 
 " Hang it ! I'd rather be rid of the whole 
 business at once," exclaimed Charlie, after 
 an instant's reflection. 
 
 '* I think you are wise ; for when mines 
 begin to fall, the deuce only knows when 
 they recover," responded Travers. " And 
 now as to my broker. As the operation was 
 in my name, his namie is of no consequence 
 to your father. You had better make the 
 cheque payable to me." 
 
 *' The amount is left blank, as well as 
 the name," said Charlie, drawing the 
 cheque from his pocket. "What am I to 
 write ? " 
 
 " If you want the scrip, eleven hundred ; if 
 you merely pay your difference, and let the 
 thing slide, four hundred." 
 
 '* Let it slide," exclaimed Charlie, im- 
 patiently. But he changed his mind in the 
 same moment : ''After all, no. The guv'nor
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 43 
 
 was for getting the shares, and it's only right 
 to follow his advice." 
 
 Saying which, Charlie filled up the cheque 
 for eleven hundred pounds, payable to the 
 order of Chauncey Travers, Esq.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 So soon as Charlie was gone, the clerk Jiff- 
 kins glided into the room, and whispered, 
 " I didn't like to mention it while the gentle- 
 man was here, sir, but the printer says he 
 won't go to press with the paper until he 
 gets his bill paid ; it's for six weeks — seventy- 
 eight pounds nine." 
 
 " He shall be paid, Jiffkins," answered the 
 editor, good-naturedly. " Here, take this 
 cheque, and pay it into my bank ; then cash 
 this other cheque for two hundred." Travers 
 was putting his signature to a slip of mauve 
 paper as he spoke, and he passed both 
 cheques into the inky fingers of Jiffkins, who 
 forthwith retreated and executed a double- 
 shuffle in the presence of the boy on the 
 stool. 
 
 ** We're all getting on in the world, Billy
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 45 
 
 Bounce ; sovereigns coming in by the shovel- 
 ful. Now, if you're a good boy, and stand 
 on your head when I come back, blessed if I 
 don't give you a threepenny-bit to buy a big 
 currant-and-raspberry tart with." 
 
 " Get along yer' ! " responded the sceptical 
 Bill, who had just finished a frugal mid- 
 day meal, consisting of a pork pie and an 
 apple. 
 
 " I will, though ; see If I don't." And 
 JIffkins, exchanging his office-coat, cracked 
 under the arms, and the lappets whereof he 
 used as pen-wipers, for one of slightly better 
 appearance, clapped on a hat mottled with 
 grease-spots, and descended the wooden stair- 
 case as thouofh he were tobogfannlne. 
 
 He was back in less than half an hour 
 with a bundle of five-pound notes and twenty 
 sovereigns, which he counted out on the 
 editor's table. Travers withdrew eighty-two 
 pounds, saying — 
 
 ''You'll pay the printer his bill; and here 
 are three pounds for you — your wages for 
 last week and for this week up to Saturday. 
 Mind the paper is out in good time, and get 
 all your wrappers ready directed by six
 
 46 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 o'clock. See, I've marked a number of new 
 addresses for you in the Directory." 
 
 "Thank you, sir; yes, sir," said Jiffkins, 
 respectfully. ''Any pencil marks to be 
 put ? " 
 
 '' Yes, in all the copies you send out, you'll 
 mark with blue pencil the article on the 
 Anti- Neuralgic Mineral Water Company." 
 
 When little Jiffkins had tottered out em- 
 bracing the Post Office Directory. Travers 
 drew on a pair of new gloves, locked the 
 door of his editorial room, and departed into 
 Fleet Street. At Ludgate Circus he crossed 
 the road, and entered the railway station 
 dining-room, where he took a light lunch ; 
 then, with a cigar in his mouth, hied him at 
 a leisurely pace towards the office of Mr. 
 Hilary Cocking — otherwise Hilarion Kokinos 
 — a stock-jobber, who lived near Capel Court. 
 Travers met this Anglicized Greek coming 
 down the staircase. He was a cheery, fat, 
 brown-faced man, not yet middle-aged, with 
 little oily ringlets and a nose like a parrot's. 
 
 "Hope you're well, Cocking.?" said 
 Travers, with a nod. '* I want to buy a 
 hundred Bohemians, cash down."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 47 
 
 "You're late in the market, Travers," 
 answered Cocking, who spoke good English, 
 but with an accent. '' Why didn t you buy 
 yesterday, when the shares were at seven ? 
 They've been running up all the morning." 
 
 " The deuce they have ! " exclaimed 
 T ravers. 
 
 " They were nearing nine an hour ago," 
 continued Cocking. *' You did the smashing 
 down of those Bohemians very well, and I 
 felt certain you were going to make a grand 
 coup. What caused you to miss the tide like 
 this.?" 
 
 *' Just my luck ! " muttered Travers, with 
 an imprecation. 
 
 " Guineyman, the broker, seems to have 
 received a large order, and he has been 
 clearing the market," proceeded the Greek, 
 with a puzzled look of sympathy at the 
 customer who had been his associate in 
 many a pretty piece of jobbery. *' I shall 
 have to telegraph to Vienna for your shares, 
 if you really must have them." 
 
 '' Yes, I must have them even at nine, 
 even at ten," replied Travers, with an ugly 
 frown. And Hilary Cocking, who was too
 
 48 THE alderman's CHILDREX. 
 
 knowing to press his friend for the where- 
 fore of this purchase, simply booked the 
 order. 
 
 It must here be explained that Chauncey 
 Travers had never operated the transaction 
 by which Charlie Harrowell was supposed to 
 have lost four hundred pounds. He had 
 obtained early information through Cocking, 
 who had relations with Vienna, that a strike 
 of Bohemian miners was imminent, and he 
 had traded upon Charlie's absolute ignorance 
 of the Stock Exchange to recommend him 
 this Bohemian stock as a thing worth buying 
 at eleven pounds per share. Charlie had 
 often talked of his wish to earn a little 
 money by speculating, and this blind invest- 
 ment in " Bohemians " was the outcome of a 
 pleasant little dinner, at which Charlie had 
 tried to show off as a man, and at which 
 Travers had promised him an assured gain 
 of one hundred pounds in a month. 
 
 The strike occurred ; but Travers ex- 
 aggerated its importance in the Cheapside 
 Mail and in various other papers, on which 
 he had a sort of footing as a paragraphist. 
 It is easv to run down foreign stock on the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 49 
 
 English market. Rumours of water having 
 flooded the m.ine, of the pitmen having 
 maHciously destroyed the machinery, of the 
 directors having decided to stop the works 
 rather than grant the exorbitant increase of 
 wages demanded — these had been quite 
 enough to reduce the quotations from eleven 
 to seven, and to insure Travers a gain of 
 four hundred pounds, which was all he 
 wanted. When he had parted with Charlie 
 on the previous day, after telling him that 
 he must have four hundred pounds at once, 
 he had made sure that Charlie, having had 
 a stormy scene with his father, would return 
 on the morrow with the money, and that 
 their intercourse would then cease. But 
 yesterday Travers looked upon Charlie as a 
 squeezed orange, from which nothing more 
 was to be got. To-day matters were altered, 
 and he had a potent interest in standing well 
 with the son of a millionaire. 
 
 " There seems to be a blast upon every- 
 thing I do ! " soliloquized Travers, in a rage. 
 *' What a fool I was to let that young cub 
 have his option of taking the scrip ! Old 
 Harrowell knows nothing of such affairs." 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Old Harrowell knew a great deal more 
 than Travers thought, and it was, indeed, 
 owing partly to him that " Bohemians " were 
 now on the rise. Coming into the city that 
 morning, the tea-merchant had lost no time 
 in inquiring of his friend Guineyman, the 
 broker, what manner of stock it was that his 
 son had bought ; and he learned that these 
 *' Bohemians " had been unduly depreciated. 
 A telegram from the Vienna correspondent 
 of The Times announced that very day that 
 the pitmen were about to resume work, and 
 denied the story as to the mine having been 
 flooded and its machinery damaged. There- 
 upon Mr. Harrowell had given orders to buy 
 five thousand of the shares — an order which, 
 executed through the respectable firm of 
 Guineyman, of course made the shares 
 buoyant. But Mr. Harrowell divined that 
 his son had been swindled, and he was 
 minded to teach him a lesson in speculating. 
 By turning a gain out of Charlie's loss, he 
 intended to show how Stock Exchange 
 transactions can only be undertaken profitably 
 by those who act with plenty of capital, and 
 upon solid information.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Chauncey Travers turned his face west- 
 wards, and an evil face it was. The man 
 was meditatins: whether he should draw out 
 all the money which he had just paid into 
 the bank, abscond wath it, and make a new 
 start in life. He had been counting upon 
 Charlie's four hundred pounds to set him 
 floating for a while ; but this unforeseen 
 rebound of the " Bohemians " now threatened 
 to swamp his bark altogether. He could not 
 afford to be mulcted of half his ill-gotten 
 gains, for he owed a number of small bills 
 to clamorous creditors ; besides which, he 
 wanted money to carry on his newspaper, 
 the gains of which were precarious. A 
 twenty-pound note here and there as hush- 
 money, or as payment for a puffing article, 
 did not go far ; nor was much to be made 
 by inserting advertisements of a kind which 
 self-respecting journals reject. A lucratively 
 disreputable connection in journalism is as 
 difficult to establish as any other — so Travers 
 had already begun to discover. 
 
 When again would he get such a chance 
 of making off with a clear thousand pounds ? 
 The money was nothing to Mr. Harrowell, 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 but to him it might be everything. A.s he 
 moved through the crowds in Cannon Street 
 and along Ludgate Hill, his fancy roamed 
 away from the roar and smoke of London 
 to blue-skied foreign lands, where, with a 
 thousand pounds, he might live for two or 
 three years in peace, and have time to look 
 about him. Whom should he benefit by 
 resisting the temptation that assailed him ? 
 The Harro wells ? No, if Mr. Harrowell 
 and his son could have guessed what schemes 
 presented themselves to his mind as an 
 alternative to flight, they would have deemed 
 themselves cheaply rid of him for ten 
 thousand pounds — ay, and for ten times ten 
 thousand. 
 
 Nevertheless Travers could not arrive at 
 a resolution, and he ended by jumping into 
 a hansom, telling the driver to go to the 
 Kinor's Cross Suburban Station. He must 
 find his sister, the Baroness, who had struck 
 Charlie's fancy, and his plans should depend 
 on the amount of assistance which she might 
 be able or disposed to give him. '' If she 
 won't help me, well, it will be time enough 
 to start to-morrow morning," he mused.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 53 
 
 At King's Cross he took train for Finsbury 
 Park, which he reached in twenty minutes. 
 Here he entered a tram-car, which carried 
 him along the Seven Sisters' Road, past the 
 Park, where schoolboys of the lower classes 
 were slogging cricket-balls about, and so to 
 the Manor House Tavern in the Green 
 Lanes. Alighting at this point, Travers 
 walked northward up the Lane, crossed the 
 little bridge that spans the New River, and 
 penetrated into a region, which, a year or 
 two before, had been open country, but 
 which the universal deluge of brick and 
 mortar welling up from London's prosperity 
 was now fast submerging. Row upon row 
 of villas, at thirty and forty-pound rentals, 
 had sprung up, and population was pouring 
 into them as fast as the contractors' men 
 turned out. The roads were cut deep by 
 the ruts of carts carrying bricks and tiles, 
 planking and laths, iron railings and zinc 
 chimneys. In the unfinished streets with 
 pretentious names yawned trenches where 
 drain-pipes and gas-pipes were being laid ; 
 carpenter's hammers were fixing wooden 
 window frames ; joiners' planes were shaving
 
 54 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 deal-board doors ; plumbers were unrolling 
 sheets of flashing metal on the roofs, and the 
 whole place smelt of wet stucco, fresh paint, 
 and varnish. 
 
 There was a row of shops in a finished 
 block of houses, the chief coign of vantage 
 being of course occupied by a newly licensed 
 '' public " with a gay green signboard ; but 
 the other corner shop was a stationer's, with 
 a circulating library and a post-office. Out- 
 side the door stood boards with the contents- 
 bills of newspapers, and over the front was 
 painted in gold letters the name " SNOW." 
 
 '' Mrs. Snow " and " Baroness de la Neva" 
 were one and the same person — a very 
 attractive little person, with large soft blue 
 eyes, a sweet childlike face, and a baby 
 mouth. Not less winsome was she from her 
 features wearing an expression of timidity 
 somewhat sad, and from her voice being 
 musically low and gentle. 
 
 She was bending over her polished counter 
 and sorting some of the month's magazines, 
 when her brother stepped into the shop ; and 
 she looked up half-pleased, half-startled, 
 exclaiming —
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 55 
 
 " Oh, Chaunie, what a surprise ! Have 
 you come to take tea with me ? " 
 
 " I want to have a talk with you, Mabel," 
 he said, shaking hands with her ; and, as he 
 saw they were alone, he drew her towards 
 him, and kissed her. 
 
 " Take care," she said, laughing quietly. 
 " My assistant might come in, and as she 
 does not know who you are, she might 
 imagine all sorts of things." 
 
 *' You've got an assistant, then ? That's 
 something new." 
 
 *' Oh yes, dear, I was obliged to ; for you 
 can't imagine how well the business is getting 
 on. It was such a lucky inspiration of yours 
 to take this place for me, saying it was sure 
 to succeed in a new quarter. You were 
 perfectly right in that. All day I am selling 
 letter-paper, newspapers, photographs, and 
 weighing letters. Never was I so busy and 
 happy — never ! " 
 
 " You can spare me half an hour of your 
 time now, though ; for I have something of 
 importance to tell you. Where is your 
 assistant ? " 
 
 " She's at tea in the parlour, but she will 
 have finished in five minutes."
 
 56 THE alderman's children. 
 
 "Well, then, put on your hat and come 
 out for a stroll. I would rather talk in the 
 open air." 
 
 Mabel obeyed, but she darted a sidelong 
 glance at her brother, and it made the light 
 fade out of her countenance. She returned 
 in a minute with a pretty straw hat and a 
 sunshade, and was followed by a merry, red- 
 haired, freckled young lady, whom she intro- 
 duced as " Miss Rose, my assistant." Some 
 customers came in at this juncture to buy 
 newspapers, and brother and sister left the 
 shop together. 
 
 It was six o'clock ; work had just ceased 
 on the scaffoldings, and the workmen were 
 all thronging home. Bricklayers with red 
 dust on their fustian coats, plumbers with 
 black hands, carpenters in paper caps — all 
 these men hurried by, dangling their empty 
 tea-cans, lighting their short pipes, and 
 lauofhinof. It took some minutes before 
 Travers and Mabel — walking towards Wood 
 Green — could get beyond the crowd and the 
 caravan of empty carts, on to a solitary 
 stretch of rural road. As soon as they were 
 alone, Travers turned towards his sister, who
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. ^J 
 
 was walking silent and apprehensive beside 
 him, and said — 
 
 '* Mabel, I've got a chance at last of 
 makino- our fortunes." 
 
 " What again, dear ? " she exclaimed, with 
 a frightened look. 
 
 " Again ! What do you mean ? " he re- 
 peated angrily. " Are you going to taunt 
 me with not having yet become a rich man ? 
 What chances had I with a drunken father, 
 a stepmother who hated me, a half education, 
 and a bad start in life ? What chances have 
 you had with that pretty marriage of yours 
 to Albert Snow ? " 
 
 *' I know, dear," she answered humbly, 
 '* but I have been getting on so well in the 
 shop, and it has been such a rest to me after 
 the miserable past life ! I have blessed you 
 for setting me up there ; and, do you know, 
 I shall soon be earning enough to keep us 
 both in comfort ; and we might be so quiet 
 and happy ! " 
 
 '' That's all very well for you," broke out 
 Travers, *' but unless you give me your help 
 now, I must leave England." He then 
 launched into a recital of his embarrassments,
 
 58 THE alderman's children. 
 
 mixing up some truth with a great deal that 
 was false. He did not mention that he pur- 
 posed absconding with a thousand pounds 
 intrusted to him. '' My present life isn't 
 worth living," he said in conclusion. *' If 
 you don't help me I shall start for America, 
 and that's the last you will see of me." 
 
 " Oh, you won't go away and leave me, 
 Chaunie ! " she exclaimed, her hand trembling 
 upon his arm. " What should I do without 
 you ? Tell me what it is you want, and I 
 will do all I can." 
 
 *' I want you to make a good marriage," 
 he replied flatly. '' Young Charlie Harrowell 
 has invited us both to dine with him to-morrow 
 and go to the opera. He has seen you twice, 
 and is evidently struck with you. If you 
 play your cards well you can get him for a 
 husband. You will find him a good fellow, 
 easy to manage, and his father is enormously 
 rich." 
 
 " But you know it is Impossible, dear," 
 answered Mabel, in deep distress. ''Just 
 consider " 
 
 "Why is it impossible ?" retorted Travers. 
 " Because you are married to a man who
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 59 
 
 is under a life sentence of penal servitude ? 
 That is as though you were tied to a dead 
 body. Albert will never come out of Dart- 
 moor ; and what good is it to him or to you 
 that you should go four times a year to stare 
 at him through a grating while he snivels ? 
 This has been going on for three years, and 
 he is half an imbecile now. You can't care 
 any longer for him." 
 
 '' He is my husband," sobbed Mabel, "and 
 he has no one on earth except me." 
 
 "He doesn't want anybody; your visits 
 only excite him. If he were made to think 
 you were dead he would be more resigned 
 to his fate, once the first shock was past." 
 
 " No, no, it can't be, dear," faltered Mabel. 
 "Ask me anything — anything in the world 
 except that." 
 
 "Well, don't cry," pursued Travers, a little 
 touched. 
 
 Good men, It Is said, have their failings ; 
 so villains have theirs, and the weakness of a 
 villain is to have a soft spot In his heart. 
 Travers was fond of his sister, or rather half 
 sister. When a shrewish stepmother had 
 blighted his boyhood and driven him from
 
 6o THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 home, Mabel, the child of that stepmother, 
 had remained his loving friend and pet, and 
 she was now the only creature in the world 
 for whom he cared. 
 
 " Dry your eyes ; here are some people 
 coming," he said. And they walked along 
 the dusty road for some time in silence. 
 
 Travers slashed at the roadside nettles 
 with his stick, and now and then muttered 
 despondent ejaculations which were intended 
 to work upon his sister's feelings, and did 
 so. At length he exclaimed — 
 
 ''We'll let the subject drop then, Mabel, 
 but there is another way in which you can 
 help me. Accept young Harrowell's invita- 
 tion for to-morrow, and make yourself agree- 
 able to him. If I can bring you and him 
 often together, I shall maintain my influence 
 over him, otherwise he'll give me the slip ; 
 and I ask you if it isn't fair that I should try 
 and guide this young man in the investment 
 of his money, and make an honest profit out 
 of him ? If he goes his own way he'll 
 squander thousands in dissipation, but I can 
 advise him and keep him from ruin. There's 
 nothing dishonest in these partnerships, in
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 6 1 
 
 which a man of my experience supplies brains 
 to a young fellow who has nothing but good 
 nature and money." 
 
 '' You are certainly more clever than Mr. 
 Harrowell, dear," admitted Mabel ; ''but it is 
 a very hard part you are asking me to play. 
 And why did you introduce me to Mr. 
 Harrowell as a baroness ? These deceptions 
 render everything so difficult." 
 
 " I've already told you why I did that," 
 replied Travers, impatiently. *' A young 
 widow who wants to conceal her antecedents 
 can't do better than pass for the relict of a 
 foreigner. Nobody thinks of inquiring who 
 was Baron de la Neva, an officer in the 
 Russian army ; but if you say that you are 
 the widow of a Mr. Snow, people fall to ask- 
 ing, ' Who was this Snow ? What position 
 had he ? Where was he born ? Where is he 
 buried ? ' As you daren't tell the truth about 
 yourself, the lie that's most useful to you is 
 the best." 
 
 " Living as I do now, I need tell no lies," 
 pleaded Mabel, with a sigh. '' Oh, Chaunie ! 
 couldn't you renounce these projects, and let 
 me do the best I can for you in other ways ?
 
 62 THE alderman's CHILDREX. 
 
 Believe me, our consciences would be lighter, 
 and our lives happier, if we accepted our lot, 
 such as it is." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Mabel," cried Travers : 
 *' if you don't mean to stand by me, say so ; 
 and I'll part from you here on the spot. 
 To-morrow I shall be gone, and you will 
 never see me again." He turned to go, but 
 she restrained him. She saw by his eyes 
 that he meant what he said. 
 
 ** No, no ; don't go, Chaunie," she mur- 
 mured, clinging to his arm. " We have stood 
 together in evil fortune so long. Don't leave 
 me. I'll do what is possible for you. God 
 help me ! " 
 
 They had now strolled as far as Hornsey, 
 and were walking through the grave-yard of 
 the old parish church on their way to the 
 railway station. Travers remembered that 
 he could reach London quicker by taking a 
 train at Hornsey, whereas Mabel's shortest 
 way home was by the road over which they 
 had just come, and as there was still an hour 
 before twilight, she decided to walk. So 
 they parted here, after a few more scolding 
 words from him and tearful rejoinders from
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 63 
 
 her, and they made an appointment to meet 
 on the morrow. 
 
 Mabel watched her brother's retreating 
 figure, and, when he was out of sight, she 
 staggered to a lonely corner of the church- 
 yard, leaned against a tombstone, and burst 
 into a passion of tears. 
 
 ''O God! O God!" she sobbed, ''how 
 hard it is to be good ! "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In making his family cognizant of his wealth, 
 Mr. Harrowell had no intention that his 
 former manner of life should be altered. For 
 a month things went on at Highbury Place 
 as before. Not a dish was added to the 
 ordinary dinner of fish, joint, and pudding, 
 and there was no perceptible increase in the 
 expenditure of the household. Mr. Harro- 
 well gave each of his daughters twenty 
 pounds to buy " something for herself," and 
 he agreed to allow his son twenty pounds a 
 month whilst he was deciding upon the 
 choice of a profession. But he scouted an 
 extravagant suggestion of Ann's that he 
 should now hire a brougham by the month 
 to carry him to his office and back, so that 
 he might become independent of omnibuses. 
 ''Thank Heaven, my legs are sound," he
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 said ; " and when the 'buses are full I can 
 walk." 
 
 It did make a little difference in the 
 arrangements of the family that Charlie, 
 instead of going early into the city, lay an 
 hour longer in bed, lingered over a nine- 
 o'clock breakfast, and beguiled the forenoon 
 in reading newspapers. Towards mid-day he 
 went out, smartly dressed, and was no more 
 seen, as a rule, till ten o'clock ; sometimes 
 he came home much later, and let himself in 
 with his latch-key when the household was 
 in bed. 
 
 Ann marvelled at these ways ; but Mr. 
 Harrowell took no notice of his son's pro- 
 ceedings, for it was understood that Charlie 
 had made the acquaintance of some barristers 
 who were instructing him as to how he 
 should eat his terms for the Bar. He told 
 his father that the Bar was now the only 
 profession open to him, and he proposed to 
 get himself entered at Lincoln's Inn, and to 
 go abroad for a few weeks before beginning 
 his legal studies. When, however, the time 
 of his starting for the Continent was dis- 
 cussed, he always found some excuse for 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 THE alderman's children. 
 
 putting off the event. The summer, he 
 argued, was no time for travelling ; he had 
 better go away in September, and return in 
 time for the opening of the Michaelmas term, 
 towards mid-October. 
 
 In this, Mr. Harrowell commended his 
 son's prudence. He had never been out of 
 England himself, and could not understand 
 the modern craze for continental touring. It 
 pleased him still more that Charlie talked 
 seriously of working at the law, and left it 
 to his father to select the barrister in whose 
 chambers he should read for his examination. 
 Be sure Mr. Harrowell had his eye at once 
 on the most solid firm of conveyancers in 
 New Square — a firm which gave most of its 
 practising business in the Probate and Equity 
 Courts to the elderly eldest son of the firms 
 head partner, a Mr. Must, Q.C. 
 
 But now, while these matters were being 
 settled, there came suddenly a very great 
 change in Mr. Harro well's circumstances, for 
 he let himself be nominated for the vacant 
 aldermanship, and was elected. Most re- 
 luctantly did he accept civic honours, but he 
 yielded to his partners and to his friend, Mr.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 67 
 
 Asher Blew, who represented that he owed 
 a duty to his children. As alderman, sheriff, 
 and lord mayor, he would find opportunities 
 of marrying his daughters well, and of intro- 
 ducing his son to the highest personages in 
 the land. These were advantages which a 
 father had no right to renounce. A reflec- 
 tion as to what ''his Emmie" would have 
 said on the subject led Mr. Harrowell to 
 the conclusion that his adviser spoke wisely, 
 and he thought especially of his son, who, 
 having no taste for business, might be kept 
 steady and be directed to honourable ambi- 
 tions by the sense of his fathers high 
 position, and by the social influence which 
 that position would command. 
 
 *' That's right now ! " cried Mr. Blew, 
 congratulating his friend heartily after the 
 election. '' You may get knighted during 
 your shrievalty, and, if all goes well, be- 
 come a baronet when you have passed the 
 chair." 
 
 " But I don't want to become a baronet," 
 said the tea-merchant. 
 
 " Perhaps not now," laughed Mr. Blew ; 
 " but appetite comes with eating, and there'll
 
 68 THE alderman's children. 
 
 be a great change in you before ten years 
 are over." 
 
 Mr. Harrowell did not think there would 
 be any change. Why should the possession 
 of wealth and honours deprive a man of the 
 satisfaction of living as he pleased ? Wealth 
 would assuredly be worthless if it prevented 
 the owner from being his own master. 
 
 This was all very well ; but in joining 
 the Court of Aldermen Mr. Harrowell had 
 become a magistrate. He had to take his 
 turn of sitting in judgment at the Guildhall 
 and the Mansion House, and of being en- 
 throned under a canopy at the Central 
 Criminal Court during the Old Bailey 
 Sessions. This, with attendance to civic 
 business, entailed a good deal of locomotion 
 which could not be effected in omnibuses. 
 So, less than six weeks after he had spurned 
 his daughter's suggestion to hire a brougham, 
 Mr. Harrowell became the actual possessor 
 of a horse and carriage, and of a coachman 
 who had served many masters, but never one 
 living in such an out-of-the-way hole — so he 
 put it — as Highbury Place. Further, it must 
 be said that the first use to which Mr.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 69 
 
 Harrowell put his carriage was to drive to a 
 dinner at the Mansion House, whither he 
 had been invited by an emblazoned card, 
 engraved : '' The Lord Mayor and the Lady 
 Mayoress request the honour of Alderman 
 Harrovvell's company to dinner," etc. 
 
 With this card had come another, inviting 
 Miss Harrowell and Miss Lucy Harrowell 
 to a dance at the Mansion House on the 
 same evening, but this card the new alder- 
 man tore up without showing it to his 
 daughters, notwithstanding that he knew the 
 wives and daughters of his partners Gleene 
 and Sheeves were going to attend the 
 municipal dance. 
 
 Mr. Harrowell had always led a life in 
 marked contrast with that of his partners. 
 Mr. Gleene, a relative of his wife's, had a 
 sort of palace at Richmond, and Mr. Sheeves 
 a mansion in South Kensington. Both these 
 gentlemen kept open house, vied with each 
 other in their wine and cigar brands ; their 
 wives blazed with diamonds ; their daughters 
 danced all the winter and summer through 
 as if they were paid for it ; their sons rode 
 in Rotten Row, played poker and chewed
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 toothpicks. Among the junior members of 
 the Gleene and Sheeves famiHes there was 
 talk of nothing but dinner and garden parties, 
 milHnery, theatres, and the fad of the day, 
 whatever it might be. 
 
 Mr. Harrowell was too much a man of his 
 time to confess openly that he abhorred 
 dancing and regarded the theatre as immoral ; 
 but privately he did think in this wise : and 
 as to ddcolletee dresses, he expressed his 
 Puritanical opinions without any reserve. 
 Thus he had never encourao^ed his dauorhters 
 
 o o 
 
 to mix with the young ladies of the Gleene 
 and Sheeves families, nor with others of similar 
 tastes. He had brought them up to be good 
 and pure-minded girls, and was not conscious 
 that there had been any hardness in his 
 bringing up. Nor had there been, for he 
 was not of coercive mood : and if Ann and 
 Lucy were devoid of ^ frivolity, it was because 
 his tastes were theirs, and his wishes — even 
 unspoken — a law to their affectionate hearts ; 
 it was not because he had done any tyrannical 
 violence to their natures. 
 
 Ann Harrowell had always been quite 
 happy. She had never learned to dance, nor
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 7 1 
 
 worn a low dress or a fringe ; but she had 
 many excellent friends among the families 
 who lived in Highbury Place and its neigh- 
 bourhood, and was liked by everybody as a 
 true-hearted girl. She felt a litde regret 
 sometimes that she could not repay the 
 genial though quiet hospitalities she received 
 otherwise than by inviting her friends to take 
 an afternoon cup of tea ; but modesty made 
 her shrink from playing the part of hostess 
 in her fathers house — the house where her 
 mother had died. Besides, what kind of 
 evening party could she have organized, with 
 her father indifferent, and her sister abso- 
 lutely hostile to such a project ? 
 
 For Lucy was more positive on this point 
 than she, and said that her father could never 
 think of allowing a party. Mr. Harrowell 
 had, however, at one time, given occasional 
 dinners of a semi-business character to some 
 of his city friends, and would no doubt have 
 continued to do so, had his invitations been 
 welcomed. But the rich men-— and Mr. 
 Harrowell knew no others — who will in these 
 days sit down gladly to a home-cooked 
 dinner of four courses, with nothing but port
 
 72 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 and sherry, and with no smoking afterwards, 
 grow scarcer every year ; and, as Mr. Har- 
 rowell had never bethought him of engaging 
 a French cook to prepare him a meritt, his 
 friends, one by one, took French leave of 
 his table. During the three years that pre- 
 ceded her father's election to the alderman- 
 ship, Ann had never once been called upon 
 to withdraw from the pantry cupboards the 
 heavy silver vegetable dishes and the Co- 
 rinthian column candlesticks which formed 
 the bulk of the family plate. 
 
 In these three years nothing eventful had 
 happened to Ann except her secret engage- 
 ment to Hugh Armstrong, the journalist. 
 Not exactly an engagement either ; for Hugh, 
 whom she had met at the vicarage, was not 
 yet in a position to support a wife, and he 
 would not permit Ann to bind herself until he 
 could claim her. Both had agreed that Mr. 
 Harrowell should not be spoken to until 
 Hugh arrived with a competency secured ; 
 and meanwhile this able writer had gone to 
 Egypt to win money and renown as a war 
 correspondent. 
 
 But one of the first thoughts that occurred
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. "J ^^ 
 
 to the ingenuous mind of Ann, after hearing 
 of her father's riches, was that now there 
 need be no further concealment. She did 
 so detest a secret, and felt so sure, moreover, 
 that her father would entertain the same 
 high opinion of Hugh Armstrong as she did. 
 Accordingly, she had written to her lover — 
 a very coy and pretty, but brave letter, — 
 to say that now there was money enough 
 at home for both, and to ask if she might 
 make her avowals to her father ; and Hugh 
 had answered that, under the changed cir- 
 cumstances, it was certainly his duty and 
 hers to ascertain if Mr. Harrowell would 
 consent to an engagement. 
 
 It so happened that this letter with the 
 Cairo postmark arrived while Alderman 
 Harrowell was at the Lord Mayor's dinner, 
 and Ann read it over with glistening eyes 
 and a fluttering heart many times, wishing 
 the while that her brother Charlie were at 
 home to give her advice about it ; for Charlie 
 was a determined partisan of Hugh's. Of 
 her sister Lucy, Ann had not dared make a 
 confidante, for this young lady was a severe 
 moralist, and would have been certain to
 
 74 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 
 
 preface any sisterly comfort she might tender 
 by reproaches which would have made Ann 
 feel very wicked. 
 
 Lucy was of a different disposition from 
 her sister's. She might have grown more 
 worldly-minded had her education been like 
 that which most girls obtain ; but her gover- 
 ness and mistresses had been even more 
 rigid in their piety, though not less kind, 
 than those who had taught Ann ; and her 
 softer nature had received from them im- 
 pressions that seemed ineffaceable. As Lucy 
 had none of her sister's responsibilities as 
 a housekeeper, she had thrown herself for 
 occupation upon church work, being perhaps 
 not a little stimulated thereto by the undis- 
 guised, though shyly confessed, admiration 
 with which the Rev. Tobias Ramshart 
 watched her efforts. 
 
 It must not be thought that she did no 
 good ; she did a great deal, albeit she was 
 of an age when young ladies have not learned 
 to bear patiently with any moral weakness, 
 and wish the world to be a little too perfect. 
 Between her and Mr. Ramshart there was 
 the sympathy bred of common labours in
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 75 
 
 slums and school-rooms, in the reclaiming of 
 drunken men and women, and the tending 
 of poor, sickly, ill-used children. Was there 
 love ? Perhaps, if Mr. Ramshart had pro- 
 posed for Lucy on the evening when he 
 dined at Mr. Harrowell's, she would have 
 put her hand in his with a grave air and a 
 calm feeling that she was discharging a duty. 
 But the curate had missed this opportunity, 
 as he had many others, for want of nerve ; 
 and Lucy was too proud to encourage him, 
 too doubtful, perhaps, also of her own inclina- 
 tion. She had questioned herself often as to 
 the comparative blessedness of the single or 
 the wedded life, and this alone shows that 
 the Rev. Tobias Ramshart had not in him 
 that power of attraction which melts all such 
 reasoning, as the sun turns ice to water. 
 
 And now the self-lectures were all incul- 
 cating the superiority of singleness on Lucy ; 
 for, since her father had spoken of his wealth 
 and said that he meant to leave a quarter of 
 his fortune to each of his daughters, her 
 mind was filled with visions of well-doino- 
 such as she had never imagined before. 
 With her father's money she could dry the
 
 76 THE alderman's children. 
 
 tears from all the faces she had ever seen in 
 those miserable haunts, whither her guileless 
 charity led her. Was matrimony to be pre- 
 ferred to the stewardship of a fortune which 
 she already regarded as coming to her merely 
 in trust for the breadless, the sick, and the 
 sorrowful ? 
 
 To be the wife of a poor clergyman was a 
 fate she could have accepted ; but to be the 
 wife of a wealthy rector in a flowery par- 
 sonage, surrounded with all luxuries (alas ! 
 she had detected that Tobias Ramshart was 
 not disdainful of refinements and creature 
 comforts, and she feared that she, too, might 
 yield to the enervating influence of these 
 things), — was not this like taking one's portion 
 of paradise in this world ? So reasoned the 
 fair young moralist, not presumptuously, but 
 with some trouble of spirit, while she kept 
 her eyes fixed towards the other paradise, 
 beyond the valley of self-renunciation which 
 she wished to tread. 
 
 " Ann, are you not going to bed yet ? " 
 asked Lucy, in the rather sharp tone that 
 was habitual to her, as a result of her frequent 
 intercourse with impenitent sinners. She
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. "]"] 
 
 had just been making up the accounts of a 
 clothing club, and had set the balance straight 
 by entering on the credit side most of the 
 twenty pounds which her father had lately 
 given her. 
 
 " No, dear ; I am going to sit up for 
 papa," answered Ann, quickly putting her 
 letter away. 
 
 *' Ann, I want to ask you something," said 
 Lucy, sitting down and looking very solemn 
 as she clasped her hands on the lap of her 
 black dress. '' Why should papa not give 
 us a great deal of his money at once .'^ " 
 
 " What a question, dear ! Papa's money 
 is his own." 
 
 '' Yes, and I do not mean that he should 
 despoil himself of anything he requires ; but 
 why should he put us in the position of con- 
 tinually reflecting that we shall be rich when 
 he dies, and not before ? " 
 
 "We ought to banish such thoughts, 
 Lucy." 
 
 " I cannot," replied Lucy, truthfully. 
 '' For weeks I have been thinking of v/hat 
 I shall do when all that money comes to me, 
 and I always have to check myself by reflect-
 
 78 THE alderman's children. 
 
 ing that, before it will be mine, papa must 
 die." 
 
 '' I do not think that is the way to look at 
 it," said Ann. " The money is not ours, and 
 it may never be, for father may outlive us 
 both. But, in any case, it is God Who is the 
 dispenser, and if He withholds the fortune 
 from you for years, may it not be because 
 He judges that you could employ it better 
 later than now ? " 
 
 '' Yet God may put it into father's heart to 
 grant the request that I mean to make to 
 him," said Lucy. '* It is so unbearable to me 
 to have the thoughts which have been assail- 
 ing me, that I shall ask father outright 
 whether he will not give me my portion or 
 a great part of it, now. If he says No, it's 
 no ; and then I shall try to think no more of 
 the matter." 
 
 " I'm afraid you will surprise papa very 
 much by your request, and perhaps annoy 
 him," demurred Ann. 
 
 ''Why should I ? It is more honest to 
 speak out," said Lucy. '* He is our father ; 
 and why, since he knows that we love him, 
 should we not lay our thoughts before him 
 candidly ? "
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. /Q 
 
 Ann was aware that when Lucy spoke 
 Hke this no expostulations would shake her, 
 but she thought of the communication which 
 she herself had to make to her father. 
 " When shall you speak to papa, dear ? " 
 
 " Now, at once, when he comes home," 
 rejoined Lucy. '' I must go to bed with my 
 mind quieted." 
 
 " Very well, dear ; but I have something 
 myself to say to papa ; perhaps " 
 
 " Is it anything I may not hear ? " asked 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Well, no," answered Ann, blushing. And 
 she suddenly felt ashamed of not trusting 
 her sister. So her secret came out in a few 
 straightforward words, with a somewhat 
 faltering tone, indeed, but with an appealing 
 look for sympathy. 
 
 Lucy listened, open-eyed ; but, to her 
 sister's astonishment, uttered no reproach. 
 On the contrary, when Ann had ceased 
 speaking, Lucy moved swiftly towards her, 
 placed both hands on her shoulders, and 
 kissed her once, twice, on the brow. 
 
 " Who would have thought of such a thing, 
 Annie ? But if anybody could be worthy of
 
 So THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 you, Hugh Armstrong is the man. God 
 bless you both, and send you happiness ! " 
 
 Thereupon the two sisters sat down, side 
 by side, hand in hand, with their arms round 
 each other's waists, and Ann's head nestled 
 on Lucy's shoulder. So they waited for the 
 alderman's return.
 
 II vvs^i^^^ai'^^ i^ 
 
 ^^_^' 
 
 WasiiiSSl^m^iM 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 They waited so long that they grew frightened 
 at being up thus late. Their first-floor draw- 
 ing-room had a balcony, and the night was 
 so balmy, that they had ventured out to 
 admire the starry sky, a dark blue vault 
 incrusted with thousands of brilliants. There 
 was no moon, and the gas lamps of High- 
 bury Place only threw their yellow light on 
 patches of the pavement and road, leaving 
 the large field with its fringing of trees quite 
 black. 
 
 Midnight struck while they were silently 
 star-gazing, and this made them start. " Papa 
 will be too tired when he comes home," 
 whispered Ann. '' We had better say nothing 
 to him till to-morrow.'* 
 
 " I think so," agreed Lucy. '' My mind 
 is calmer now, Annie, and I can wait till 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 your own affairs are settled. But I wonder 
 what keeps Charlie out at this hour." 
 
 " I am rather concerned about Charlie," 
 observed Ann, with a shake of the head. 
 '' He is so little at home now, and latterly he 
 has appeared so restless and absent-minded 
 every morning. Then, too, he has taken to 
 smoking in his bed-room and almost all over 
 the house as soon as papa has gone out." 
 
 " I would forbid him," said Lucy, decidedly. 
 
 *' He is no longer a boy, dear, and I must 
 not make his home disagreeable. But I 
 should be sorry if papa caught him and gave 
 him a scoldinor." 
 
 o 
 
 *' I think he richly deserves a scolding," 
 answered Lucy. " Why can't he have the 
 manliness to ask papa if he may smoke in 
 his bed-room, and, if papa refuses, why, he 
 can put on his hat' and smoke in the street. 
 There wouldn't be much self-denial in that." 
 
 They had returned to the drawing-room, 
 had put out the gas, and were lighting their 
 bed-room candles when they heard the sound 
 of wheels. This recalled them to the balcony, 
 and they saw the lantern of a hansom flashing 
 on the road. The cab pulled up at their
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 door, and Charlie Harrowell jumped out, 
 attired In a light grey overcoat and evening 
 dress. 
 
 " When can he have put on those clothes?" 
 exclaimed Ann. '' He did not go out In them 
 this morning." 
 
 ** Hush ! he is speaking to somebody," 
 murmured Lucy, as a voice from inside the 
 cab was heard to say — 
 
 " Then, to-morrow, at one, without fall ? " 
 
 ** To-morrow at one, and I'll bring the 
 paper filled up. I say, though, do come Into 
 the house and have something." 
 
 '' No, thanks." 
 
 '* I wish you would ! You've never been 
 inside the house, and I can show it you. 
 Everybody Is In bed." 
 
 He was interrupted by a pale face leaning 
 out of the cab, and saying something which 
 caused him abruptly to look up at the balcony, 
 where he perceived his two sisters. 
 
 " Hullo, you two ! What are you doing 
 there at this hour of the night ? " he cried, in 
 an astonished voice. Then he hurriedly 
 wished his friend " Good-night," and the cab 
 drove ofT.
 
 84 THE alderman's children. 
 
 "That must be Mr. Travers," said Ann, 
 beneath her breath. " I saw him on the 
 door-step one day when he called for Charlie, 
 and I think I recognized his face." 
 
 **You think him a bad character, don't 
 you ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " I have a prejudice against him," answered 
 Annie, anxiously. *' There has been a change 
 in Charlie ever since he beofan to talk so 
 much of Mr. Travers. At one time he was 
 always talking about him. Of late he has 
 not mentioned his name ; but the other day 
 he got unaccountably angry because I asked 
 him if he had broken with Mr; Travers. You 
 may not have noticed all this, because you 
 see less of Charlie than I do." 
 
 '' But I have noticed that there was some- 
 thing wrong," said Lucy ; " and, what is 
 more, Annie, I have an explanation to ask 
 of Charlie. You know he was always saying 
 that he could not dine at home on Thursdays, 
 because he had his practices at the glee club ; 
 that was in the days when he did dine at 
 home almost regularly. Well, I heard to- 
 day, by mere accident, from one of the young 
 men in our choir, that Charlie had just paid
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 85 
 
 more than a pound in shilling fines to the 
 club's treasurer because he had hardly at- 
 tended a single practice since Christmas." 
 
 " Oh, Lucy, what ca7i this mean ? " ejacu- 
 lated Ann, in dismay. 
 
 *' Let us go downstairs," said Lucy. *' I 
 will have that matter out with Master Charlie 
 before we go to bed." 
 
 The sisters, carrying their candles, de- 
 scended to the dining-room, but paused in 
 the doorway, taken aback by Charlie's ex- 
 ceeding magnificence. They had seldom 
 seen him in evening dress, and the clothes 
 that he was wearing now were unlike any he 
 had ever sported in their sight. His glossy 
 coat was of fthe finest cut, with rounded 
 lappets of silk ; he had a three-button white 
 vest, from the edge of which peeped a ruby 
 silk handkerchief, and a resplendent orchid 
 adorned his button-hole. What is more, 
 Charlie had shaved off his slight whiskers, 
 his hair had been cut in a new style, and the 
 barber had given his tawny moustache a 
 twist that lent him quite a military appear- 
 ance. He certainly looked very handsome ; 
 though his face was flushed and wore a
 
 86 THE alderman's children. 
 
 displeasing expression, half sullen, half im- 
 pertinent. He was standing with his back 
 against the mantelpiece, one heel on the 
 fender, and his hand in his pockets, coolly 
 finishing a cigar. 
 
 '' Put out that cigar at once, Charlie," said 
 Lucy, peremptorily. *' You know that papa 
 does not allow smoking in the house." 
 
 " The guv'nor is asleep," answered Charlie. 
 " This mild weed won't awake him." 
 
 '* But papa is not in bed ; he has gone 
 to dine with the Lord Mayor," continued 
 Lucy. 
 
 ** Whew ! I forgot that dinner was for this 
 evening," exclaimed Charlie. 
 
 "Yes, and here comes papa," ejaculated 
 Ann, as the noise of wheels was again heard. 
 
 " By Jove ! I shall cut, then," stammered 
 Charlie. And, with rather comical alacrity, 
 he made a dart for the door, after throwing 
 his cigar-end into the grate. 
 
 Mr. Harrowell's heavy tread sounded in 
 the hall. He hung up his hat, divested 
 himself of his overcoat and comforter, and 
 was much surprised to be confronted during 
 these operations by his two daughters.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 8/ 
 
 " What, not in bed yet, my dears ? " he 
 said, staring at them. 
 
 '' No, papa ; but we will go upstairs, if 
 you do not want anything," answered Ann. 
 " How did you enjoy yourself ? " 
 
 *' H'm ! I did not enjoy myself, Annie," 
 sighed the new alderman. '' But as you are 
 up, wait a few minutes, for I have something 
 to tell you both. Mrs. Asher Blew, whom 
 
 I met this evening, has invited you 
 
 Humph ! what's this smell ? " He sniffed, 
 as he walked into the dining-room and 
 detected the odour of tobacco. ''Who has 
 been smoking here ? — Charlie ? " 
 
 ** He has just gone upstairs," replied Lucy. 
 
 ** He only finished a cigar he had begun 
 to smoke before he came in," interposed the 
 compassionate Ann. 
 
 " Let him smoke where he likes, but not 
 in this house," grumbled Mr. Harrowell. 
 " This mania for tobacco-smoking will be 
 accounted, in future ages, as the opprobrium 
 of the nineteenth century. Our grandfathers 
 were bad enough with their snuff-taking, 
 filling their noses and dirtying their shirt 
 fronts with black powder ; but what are we
 
 88 THE alderman's children. 
 
 to think of sane creatures in these times, who 
 poison the air around them and saturate their 
 lungs with smoke ? " 
 
 *' I quite agree with you, papa," remarked 
 Lucy. 
 
 *' That's a sensible girl ! " rejoined Mr. 
 Harrowell. And he went on with his 
 denunciation of smokers, whom he was well- 
 nigh likening to drunkards and opium-eaters 
 in their incapacity for self-control. He spoke 
 without warmth, however, rather lashing 
 himself up to verbosity, for he was glad of 
 an excuse to talk, in order to postpone the 
 communication which he had to make to his 
 daughters, and which troubled him. '' I declare 
 to-night there was one of the judges — a little 
 shrimp of a fellow, nearly seventy — who, after 
 dinner, began sucking at a cigar almost a 
 foot long, — enough to make you sick to 
 look at." 
 
 Truly the new alderman had not enjoyed 
 his feasting. He had gone to it in a dress- 
 suit fifteen years old, which he had scarcely 
 worn a score of times in those years, and 
 which smelt so potently of camphor that 
 some of his table-neighbours were incom-
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 89 
 
 moded by it. The dinner rather disgusted 
 than dazzled him by its profusion of viands 
 and wines. Unaccustomed to such sights, 
 he had been at a loss to comprehend how 
 ladies and gentlemen could stuff themselves 
 as he had seen some stuffing. But the real 
 tribulation of the banquet had fallen upon 
 him through the chattering of the lady beside 
 him, Mrs. Asher Blew, the wife of his indlsfo 
 friend. 
 
 Mrs. Blew talked to him about his new 
 position, and bantered him about his daugh- 
 ters, whom he was bringing up, she said, in 
 quite a heathenish way. Why did he not 
 take the girls into society a little ? As he 
 was a widower, and she the mother of a 
 grown-up daughter, she thought she had the 
 right to advise him. And so the upshot was, 
 that Alderman Harrowell, by way of proving 
 that he was no domestic tyrant, accepted an 
 invitation for Ann and Lucy to go and spend 
 a ''quiet Saturday to Monday" with the 
 Blews in their summer villa at Taplow. But 
 Mr. Harrowell was annoyed at having been 
 so compliant. He blamed himself all the 
 way home, and he was consequently de-
 
 90 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 lighted that, when he at length communicated 
 the invitation to his daughters, they neither 
 of them jumped at it. 
 
 " On a Sunday, father, it's impossible ! " 
 asserted Lucy. " On Saturday evenings we 
 have our choir practice, and on Sunday 
 mornings there is my Sunday-school." 
 
 " Then, we have nothing to put on," re- 
 marked Ann, rather amused. '* This is sure 
 to be a very grand place, and we should 
 require all kinds of new dresses. Our plain 
 frocks would never do." 
 
 "Well, my dears, as to that, you shall 
 have whatever you need," said Mr. Har- 
 rowell, seating himself wearily in an arm-chair. 
 '' I must say Mrs. Blew is a very nice 
 lady ; rather showy, for my taste, but you 
 will find her quite motherly, and she says 
 you ought to see something of the world. I 
 don't know. Your poor mother is not here 
 to advise me, and, when people tell me that 
 I am not acting quite fairly by you in keeping 
 you to a humdrum life, I can hardly find an 
 answer." 
 
 " Not acting fairly by us ? What an idea, 
 papa ! " exclaimed Ann, brightly. '' I am
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 9 1 
 
 sure Mrs. Blew meant well, and we will 
 decline her invitation very considerately. 
 But we are really quite happy as we are." 
 
 " Are you sure of that, Annie ? " asked 
 Mr. Harrowell, looking up somewhat search- 
 ingly at his eldest daughter. ** You see, my 
 dears, it is the destiny 'of young women to 
 get married, and Mrs. Blew is quite right in 
 saying that, until you know something of the 
 world, you can make no proper choices for 
 yourselves. Why, until to-day, Annie, I 
 had almost forgotten your age ! You are 
 twenty-six, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, father," replied Ann, colouring. And 
 now instinctively her hand crept towards the 
 letter in her pocket. Was not this the 
 wished-for opportunity for telling her father 
 boldly that her troth was plighted ? She 
 thought it was, and so handed him Hugh 
 Armstrong's letter, saying, with a modest 
 fearlessness, '' Read this, papa, and you will 
 see that, if I am to find a good husband, I 
 need not go to Mrs. Blew's." 
 
 Lucy's eyes sparkled with pleasure at this 
 sign of her sister's courage, and she furtively 
 clasped Ann's fingers during the silence that
 
 92 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 followed the brave act. So deep was the 
 silence, that the ticking of the black marble 
 clock on the chimney resounded audibly. 
 
 But Mr. Harrowell had drawn himself up 
 quickly, with all his business faculties on the 
 alert, and his head rose very rigid over his 
 gill-collar and old-fashioned, starched cravat, 
 as he glanced at the signature at the foot of 
 the letter. 
 
 '' Hugh Armstrong ? Who is that ? " 
 
 '* You once saw him here, taking tea, papa, 
 when he and the vicar called together," 
 answered Ann, in some confusion. 
 
 "A man with a beard, who writes for the 
 newspapers ? " 
 
 " He is a journalist, papa ; the war corre- 
 spondent in Egypt, of the Express!' 
 
 " And you are engaged to him ?" 
 
 *' No, father ; we want your sanction to 
 our engagement." 
 
 Another silence, during which Mr. Har- 
 rowell read the letter twice carefully. Then 
 he rose with his every-day, matter-of-fact 
 air, kindly, but authoritatively paternal. 
 
 " This is a serious matter, Annie, and you 
 can't expect me to give you an answer to-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 night. Have you any other letters from this 
 — gentleman ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa. I will show them you." 
 
 " To-morrow ; it's too late now. You must 
 get to bed, both of you, and I will speak to 
 you in the morning." Whereon, giving a kiss 
 to each, he dismissed them to their rooms. 
 
 He still held Armstrong's letter, and when 
 his daughters were gone he reread it with 
 a knitted brow. Ann in love, and with a 
 man who wrote for newspapers ! It is not 
 too much to affirm that Alderman Harrowell 
 viewed with an undiscriminating suspicious- 
 ness the whole tribe of men who live by their 
 talents, whether writers, artists, or musicians. 
 He had never mixed with such people, never 
 patronized their works. The newspaper 
 that he read was to him an impersonal pro- 
 duction, which he took like his daily bread, 
 without feeling any curiosity to know the man 
 who had kneaded the dough. As the bread 
 fed his body, so the newspaper nourished his 
 mind ; but when he had paid his threepence for 
 the pabulum he was quits with the purveyor. 
 
 What was this Hugh Armstrong ? A man 
 with a beard, whose signature was probably
 
 94 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 not worth a hundred pence in Lombard 
 Street ; but doubtless the fellow had heard 
 long ago that Ann would be rich, and he was 
 after her money. The thought gave Mr. 
 Harrowell a sharp commotion. 
 
 However, a worse trial for his fortitude 
 was at hand, for as he paced about the 
 dining-room, portly, glum, and irritated, his 
 eye fell upon the delicate pearl-grey satin 
 lining of the overcoat which his son had left 
 on the back of a chair. No member of the 
 Harrowell family had ever possessed such a 
 foppish garment as this. The alderman took 
 up the thing with a snort, held it upside 
 down, and a card-case dropped out, strewing 
 two or three cards on the carpet. These 
 cards bore the name and address: "Mr. 
 Charles Harrowell, Fireirons Club." 
 
 " What an extraordinary name for a club ! " 
 muttered the alderman, who was too simple 
 to guess that the institution derived its name 
 from the game of poker that was nightly 
 played there. Had he so much as heard of 
 the game of poker } 
 
 His reflections merely skimmed over the 
 matter, for his attention was arrested by a
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 95 
 
 photograph set in a frame of the card-case — 
 frame intended for a railway season ticket. 
 It was the photograph of Baroness de la 
 Neva, alias Mrs. Snow. 
 
 ** Where have I seen that face before ? " 
 soliloquized the alderman. *' It's a curious 
 thing, but I'm sure I know it." 
 
 He had once served on a grand jury at 
 the Central Criminal Court, and had joined 
 in finding a true bill against a man accused 
 of murder. Visions of this occurrence started 
 up before him with the features of a despair- 
 ing young woman, the prisoner's wife, who 
 had sat near the dock during the trial, and 
 had raised a heart-rending cry for mercy 
 when the judge put on the black cap. But 
 all this loomed indistinct, and the young 
 woman's features vanished when Mr. Har- 
 rowell tried to fix them in his memory. He 
 could not even connect them with the photo- 
 graph. One face merely recalled the other 
 in vague outlines. 
 
 But why had Charlie placed the portrait of 
 this very attractive young woman in his card- 
 case ? Had he, like his sister, fallen in love, 
 and with somebody whom it would be folly
 
 96 THE alderman's children. 
 
 in him to marry ? It had never entered 
 Mr. Harrowell's mind to doubt his absolute 
 right as a father to know everything that 
 his children did ; so, without more ado, he 
 explored the pockets of Charlie's coat to dis- 
 cover if it contained any other indications as 
 to this young man's present mode of life. 
 
 Its contents were a crushed playbill of the 
 Seraglio Theatre, and a letter in a long blue 
 envelope directed to the Fireirons Club. 
 The letter ran as follows : — 
 
 " Eldorado Chambers, City. 
 
 ** Dear Sir, 
 
 '* On the security of Mr. Chauncey 
 Travers's signature and your own, I can 
 advance you the money, if you will ensure 
 your life in my interest for one thousand 
 pounds. I enclose a form of application 
 to the Cosmopolitan Insurance Office, from 
 which you will see that you can make an 
 appointment for a medical examination at 
 the Company's offices any day between 2 
 and 4 p.m. 
 
 " I am yours truly, 
 
 " Hilary Cocking.''
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 9/ 
 
 Late as it was, Mr. Harrowell marched 
 straight up to his son's room. Charlie was 
 in bed, but the candle on the table by his 
 bedside was burning, and the young man 
 was trying uneasily to read. From the 
 sound of his father's tread and from Mr. 
 Harrowell's face when he entered the room, 
 Charlie guessed what had happened. 
 
 '' What does this mean, my boy ? " inquired 
 Mr. Harrowell, laying Mr. Cocking's letter, 
 photograph, cards, and all, on the counterpane. 
 
 " I've been playing cards, father," owned 
 Charlie. " I've lost money, and I was afraid 
 to tell you." 
 
 "And how much were you to get after 
 insuring your life for a thousand pounds ? " 
 
 " Six hundred, I think." 
 
 " And when payable ? " 
 
 ** They call it a post-obit, I believe," faltered 
 Charlie, hanging his head. 
 
 *' That means at my death," remarked Mr. 
 Harrowell, after a long pause. " Oh, my 
 unhappy boy, has it already come to this .'* 
 If you wanted money could you not have 
 trusted me ? Why did you not treat me as 
 your ' :st friend } " 
 
 VOL. i. 7
 
 98 
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " Because I am a worthless fool, father ! " 
 cried Charlie. And, turning his face to the 
 pillow, he burst into tears like a school- 
 boy.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Charlie Harrowell was truthful. To In- 
 vent a He or to answer a direct question by 
 evasions was not In him. He had misled 
 his father and sisters about his weekly 
 attendance at the glee practices, and he had 
 been much troubled In mind at having done 
 so ; but even in this he had told no actual 
 untruth. He used to say, ''There's a glee 
 practice to-night," and he left It to be 
 inferred that he was going ; but he never pre- 
 tended to have gone when he had not been, 
 and if his sisters had inquired of him, 
 " Were you at the practice, Charlie ? " he 
 would have replied (crossly enough, no 
 doubt), " No." He had a way of silencing 
 his sisters by saying, '' Oh, don't bother." 
 But, as already remarked, his conscience 
 smote him for such stratagems, as he was
 
 lOO THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 no casuist to argue that want of candour and 
 deceitfulness are not bred of the same 
 bone. 
 
 Charlie was also an affectionate son, though 
 he had been prepared to sign a post-obit. 
 As to that, however, he had not intended to 
 speculate on his father's death. He had 
 flattered himself that he should be able to 
 repay the borrowed money when he received 
 a large allowance, or when he married and 
 was put in possession of half or a quarter of 
 his heritage. More correct would it be to 
 say, perhaps, that he had not thought much 
 on the subject. 
 
 He had plunged into a new life without 
 having any idea of the force of its current, 
 and he had soon found himself like a young 
 horse struggling with eddies in mid-stream. 
 He owed money for cards — not much, though 
 — and for clothes; but his realwant was for 
 cash to carry on the novel round of gaiety 
 which he had found delightful. To dress 
 well, dine at restaurants, drive about in 
 hansoms, and to spend the evening in the 
 stall of a theatre may not constitute a very 
 violent form of dissipation, but it cannot
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. lOI 
 
 be done on twenty pounds a month. The 
 money which CharHe was going to borrow 
 was needed to refill an empty purse, and to 
 pay for delights in prospect — saving two 
 hundred pounds of the amount, which was 
 to be Chauncey Travers's fee for backing 
 his friend's bill. 
 
 These financial items were readily ex- 
 tracted from Charlie when his fit of crying 
 was over, and when he sat up in bed, con- 
 trite at having wounded his father, but 
 ashamed also at having been found out, and 
 at havinof succumbed to a nervous senti- 
 mentality. 
 
 Charlie was not exactly In the mood of 
 the prodigal son, returning with humble 
 thankfulness to the domestic veal. If he 
 had had the courage to speak out his wishes 
 he would have cried, " Father, since you are 
 so rich, allow me a thousand or two a year 
 to lead the same life as other rich young 
 men. What their fathers allow, you might 
 permit. I shall keep steady enough, if you 
 don't make me out a sinner for merely going 
 to the play." 
 
 So would he have spoken had he dared,
 
 T02 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 but a oflance at Mr. Harrowell's irate visaee 
 warned him that he might as well ask his 
 father to foreswear his religion as make him 
 a proposition of this kind. Greybeards are 
 not to be put to school. When the first 
 moment of Mr. Harrowell's emotion was 
 past, he became angry, and showed himself 
 neither calm nor judicious. He banned all 
 his son's recent doings and his haunts, his 
 post-obit, theatres, card-play, and his con- 
 tinuinor intercourse with Mr. Travers under 
 one common reprobation. Conscious that 
 he was going too far, he could not stop 
 himself, and he ended by stalking out of the 
 room with this censorious valediction — 
 
 '' Consider that you have disgraced your- 
 self, Charles. I don't know whether you 
 still say your prayers — I am afraid not — but 
 if you do, pray this night that you may be 
 turned from the error of your ways." 
 
 He was so upset that he omitted to ask 
 his son who the lady in the photograph was. 
 Perhaps he thought that she might be some 
 unavowable acquaintance, as to whom he had 
 better not inquire. 
 
 Later in the morning, Mr. Harrowell came
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. IO3 
 
 down to breakfast at his usual hour, and 
 clean shaved as per custom ; but out of sorts, 
 as men are when they have complicated any- 
 trouble by an outburst of temper. He read 
 prayers to his daughters and three elderly 
 maid-servants (Charlie was not present) in 
 a dry voice, with no beseeching inflections 
 in it, and presently he broke the shell of 
 his ^gg with an air of determination that 
 boded no good to poor Ann, who sat quaking. 
 Inwardly the alderman was most miserable, 
 for he divined that his home would never 
 again be what it had been in the past. There 
 comes a time when the old boat in which the 
 fisherman has sailed for years, which he has 
 patched and cobbled, minded to make it last 
 to the end of his lifetime, suddenly shows 
 signs of irremediable wear. Two or three 
 leaks spring in it at once, and there is no 
 gainsaying that the old boat is doomed. So 
 it was with Mr. Harro well's home. The 
 waters of change had leaped in it, and it no 
 longer moved to the rudder, but rolled. 
 Such were the alderman's reflections as he 
 silently munched his toast and left his morn- 
 ing newspaper unread.
 
 I04 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Nevertheless, when breakfast was over, he 
 disposed very summarily of Ann's little affair. 
 
 " I can give you no answer to the strange 
 communication which you made me last night, 
 Annie. I had some right, I think, to ex- 
 pect an earlier confidence from you, and you 
 have surprised me overmuch. I must now 
 make inquiries. I know nothing of Mr. 
 Armstrong ; but you have great expectations, 
 and, so long as I live, it will be my duty to 
 protect you, ay to protect you all, against 
 enterprises whencesoever they come. Mean- 
 while, you will do me a pleasure If you and 
 your sister will accept Mrs. Blew's Invitation 
 for next Saturday week. To-day Is Tues- 
 day, and you have ten days to buy all the 
 clothes you want. Go out shopping, and 
 send In the bills to me." 
 
 " If I feel rather disposed to go to Mrs. 
 Blew's, It Is that I may see the hollowness of 
 the world with my own eyes," remarked 
 Lucy, staidly. " I have heard so much of 
 its follies that I know I shall return better 
 pleased than ever with my own home." 
 
 *' ' Lead us not Into temptation, but deliver 
 us from evil/ " exclaimed Mr. Harrowell,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. IO5 
 
 turning upon his younger daughter impres- 
 sively. " You must not think, Lucy, that 
 because my watchful hand has hitherto 
 shielded you from harm, you can therefore 
 go out into the world and brave its dangers. 
 Consider your sister, who may have stepped 
 into a pitfall without my knowledge. Mark 
 the example of your brother, whom I had 
 clothed, as I thought, by a good education 
 and sound precepts, with the whole armour 
 of righteousness. And how does he come 
 home to me ? With every shred of it torn 
 off, besmirched like him who herded with the 
 swine, blind as Balaam the son of Bosor, 
 who loved the wages of unrighteousness." 
 
 '' But, papa, if you think the world is so 
 dangerous, why send us into it ? " asked 
 Lucy, nettled, and a little rebelliously, for this 
 young lady was less fond of being lectured 
 than of lecturing. 
 
 " Go, in obedience to my wishes," replied 
 Harrovv/ell, sternly, with his hand on the 
 door. '' If you want to set a pattern to 
 the world, let it first see in you a dutiful 
 daughter." 
 
 '' Oh, Lucy ! what can Charlie have been
 
 I06 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 doing ? " ejaculated Ann, with tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 '* Father is, at all events, not going to kill 
 the fatted calf for him," answered Lucy, 
 whose words came out with an effort. 
 
 Of a less exemplary maiden it might have 
 been said that she was livid with astonished 
 anger. It was revolting to her to hear her 
 patient sister scolded, and to be chidden her- 
 self for presumptuousness. She was not 
 used to such treatment, having, indeed, es- 
 tablished her chair at the family board as 
 a kind of pulpit whence she delivered words 
 in season, even to her father himself. Withal 
 it now occurred to Lucy that the request 
 which she had intended to submit to her 
 father, touching the disposal of her portion in 
 his estate, would now be singularly intem- 
 pestive. In fact, she dared not make it. 
 
 " You have been much bolder than I can 
 be, Annie," she observed, with mortification, 
 but already bringing her emotions under con- 
 trol, for she was in all sincerity a good girl. 
 *' I could not bring myself to ask father for a 
 penny." 
 
 " No, dear, you had better not," replied
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 07 
 
 Ann, drying her eyes. " Let us simply obey 
 him, and make his displeasure pass." 
 
 Mr. Harrowell's carriage was standing at 
 the door ; but before the merchant went out, 
 he re-entered the dining-room with a letter, 
 which he handed to Ann. 
 
 ** Give this to Charles, when he comes 
 down ; and mind you write to Mrs. Blew, 
 and say that you and your sister will be at 
 Taplow, God willing, by an early train on 
 Saturday week, in the afternoon. I require 
 this proof of absolute submission." 
 
 " Oh, papa, don't think us disobedient," 
 pleaded Ann, quite overcome again by his 
 manner, 
 
 " Ye shall know^ a tree by its fruits," said 
 Mr. Harrowell, coldly, repelling his daughter's 
 endeavour to embrace him ; and with this 
 he betook himself to the city. 
 
 The scapegrace Charlie came down to 
 breakfast at his leisure — that is, towards ten 
 o'clock, — pale from sleeplessness, Irritable, and 
 somewhat defiant. By this time Lucy had 
 gone out for parish visiting. She happened 
 to have a great deal to do that day, as 
 Mr. Ramshart had departed on a month's
 
 io8 THE alderman's children. 
 
 holiday, which consisted in taking a clerical 
 friend's duty at the Portland Convict Prison. 
 So Ann sat alone by the breakfast-table, 
 ready to pour out her brother's tea. She 
 had laid the paternal letter beside his plate, 
 and Charlie, tearing off the envelope, read 
 this : — 
 
 " You tell me that you owe about two 
 hundred pounds, and I enclose a cheque for 
 that amount, but I request you to weigh 
 these words. My fortune has been made by 
 myself, and I can dispose of it as I please. 
 Whatever provision I may be disposed to 
 make for you now, or in the future, will 
 depend entirely on your conduct. 
 
 " Another thing I have to say, as to your 
 choice of associates like Mr. Travers. You 
 are no longer a boy that I can put a tutor 
 over you to control you in your selection of 
 company, but it is as well that you should 
 know what is the value of Mr. Travers's 
 advice in money matters. He made you 
 lose four hundred pounds by inducing you to 
 buy certain Bohemian mining shares at seven 
 pounds each. I myself have since bought five
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. IO9 
 
 thousand of these shares at prices between 
 seven and eight pounds. They are now 
 quoted at ten pounds ; and to-day, when I 
 give the order to sell, I shall realize ten 
 thousand by them. 
 
 "You may judge from this, that even in 
 pecuniary affairs, the father whom you appear 
 to despise Is a safer guide than the adven- 
 turers in whom you have put your trust. 
 
 " I have nothing more to add except that 
 your sister Ann has also grieved me, and 
 that to-day, for the first time since your poor 
 mother died, I have almost rejoiced that she 
 was not among us to bear her share of the 
 trouble you are causing. 
 
 " Your sorrowing father, 
 
 '* ThoiMAS Harrowell." 
 
 ** Charlie, may I see what papa has 
 written ? " asked Ann, as Charlie, with a 
 flushed face, folded up the letter. 
 
 "No; what's the use?" answered her 
 brother. " I don't want to have you nagging 
 at me too." 
 
 " But I shall not nag at you, Charlie, dear. 
 I have sadness enough of my own."
 
 no THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 ** Yes, I see the guv'nor is in a rage with 
 you. What have you been doing ? " 
 
 " I told him about Hugh," said Ann. 
 
 ** Hie ! that's it ; then we're in the same 
 boat." Still he did not show his sister the 
 letter. Instead of that he pushed his card- 
 case across the table. " What do you think 
 of that photograph ? The guv'nor has 
 seen it." 
 
 *' A very lovely face ! " exclaimed Ann ; 
 ** and such a sweet, sad expression." 
 
 " Isn't she beautiful, and she is so good, 
 Annie. I'm sure you would love her if you 
 knew her." 
 
 " I dare say I should, dear. Who is she ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you in a moment ; I'd go through 
 fire and water for her, Annie." 
 
 " Have you told her so, Charlie ? " 
 
 " No, it would not be of the slightest use," 
 said young Harrowell, with a sigh. " She is 
 always kind, but cold. I'm not good enough 
 for her — that's the truth. Her name is 
 Baroness de la Neva, and she is Chauncey 
 Travers's sister." 
 
 "I could not have conceived that Mr. 
 Travers should have such a sister as that,"
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I I I 
 
 rejoined Ann, with set lips. And it became 
 evident that her interest in the portrait had 
 greatly diminished. 
 
 '' There you are again, shying stones at 
 Travers," cried Charlie. ** Dash it, there's 
 no sense in this animosity ! He's a very 
 good fellow ; and, as for leading me into 
 scrapes, why, I may tell you that I lost some 
 money at cards the other day, and I should 
 have lost a great deal more if Travers had 
 not pulled me away from the table." 
 
 Greatly shocked to hear that her brother 
 had been gambling, Ann held her peace, so 
 as not to be accused of nagging ; but she 
 said — 
 
 " I can't help my antipathy to Mr. 
 Travers. I have seen him once, and heard 
 his voice twice, and I like neither his face 
 nor his voice. Further, I am convinced, 
 Charlie, that papa would never agree to your 
 marrying Mr. Travers's sister." 
 
 '* If she would have me, I would marry 
 her, whether father consented or not, and 
 though I had to return to that indigo office 
 for a living," declared Charlie, resolutely. 
 
 This saying added heavily to Ann's tribu-
 
 112 THE ALDERMAN S CEHLDREN. 
 
 lation. Would she dare to marry Hugh 
 Armstrong if her father forbade her ? No, 
 not if her heart broke. 
 
 She glanced at the clock as Charlie emptied 
 his cup, and, to turn the conversation, asked 
 him if he would go out with her. 
 
 " I have some shopping to do in Islington, 
 Charlie. It would be so nice if you came 
 with me. We might have a long talk." 
 
 " All right, I will, if you go up to town 
 with me afterwards, and have luncheon." 
 
 *' Why not, dear ? I will go with pleasure." 
 
 " Yes, ; but the case stands in this way. 
 I have an appointment with Travers at one ; 
 and his sister, who lives in the country, is 
 coming up to lunch with us. I want you to 
 meet her, and see for yourself how good 
 she is." 
 
 '' I cannot meet Mr. Travers," said Ann, 
 her cheeks in a flame. 
 
 " Why can't you meet a fellow and judge 
 fairly whether your prejudices against him 
 are reasonable ? " Charlie argued. " But you 
 needn't say much to Travers — it's Mabel, 
 the Baroness, I mean, to whom you will talk ; 
 and surely you must feel some interest in the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 woman who perhaps — for who knows, after 
 all — may become my wife ? " 
 
 *' Yes, certainly, Charlie," owned Ann, 
 quickened by a little curiosity ; ''but " 
 
 " Don't say ' but.' You know I have 
 stood by you and Hugh Armstrong, so you 
 be sisterly to me in this. They say women 
 read each other's characters better than 
 men ; and it would be such a pleasure to me 
 to hear you corroborate spontaneously all 
 that I think of her — and you will, I know." 
 
 Ann did not at once give in ; but curiosity, 
 the desire to befriend her brother, and the 
 feeling that she ought to respond to the con- 
 fidence he placed in her, eventually prevailed. 
 Girl-like, she sought to make him promise 
 that he would be guided by her opinion 
 about the Baroness ; but this he shirked by 
 vowing that she could only form one opinion. 
 On the other hand, he agreed readily that if 
 Ann thought fit to tell her father what she 
 had done, and why she had done it, she 
 might act at her discretion. 
 
 Upon this understanding, brother and sister 
 set out for their walk along the Upper Street 
 of Islington. 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 To creditors and other persons whom he 
 was not impatient to see, Chauncey Travers 
 gave as his address a semi-respectable Hte- 
 rary Club, "The Defoe;" but he lodged in 
 Northampton Square, Clerkenwell. In this 
 region, peopled with working jewellers, he 
 rented a first-floor sitting-room and bedroom, 
 and had for his landlady a Mrs. Tobb, whose 
 mission on earth seemed to be to chronicle 
 all the sayings and doings of a certain Lady 
 Flattenham, whom she had served ten years 
 as maid. Lady Flattenham had left the 
 indelible impress of gentility on Mrs. Tobb, 
 insomuch that the latter cultivated her pro- 
 nunciation of the English language with a 
 commendable attention to the letter H ; and 
 rather than risk dropping that troublesome 
 aspirate, she prefixed it to every word be-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. II5 
 
 ginning with a vowel. Thus are difficulties 
 turned simply by ingenious minds. 
 
 The Tobbs had for a time owned a com- 
 fortable inn on the Flattenham estate ; but 
 Tobb v/as a tipsy fellow, who forgot to 
 reckon the scores of the customers with 
 whom he drank, so that his sale of liquors 
 had not prospered. He was now employed 
 as night-watcher by a firm of diamond mer- 
 chants in Hatton Garden — a post which he 
 owed rather to his Herculean build than to 
 his convivial disposition. His wife let 
 lodgings, and their daughter, Mintie — or 
 Ermyntrude (christened after her godmother. 
 Lady Flattenham) manufactured silver chains 
 — stooping and coughing all day over an 
 oily little machine in an underground room 
 behind the kitchen, where a wan light 
 penetrated from a back yard through a 
 window barred with iron. In this part of 
 Clerkenwell, where there is so much working 
 in precious metals, every yard window is 
 barred, and every yard has its watch-dog ; 
 and at night, when one dog barks, all his 
 colleao^ues in the neighbourhood eive tonp-ue. 
 
 As Travers paid his thirty shillings a week
 
 Il6 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 punctually, and had no eye for little sub- 
 stractions from his tea-caddy and cigar- 
 boxes ; as he never locked up his spirit-case, 
 and was particular about his breakfast, even 
 to the paying of thirteen pence a pound for 
 his streaky bacon rather than save twopence 
 by trying to chew something uneatable, Mrs. 
 Tobb esteemed him for a finished gentleman, 
 worthy to have mixed in Lady Flattenham's 
 set. But what Mrs. Tobb most admired in 
 her lodger was the affable attention which 
 he paid to her stories of high life, and his 
 intelligent questionings thereon. Travers 
 was not the man to reject information, and, 
 from his chats with the ex-lady's-maid he 
 had derived more knowledge about a certain 
 number of people in society — their marriages 
 foibles, family-tiffs, and cupboard skeletons — 
 than if he had collected his facts in their 
 drawing-rooms. The history of some families 
 can only be written truly in the servants' hall. 
 As Mrs. Tobb kept no domestics, all the 
 cooking and attendance that her lodgers 
 required, and all the answering of bells and 
 knockers, devolved upon her and her daugh- 
 ter, except at odd hours in the afternoon,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I I 7 
 
 when the colossal Tobb, having snored all 
 through the morning, was available for 
 desultory service between two visits to the 
 public-house. 
 
 To do Mrs. Tobb justice, she tried as 
 much as possible to spare her pale-faced 
 Mintie from running up to take in letters 
 and parcels with her oily fingers. Unless 
 she was up to her elbows in flour, inquisitive- 
 ness supplied the motive-power that sent 
 Mrs. Tobb up or downstairs, with a rush 
 to ascertain what people wanted. 
 
 It is pleasant to see anybody take such a 
 zest in life as this good creature did. She 
 made every bed, and mentally noted what 
 her lodgers had been buying, even to a new 
 necktie or a pot of pomatum ; she swept the 
 sitting-rooms, and, while resting on her broom, 
 read every scrap of written paper that was 
 lying about ; she received the letters from 
 the postman, and, before delivering them to 
 their destinations, had studied every post- 
 mark and learned the contents of the post- 
 cards by heart. One has only to add that 
 Mrs. Tobb had a smooth temper and a civil 
 tongue. She had never been a beauty, but
 
 IlS THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 she had been a smart, tidy young woman, 
 with a good figure ; and now, being well in 
 the forties, and retaining her good figure, 
 she was a neat, elderly woman, with her hair 
 always well-dressed, her apron neat, her 
 steps active, and her prying eyes as quick 
 as a mouse's. 
 
 Travers generally went out soon after 
 breakfast ; when he stayed at home, it was 
 that he expected his sister. Mrs. Tobb 
 knew this so well, that the Baroness's knock, 
 towards noon on the day of the luncheon to 
 which Charlie Harrowell and his sister were 
 going, brought up the landlady, quite pre- 
 pared and smiling to the front door. 
 
 " Good-morning, my lady. Mr. Travers is 
 hupstairs." As a big "bull's-eye" sweetie 
 rolls voluptuously on the tongue of a boy, so 
 the terms ''My lady" and "Your ladyship" 
 lusciously filled the mouth of Mrs. Tobb- 
 She showed the way upstairs, and, having 
 ushered the Baroness into the sitting-room, 
 would fain have lingered outside to hear 
 what the brother and sister said. But Mrs. 
 Tobb held the intimate conviction that if she 
 attempted such a thing she would be found
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. II9 
 
 out. Her eyes might peer through a key- 
 hole ; but Mr. Travers's, she beheved, could 
 pierce through a door. 
 
 What matter ? By piecing two and two 
 together, she had concluded to her satisfac- 
 tion that the Baroness had married into the 
 "hupper" circles of the nobility, and that 
 her husband was offended \vith ^Ir. Travers 
 for living in Northampton Square. Assuredly 
 these sisterly visits were clandestine, and the 
 Baroness was bent on persuading her brother 
 to renounce his journalistic pursuits, and take 
 his allotted seat in the halls of the great. It 
 only increased Mrs. Tobb's admiration for 
 her lodger that he proudly rejected these 
 supposed offers, no doubt because the 
 haughty Baron, his brother-in-law, put on too 
 much "side." 
 
 Travers was seated in a shabby arm-chair 
 of faded reps, reading a newspaper. All 
 the furniture in the room was discoloured, 
 threadbare, and maimed. Here a castor was 
 missine, there an essential knob. Coarse 
 antimacassars of thread lace covered the too 
 obvious rents in sofas and chairs, but nothing 
 could hide the stringy condition of the carpet,
 
 I20 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 which was full of traps for unwary feet. On 
 the walls hung some staring, framed chromos 
 from illustrated journals — a scarlet Garibaldi 
 and a Red Riding Hood, who was one daub 
 of red paint. These works of art tugged the 
 unwilling eye towards the wall inevitably. 
 
 " Ah, that's right ; you're looking charm- 
 ing, Mab ! " exclaimed Travers, throwing 
 down his paper to greet his sister. " Those 
 blue-striped summer stuffs suit you to per- 
 fection, and that little hat of yours with the 
 corn-flowers is Ai." 
 
 " I am glad you are pleased with me, 
 Chaunie dear," answered Mabel, with a faint 
 smile; "and it is such a lovely morning. 
 You won't object to our walking to Charing 
 Cross ? " 
 
 ** No, I shall be glad of a stroll along the 
 Embankment. All going well with you ? 
 Nothing new ? " 
 
 '' Nothing new, dear, except that I am 
 getting more and more work. Two entire 
 new streets have been opened within the last 
 six weeks, and are already full of tenants. 
 In fact, I have no business to go away during 
 the daytime like this. It throws so much on
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 12 1 
 
 Miss Rose. But how are your own affairs 
 getting on ? " 
 
 " So, so. I'm keeping my colt well in 
 hand. That's all I can say at present." 
 
 " He's a very nice young fellow," remarked 
 Mabel, pensively. '' I hope he will not get 
 into bad ways." 
 
 " He won't whilst I am near him," replied 
 Travers. " The other night I let him play at 
 cards till he got nipped, and then I drew him 
 away. He must have his fling ; but it will 
 be a short one, for there isn't an atom of vice 
 in him, and gradually I shall turn his mind 
 to serious subjects. I have a plan for 
 starting him in politics. If his father will 
 give him money, he can get a seat in Parlia- 
 ment ; then I will be his secretary, read up 
 public questions for him, and give him points 
 for speeches. He, on his side, can help me 
 to enlarge my Cheapside Mail, or convert it 
 into a daily paper, after which we'll all be 
 happy and rich together." 
 
 " It's a bright future to look forward to," 
 said Mabel, trying to speak as though she 
 felt confident. *' But, Chaunie dear, you won't 
 ask me to meet Mr. Harrowell after to-day,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 will you ? This will be the fifth time I shall 
 have met him." 
 
 " And why shouldn't you meet him five 
 times or fifty times more, since all I ask of 
 you is to be friendly with him ? I tell you, 
 it's his affection for you that's keeping him 
 steady." 
 
 "U I could think that ! " exclaimed Mabel 
 '* But even thus it is not fair on him, nor 
 on me." 
 
 There was something in Mabel's tone as 
 she said " 07i me,'' which might have drawn 
 a bantering rejoinder from her brother ; but 
 her next remark drove all jocularity from his 
 manner. 
 
 '' You know, I'm going to Portland to- 
 morrow, dear, to see poor Albert." 
 
 " What, again ! " said Travers, with a 
 frown. " You're always going there." 
 
 " Only once in three months, and he does 
 so look forward to my visits, poor fellow. 
 They've moved him from Dartmoor since 
 I last saw him, for he couldn't bear the bleak 
 climate." 
 
 " Climate forsooth ! " echoed Travers. 
 *'A pretty kindness to a man under a life-
 
 THE ALDERxMAN S CHILDREX. I 23 
 
 sentence to transfer him to a place where his 
 agony may be prolonged. If they had 
 hanged your husband three weeks after he 
 had left the dock, it would have been a 
 mercy to him and to us both." 
 
 " You have said that to me before ; don't 
 say it again, Chaunie," ejaculated Mabel, 
 putting up her hand imploringly and turning 
 ashy white. "Things are bad enough as 
 they are." 
 
 *' They are, indeed," responded Travers, 
 scowling. " But now listen, Mabel. Don't 
 you be a simpleton and tell Albert that 
 you've got a shop and post-office. If you 
 do, you'll just capsize the little apple-stall 
 I've set up for you." 
 
 *' But why mustn't I ? " asked Mabel, dis- 
 tressed. " He's always so anxious to know 
 how I am living. I thought this would be 
 the best news I could bring." 
 
 "Tell him I'm providing for you; that 
 will be sufficient. Convicts get chattering 
 together, they've nothing else to do ; but you 
 don't want to have relays of ticket-of-leave 
 men turning up periodically to squeeze hush- 
 money from you."
 
 124 THE ALDERMAN'S CHILDREN. 
 
 *' Oh no ! God forbid ! " exclaimed Mabel, 
 frightened. 
 
 " Well, then, do as I tell you," said Travers, 
 ill-temperedly, brushing his hat. " And now 
 let us be ofoinof, and talk of somethinof else. 
 Whenever we get on to this subject it makes 
 me sick." 
 
 Travers had deeply impressed upon his 
 sister that her husband's condemnation for a 
 foul crime had been his own ruin. He did 
 not harp upon this, but his complaints re- 
 curred whenever he had a failure to excuse, 
 or was striving to make Mabel act contrary 
 to her own inclinations. It so befell that in 
 the moments when she most needed advice 
 and sympathy for herself she had to pour 
 out encouragements and compassion to her 
 brother. Nothing could be more gentle 
 than the look of pitying submission she 
 turned on him now — she, whose husband 
 was buried livinor in a tomb. 
 
 They went downstairs together, and 
 Travers passed first along the passage to 
 open the street-door. Mabel had just 
 stepped out when two well-dressed men — 
 one short, one tall — who must have been
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I25 
 
 on the watch, suddenly started up, and she 
 heard her brother accosted with these words — 
 
 '' I've found you at last. Take that, you 
 scoundrel ! " A riding-whip was lifted and 
 fell with a slashing cut upon the face of 
 Travers, who staggered back with a yell of 
 pain and rage. 
 
 His aggressor was quite a small man, 
 dressy, and rather cox-combish, but spry as 
 a monkey and exceeding fierce. Planting 
 himself in a scientific posture of defence, he 
 danced about to keep Travers at a distance, 
 and stopped a rush of his by giving him 
 a second cut over the left ear. This drove 
 back Travers, who, clutching the area railings 
 for support with one hand, drew a revolver 
 with the other, and aimed it ; but with terrific 
 swiftness another cut of the whip descended 
 right across the back of his hand, and made 
 him drop the weapon. 
 
 " That will do, Jobie ; there's a lady with 
 him," interposed the other man, who was a 
 person of gentlemanlike deportment, about 
 six feet high ; and he kicked the revolver 
 into the road. 
 
 Mabel had rushed between the two com-
 
 126 THE alderman's CHILDRExX. 
 
 batants, and the man addressed as Jobie, 
 staring at her through his eye-glass, was filled 
 with evident astonishment at her beauty. 
 But he was wildly excited, and shook his 
 whip again at Travers. 
 
 " You blackguard, you ! Consider that 
 you have got off cheaply. You know who 
 I am — Captain Job Ramshart, the Secretary 
 of the St. George's Channel Tunnel Com- 
 pany, whom you have slandered in your vile 
 paper because I wouldn't pay you. I told 
 you, when you threatened me, that I dared 
 you to do your worst ; and now I repeat to 
 you, that if you ever lift up your rascally pen 
 on me again, I'll thrash you till there isn't a 
 sound place left in your body." 
 
 Having said this, the pugnacious pigmy 
 took the arm of his gigantic friend, and 
 without another word the two walked away 
 together. A petrified spectator of the whole 
 scene, Mrs. Tobb, stood on the landing of 
 the area steps, her nose between the bars, 
 her eyes fascinated by the revolver. 
 
 '' Oh, Mr. Travers ! " she screamed, "shall 
 H\ call the perlice ? " 
 
 But Travers rushed back into the house,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 12/ 
 
 leaving Mrs. Tobb to pick up his fire- 
 arm. Mabel followed him upstairs, and 
 found him bathing his face with cold water 
 and arnica. 
 
 " Chaunie, who is that man ? What does 
 he mean ? " she faltered, with a broken voice, 
 and trembling all over. 
 
 *' It means that I am the brother-in-law of 
 a convict, and that every man has the right 
 to treat me as a dog," cried Travers, savagely. 
 He went on with his sponging, but gasped, 
 with his head over the basin, '* This life isn't 
 worth living. It will end in my blowing my 
 brains out." 
 
 For a few minutes Mabel could not speak, 
 so fearful were the imprecations that broke 
 from her brother. She stood sobbing, but 
 at last said — 
 
 '' We won't cro to this luncheon, dear ?'' 
 
 o 
 
 '' We must go," shouted Travers, turning 
 about with his face streaming, — " unless I 
 am to make an end of myself at once. Every- 
 thing depends on my not losing sight of 
 Harrowell. Do these cuts look very bad ? " 
 
 The tears were gushing from Mabel's eyes, 
 and she was unable to articulate, so her
 
 128 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 brother had to tell her with an oath not to 
 blubber. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Mab, but tell me how it 
 looks," he cried, confronting her with furious 
 features, which were marked by two thick 
 angry weals, one of which had inflamed and 
 empurpled half his nose. 
 
 "They look very painful, dear," was all 
 Mab could sob. 
 
 '' I can't help it," hissed Travers, putting 
 a towel to his face. *' I must say it was an 
 accident ; and mind you bear me out in what 
 I invent. Just you stop crying too, or you'll 
 spoil everything. We're late already, so we 
 must take a cab." 
 
 Once more they left the house together, 
 Travers brushing with an impatient expletive 
 past Mrs. Tobb, who was on the look-out 
 in the passage to question him ; and they 
 walked as fast as they could to the nearest 
 cab-stand, Travers holding his handkerchief 
 to his face all the way.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The place appointed for the luncheon was 
 one of the large hotels in Northumberland 
 Avenue. Travers and Mabel arrived there 
 ten minutes behind time, and were told by 
 the porter that a lady and gentleman were 
 waiting for them in the reading-room. Ex- 
 pecting no lady, Travers thought this must 
 be a mistake. Had he known that he was 
 to meet Ann Harrowell, he certainly would 
 not have presented himself to her with those 
 weals on his face. But he walked into the 
 reading-room before he could guess w^hat was 
 in store for him. 
 
 Charlie came forward, saying, " I've brought 
 my sister Ann," — and, in the same breath, 
 *' Why, Travers, what has happened to you ? " 
 
 Travers instantly began a voluble story as 
 to how the driver of his hansom cab had 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Struck him inadvertently with his whip. 
 Mabel knew that her brother was going to 
 invent something, but the needless circum- 
 stantiality of his narrative made her wince 
 and redden. Not content with describing 
 the accident, Travers excitedly related how 
 he had stormed at the "clumsy lout," and 
 taken his number, and how he was going to 
 prosecute him ; and he finished by addressing 
 Ann, with a wry smile — 
 
 " The accident might have been worse. 
 Miss Harrowell, for it could have befallen a 
 lady. I'm afraid such an example will not 
 encourage you to ride in hansoms." 
 
 '' Mishaps like yours are not frequent," 
 replied Ann, gazing innocently at his nose, 
 which she thought looked very dreadful. 
 
 She had noticed the embarrassment on 
 Mabel's countenance, and divined there was 
 something wrong, although it was not in her 
 nature to suspect anybody of telling a down- 
 right fib. She knew that she ought to pity 
 Travers for having such a bad nose, but the 
 man's whole aspect and manner confirmed 
 her antipathy against him. Travers, indeed, 
 was appearing with none of his natural ad-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CIIILDREX. 
 
 vantages of handsomeness, assurance, and 
 vivacious chatter. Quivering with impotent 
 fury at the chastisement he had received, 
 conscious that the waiters were staring at 
 him, and suffering from his burning nose, 
 which felt as though it were swelHng all over 
 his face, he sat down to luncheon in no 
 festive humour, and every word which he 
 forced himself to utter only repelled Ann 
 further from him. 
 
 As to Mabel, the case was different. Ann 
 had thrown two or three scrutinizing looks at 
 her, and found nothing that was not pleasing 
 in the pretty, gentle face, and lustrous blue 
 eyes. Then, it must be said that Mabel's 
 title of Baroness, which Charlie trumped up 
 once or twice in conversation, had its effect 
 on the middle-class, home-bred girl. To the 
 respect of the maiden for the married woman 
 was added the instinctive deference claimed 
 by Mabel's supposed rank, her independent 
 position, and her experience of the world. 
 This was shown by Ann's leaving it to Mabel 
 to lead the conversation. 
 
 Mabel understood what was expected of 
 her, and made a brave attempt to play the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 hostess, but almost the first words she uttered 
 gave the conversation a turn which taxed all 
 her fortitude and her brother's. 
 
 "You have a sister, have you not?" she 
 said to Ann. 
 
 '' Yes, a younger sister ; but she goes out 
 very little." 
 
 '' I suppose she considers herself in charge 
 of the entire parish, now Ramshart is gone ? " 
 laughed Charlie. '' Didn't you tell me 
 Ramshart was away ? " 
 
 Travers started, and Mabel flushed at the 
 name of Ramshart, but this was not observed. 
 
 " Yes, he has gone for a holiday," answered 
 Ann. " Mr. Ramshart is a curate at the 
 church which my sister attends," she added, 
 explaining things to Mabel. 
 
 "And a very good fellow, if he weren't so 
 shy," remarked Charlie. 
 
 " He is a very good man, indeed," pursued 
 Ann. "He wanted a holiday this year, for 
 he has overworked himself, and his doctor 
 told him that he ought to go to the seaside ; 
 but as he could not afford a pleasure trip he 
 has undertaken a month's duty at the Port- 
 land Convict Prison."
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 Mabel dropped the fork from her trembHng 
 hand, but Travers at once cut in by apostro- 
 phizing Ann — 
 
 " Let me tempt you with another curried 
 egg, Miss Harrowell. You know, these are 
 plovers' eggs ; and it is always a wonder to 
 me where all the plovers exist who supply so 
 many London tables." 
 
 " I should not think it would be much 
 relaxation for Ramshart to spend a month in 
 a prison," exclaimed Charlie, without looking 
 up from his plate. 
 
 " No more, thank you," said Ann, answer- 
 ing Travers ; and she continued, without a 
 suspicion of the stabs which she was inflicting 
 on Mabel : " Yes, that Convict Prison seems 
 to be a terrible place. The chaplain, when 
 he wrote to Mr. Ramshart, concealed nothing 
 of its horrors. To me, the hardened impeni- 
 tence of some of the prisoners seems the 
 worst." 
 
 " Miss Harrowell, you are taking no wine," 
 resumed Travers. " Charlie, you will have 
 some of this claret ? " 
 
 '* Let me fill Madame de la Neva's glass,' 
 said Charlie, turning to Mabel, who sat pale
 
 134 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 
 
 and quaking. " I declare you are eating 
 nothing." 
 
 The waiters' removal of the plates intro- 
 duced some new topic ; but the luncheon 
 passed off cheerlessly. Travers knew that 
 he was speaking through his nose ; Charlie, 
 unable to kindle a spark of animation in the 
 Baroness, who had subsided into a mild 
 dialogue with Ann, became preoccupied 
 about the business interview he was going 
 to have with Travers by-and-by, when he 
 should have to relate the "row" that had 
 occurred with his father. At last the meal 
 ended, and Travers proposed that the ladies 
 should remain a little while alone, while he 
 and Charlie retired to the smoking-room for 
 a cigarette. 
 
 Now Charlie Harrowell had quite relied 
 upon this luncheon to nerve him for his talk 
 with Travers, and to enable him at the same 
 time to make some advance in Mabel's good 
 graces. He had hoped that Ann and Travers 
 would converse together, while he and the 
 Baroness had a confidential tete-d-tete. But 
 things had not happened in this wise, and 
 now he trudc{ed into the smoking-room,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 35 
 
 dispirited. He was quite glad of the two 
 minutes' respite afforded him while the waiter 
 took orders for coffee and liqueurs and 
 brought these things. 
 
 Sinking into an arm-chair, and lighting his 
 cigarette, Charlie's eyes wandered to Travers's 
 damaged face, and he asked mechanically — 
 
 '' I say, man, did you really get those awful 
 slashes from a cabbie ? " There was no 
 scepticism in his tone, but Travers imagined 
 there was. 
 
 " No, I did not," he acknowledged, with 
 a frankness that took Charlie aback. " I did 
 not like to confess the truth before Miss 
 Harrowell, but the fact is, I have had to 
 thrash a miscreant who insulted Mabel — my 
 sister — and the brute gave me these strokes 
 in defending himself." 
 
 " Why, who can have dared to insult the 
 Baroness ?" cried Charlie, in honest indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 '' You spoke at table of a Mr. Ramshart — 
 the ruffian to whom I allude is a namesake of 
 his — a Captain Job Ramshart." 
 
 *' Why, that's Tobie Ramshart's brother. 
 Tobie and Jobie everybody knows them.
 
 136 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 Isn't he a little strip of a fellow with white 
 gaiters and an eyeglass ? " 
 
 Travers nodded. " That's the man. He 
 has been pursuing my sister with his atten- 
 tions, which were odious to her. This 
 mornine he tried to force himself into her 
 presence, and, when she resented his intrusion, 
 he grossly insulted her. So I punished him." 
 
 Travers invented these untruths with per- 
 fect composure, having this design in his 
 mind, that, whether Charlie knew Captain 
 Ramshart or not, he should conceive a 
 violent abhorrence of him, and never seek his 
 intimate acquaintanceship. He had naturally 
 suspected that the two Ramsharts might be 
 related, and much did he congratulate him- 
 self upon his device when he heard from 
 Charlie how close a connection might 
 possibly arise between the Rev. Tobias 
 Ramshart and the Harrowells. 
 
 '' I couldn't have believed Captain Rams- 
 hart to be such a blackguard," ejaculated 
 Charlie. " Why, I don't mind telling you, 
 Travers, but his brother is rather spooney 
 on my other sister, Lucy. I'm dashed, 
 though, if I don't try and stop that match.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 37 
 
 for I won't have such a cur as Jobie Rams- 
 hart in the family. If I had been with you 
 this morning I'd have killed him." 
 
 " It's good of you to say all this," replied 
 Travers, with well-affected indifference, " but 
 the quarrel is none of yours." 
 
 " No, I suppose it isn't," answered Charlie, 
 ruefully, "yet I — I think I might have some 
 right to stand up for the Baroness." 
 
 '' What do you mean ? " 
 
 '* Why, hang it, Travers, you must have 
 noticed that I am — a — deeply devoted to 
 your sister," said Charlie, blushing furiously 
 and smoking hard at his cigarette. " I can't 
 sleep from thinking of her. She's the most 
 lovely and — a — the nicest person I've ever 
 met. I wish she wasn't so cold with me ; 
 but if I thought she would have me, I'd 
 propose to her this minute." 
 
 '' You are rather young to think of 
 marriage, my dear boy," responded Travers, 
 surveying him with a simulated look of 
 affectionate interest — the which, however, 
 owing to the speaker's facial derangements, 
 whereof a blood-shot eye now formed part — 
 was not very effective. " I am flattered at
 
 138 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 the sentiments you express about Mabel ; 
 and, between us, I think she half reciprocates 
 them, but " 
 
 " You don't really mean that she cares for 
 me a little ? " interrupted Charlie, eagerly. 
 " You're not chaffing ? " 
 
 '* No, I'm not chaffing; but I was going 
 to say — what means have you for supporting 
 a wife ? and what would your father say to 
 your plans ? " 
 
 " Hang it ! that's just my luck," sighed 
 Charlie, crestfallen. '' Look here, read this 
 letter." And while Travers perused Mr. 
 Harro well's epistle, Charlie stammered out 
 his narrative of all that happened on the 
 previous night. 
 
 " So you made a clean breast of it, I see," 
 observed Travers, not a quaver in his voice 
 betraying that he should have liked to dash 
 his cup of coffee into the agitated boy's face. 
 
 " Yes, I can't help that ; I shall never be 
 able to help it," faltered Charlie. '' I hate 
 lies, you know, and if anybody questions me, 
 the truth comes out." 
 
 '* You are quite right to hate lies," said 
 Travers, sarcastically. '' But now, pray tell
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 39 
 
 me how you propose to continue the Hfe 
 you have been leading, and to proceed with 
 your courtship of Mabel ? " 
 
 Young Harrowell felt utterly miserable. 
 It was as though in leading his gay life 
 during the past two months he had been 
 playing a stage part, and must now lay aside 
 his tinsel and go back to the sober drudgery 
 of desk-work, and to the monotony of a dull 
 home. And to him the idea of home was 
 now associated with a father no lono^er 
 benign, but stern, suspicious, and scolding. 
 
 How was he to get money ? And if he 
 got none, how was he to continue seeing 
 Mabel ? Could he bear to be abruptly 
 parted from her this very day, and doubtless 
 for ever ? His resolutions must be taken on 
 the spot — that he saw, and all his inclinations 
 urged him to accept Travers's advice. 
 
 Travers gauged his mood, and in his 
 softest manner began to insinuate temptation. 
 What did Charlie want, after all — to remain 
 subject to his father like a school -boy, or to 
 be his own master ? 
 
 '* It strikes me that if your father is going 
 to leave you half a million of money, you can
 
 140 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 well borrow something on your expectations 
 now. By doing so you will be less impatient 
 to come into your heritage, and be a more 
 dutiful son in spirit, than if you were always 
 fretting to see your father keep a tight hand 
 over money that was some day to be yours. 
 Fathers are apt to forget these things in 
 their philosophy. You have not promised 
 your father that you would not borrow, have 
 you ? . No. Well, if he questions you, there 
 need be no lying, but you can remain silent. 
 If once you held your tongue firmly, you 
 would never be interros^ated aorain." 
 
 '* You don't know my father," moaned 
 Charlie, and shook his head. 
 
 He was still unconvinced, but Travers 
 went on talking, and gradually the young 
 man's sense of right and wrong was troubled. 
 Once open a drain-pipe into a stream and it 
 does not take long to pollute the current. 
 To resist arguments addressed to his vanity, 
 to his love of pleasure, and to the passion for 
 Mabel that was beeninine to burn in his 
 heart, Charlie must have fled ; but he had no 
 heart to fly. He sat listening, not persuaded, 
 but ceasing to combat persuasion. His mind
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I4I 
 
 was fixed on Mabel and on the thought that 
 he might lose her at this moment by the 
 utterance of a single No. 
 
 " If you really care for Mabel, you might 
 marry her before long," proceeded the 
 tempter. " Put yourself in my hands ; I will 
 provide for the present. By-and-by your 
 father will be giving you money to travel, 
 and he can't allow you less than five hundred 
 a year when you begin studying for the Bar 
 in chambers of your own. That, with Mabel's 
 little fortune — she has about a thousand a 
 year as a jointure — would be enough for you 
 to marry on and to live quietly, even if your 
 father objected to the match. If he did 
 object, you would not be obliged to tell him 
 you were married. I dare say your sister, 
 who seems a charming girl, would stand by 
 you, and help to make matters smooth in the 
 end." 
 
 '' I am sure she would ! " exclaimed Charlie, 
 transported at the prospect suddenly opened 
 up before him. 
 
 It had never occurred to him that Mabel 
 might have money in her own right, and he 
 was bewildered to think that an event which
 
 142 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 he had regarded as very remote, if realizable 
 at all, might be accomplished within a 
 measurable space of time. Yet the informa- 
 tion as to Mabel's fortune brought on a new 
 fit of diffidence. " The question is, whether 
 your sister cares for me in the least, ever so 
 little ? " he said in a self-depreciating way. 
 
 *' In a few days you shall have the answer 
 from her own lips," replied Travers, with a 
 contortion that was meant for a smile. And 
 with this promise he definitely clinched his 
 hold over the young man. 
 
 ***** 
 
 While this colloquy took place in the 
 smoking-room, the " Baroness " and Ann 
 Harrowell had retired to a window embrasure 
 in the reading-room, and had settled into a 
 quiet gossip, which prevented them from 
 finding the time long. Ann was interested 
 in Mabel ; and Mabel, for no object of her 
 own, but rather for her brother's sake, was 
 anxious to win the good opinion of Miss 
 Harrowell. A reversal of the position which 
 the two occupied when they first met had 
 thus come about. Ann was four years older 
 than Mabel, and was gradually drawn by the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 43 
 
 latter's almost lowly demeanour to assume a 
 protecting kindness. Above all was Mabel 
 solicitous not to practise any sort of deception 
 on her companion by alluding to her fancied 
 rank, and therefore she caught with a child- 
 like alacrity at any subjects which Miss 
 Harrowell started to make conversation. 
 However, what interested Ann most was to 
 ascertain the exact feelings which the 
 " Baroness " entertained towards Charlie 
 
 She had watched Mabel and Charlie closely, 
 and had detected not a sign of intelligence 
 between them, nothing that could be mistaken 
 for the silent mutual understanding of love. 
 Amiable but reserved, Mabel had behaved 
 towards Charlie as any other lady might have 
 done. Could Charlie be right in supposing 
 that the " Baroness " gave his affection no 
 requital at all ? Ann had much doubted 
 Charlie's perspicacity on this point, before 
 she had seen the " Baroness," but now, with 
 her straightforward instincts, she resolved to 
 clear up the matter by some leading questions 
 
 " I'm very glad to have met you, madame," 
 she said. "My brother has spoken about 
 you in such a friendly way."
 
 144 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 ''He and my brother are great friends," 
 answered Mabel, with a faint rising of colour. 
 
 ** I was not thinking of your brother, but 
 of you," Ann replied. 
 
 " Of me ? Ah well, your brother is very 
 
 good, but " And of a sudden Mabel 
 
 looked into Ann's eyes with quite a beseech- 
 ing earnestness. '' If you have influence 
 over your brother. Miss Harrowell, persuade 
 him to apply himself to some work. The 
 idle life of a man about town is the very 
 worst for a young man of his engaging 
 character and impressionable nature." 
 
 '' Do you mean that my brother is in any 
 danger of going wrong ? " inquired Ann, in 
 some alarm. 
 
 '' No, no ; my brother gives him good 
 advice. Nevertheless, I am glad that he has 
 a sister like you, of whom he is very fond ; 
 for you can be his guide ; and, later, in a few 
 years, let him marry a good girl such as you 
 are, who will make him happy in a quiet 
 home." 
 
 '' But, madame, I had some reason to 
 believe that his affections were already be- 
 stowed," remarked Ann, pointedly.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 45 
 
 It would have been insincere in Mabel to 
 have ignored the significance of Ann's tone 
 and glance. 
 
 " You think he loves me ? " she exclaimed, 
 with heightened colour, and drawing herself 
 up ever so little. " Miss Harrowell, it can 
 never be ; the thing is impossible." Here 
 she laid her small hands on Ann's. " Tell 
 him he must cease to think of me. I hope 
 I shall never meet him after to-day." 
 
 *' Are you serious ? " 
 
 " Quite serious. I am going away. Our 
 paths in life lie far apart, and, for the sake of 
 us all, let your brother never try to find out 
 where I am. Tell him to dismiss me utterly 
 from his mind, for I could never return any 
 feeling of his for me — never. But hush ! 
 Please, Miss Harrowell, say nothing of this 
 to my brother." 
 
 A startled look came over her face as 
 Travers returned from the smoking-room 
 with Charlie. Ann sat perplexed, being 
 much troubled by this scene. The two men 
 came to say that they had business in the 
 city together, so that there must be a general 
 leave-taking. 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 " You will be home to dinner, Charlie ? " 
 asked Ann, anxiously. 
 
 " I'm not sure," replied Charlie, avoiding 
 her glance ; " but I'll try to be home early." 
 
 *' I'm sure papa will expect you," continued 
 Ann. " Don't disappoint us and anger him, 
 there's a dear boy." 
 
 "As my sister's way and yours are in 
 opposite directions, we shall have to put you 
 into a cab, IMiss Harrowell," interrupted 
 Travers. ''After my experience of this 
 morning, I can hardly recommend a hansom." 
 
 " I dare say I shall walk," answered Ann. 
 Her parting from Travers was cold in the 
 extreme ; but when she said good-bye to 
 Mabel, there was a moment's hesitation. 
 Then she drew the young woman to her, 
 and gave her the kiss of an elderly sister ; 
 and the pressure which their two hands ex- 
 chano^ed was one of mutual likino^ and con- 
 fidence.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " B, Two-fifty-five, fall out." 
 
 The words were addressed to one in a 
 gang of convicts working under a baking 
 sun in a stone quarry at Portland Isle. A 
 silent, sullen herd, with grey clothes, red- 
 hooped stockings, close-cropped hair and 
 shaven faces, they plied their pick-axes upon 
 the rock, pushed trucks laden with stones, 
 trundled barrows, or stood by the rattling 
 crane chains. There was no life in their 
 tedious labour, lazily done, with slavish 
 scowls and closed mouths under the eyes 
 of yawning warders. Now and then a 
 warder woke up, and called in a harsh voice 
 to some laggard to bestir himself, and then 
 there would be a spasmodic quickening of 
 the work all round for half a minute ; after 
 which, a relapse into nervelesss movements
 
 148 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 over the hated tasks, not less fatiguing, how- 
 ever, for being performed without interest or 
 spirit. 
 
 The sun shone upon this scene, scorching 
 the granite, making the dust glare, and 
 bringing sweat to the toilers' brows, and the 
 while it shed a soft briorht lio^ht over the 
 distant Bay of Weymouth, where white-sailed 
 yachts rocked indolently upon the green sea. 
 
 A convict stepped out from among hfs 
 infamous associates, and stood aside, cap in 
 hand, and with both arms raised over his 
 head to submit himself to search. It was 
 impossible to tell from his almost shorn head 
 and hairless face how^ old he might be ; but 
 his fair complexion and his eyes clear, though 
 weary, were those of a young man. His 
 dress resembled that of the other convicts — 
 the red and blue stockings, the dark grey 
 knickerbockers and jacket, covered with broad 
 black arrow-heads ; but on one arm he wore 
 a black badge bearing the letter L (life). 
 This was Albert Snow, who had been con- 
 demned to death for the wilful murder of his 
 wife's father, but whose sentence had been 
 commuted into one of penal servitude for life.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I49 
 
 He Stood with his arms uplitted, whilst a 
 warder with a sword passed both hands over 
 his clothes to feel if he had any forbidden 
 thing concealed about him, such as a nail 
 or a piece of jagged stone — dangerous 
 weapons in the hands of a convict. The 
 search over, he wheeled about at the word 
 of command, and slowly followed the warder 
 into the massive prison building. 
 
 He had despair in his face, his shoulders 
 stooped, and his gait was merely the tired 
 dragging of one heavily shod foot after the 
 other. Following the warder, he walked 
 along asphalted passages that smelt of oakum, 
 past numbers of nail-studded, numbered 
 doors, and so to the visitors' ward, where 
 he was pushed into a narrow compartment, 
 the door of which closed behind him. There 
 he was in a cao^e. In front of the bars ran a 
 narrow passage, where a warder sat, and, on 
 the opposite side of the passage, facing his 
 cage, was another, in which his wife stood 
 dressed in black, and peering at him through 
 the gloom. 
 
 They were too far apart to touch hands, 
 and could not utter a word without being
 
 150 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 overheard by the warder on guard. The 
 light in the place was dim, and, until the 
 eyes became used to it, the features which 
 the}^ wistfully scanned remained indistinct. 
 
 Our ancestors in their barbarity took the 
 Avorthless life of a criminal and put him out 
 of his misery. The tender mercies of this 
 age have invented a system for prolonging 
 life while converting every moment of it 
 into a degradation and a torture. Once 
 every quarter during three years Mabel had 
 come to visit her husband ; but she had 
 never approached nearer to him than such 
 bars allowed. She had been permitted to 
 bring him no presents — not a particle of food 
 to vary his prison diet, not a flower to cheer 
 his cell, not a photograph of herself to afford 
 him consolation and to raise some vague 
 hope in him of a distant, less atrociously 
 sorrowful future. The practical minds who 
 have deeply studied all that can inflict pain 
 on human nature had ruled all this, and so 
 ordained these visits of wife to husband, or 
 parent to child, that there should be the least 
 possible solace in them to the giver or the 
 receiver.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 5 I 
 
 At every one of her visits Mabel had 
 made up her mind to be courageous, but the 
 horror of the iron cage was always too much 
 for her. Albert Snow, on his side, took 
 many a resolution in his cell that he would 
 bear up manfully when his wife next came ; 
 but the sight of her whom he loved so 
 yearningly, so hopelessly, invariably caused 
 him to break down. So now, again, five 
 minutes out of the twenty allotted to them 
 for this dismal interview were spent in 
 almost inarticulate greetings. 
 
 " How are you, dear ? " said Mabel at 
 length. '' Are you more comfortable here 
 than at Dartmoor ? What work are you 
 doing ? " 
 
 " I work in the quarry," he answered, in 
 a low, broken voice, ** but I think they are 
 going to put me on to tailoring. Yes, I am 
 more comfortable here ; my chest feels better, 
 and I cough less. But what are you doing, 
 my poor child ? " 
 
 She would have been so glad to tell him 
 that she was comfortably settled as a post- 
 mistress and shopkeeper. Anxieties about 
 her had added grievously to his own troubles,
 
 152 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 and yet she remembered her brother's abso- 
 lute prohibition. 
 
 •' Chaunie is providing for me, dear," she 
 said. '' Don't be concerned about me." 
 
 " And what is he doing ? " asked the con- 
 vict, with increased dejection. He seldom 
 inquired after Travers, and avoided speaking 
 of him. 
 
 "He has his newspaper, you know — the 
 Cheap side Mail.'' 
 
 '' And he earns enough to support himself 
 and you ? Wouldn't you prefer, though, to 
 have some situation, and to be independent } " 
 
 ** I tried for so many situations," said 
 Mabel, unguardedly, '' but it was very 
 difficult." 
 
 ''Yes, I understand," murmured Snow, 
 with a groan. '' You were afraid your 
 employer might hear about me. God in 
 heaven, if I suffered a thousand times more 
 than I do, how could I ever atone for the 
 wrong I have done you ! " 
 
 '' Don't say that, my darling, don't ! " im- 
 plored Mabel, clasping her hands through 
 the bars. '' Try and bear up, Bertie. God 
 is merciful, and, black as things are now,
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. I 53 
 
 there may be a better time coming. You 
 may get a pardon, and when you are free 
 you will find me as true and loving as ever." 
 
 *' I know it, Mabel," wailed the wretched 
 man, and the bar which he clutched shook 
 under his hand as his whole frame was con- 
 vulsed with sobbing. 
 
 Accustomed as he was to such scenes, the 
 stalwart warder on duty was never wholly 
 unmoved by them. He was an old bearded 
 soldier of big stature and portliness, with a 
 gruff voice and a soft heart. 
 
 " Come, my lad, don't take on so," he 
 interposed, with rough kindness. " I've 
 known many a * lifer ' step out of here free 
 and jolly as the air. Time's getting short, 
 so just give your good lady a cheery word 
 before she goes." 
 
 " They won't make him work too hard, 
 will they, please ? " faltered Mabel, looking 
 up appealingly at the burly turnkey. 
 
 " No, no, ma'am ; you be easy. They've 
 put him on to the quarries because the doctor 
 thinks outdoor air is good for him in the 
 summer, but they don't require much of 'im, 
 and when the weather gets cooler they'll
 
 154 THE alderman's children. 
 
 turn 'Im into the tailor's shop. We'll see 
 him through all right, don't you be afeared." 
 
 The door of Mabel's compartment was 
 now abruptly opened, in sign that the visit 
 must end, and she had only time to cry once 
 more, '' Good-bye, Bertie. Take heart, dear ; 
 hope and pray. Good-bye," when she found 
 herself alone in a passage with another 
 warder. 
 
 This one spoke softly and had a gliding 
 footstep. He was the recipient of many fees 
 from well-to-do persons who came to see 
 disgraced relatives in this prison ; for, indeed, 
 most of the visitors to Portland belonged to 
 the prosperous classes. The poorer convicts 
 have no friends, or their friends cannot afford 
 to take a long journey to see them. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am, the chaplain desires 
 to speak with you," said this warder, politely, 
 to Mabel. " Would you please to step this 
 way?" 
 
 "Are you sure you are not mistaken?" 
 asked Mabel, who, in the whole course of 
 her visits, had never had such a request 
 made to her. 
 
 *' No, ma'am. Mrs. Snow, I believe ? "
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I55 
 
 "I do not know the chaplain. Can you 
 tell me his name ? " 
 
 " Well, it s not the regular chaplain, ma'am, 
 but a gentleman who is taking duty for him 
 —Mr. Ramshart." 
 
 Mabel remembered this name only too 
 well, but there was no excuse by which she 
 could have avoided the chaplain's summons. 
 Obviously he had something to say which 
 concerned her husband, and she was bound 
 to hear him. Accordingly, though with 
 trepidation, she let herself be guided to the 
 room where the Rev. Tobias Ramshart 
 exercised his provisional ministry. 
 
 It was a large room, carpeted with cocoanut 
 matting, and surrounded by bookshelves, on 
 which were ranged hundreds of the Bibles 
 and hymn-books which are served out to 
 prisoners. The writing-table, standing beside 
 a window which commanded a view of the 
 sea and the Chesil Breakwater, was covered 
 with letters written by convicts, and which it 
 was the duty of the chaplain to read through 
 before posting them. 
 
 Mr. Ramshart having come to Portland to 
 rest from overwork had harnessed himself to
 
 156 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 an amount of toil which two chaplains pulling 
 abreast would have found onerous. As 
 might have been expected from a man of his 
 temperament, he had instantly interested 
 himself in a few convicts who differed from 
 the others, and one of these was Albert 
 Snow. The fearful nature of the man's 
 crime, and the striking constancy of the wife 
 remaining faithful to him who had murdered 
 her father, would have been enough to account 
 for this. 
 
 It was a somewhat rash impulse, however, 
 that had led the London curate to seek an 
 interview with the malefactor s wife ; and, 
 while waiting for Mrs. Snow, he fought one 
 of his customary battles with the evil spirit 
 of shyness that was always seeking to over- 
 come him. '' Pluck, Toby, pluck. You've 
 brought it on yourself, man," he kept mutter- 
 ing in a half-audible soliloquy. And, as 
 though he had a living antagonist opposite 
 him, he sparred at the air and hit out several 
 times from the shoulder. This sort of physical 
 exertion braced him for interviews in which 
 he purposed doing something unconventional 
 that good might come of it.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 57 
 
 But when Mrs. Snow walked in, clad in 
 her black dress and veiled bonnet, it flashed 
 upon Mr. Ramshart, despite the veil, that he 
 had seen her most attractive face before. 
 Overtaken by a shower of rain, he had once 
 sought refuge in a post-office near the Green 
 Lanes, and, buying some stationery to make 
 the time pass, he had chatted with the post- 
 mistress. Mabel remembered him perfectly, 
 though she had not known his name when 
 he stood in her shop ; and Mr. Ramshart 
 had preserved a distinct recollection of her, 
 though he quite forgot where he had beheld 
 her. He entered so many houses and talked 
 with so many people in his parish visitings, 
 that it needed some remarkable event to 
 impress the identity and address of any per- 
 son clearly on his mind. Probably he could 
 not have rediscovered Mabel's shop if he 
 had gone in quest of it. 
 
 Notwithstanding, he opined that the claim- 
 ing of old acquaintanceship would make a 
 good beginning to conversation. 
 
 " Surely we have met before, Mrs. Snow," 
 he said, essaying to be sprightly, and wheel- 
 ing an arm-chair where the convict's wife
 
 158 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 could sit with her face to the Hght. " Yes, I 
 am sure we have met." 
 
 '' Very Hkely, sir," answered Mabel, with 
 presence of mind. ''Yet we are strangers. 
 Did you wish to speak to me about my 
 husband ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Ramshart, feeling 
 rebuffed. *' Poor fellow, he is ill. The 
 doctor has small hopes of him. I think it is 
 my duty not to hide this from you." 
 
 " Do you mean that my poor husband is 
 dying ? " asked Mabel, with a pitying anguish 
 in her eyes. 
 
 '* He would be in no danger if he were 
 free," continued the clergyman, looking and 
 speaking nervously, "but the life here is 
 killing him. That is why, finding but a brief 
 record of his offence in the prison register, 
 I wrote to a friend in London, and asked him 
 to hunt up a pile of newspapers in the British 
 Museum, and copy me a report of your 
 husband's trial. Mrs. Snow, I am bound to 
 say the evidence against him looks very bad." 
 
 " He was convicted on it," replied Mabel, 
 mournfully. But why did the chaplain speak 
 thus to her ? What was the use of his
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 59 
 
 raking up sinister events now covered up by 
 the sands of four years' time ? 
 
 *' He was convicted — true ; but he does 
 not admit that he was guilty in intent. He 
 says that he never meant to kill your father. 
 Do you believe that ? " 
 
 " Is it a question to ask of me, sir ?" said 
 Mabel, her bosom heaving. "Yes, I do 
 believe what my husband says. I am certain 
 he never meant murder. I am convinced, 
 too, that my father did not die by his hand." 
 
 *' But that wound in his head, and the life- 
 insurance which gave him a pecuniary interest 
 in your father's death ? " Mr. Ramshart 
 cracked his finger-joints, and his face ex- 
 pressed agony at the idea that he was inter- 
 preting ill what he wished to say. '* I — I 
 am not seeking to harrow your feelings, Mrs. 
 Snow ; what I want to ask is, have you no 
 tittle of evidence by which you could satisfy 
 the world as to your husband's moral inno- 
 cence ? At the time of his trial you must 
 have been bewildered, but since then for- 
 gotten incidents may have recurred to you ? " 
 
 Mabel could make no answer ; and the 
 curate, now quite subdued, broke out into
 
 l60 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 apologies as she rose, in her speechless grief, 
 to go away. 
 
 *' Pray forgive me, if I have pained you," 
 he said, holding out a diffident hand. '' I 
 meant for the best ; and as I shall be return- 
 ing to London soon, will you allow me to 
 call upon you and say how your husband is 
 doing ? " 
 
 " I would rather that you wrote," replied 
 jNIabel, without touching his hand^not that 
 she spurned it, but that she hasted to be gone 
 from the terrible memories which this man 
 had called up with his useless questions. 
 
 '* To what address shall I write ? " 
 
 '* To Northampton Square, care of my 
 brother, Mr. Chauncey Travers." 
 
 On the spur of the moment this was the 
 only address Mabel could give. Before 
 going to her present abode she had lived in 
 lodo^ino^s, and thither had all her husband's 
 letters from Brixton and Dartmoor been 
 directed. But Travers had ordered her to 
 use his address in future for correspondence 
 with her husband, and she now simply 
 repeated to Mr. Ramshart what she had 
 already told Albert Snow. It was not till
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. l6l 
 
 she had taken leave of the curate that she 
 reflected it had been a great oversight on 
 her brother's part, and on hers, not to have 
 made fresh arrangements, after the scene 
 with Captain Ramshart and the subsequent 
 discovery that Mr. Ramshart, the chaplain, 
 was a friend of the Harro wells. For this 
 Northampton Square address might be the 
 means of betraying her and her brother. 
 Through Mr. Ramshart the Harrowells 
 might casually hear that Travers was the 
 brother-in-law of a convict, and she — the 
 supposed baroness — a convict's wife. 
 
 She was so much dismayed by these 
 thoughts, that she stopped the warder, who 
 was escorting her to the prison gates, and 
 said she must say another word to the 
 chaplain. Hurrying back, she surprised Mr. 
 Ramshart in the very act of meditating who 
 she could possibly be. 
 
 " Mr. Ramshart, I have a favour to ask 
 of you," she ejaculated, looking him full in 
 the eyes. " May I ask you never to tell 
 anybody that my brother, Mr. Travers, has 
 a relation here ? It might ruin him in his 
 profession." 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 *' Oh, of course, Mrs. Snow, certainly," 
 answered the compassionate curate. 
 
 '* Let me be more exphcit still," continued 
 Mabel, feeling that she could entirely trust 
 this meek, right-minded gentleman. " You 
 are intimate with the Harrowells of High- 
 bury ? " 
 
 *' Dear me, yes," exclaimed Mr. Ramshart, 
 reddeninor. " Was it at their house that we 
 
 o 
 
 met ?" 
 
 " No, but I want you to promise faithfully 
 that you will never speak to one of them of 
 my husband, my brother, or me. I have a 
 particular reason for begging this of you." 
 
 " I will never commit an indiscretion that 
 could cause you the slightest annoyance, 
 Mrs. Snow," repeated the curate, earnestly. 
 
 "Thank you," said Mabel, in a reassured 
 way. And, when she was again gone, Tobias 
 Ramshart was glad in his soul that he had 
 been able to forge a link between himself 
 and this fair, most interesting and puzzling 
 lady.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Did Mabel believe her husband Innocent ? 
 Whether or no, his innocence lay sunk like 
 a treasure In mid-ocean. Law, public opinion, 
 and time had swept their floods over him ; 
 and, just as there are places In the deep to 
 which no diver can penetrate, so no human 
 hand could reach the spot where the proofs 
 of Albert Snow's innocence might lie and 
 brinor them to llsfht. 
 
 Tobias Ramshart had asked in his sim- 
 plicity whether Mabel remembered all the 
 facts of her husband's offence. Just as 
 though every detail of that hideous episode 
 which had destroyed her home and blighted 
 her life were not seared indelibly on her 
 mind ! The midnight crime, her father's 
 dying shriek, Albert's arrest, the hooting 
 crowds in the street, the trial at the Old
 
 164 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 Bailey, and the fortnight's horror of the 
 gallows while the convict's fate remained 
 undecided — these events formed a series of 
 ghastly visions that haunted her day and 
 night. And, interspersed with them, were 
 other atrocious scenes, connected with a 
 drunken father whom she had never been 
 able to love or to honour. 
 
 Mabel Snow was the daughter of a Captain 
 Travers, a profligate spendthrift who had 
 been cashiered from the army for misconduct, 
 tie was twice married. His first wife, 
 Chauncey Travers's mother, died early ; his 
 second wife, Mabel's mother, was a hand- 
 some but low-bred woman of shrewish temper, 
 who had made the home to both children a 
 purgatory. Providentially, Mabel, when seven 
 years old, was adopted by the sister of her 
 father's first wife, Miss Chauncey — a God- 
 fearing, kind-hearted gentlewoman, who 
 brought her up during ten years in happi- 
 ness. Thus from a field of weeds is a flower 
 sometimes transplanted by a tender hand, 
 and nurtured into bloom. In truth, Miss 
 Chauncey would have adopted both her 
 brother's children ; but Chauncey Travers,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 65 
 
 who was ten years older than his half-sister, 
 ran away from home when he was seventeen, 
 and was not heard of for years. 
 
 When Mabel was seventeen her aunt died, 
 and she had to return to such a home as 
 her father could offer her, a squalid set of 
 lodgings in Kilburn. Her mother was then 
 dying of cancer, and was being attended by 
 a young physician of the neighbourhood, Dr. 
 Albert Snow. Her father was unceasingly 
 drunk, obstreperous, and abusive. The home 
 was ensloughed in poverty and in the sordid- 
 ness of chronic debt. What money Captain 
 Travers could procure by cadging among 
 former brother officers was all spent in the 
 public-house, and the dying wife was left to 
 support herself as she could on things 
 obtained from pitying tradesmen, who gave 
 credit without trust. Between the husband 
 and wife revolting scenes of recrimination 
 were enacted every day. From the death- 
 bed, where she lay moaning in pain, Mrs. 
 Travers reviled the miserable sot, who had 
 not a particle of shame left in him ; and he 
 staggered about, blustering, maundering, 
 swearing, incorrigible.
 
 1 66 THE alderman's children. 
 
 Mabel had inherited a few hundreds of 
 pounds from her aunt. Unfortunately the 
 trustees to whom the money had been 
 devised for her sole use died before the 
 testatrix, and death surprised the latter before 
 she had substituted other names for theirs. 
 Consequently, Mabel being still under age, 
 her father became her natural guardian, and 
 her money fell into his hands. As soon as 
 he had got possession of it, he deserted his 
 home, lived for some months in self-indul- 
 gence, and only came back when he had 
 spent the last penny. Meanwhile, all the 
 medicines for Mrs. Travers and the bare 
 necessaries of life for mother and daughter, 
 including the rent, had been paid for by 
 Dr. Snow. 
 
 Meanwhile, also, Mabel and Dr. Snow 
 had become engaged. 
 
 A feeling had arisen between them and 
 ripened into affection. The doctor could not 
 but admire Mabel's patient efforts to restore 
 order to the home, her solicitude for her 
 mother, and her steadfast, unreproachful duti- 
 fulness towards her father ; and she was first 
 touched, then overwhelmed, by the doctor's
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 67 
 
 many acts of delicate kindness and fine 
 generosity. The household became de- 
 pendent upon him, for Mabel could not 
 decline charity that was pressed upon her 
 for her mother's sake ; and when Snow told 
 her that she might expunge all the obliga- 
 tions contracted towards him by becoming 
 his wife, how was she to refuse ? 
 
 If not the man to inspire a mastering 
 passion, Albert Snow was one of those men 
 whom everybody trusts — serious, hard-work- 
 ing, benevolent, and considerate in all his 
 ways. But if nothing else had drawn Mabel 
 to him, she would have been attracted by 
 the purely human yearning to find an honest, 
 orderly home after the appalling wretched- 
 ness in which she lived. There is not many 
 a man rising in the world, as Dr. Snov/ was, 
 who would have offered his hand to the 
 daughter of a confirmed drunkard, a byword 
 in the place where he lived ; and this Mabel 
 felt with a whole-hearted gratitude. 
 
 They were married. Mabel's mother was 
 removed to the doctor's house, and the poor 
 woman had at least a comfortable room in 
 which to die. After her death the young
 
 1 68 THE alderman's children. 
 
 couple might have Hved very happily together 
 but for Mabel's father. 
 
 The man did things that would exceed 
 the belief of those who do not know what 
 a drunkard is. Havinof borrowed all the 
 money he could from his son-in-law, he went 
 begging among the doctor's patients. He 
 stole his daughter's trinkets to pawn. If left 
 for one moment alone in a room, he would 
 snatch up an ornament or book, and sell it 
 for a few pence to buy gin. Dr. Snow was 
 being continually summoned to fetch him 
 away from a public-house where he lay dead- 
 drunk, or to bail him out of the police- 
 station. If good clothes were given him, he 
 sold them off his back and returned in rags. 
 He was put into a refuge, but he escaped ; 
 he was sent on a sea-voyage, but landed at 
 the first port, and tramped home unclean and 
 tattered, with a miserable story of how he 
 had got possessed of a ship's chronometer 
 ** by mistake," and ran danger of imprison- 
 ment unless his son-in-law ** would make the 
 matter right with the captain." 
 
 Albert Snow suffered professional injury 
 through the drunkard's doings, and yet the
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 69 
 
 people who condemned him for his excess 
 of forbearance would have been the very first 
 to exclaim had he abandoned his father-in- 
 law to the gaol and the workhouse. As it 
 was, many of those who are more ready to 
 believe evil than good, lent half-credulous 
 ears to the tipplers stories of how his 
 dauofhter and son-in-law denied him clothes 
 and shelter, because they would inherit 
 money at his death, and wished him to die. 
 For this loathsome creature, who had not 
 a friend in the world except Albert and 
 Mabel, abused them both wherever he went, 
 and in the vilest language that a diseased 
 brain could imagine. 
 
 " That sneaking scoundrel ! " he would 
 hiccough, alluding to his son-in-law ; " he'd 
 grudge to let his wife's poor old father sit 
 down at his table ; but you'll see, when I'm 
 dead, he'll be rolling in his carriage with my 
 money, and he won't so much as buy me 
 a gravestone." 
 
 The meaning of this was that, soon after 
 Mabel's birth, Captain Travers had been 
 persuaded by Miss Chauncey to insure his 
 life for ;^4000 on behalf of both his children.
 
 170 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 His sister-in-law always paid the premium. 
 The year of her death Chauncey Travers did 
 so, happening to have some spare money, 
 and being fearful to see the policy lapse ; 
 but after that it was Albert Snow who paid. 
 Naturally the dipsomaniac never remembered 
 these facts when declaiming before his pot- 
 house listeners. With a drunkard's cunning, 
 he could be reticent enough as to things that 
 told against himself, and he had got into a 
 habit of talking about the insurance money 
 as of a fortune which he had been inveio^led 
 into signing away. Invariably, too, he added, 
 with maudlin lamentations : '' Those two — 
 my heartless daughter and her man — will be 
 the death of me ; you mark my words." 
 
 One evening in late autumn, when a bleak 
 wdnd and a cold rain were sweeping the last 
 dried leaves from the trees, Captain Travers 
 rang at the doctor's door in a more hope- 
 lessly muddled state than usual, and drenched 
 to the skin. He had been turned out of his 
 lodging (a room which Snow rented for him) 
 for having created a disturbance, and he had 
 now^here to lay his head. Mabel w^as at that 
 time in a very delicate state of health, and
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. Ijl 
 
 her husband, to avoid an altercation in the 
 passage, admitted the outcast and ordered 
 a bed-room to be prepared for him. He had 
 some trouble in getting him upstairs, but 
 eventually left him snoring between sheets. 
 
 A few hours later, when the servants had 
 all retired to rest and the lights were put 
 out, the young doctor was seated alone in 
 his study, wondering how he could rid his 
 home of this intolerable and shameful in- 
 cubus. He had an ardent faith in the 
 progress of science, and asked himself w^hen 
 the time would come for discovering the 
 antidote to alcohol — the drug which men 
 might take to turn them, nauseated, from this 
 reason-killing poison ? 
 
 Suddenly he heard furtive steps on the 
 stairs, and became aware that somebody was 
 slinking into the drawing-room contiguous 
 to his study. It was Captain Travers, who, 
 awaking from his stupor, and thinking that 
 everybody in the house was in bed, had 
 crept downstairs on a marauding expedition. 
 The doctor followed him noiselessly into the 
 drawing-room, and saw him on his knees, 
 trying to force open a chiffonniere where some
 
 172 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 silver was kept, with a Japanese dagger 
 which he had detached from a trophy of 
 arms. 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked Snow. And 
 the old reprobate, starting up in a palsy of 
 fear, stood for a moment haggard. But then 
 the fury at being detected seized upon him, 
 and he began pouring out such a torrent of 
 objurgations and blasphemies as not even 
 he had ever uttered before. In this inebriate 
 madness he swore that the house was his 
 own, and, tossing his arms about, he ended 
 by dashing his hand against the glass shade 
 of a rather valuable clock on the mantel-shelf. 
 Shade, clock, and stand, all came crashing 
 into the fender ; and thereupon the drunkard, 
 who had cut his hand, wiped the blood off 
 on to the white paper of the drawing-room 
 wall, making a foul smudge. 
 
 Then this once, for the first and only time 
 in his life, Dr. Snow lost patience. It was 
 useless to argue with the maniac, so he 
 simply seized him by the collar, pushed him 
 resisting and yelling down the passage, 
 opened the house door, and flung him out 
 into the front garden.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 73 
 
 " There, do your worst and come to what 
 end you may," he cried. " I have done with 
 you." 
 
 Mabel had heard the noise below, and, 
 starting out of bed, called to her husband 
 from the landing — 
 
 " Bertie dear, what is that ? " 
 
 *' It is your unhappy father," he answered, 
 going up. But this man was so good that, 
 after he had related the incidents and stood 
 beside his wife's bed trying to comfort her, 
 he said, self-reproachfully, '' I am sorry that 
 I lost my temper. Poor man, he is delirious, 
 and not responsible for his acts." 
 
 Just at this moment an awful shriek rose 
 distinct in the night air, coming from the 
 road. 
 
 " Did you hear that, Bertie ? " exclaimed 
 Mabel, sitting upright, and grasping her 
 husband's arm. 
 
 "He is trying to rouse the neighbours," 
 answered Albert, calmly. " However, we 
 can't leave him out all night in the rain. 
 I'll just go down and fetch him in again." 
 
 " No, not by yourself, Bertie," cried Mabel 
 in affright.
 
 I 74 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " He can't hurt me, dear," replied the 
 doctor. And, going downstairs, he again 
 opened the house door. A gust almost blew 
 the door out of his hand. It was still raining 
 hard, and the wind soughed dismally through 
 the denuded trees. But the doctor could 
 hear no sound except that of the wind and 
 of the rain pelting on the roof and pouring 
 in a cascade down the zinc water-pipe. He 
 walked bareheaded to the end of his strip 
 of garden, and stood looking over the gate, 
 under the light of his red lantern, which 
 burned all night. Still he could see and 
 hear nothing, till a policeman came strolling 
 along, in a dripping glazed cape and with a 
 bull's-eye lantern at his belt. 
 
 " Good-night, sir," said the man, touching 
 his helmet, for he knew the doctor well. 
 
 " Good-night," answered Snow, rather 
 startled at the apparition. And he turned 
 indoors again, concluding his father-in-law 
 must have gone home. 
 
 He went to bed, but only slept till dawn, 
 for, just as day was breaking, the house was 
 roused by a police-inspector and a sergeant, 
 who came to say that Captain Travers had
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I 75 
 
 been found dead in a neighbouring garden, 
 with two deep knife-wounds on the top of 
 his skull ; and a bloody broken knife — a 
 Japanese knife, with which it was supposed 
 the injuries had been inflicted — had been 
 picked up in the road, some dozen yards 
 from where the body lay. 
 
 Suspicion did not at first point to Albert 
 Snow, but when the police saw the signs of 
 a scuffle in the drawing-room, the smashed 
 clock and the blood on the wall, they did 
 suspect. Later in the day the doctor was 
 arrested, and from that moment damning 
 evidence thickened around him. The dead 
 man had spent part of the night under his 
 roof ; his servants had heard the noise of the 
 midnight quarrel ; a policeman had seen the 
 doctor bareheaded in his garden at night ; 
 and the Japanese knife was Albert Snow's ; 
 blood-stains were found on the doctor's 
 clothes, wristbands, and shirt front (blood 
 from the cut hands) ; and, lastly, there was 
 the inculpating fact of the insurance money 
 by which the doctor would benefit at his 
 father-in-law s death. 
 
 The coroner's jury returned a verdict of
 
 176 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 wilful murder against Albert Snow, and the 
 doctor had to take his trial. All the ability 
 of counsel, and all the frantic protestations 
 of Mabel availed nothing. Who but Albert 
 Snow could possibly have taken the 
 drunkard's life ? The only other man who 
 had an interest in the inebriate's death, as 
 heir to half the insurance money, was 
 Chauncey Travers ; but he was on the Con- 
 tinent at the time of the murder. The theory 
 of suicide was inadmissible, owing to the 
 nature of the wounds inflicted on the top of 
 the skull with such violence that the blade 
 of the knife had broken, and half remained 
 in the head. Public opinion, unstable as 
 water, rushed to the conviction of the doctor's 
 guilt long before the Old Bailey jury had 
 given their verdict, and a revulsion of feeling 
 actually declared itself in the murdered man's 
 favour. People who had known how worth- 
 less he was began to talk of him as a " poor 
 old toper," "a broken-down gentleman, who 
 had no harm in him except that he liked his 
 CTlass or two." 
 
 Albert Snow was sentenced to death, but, 
 in consequence of the great provocation
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDRExV. I 77 
 
 which he had received (though the judge 
 expressed doubts even on that point, broadly 
 hinting that the prisoner might, with diaboHcal 
 craft, have encouraged his father-in-law in 
 drunkenness), he was recommended to mercy, 
 and obtained a commutation of his sentence. 
 
 A few days after the trial, Mabel's new- 
 born baby died, and she herself lay between 
 life and death when she heard that her 
 husband was not to perish by the rope, but 
 by inches in prison. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Could Mabel remember all the facts of 
 the trial } The above were the facts which 
 Mr. Ramshart had brought back to her mind, 
 and which she conned over, forlorn and 
 shuddering, on her journey back from Port- 
 land Isle to London. 
 
 But the worst fact of all was the doubt 
 that lingered in Mabel's own mind as to her 
 husband's complete innocence. Against the 
 overpowering evidence that had convicted 
 him, her reason fought with unblenching 
 fidelity, but without obtaining the mastery. 
 That Albert was guiltless in intent, she did 
 believe. But might he not have been carried 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 away by that fit of temper, so unusual with 
 him, and have struck blows unconsciously, 
 in self-defence, and without afterwards re- 
 membering them ? Experts had deposed 
 that the murdered man might have lived for 
 a few minutes after receiving the blows, and 
 have found time to stagger away to the 
 garden where his corpse was found. Albert 
 himself denied this, maintaining that the 
 blows must have caused instantaneous death, 
 so that, if he had been himself the assassin, 
 the murdered man must have died in his 
 garden. But Albert was not called as an 
 expert in his own defence, — besides, what 
 was there to show that he had not himself 
 flung his victim into the neighbour's garden ? 
 Like a worm hidden in the flower, this 
 doubt gnawed at Mabel's wifely 'faith ; and 
 it robbed her of the consolation of hoping 
 that her husband, suffering unjustly, might 
 some day have his case retried and his 
 innocence proclaimed by Heaven's High 
 Court of Appeal.
 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was late before Mabel reached her quiet 
 little home at Finsbury Park. The shutters 
 had long been closed, but Miss Rose was 
 sitting up for her, and the tea-table was laid. 
 The tranquillity of this place and the contrast 
 it afforded to the dreadful scenes and thoughts 
 that had troubled Mabel all day, brought 
 repose to her senses. After all, her saddest 
 reflections ended perforce in resignation. 
 They were like the dissolving views seen 
 in a show — when they had been gazed at 
 and had vanished, nothing could come of 
 them. 
 
 Miss Rose — or Madge — perceiving Mabel 
 was tired, went into the kitchen to tell the 
 maid-of-all-work to make some tea. While 
 this beverage was being brewed, and Madge 
 was helping to boil an Qgg and prepare some
 
 l8o THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 buttered toast, Mabel walked into the shop 
 to inspect the day's accounts. 
 
 The gas was lit though the shutters were 
 closed, and an open ledger, on the railed desk 
 where the post-office business was transacted, 
 showed that everything was in order. 
 Madge, who did credit to her School Board 
 education, wrote a neat hand, and was 
 capital in her arithmetic, as she had need to 
 be ; for, to use her own language, " those 
 tiresome people at St. Martin's-le-Grand 
 made a terrible to-do about a nonsensical 
 halfpenny." 
 
 As it was the postmistress's business to 
 see that there was not a '' nonsensical half- 
 penny" wrong, Mabel, fatigued as she was, 
 checked the columns of figures. Yes, all 
 was correct, and tallying with the bills. 
 There was the packet of registered letters 
 tied up with string along with the invoice ; 
 the blue postal-orders and the green-lettered 
 money-orders that had been cashed during the 
 day pinned together, separately ; the stamp- 
 book, the Savings Bank ledger, the book of 
 dog-licences with counterfoils, the parcel 
 register, the book-post register, and the cash-
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. iSl 
 
 box with its key and that of the till on a 
 steel ring. Mabel always took this cash-box 
 to her room when she went to bed, and 
 locked it up in a cupboard ; for she, Madge, 
 and the maid-servant lived alone in the 
 house. 
 
 When Mabel had done with the post-office 
 branch, she turned to the shop accounts, and 
 here again the ledgers revealed how busy 
 Madge had been all day. Here were the 
 bills of morning and evening papers sold 
 and unsold, those of weekly journals in 
 every variety, from the sixpenny illustrated 
 to the penny dreadfuls, and then the maga- 
 zines, and the order-book, and the day-book 
 with its entries of sales in stationery, photo- 
 graphs, birthday-cards, colours, sketching- 
 blocks, school copy-books, etc. The takings 
 of the day had been over six pounds. 
 
 ** Yes, six pounds," cried Madge, tripping 
 in from the parlour to announce that the 
 toast and tea were ready. " Wouldn't it be 
 nice if it were all profit ? " 
 
 " You've had a great deal to do, dear," 
 said Mabel, with a kind look. *' But it's a 
 real shame of me to have left you alone so
 
 1 82 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 often like this. I am going to stay at home 
 for a long time now." 
 
 '' Oh, I like the work, Mrs. Snow," laughed 
 Madge ; " it makes me feel so important. 
 To-day a young man came about hiring the 
 first-floor rooms, and, as he was a bit saucy, 
 I felt quite grand when I told him that, as 
 we must be very particular in a post-office, 
 we should require references. He said he 
 would call to-morrow, but I doubt if he was 
 a true prophet." 
 
 " There is no hurry about letting those 
 rooms," answered Mabel. ** They are scarcely 
 furnished yet, and when I take a lodger I 
 must have another servant." 
 
 " The rooms are furnished enough for 
 la-di-das like this one," retorted Madge, 
 mimicking the strut and eye-glass ogling of 
 her applicant. ''He came swaggering in 
 with flannels, tennis-shoes, and a racket. 
 
 " ' A 'bus to the City, 
 Back at six fifty, 
 Tuppenny swell young man.' 
 
 Don't I know the sort .^ I think it would be 
 fun, though, if we were to hang up a notice,
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 83 
 
 * Bed-room and sitting-room to let. None 
 but respectabilities need apply.' " 
 
 " Nobody called except this young man ? " 
 asked Mabel, amused. 
 
 '' No — at least, yes. The new police- 
 inspector of the district called to introduce 
 himself — a civil-spoken man. He said he'd 
 just stepped in to pay his respects, so I gave 
 him a lofty salute from the top of my high 
 stool. ' The dame made a curtsey, the dog 
 made a bow' — that kind of thing. He told 
 me he had been a sergeant at Kilburn." 
 
 " Kilburn ! " echoed Mabel, with her eyes 
 fixed on her assistant. 
 
 " I think he said Kilburn or Kill-some- 
 thing. But, dear me, I was nearly forgetting 
 that a letter came for you by the last delivery, 
 Mrs. Snow, — registered, too, and with such a 
 seal ! And then there's a notice of a new 
 mail to the Bahamas, which I hung up in the 
 window as /^r insUmction. You wouldn't 
 imagine people in this part of the world 
 could have much to say to the Bahamas, and 
 yet it's curious how even in this Finsbury 
 Park of ours, letters are addressed to all 
 points of the compass. I've read that we
 
 184 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 English are the greatest travellers, and it 
 looks true, for I've weighed and stamped 
 letters to a dozen different countries to-day. 
 You'd think these people had tied up all 
 their relations in a sack and let them tumble 
 out by accident over every part of the globe." 
 
 Mabel's letter was directed in her brother's 
 hand, and her features, already disturbed by 
 the mention of Kilburn, where her former 
 home had been, assumed an expression of 
 pain and anxiety as she scanned the address. 
 Time was when she did not receive her 
 brother's letters with this misgiving, but since 
 she was so contented in her new employment 
 that she could desire no change, her only 
 wish was that Travers might not, with his 
 grand schemes, undo the good which he had 
 done by installing her here. With a dull 
 weight at the heart she dropped the letter 
 into her pocket, postponing its perusal until 
 she should be alone. 
 
 *' Now come and eat something before the 
 toast gets cold," cried Madge, cheerfully. 
 ''And oh, Mrs. Snow, do tell me about 
 everything you saw in your sea-side trip. 
 Wasn't the sea beautiful, and the green fields
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 85 
 
 and the cows, but the sea most of all ? I'd 
 marry a fisherman for the sake of living in 
 a cottage by the sea." 
 
 She knelt upon the hearth-rug, a favourite 
 posture of hers in winter, and to which she 
 clung in summer, although there was nothing 
 but the shavings in the grate to stare at. 
 An excellent girl this Madge Rose, with the 
 spirits of a Mark Tapley, whose babble 
 flowed as freshly as a fountain of pure water. 
 
 '' Would you believe it, I have never seen 
 the sea except in pictures, which make it out 
 sometimes pea-green, sometimes a willow- 
 pattern hue, which is puzzling. But the 
 large steamers and the little boats and the 
 herrings and soles swimming about, that 
 must be lovely ! I can't fancy a sole 
 swimming." 
 
 ** Cannot your father take you some day 
 for a sea-side trip ? " asked Mabel. 
 
 ** Oh, Mrs. Snow, how would that be 
 possible ? " cried Madge, clapping her hands 
 merrily. *' A poor man with thirty shillings 
 a week and ten children to keep, how is he 
 to do it ? And, then, I believe mother thinks 
 the sea-side wicked. Poor mother ! she
 
 1 86 THE alderman's children. 
 
 thinks anything wicked that draws working 
 people from their homes. She's up at six 
 every morning to get father his breakfast, 
 and works until I don't know when at night. 
 But there isn't a cleaner set of children than 
 ours when they go to school — Katie, Polly, 
 and Susie in white pinafores, with their hair 
 plaited ; Tom, Dick, and Harry with their 
 clothes nicely brushed and their shoes blacked. 
 And father, he's such a good man, though he 
 doesn't say much to make you think it. He 
 brings home his wages every Saturday, and 
 doesn't keep so much as sixpence for himself. 
 The only enjoyment he ever gets is to sit at 
 home on Sunday afternoon in his shirt-sleeves 
 to spare his best coat, when he smokes a 
 pipe or two and reads his Sunday paper. 
 But he's happy enough, and so are we all." 
 
 '' I am sure you must be," agreed Mabel. 
 
 " Oh yes, it isn't money that makes merry," 
 continued Madge, suddenly tittering at a 
 recollection which occurred to her. " There's 
 a tipsy fellow who lives near us, and one 
 day, when he had had too much to drink, he 
 was heard shouting, ' Riches ! What do I 
 care for them ? Why, if I was Mr. Roths-
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 8/ 
 
 child, could I be drunker than I am now ? ' 
 That was his idea of happiness, but It isn't 
 ours. I believe mother's happiest time is 
 when she goes on Sunday evening to hear 
 Mr. Sobbin preach at her, and tell her she's 
 an unprofitable servant. I sometimes say, 
 ' Mother, if you and Mr. Sobbin could change 
 places for a bit, he do the hard work and 
 you the preaching, we might all hear some- 
 thing new.' But mother shakes her head at 
 me ; and it's only my joke, you know." 
 
 ** And what Is your happiest time, Madge ? " 
 inquired Mabel, to keep the talk going. 
 
 '' I am always happy," answered Madge, 
 thoughtfully. " I don't know, though, but 
 what, w^hen I'd saved the first pound out of 
 my wages, and took it home, saying, ' There, 
 mother, that's for the children,' I didn't feel 
 better pleased than if the queen had called 
 to me from her golden coach, ' Here, Miss 
 Rose, sit beside me.' You see, there w^as 
 something like a tear in mother's eye — 
 though she isn't of a crying sort : so that I 
 had to run upstairs, and steady myself by 
 tumbling on a bed with the baby. It isn't 
 quite easy, you know, to keep things going
 
 1 88 THE alderman's children. 
 
 at home without a pinch, even since we three 
 elder ones have got situations. But, Mrs. 
 Snow, I wash you'd come to my home one 
 Sunday afternoon, and have tea," broke off 
 Madge, abruptly. '' Mother would be so 
 glad to see you." 
 
 *' I'll go w^ith pleasure, dear," answered 
 Mabel, meaning what she said. 
 
 *' Will you truly, though ? " exclaimed 
 Madge, with a joyous turn of her freckled 
 face and auburn curls. "We live near the 
 Chalk Farm Road, close to Hampstead, and 
 it's such a nice walk to the Heath on Sunday 
 evenings, when the church bells are ringing 
 and the rich tradespeople are driving back 
 from Jack Straw's Castle in their dog-carts. 
 The children and I make the most of it, I 
 can tell you ; and we all come back to supper 
 so hungry that poor mother always wonders 
 whether the cold meat will go round ; but 
 one ends by getting the bone to pick, and 
 that sets us all laughing. The neighbours 
 call us the * Twelve Jolly Roses,' and I'm 
 sure they're welcome." 
 
 Madge's prattle harmonized so fully with 
 the mood to which Mabel wished to attune
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 1 89 
 
 herself — that of grateful satisfaction with her 
 lot, — that it was a pleasure to listen to the 
 girl. Madge chatted till past midnight, for 
 the postmistress could never go to bed until 
 past that hour. Soon after midnight the post- 
 man came to make his last collection. He 
 unlocked the three boxes — Inland, Foreign, 
 and Newspaper — from the street side, turned 
 their contents into his bags, and then rapped 
 at the door for the registered letters and 
 parcels. These were handed to him through 
 the aperture made by opening the door with- 
 out unchaining it, and then it was, *' Good- 
 night, ma am." 
 
 " Good-niorht." After which Mabel was 
 free to retire. She, Madge, and the servant- 
 girl had their rooms on the second floor, the 
 first floor being fitted up for a lodger not yet 
 forthcoming. 
 
 A neat tidy room was Mabel's, with its 
 new Tottenham Court Road furniture and 
 white cotton window curtains. As soon as 
 she was alone here, with her door locked 
 and her cash-box stowed away, Mabel sat 
 down on her bed and opened her brother's 
 letter. She was almost prepared for its
 
 190 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 contents, and only a faint sigh broke from 
 her as she read — 
 
 " ' Cheapside IMail.' 
 
 " Office Fleet Street." 
 
 "My DEAR Mabel, 
 
 '' Young Harrowell called on me 
 this morning well-nigh suicidal at having been 
 informed by his sister that you would never 
 see him again. It seems you told Miss 
 Harrowell not to communicate your decision 
 to me, and Charlie made me promise not to 
 tell you what he had told me. You see how 
 well secrets are kept. 
 
 " I have already explained to you that you 
 would be doing me the utmost service by not 
 discouraging the assiduities of this young man, 
 who really loves you ; zxvA, practically free as 
 you are^ I must repeat that you could not do 
 better for yourself than by taking some notice 
 of the affection which he offers you. 
 
 " I enclose a letter for you which he wrote 
 in my office, looking so excited and wretched 
 that he could scarcely hold his pen. You 
 cannot leave the letter unanswered, and if 
 you will call on me in the Square to-morrow 
 at about one, I will, if you like, suggest the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I9I 
 
 form of your reply. But this business must 
 give way to all others, so do not fail to come. 
 ** Yesterday's scene in front of my house 
 renders it impossible that I should retain my 
 present lodgings, so I am looking for others, 
 and shall move out as soon as I can find 
 convenient chambers further West. 
 
 '* Your affectionate, 
 
 '' C. Travers." 
 
 '' Practically free! How can he say such 
 things ? " murmured Mabel, as she opened 
 the second letter, and read — 
 
 '' Dear Baroness de la Neva, 
 
 " I know it is great presumption in 
 me to write this to you, but I cannot help it. 
 If you love anybody else, please tell me so, 
 and I will never trouble you again ; but if it 
 be otherwise, do not let me continue in the 
 dismay which I feel at your having told my 
 sister that you would never see me again. 
 Have I offended you in any way } Let me 
 see you once again, that I may tell you how 
 glad I should be to do anything on earth 
 that would make 3'ou trust me, and enable
 
 192 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 you to believe that I care for nobody, outside 
 my own family, as I do for you. I know I 
 am not worthy of you, and I do not think 
 I ever can be, but I would try so hard if you 
 gave me a word of encouragement. 
 '' Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " Charlie Harrowell." 
 
 *' Poor boy ! But what a situation to have 
 placed us both in !" mused Mabel. *'Can it 
 have been Chaunie who urged him to write 
 such a letter ? " 
 
 She had already vowed to herself that she 
 would not meet Charlie Harrowell again, and 
 now she resolved that she would not call on 
 her brother next day. She would work for 
 him, sweep a crossing for him if necessary, 
 but no honest scheme of his could require a 
 practice of constant deception on her part. 
 Integrity must be her only purpose in life, 
 as it was the only one congenial with her 
 character. Her resolution might require a 
 struggle, but before she lay down she knelt 
 and prayed fervently that God might give 
 her strength to keep it. 
 
 Mabel was always obliged to be up before
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 93 
 
 seven o'clock. While the maid cleaned the 
 shop floor with sand and tea-leaves, the 
 carriers' carts arrived with their bundles of 
 damp newspapers and contents-bills. Then 
 came strings of buyers, and the boys who 
 took the papers round to customers, and the 
 servant-ofirls brin^ine letters written over- 
 night to be stamped, and early clerks wanting 
 post-cards on which to scribble afternoon 
 appointments. There was a lull between 
 the first tide of customers and the second, 
 consisting of business men and clerks going 
 city-wards by train ; and during this time 
 Mabel and Madge breakfasted, but never 
 together, for the shop could not be left 
 without attendance for a moment. 
 
 When the whole population of the district 
 had gone up to town — a human torrent turn- 
 ing the great mill-wheel of England's gold- 
 grinding — there supervened a second lull. 
 This was the hour when the tradesmen's 
 boys went their rounds, when ladles paid 
 their morning visits to the larder, gave their 
 orders to their cooks, wrote their notes, and 
 introduced their little ones to the local 
 doctors, whose rival broughams coursed 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 along the roads, conspicuous from being the 
 only private carriages in the place. Next, 
 the procession of nurse-maids and perambu- 
 lators began, and, with many an admonition 
 to their infant charges at the door, to be 
 good for a minute for fear of the policemen, 
 nurses would step in to the post-office to add 
 to their Savings Bank deposits, or have their 
 books made up, or give notice of withdrawal. 
 
 Later, as the sun warmed in the heavens, 
 the ladies came out to post their letters and 
 to shop. This was the period when two 
 pairs of hands were no more than enough for 
 all the work that had to be done. The 
 letter-weight clicked every minute, the chink 
 of change over the counter was incessant, 
 Madge had to run up and down a three-step 
 ladder lifting boxes of letter-pdper, and Mabel 
 was always turning to a Directory to ascer- 
 tain the rates of postage to outlandish places 
 with extraordinary names. 
 
 An imperial realm truly is our England, 
 since this new-built, semi-genteel London 
 suburb was already connected by the in- 
 visible wires of interest or affection wuth every 
 great city of the world, — ay, and with every
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. I95 
 
 place where something was being done by- 
 British hands for the world's advancement — 
 with African battle-fields and Australian 
 diggings, with Indian frontier stations and 
 Ceylon tea-plantations, with the Chinese 
 Treaty Ports, the Arctic whale fisheries, with 
 the busy townships of America and the 
 Canadian backwoods ! 
 
 It did not tend to the lightening of Mabel's 
 work that she was popular with all her 
 customers. Attracted by her obliging ways, 
 they did not fail to notice her beauty, and 
 her refined, lady-like manner. The young 
 ladies called her *'a sweet little thing," the 
 elderly ones said she was *' a most proper 
 young person," and young and old alike made 
 great demands upon her time. 
 
 With some she had established a sort of 
 intimacy, for they addressed her as Mrs. 
 Snow, and gave her a pleasant nod when 
 they came in. There was the young lady 
 engaged to an officer at Seringapotam, who 
 reddened as she handed in, several times a 
 week, letters much over weight, that contained 
 photographs or birthday-cards ; and the old 
 lady who was always forgetting to put
 
 196 TPIE alderman's CHILDREN". 
 
 Stamps on large envelopes full of newspaper 
 cuttings destined for the Cape ; and another 
 old lady who wanted to know whether the 
 Parcel Post would carry to Aberdeen a bird- 
 cage with a bullfinch in it, and whether the 
 post-office people would be sure to keep the 
 birdie's glass filled with water on the journey. 
 For all and such like did Mabel speak 
 amiably, and give diligent service. 
 
 The busiest hour in her day was that when 
 Mabel ought to have gone up to London if 
 she had meant to keep the appointment with 
 her brother. Her heart beat a little as she 
 looked at the clock while there was still time 
 to change her mind ; but she kept to her vow, 
 and at last it was too late for her to go. It 
 was a relief to her when the hands of the 
 clock had moved so as to leave her no 
 option. However, she reflected that she 
 ought to write to her brother ; and, amid many 
 interruptions, she indited this letter at her 
 office desk : — 
 
 " Dear Chaunie, 
 
 " I went yesterday to see poor 
 Albert. It was sadder than usual, and I
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 97 
 
 cannot bear to write about it. I was told 
 that he could not live long in that dreadful 
 place. Think of what I must feel, being 
 utterly powerless to help him ! 
 
 "A thing happened at P. I., which I 
 must now tell you. j\Ir. Ramshart, the 
 Harrowells' friend, who is temporary 
 chaplain, requested to see me, and recognized 
 me from having once seen me in this shop. 
 His memory was puzzled, however, for he 
 asked me where we had met, and I did not 
 remind him ; but before we separated he 
 inquired where he could write to give me 
 news of poor Bertie (of whom he spoke most 
 compassionately), and I inadvertently men- 
 tioned your address in Northampton Square. 
 You had told me not to give my own 
 address, and I could think of no other than 
 yours ; but subsequently, when I remembered 
 that what I had said might be the means of 
 identifying you as a relation of Bertie's, I 
 went back to Mr. Ramshart, and got his 
 promise that he would never mention to the 
 Harrowells, or to anybody, anything in con- 
 nection with Bertie, you, or me. He is a 
 gentleman, and I feel that he will keep his
 
 198 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 word. But oh, Chaunie, in this, as in other 
 things, let us put faith in God. It is not our 
 fault if this calamity has fallen on us, and He 
 will not suffer us to be punished for it as for 
 a crime, if we do not attempt by deceitful 
 means to avoid the trials which are insepar- 
 able from our lot. For myself, I would not 
 care to conceal who I am, but would far 
 rather face my destiny, though the whole 
 world should make it a cruel one, than cloak 
 myself under any untruth. 
 
 " Let me now add that I cannot meet Mr. 
 Charles Harrowell again, nor answer his 
 letter. You know I cannot and must not. 
 I hope he likes you well enough by this time 
 to trust you, and be guided by your advice ; 
 but no blessing could rest on any plans you 
 may be undertaking for his benefit and your 
 own, if you prosecuted them by employing 
 me further to mislead this young man. Think 
 of that, dear, and let your own manly sense 
 and brotherly feeling tell you I am right. I 
 would never disobey you in any matter when 
 I could in peace with my conscience render 
 you a service ; but I should have no peace,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 1 99 
 
 and should do you no service, if I did what 
 you have asked — I am sure without having 
 quite thought the subject over. 
 
 " Your ever loving, 
 
 " Mabel."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Having despatched her letter, Mabel again 
 experienced unspeakable relief ; but she made 
 sure that her brother would call to see her in 
 the evening, and, as the afternoon wore on, 
 she tried to nerve herself for that interview. 
 But Travers did not come that day, nor the 
 next day, nor the next. A week passed, and 
 she heard nothing of him. She concluded 
 that he must be angry with her ; but her 
 thoughts alternated between fear and hope. 
 Now she imagined that he had kept his 
 threat of leaving the country ; then recollect- 
 ing that he was sincerely fond of her, and 
 had given many proofs of his affection, she 
 caressed the idea that he might intend to 
 leave her altogether out of his future plans — 
 suffering her to continue in the humble occu-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 20I 
 
 pation where she had found a quiet, honour- 
 able means of HveHhood. 
 
 During this period of expectancy two 
 rather important events happened to her. 
 One day she saw Mr. Ramshart pass by her 
 window. His hoh'day at Portland was over, 
 and, apparently, his memory had brought 
 back to him the circumstances under which 
 he had first met Albert Snow's wife. He 
 walked slowly down the street, glancing 
 at the inscriptions over the shops, and, when 
 he had read the name " Snow " over the 
 post-office, he crossed the road and looked 
 into the window as though he were examin- 
 ing some photographs. He saw Mabel, and 
 their eyes met ; but he made no sign of 
 recognition, and walked on. Though Mabel 
 burned to run after him and ask for news of 
 her husband, she felt grateful for his dis- 
 cretion. It was as if he had tacitly renewed 
 the promise to keep her secret. 
 
 The other event occurred in this wise. 
 Between one o'clock and three, when business 
 was most slack, Mabel and Madge took it in 
 turns to go out for an hour's walk. It was 
 Madge's turn to go out, and Mabel was
 
 202 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 seated behind her counter, enjoying a little 
 rest, with her hands folded in her lap, when 
 a police officer strode into the shop. 
 
 He wore the uniform of an inspector — a 
 braided patrol jacket with a black sword- 
 sling, a peaked cap with a silver crown on 
 the band, and he raised a white gloved hand 
 in military salute. 
 
 **You don't know me, ma'am," he said, 
 looking hard at Mabel, but speaking shyly, 
 almost in a whisper. " I recognized you the 
 first time I set eyes on you, but I've been 
 watching for the opportunity to speak to you 
 alone. You needn't be afraid of me, ma'am." 
 
 By his features Mabel would not have 
 recognized him, but at the sound of his voice 
 his name flashed on her mind, like the sudden 
 lighting of a lamp. This was the policeman 
 who had seen Albert Snow bareheaded in his 
 garden on the night of the murder. 
 
 "You are Constable Dadge," she said, 
 with forced calm. ''It is you who gave 
 evidence at " 
 
 *' Yes, ma'am, the same — perhaps a bit 
 changed, though, since then." 
 
 A bit changed ! The man had formerly
 
 203 
 
 been hale and hearty as in the prime of Hfe, 
 and he now seemed elderly. He had shaved 
 off his beard, and only wore short grey 
 whiskers ; his figure had also got enlarged 
 into unhealthy fat, and he breathed heavily. 
 But the most noticeable alteration was in his 
 countenance. From exposure or other causes, 
 his cheeks had become cupreosed, his nose 
 was reddening, and there was a weak, watery 
 look in his bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " They've promoted me to be inspector, 
 ma'am," he continued huskily ; in fact, he 
 had to clear his throat every time he spoke. 
 " But what I want to tell you is, that not a 
 soul about this here place shall hear a word 
 about you from me. I'd cut off my hand 
 sooner than do you harm. That's truth I'll 
 take my oath to." 
 
 '' Thank you, Mr. Dadge," answered 
 Mabel, with a little emotion. And inwardly 
 she blessed God for this new token of 
 energetically tendered, unsought pity. Could 
 the world be so hard ? and might she not 
 well trust to the shielding Hand of Him who 
 is the Protector of the widow and the father- 
 less ?
 
 204 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " How is the poor gentleman, ma'am ? " 
 the inspector next said, dropping his voice, 
 and moving close to the counter. 
 
 ''My husband is not well," was all Mabel 
 could reply. 
 
 " Poor chap ! it [was a sad case. But it 
 wasn't my evidence that convicted him, was 
 it, ma'am ? " 
 
 " No ; not yours alone." 
 
 " The case was dead against him from the 
 first," declared the inspector, with a flushing 
 face and excited manner. '* But I'll tell you 
 what, ma'am : I've a mate who is a warder at 
 Dartmoor, and I told him to do all he could 
 for Dr. Snow. There's many a thing a 
 warder can manage, to make things pretty 
 comfortable for a man, without breaking rules, 
 and last time I heard from my mate he said 
 he was repeating every day to the doctor that 
 your husband wasn't fit for hard work. That's 
 the way to get 'em put on to something light, 
 or to get 'em transferred." 
 
 *' My husband has been transferred to 
 Portland," said Mabel. 
 
 " Ah there, you see ! " exclaimed the 
 inspector, as if this were his doing. " They'll
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 205 
 
 be moving him to Woking next, you mark 
 my words, and then he'll be much closer to 
 you ; and, as he's a doctor, maybe they'll 
 employ him in the surgery. Poor gentle- 
 man ! he was always good to the perlice, and 
 we all felt sorry for him." 
 
 To Mabel's surprise tears actually stood in 
 the man's eyes. But altogether his behaviour 
 was rather strange. He talked a good deal, 
 lingering much longer than he need have 
 done, and, upon customers casually entering 
 the shop, he turned his verbosity on to the 
 weather with somewhat clumsy ostentation. 
 Feeling that she had a friend in the inspector 
 — a Heaven-raised friend, to all seeming, 
 since his patronage was so unaccountable — 
 Mabel could not wish him gone, and yet she 
 felt more at ease when he had departed. 
 
 He went out wagging his head confi- 
 dentially, and slapping his chest by way of 
 conveying that her secret was buried under 
 his tunic. In about an hour, however, he 
 returned — this time while Madge was in the 
 shop, — and he proposed himself as a tenant 
 for the two first-floor rooms which Mabel had 
 to let.
 
 206 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 He affected to speak with bluffness, as 
 though he and Mrs. Snow had never met 
 before — 
 
 " They're building a new P'Hce Station, 
 ma'am, and I shall have to lodge there when 
 the place is ready. But I want lodging for 
 the next six weeks or so, and your rooms 
 would be nice and handy." 
 
 Mabel could have no objection to this 
 tenant, nor would she have liked to refuse 
 him, although her secret inclinations were 
 against taking him in. 
 
 " Are you married ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, ma'am. I had a missus, but she 
 died two years ago," answered the inspector, 
 with a sudden return of his huskiness ; " and 
 my children, they're being brought up by my 
 married sister in the country." 
 
 " I only inquired because of the attend- 
 ance," said Mabel with sympathy. 
 
 '' Oh, anything will do for me, ma'am. I 
 can shift for myself, and I've plenty of men 
 to fetch and carry for me. Will twelve 
 shillings a week be about the figure ? " 
 
 The price of the rooms was to be a pound, 
 but Mabel would not bargain with the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 207 
 
 inspector, since he only wanted the rooms 
 for a few weeks ; so she assented, and he 
 counted his first week's rent over the counter 
 in a trice. He had not yet seen the rooms, 
 and Mabel had to suggest that he should at 
 least go through this formality before con- 
 cluding his bargain. 
 
 Hailing this as a happy thought that could 
 never have occurred to his unassisted intelli- 
 gence, he was quite obsequiously gallant as 
 Mrs. Snow led him into the private part of 
 the house, and never did a lodger express his 
 satisfaction at everything so exuberantly. 
 The cleanness of the rooms, the newly 
 carpeted stairs, the private entrance from the 
 street, the gas in the hall, and the brand-new 
 latch-key which was handed to him, were 
 all declared to realize completely the comforts 
 required by an "easy-going buffer" like 
 himself; and he ended by saying, with a 
 wink, while he puffed and blew from his 
 ascent up the stairs — 
 
 " It won't be a bad thing for you either, 
 ma'am, to have a police-inspector in your 
 house. A post-office with no men on the 
 premises is just the place to tempt burglars,
 
 208 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 but that sort won't come near a house where 
 an inspector Hves, for they know there's a lot 
 of constables prowling around at all hours." 
 
 " Are you very busy ? " inquired Mabel, 
 mechanically. 
 
 '' Ay, ma'am ; this here latch-key will have 
 to be used to let me in and out at all hours : 
 and, to tell 'ee the truth, I'd be obliged 
 if 'ee gave me a second key which I could 
 leave at the station. I sleep a bit hard at 
 nights, and I'd like the officer on duty to 
 come straight up to my bed-room and rouse 
 me in case of need, or else he'd have to be 
 ringing at the bell, or springing his rattle 
 under my window, or chucking stones at the 
 panes — all which ain't respectable for a quiet 
 neio^hbourhood." 
 
 '' I will give up my own key, for I can 
 always pass through the shop,' said Mabel, 
 making no difficulty over the matter. 
 
 And the inspector, renewing his profuse 
 thanks, said he would take up his quarters the 
 same day. 
 
 He installed himself before nightfall, being 
 attended on his arrival by a pair o con- 
 stables, who carried his box. Madge, who
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 209 
 
 had gone upstairs to light the party, pre- 
 sently returned, laughing. 
 
 " Well, I suppose we're grand enough now, 
 with an inspector of police," she said; ''but it 
 strikes me, Mrs. Snow, that good man drinks 
 something stronger than toast and water." 
 
 " What do you mean, Madge ? " 
 
 "Why,' the first thing he unpacked from 
 his box was a bottle of gin ; and there are the 
 three of them upstairs now, drinking healths 
 to one another out of the tumbler on the 
 washhand stand." 
 
 Travers had given Mabel permission to 
 let her rooms according to her judgment, 
 but it was only right that he should now be 
 informed what manner of tenant a hazard had 
 brought to his sister's house. Mabel would 
 have preferred to make this communication 
 otherwise than by letter, not knowing for 
 certain where her brother might be at this 
 moment. It was now ten days since she had 
 written to Travers, and he had not given a 
 sign of life, so that she was much disposed to 
 go to Northampton Square. On second 
 thoughts, however, she wrote, giving a brief 
 account of what had happened, and she 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 registered the letter. By return of post she 
 received a few lines, in which Travers re- 
 quested her to address all her letters to him, 
 for the future, to the Ascot Chambers, 
 Piccadilly. 
 
 That was all. There were no reproaches 
 in the letter, and it said nothing about Charlie 
 Harrowell. But, what was stranger still to 
 Mabel, it contained no enclosure from Port- 
 land. Since she had seen Mr. Ramshart in 
 the street, she had quite made up her mind 
 that, before leaving the Convict Prison, he 
 would have sent, to the address which she 
 had given, at least one letter conveying news 
 of her husband. He had virtually promised 
 to do so, and she had been looking forward 
 to the letter with some vague hope that Mr. 
 Ramshart's interest in her husband's case 
 might lead to something — though to what 
 she could not even conjecture. 
 
 She was disappointed, but took patience. 
 Her life was now flowing smoothly, and was 
 so full of work that she had little leisure on 
 ordinary days for the nursing of sorrowful 
 thoughts. Her only day of meditation was 
 Sunday, but it so chanced that, on the Sunday
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 211 
 
 that followed the events just related, she 
 attended the little temporary iron church, 
 which was the nearest place of worship in her 
 new-built parish, and she heard a hymn which 
 became her favourite from that hour, so aptly 
 did it ordain the trustful philosophy which 
 was most applicable to her case : — 
 
 '' O Lord, how happy should we be, 
 If we could cast our care on Thee, 
 
 If we from self could rest, 
 And feel at heart that One above, 
 In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 
 
 Is working for the best ! " 
 
 An afternoon which she spent with the 
 " Twelve Jolly Roses," In the Chalk Farm 
 quarter, confirmed her in her purpose of 
 patience and trust ; for, from these excellent 
 people, rich in the happiness which quiet 
 consciences may bring to the poorest, she 
 heard nothing but what was good. When 
 she returned home, late in the evening, with 
 Madge, she felt as though she had really 
 begun a new life. Her mind was placid, and 
 no chill fell upon her from any shadow of 
 impending evil.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Charlie Harrowell had not given up his 
 pursuit of Mabel. Travers had kept him 
 very straight upon this chase by the intima- 
 tion that the '' Baroness " had a thousand 
 pounds a year of her own ; for, although 
 Charlie's love was not mercenary, the 
 Baroness's supposed fortune was a powerful 
 attraction, in that it removed all obstacles 
 from the way of a courtship and a marriage. 
 Even Mr. Harrowell — so at least Charlie 
 opined — could not inveigh much against his 
 son for having won the affections of a lady, 
 young and beautiful, whose fortune might 
 render him independent for life. 
 
 To be sure, the Baroness had declined 
 Charlie's courtship ; but Travers, audacious 
 in his falsehoods, maintained that this was 
 only a woman's coyness. 
 
 " She's trying to prove you," he said, when
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 
 
 Charlie was wretched at havine waited 
 during two days for an answer to his letter. 
 " She's staying in the country now, and you 
 yourself are going on a visit to your father's 
 friends, the Blews, so there's no particular 
 hurry. But when you come back you shall 
 see Mabel again, and then I warrant you 
 she'll capitulate fast enough if you are only 
 brave and bold in your assault." 
 
 It was the boy's first love, timid and 
 ingenuous, but sanguine ; and it had been 
 stirred into a sudden blaze by his sister 
 Ann's praises of Mabel. Ann could not 
 diplomatize, either by concealing her im- 
 pressions or by saying the thing which v/as 
 not : she had formed a high opinion of 
 the Baroness, and owned it. Nor was the 
 fact of Mabel's fortune, as guaranteeing her 
 independence and absolute disinterestedness, 
 without its weight upon Miss Harrowell's 
 mind. Tide and wind were thus urging 
 Charlie's bark in the same direction, and the 
 young fellow was proud of the course he was 
 steering, happy and confident as a mariner 
 who is making for a sunny island full of 
 promise.
 
 2 14 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 By this time, too, he had quite abandoned 
 the rudder of his bark into Travers's hands. 
 His love for Mabel could but stimulate his 
 trust in her brother, and this notwithstanding 
 that his sister Ann remained obstinate in her 
 prejudices against the latter. But it was in 
 strict keeping with human nature that, while 
 Charlie accepted everything that Ann said 
 about Mabel as proof of sound discrimination, 
 he rejected what she thought concerning 
 Travers as evidence of a mind void of under- 
 standing. So it is with the advice offered 
 to us all — we treat it as a dish of fruit, and 
 select what is most palatable. 
 
 Wanting money, Charlie had got encoiled 
 in Travers's meshes. He had insured his 
 life, put his signature to a bill for a thousand 
 pounds, and had received four hundred 
 pounds in cash, with a nominal two hundred 
 pounds' worth of jewellery, cigars, and useless 
 knick-knacks, which, not daring to take 
 home, he left to his friend's charge. 
 
 '' They will do for you w^hen you set up 
 house," said Travers, surveying the whole 
 lot with a feigned admiration at so good a 
 bargain ; and, after this, he further ensnared
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 215 
 
 Charlie by introducing him to a number of 
 tradesmen who were ready to give the 
 3^oungster credit to any amount for things 
 which he did not want. Travers, however, 
 inculcated upon his friend that, in going to 
 visit such people as the Blews, he ought to 
 have all the personal belongings of a gentle- 
 man. " Old Blew's valet will be unpacking 
 your things, and he mustn't find you w^ith 
 a school-boy trousseau of a half-crown hair- 
 brush and a tenpenny comb. It won't do 
 you any harm if you impress reverence on 
 that domestic by a silver-mounted dressing- 
 case ; for a young man's position in society 
 is often fixed by what servants say of him 
 downstairs, and report in due time to their 
 masters and mistresses." 
 
 Next, this artistic adviser gave Charlie 
 counsel as to how he should treat his father. 
 
 " Recollect," he said, in an elder-brotherly 
 tone, " that however tyrannical a father may 
 be, the world always puts you in the wrong 
 if you quarrel with him. The Command- 
 ment, ' Honour thy father and mother/ was 
 not given in view of good-natured parents, 
 but of parents who try the filial temper.
 
 2l6 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 Therefore, religion and philosophy agree in 
 this, that whatever a parent says or does 
 must be borne with. But your duty onl) 
 obliges you to avoid open rebelliousness anc 
 to refrain from causing irritation. When it 
 becomes a question of deciding upon any 
 matter in which your whole life's happiness 
 may be involved, you have every right to 
 consider that the judgment of a man in the 
 prime of his intellect like yourself, is worth 
 that of an elderly man whose intellect is on 
 the decline ; and that, further, you, at your 
 age, have to make arrangements for years to 
 come, In which, your father being dead, will 
 have no sort of concern. This is not senti- 
 ment, but fact. Duty does not compel you 
 to accept a father's direction in things about 
 which he knows nothing ; as, for Instance, if 
 your father, being a grocer, were to dictate to 
 you, being a tailor, how a coat should be cut. 
 Consequently, be outwardly submissive, but 
 use your own judgment and act as you think 
 best. If your father asserts, do not con- 
 tradict ; if he storms, hearken without retort ; 
 if he sulks, behave with dutiful cheerfulness, 
 as if you noticed no change in his manner.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2 I 7 
 
 The less he controls himself, the more will 
 he respect your own self-control ; so will you 
 be exalted in his eyes and in those of on- 
 lookers, ever prying, but ill-informed, and 
 judging of things superficially." 
 
 Charlie had need of such fortifying advice, 
 for Mr. Harrowell's proceedings in the family 
 circle became more and more trying. Instead 
 of being affectionate and satisfied, as he had 
 formerly been, he became morose and difificult 
 to please. He complained of everything — of 
 the cats and the carpets, of windows open 
 and windows shut, of meat overdone and 
 underdone, of the dust when the sun shone, 
 of the mud when it rained. He brought an 
 east-windlike breeze of ill-temper into the 
 house when he came home, and left tearful 
 agitation behind him when he went out. 
 The very maidservants, three well-seasoned 
 spinsters in the fifties, were beginning to 
 slink away at his approach. 
 
 He took daily counsel unobtrusively from 
 men of the world whom he met in his new 
 avocations, and particularly from his friend, 
 Mr. Asher Blew, but he was like a man 
 borrowing delicate instruments without know-
 
 2l8 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 ing how to use them. It was a novelty to 
 him to hear that his children had minds and 
 hearts of their own, which he must handle 
 with a light touch. He condemned such 
 talk as rubbish. What is more, his magis- 
 terial function, by bringing him into contact 
 with deferential policemen, cozening lawyers, 
 and whimpering prisoners, imparted dicta- 
 torialness to his manner with some harshness. 
 
 One morning he came dow^n to breakfast 
 looking positively ferocious, and attacked his 
 eldest daughter in this style : — 
 
 *' Ann, I forbid you to think any more of 
 that man whom you mentioned to me, Mr. 
 Armstrong. I have made inquiries, and find 
 that he is not a proper acquaintance." 
 
 "You have heard nothing against his 
 character, father," exclaimed Ann, astonished, 
 and with a crimson flush. 
 
 '* Never mind what I have heard. I order 
 you to banish him from your mind, once and 
 for all." 
 
 " That is impossible, father," answered 
 Ann, firmly ; for she was not going to let 
 her love be crushed underfoot in this fashion. 
 
 "Well, I shall never give my consent to
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2I9 
 
 your marrying him ; and if you marry without 
 my consent, you will have to live on what 
 your husband earns, for you shall get nothing 
 from me. In saying this, I am only express- 
 ing the determination which I am sure your 
 dear mother w^ould have approved — fully 
 approved." 
 
 O profanation ! Could he have looked 
 his wife's portrait in the face and have said 
 that? He knew that he could not, and felt 
 ashamed even as he" spoke the words; but 
 this did not mollify him, and his next 
 onslaught v/as upon his younger daughter. 
 
 " Lucy, it has displeased me to hear that 
 you pass most of your time in visiting the 
 vagabonds of this neighbourhood. In the 
 public office which I have assumed, it is my 
 — h'm — duty to keep vagabonds at a distance, 
 and I request that you second me in this. 
 Moreover, it is not seemly that you should 
 continue to worship in a different church 
 from that which I ahvays attend, and in 
 which — h'm — your poor mother was once a 
 w^orshipper. We have our pew at St. Mary's, 
 and it is my desire that in future you should go 
 there every Sunday with your sister and me."
 
 2 20 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 *' Papa, you have never said this to me 
 before," protested Lucy in consternation. 
 
 " It is enough that I say it now," answered 
 Mr. Harrowell, testily ; '' and I must add, 
 Lucy, that you have a very pert manner 
 which gives me great offence, and which I 
 caution you to discard in speaking to your 
 father." 
 
 Next came Charlie's turn. 
 
 *' Charles," said the alderman, drawing on 
 his gloves in the hall as he was starting for 
 the city, — '' Charles, you are included in the 
 invitation which your sisters have received 
 to spend a few days with the Blews. In 
 this you will see a proof of Mr. Blew's for- 
 giveness of your insubordination towards 
 him, and I trust you will so behave yourself 
 as to show a sense of this favour. But when 
 you return to London you will prepare your- 
 self to take a journey. One of Mr. Blew's 
 confidential clerks is going across the Con- 
 tinent to Suez, and you will accompany him 
 as far as he goes ; then you will proceed by 
 yourself to Foochow, in China, where I shall 
 have some business for you to do." 
 
 '' Then you do not wish me to read for
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 22 1 
 
 the Bar, sir ? " asked Charlie, essaying to 
 put a good face on this unexpected com- 
 munication. 
 
 '' You can read when you come back to 
 England, if you be then in a more studious 
 mood than I judge is the case now. You 
 will be away about a year, for I consider it 
 most desirable that you should remain absent 
 from England for at least this period." 
 
 " Very well, sir," answered Charlie, but 
 with no inner purpose of obeying. 
 
 " Of course it's very well, sir," responded 
 Mr. Harrowell, wagging his head, and thump- 
 ing his umbrella on the oilcloth. " You are 
 doing no good here. I only pray that you 
 may be doing no lasting mischief to yourself. 
 In any case, I expect unwavering obedience 
 to my orders." 
 
 This was not the way to restore concord 
 to the old home. Ann felt outraged by the 
 interdict decreed against her love ; Lucy 
 pitied Ann, and resented the stigma placed 
 upon all her poor as " vagabonds ;" and both 
 sisters were shocked at the hardness of the 
 sentence of exile passed on their brother. 
 
 Charlie took the sentence coolly enough,
 
 222 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 because he reflected that he could not be 
 transported to China against his will. If 
 things came to the worst he could sham 
 illness. Fresh from the parental lecture 
 which had not made him wince, he went to 
 tell his friend Travers what had happened, 
 and found that worthy just installing himself 
 in his new quarters. Ascot Chambers, Pic- 
 cadilly. The pair had a good laugh over 
 the China project; but perhaps Travers 
 laughed a little wryly. In the deep game 
 which he was playing, Mr. Harrowell was 
 likely to prove a redoubtable antgaonist. 
 Charlie might crow like a young cock at the 
 idea of a victorious encounter with his father, 
 but it was no part of Travers's scheme that 
 father and son should quarrel. For the 
 present, things must be kept going very 
 quietly. 
 
 Charlie was far too simple to establish any 
 co-relation between Travers's removal to 
 luxurious chambers and the loan which he 
 himself had just raised from Mr. Hilary 
 Cocking. Travers alluded to the growing 
 success of his newspaper, and spoke of some 
 dividends which had been paid him ; but he
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 223 
 
 was SO much at his ease amid handsome 
 furniture that it would have occurred to 
 nobody to ask how he came to be so well 
 lodged. The query which would rather have 
 suggested itself to Charlie was, how a man 
 so versed in worldly knowledge should ever 
 have lived otherwise than amid comfortable 
 surroundinQ[-s. 
 
 " I suppose I shall not see you again for 
 some days," remarked Travers, as Charlie 
 was sauntering round the walls, examining 
 some water-colours (his own property. In- 
 cluded in the two hundred pounds' worth of 
 mixed goods). " It's to-morrow you are 
 going to the Blews, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes. It's an awful bore," said Charlie. 
 *' The only consolation is, that the change 
 will do my sisters good, as the guv'nor is 
 making their lives so precious unpleasant at 
 home." 
 
 " I dare say your elders have clubbed 
 their heads over a scheme for getting you 
 all well married," laughed Travers. ** Pos- 
 sibly there's some very pretty girl that has 
 been singled out for you." 
 
 " They may spare themselves the trouble
 
 2 24 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 of choosing for me; that you well know," 
 answered Charlie ; and he gave a sigh. 
 
 '' Well, we are going to part for a while. 
 What do you say to our driving down to 
 Richmond for dinner ? " 
 
 Travers still had his face marked with the 
 unhealed whip cuts, and he avoided showing 
 himself at the Fireirons Club, or other places 
 of public resort In town ; that is why he pro- 
 posed this Richmond dinner. Now, Charlie 
 had promised Ann that he would not fail to 
 dine at home that evening, In order to 
 appease his father, who, the day before, had 
 been again complaining of his frequent 
 absence from the family board. The prospect 
 of talklnof about Mabel for a whole evenlno^ 
 with her brother was, however, too tantalizing, 
 and Charlie said nothing of his promise. 
 The two friends sallied out, strolled along 
 Piccadilly until they found a superior-looking 
 hansom, and were driven down to Richmond, 
 where they spent a delectable evening at the 
 Star and Garter. It was midnight before 
 Charlie got home. 
 
 He fumbled in his pockets for his latch- 
 key, but could not find it. He generally
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 2 25 
 
 carried this key in a waistcoat pocket, and 
 had a distinct recollection of having seen the 
 top of it peep out whilst he was with Travers. 
 Could he have dropped it in Travers's room, 
 or at Richmond ? The incident was a trivial 
 one, but it set him conning over all the 
 events of the day, and he remembered having 
 said to Travers that he was not tied to time, 
 as he had his house-key. However, the key 
 was gone, and he had to ring the door-bell, 
 a first time quietly, a second time with more 
 force. 
 
 No answer was vouchsafed, so he plied the 
 knocker pretty loudly, musing, as he did so, 
 that he was now booked for "another row." 
 
 At last he heard steps in the hall, and the 
 door was opened by the irate alderman, 
 wrapped in a grey dressing-gown and holding 
 a bed-room candle. 
 
 ** What do you mean by rousing the house 
 at this time of night, sir ? " he asked angrily, 
 readjusting the chain and shooting the bolts. 
 *' Where have you been ? " 
 
 *' I have been dining at Richmond, father." 
 
 ** And you have lost your latch-key. Are 
 you sober, sir ? " 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 26 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 " I hope so, father," answered Charlie, 
 offended, for drinking to excess was not one 
 of his faihno^s. 
 
 " Well, I shall not allow you to have a 
 latch-key again," continued Mr. Harrowell ; 
 " and during the short time that will elapse 
 before your departure for China, you will eat 
 all your meals at home, and not leave the 
 house after dinner. Do you hear me ? " 
 
 •' Good-night, father," replied Charlie, 
 taking up his own candle and mounting the 
 staircase. 
 
 '' You have not answered my question," 
 shouted Mr. Harrowell. 
 
 *' Yes, father, I heard what you said," 
 responded Charlie, ascending another step. 
 
 '' And do you mean to obey me ? " 
 
 ''No." 
 
 Charlie faced on the stairs, not defiantly, 
 but with his features pale and his voice 
 choking. The struggle for the privileges of 
 his manhood had come, and he was saying 
 to himself that he must not flinch. 
 
 **And you dare say that to me, you un- 
 natural boy," cried the alderman, aghast. 
 " I'll force you to obey me, sir ; you'll see."
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 22 7 
 
 '' You can do nothlne but drive me out of 
 the house, father ; and If that is what you 
 want, I will go this instant." 
 
 Saying this, Charlie descended the stairs, 
 laid his candlestick on the hall table, and 
 deliberately put on the hat and overcoat 
 which he had just taken off. Incensed, Mr. 
 Harrowell laid a hand upon him. But he 
 stepped back. 
 
 ** I have had enough of this, father. The 
 hold which you have over me Is that of your 
 money, but do what you please with your 
 money. We have had no peace in the home 
 since you spoke of it. If you will not treat 
 my sisters and me with more kindness " 
 
 " Go upstairs, boy," stuttered the alder- 
 man, too much overcome to continue the 
 struggle. " You will break my heart between 
 you all." 
 
 ***** 
 
 The next day, Charlie and his sister started 
 for their visit to Taplow. Hateful as this 
 visit had been to them at first, it had 
 gradually become gratifying to look forward 
 to, and they were all three positively glad to 
 get away from their home and their father
 
 2 28 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 for a little. They formed a joyless party, for 
 all that. The girls had new dresses, and 
 Lucy, who had not for a long while worn the 
 garments of vanity, was attired in a fashionably- 
 cut costume which suited her wondrously. 
 Charlie had a whole assortment of new 
 luggage, and tried to give his orders with a 
 knowing precision to the driver of the four- 
 wheeler that was to convey them to Padding- 
 ton. Mr. Harrowell was not present to see 
 his children set out on this, the first journey 
 which they had ever taken without him. 
 
 He returned home from the city late in 
 the afternoon, and found the house painfully 
 still. The poor man had never spent a night 
 alone under this roof since he had been 
 married. His elderly parlour-maid served 
 him his dinner in sour silence ; he would 
 have liked to question her, but dared not, 
 and finished his solitary meal without a word. 
 He could not bear it Self-reproach was 
 stealine over him. He betook himself to his 
 Study, sat down facing his wife's portrait, and 
 brooded until the tears coursed down his cheek. 
 
 " My Emmie ! " he murmured, '' see what 
 the children are makino- of me ! "
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 229 
 
 Mr. Harrowell had always fondly loved 
 his children, and it was through no lessen- 
 ing of affection that he had been acting 
 capriciously towards them of late. But his 
 life had been unsettled, and with it his 
 character. His son and daughters had gone 
 astray like lost sheep, and he had been 
 attempting to drive them back to the fold by 
 such means as he knew. But he had not 
 chosen the best way, nor was he sure that 
 they had gone astray after all. That was 
 the reflection that oppressed him as he 
 mourned in spirit over every unkind word 
 he had spoken. How gladly would he have 
 unsaid the hasty things, and, calling the three 
 round him, have cried — 
 
 *' Let us live together, my dears, as we 
 once were, only a little — only a little longer, 
 till I am gone from you." 
 
 But it was not to be. Time and the stream 
 hurry on, and we must float with them from 
 change to change, or else stand helplessly on 
 the bank as Thomas Harrowell did, feeling 
 that he had no heart for the onward journey, 
 and that his life as a millionnaire was not worth 
 living.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Travers was only half joking when he said 
 to Charlie Harrowell that there might be 
 some scheme afoot for getting the latter 
 married. He knew all the ins and outs of 
 the Harrowell household, and quite under- 
 stood that this visit to the Blews was like 
 the breaking of the shell in which the life of 
 the family had been confined. Charlie and 
 his sisters would emerge from the visit as 
 new-hatched pullets blinking at the sun, and 
 astonished at the extent of the world around 
 them. 
 
 Travers felt sure of Charlie for the present, 
 believing him, however, to be a mere reed at 
 the best. The task to be achieved was to 
 get him engaged, if not actually married, to 
 Mabel, before he formed new associations, or 
 were authoritatively removed to the other
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 end of the world by his father. Difficulties ! 
 ay, there were difficulties enough in a labour 
 which could only be accomplished by over- 
 coming Mabel's scruples — or turning them. 
 But in criminal engineering there must be no 
 dismay at obstructive boulders or impassable 
 mountains. To what end was tunnelling 
 invented ? Where a line cannot be con- 
 structed over-ground, there can the sapper 
 work with his dark lantern, his pick, and his 
 blasting powder. 
 
 On the morning after the Richmond dinner 
 Travers went for a walk into Hyde Park to 
 collect his thoughts, and plan out his next 
 move, which must be made before Charlie's 
 return. He had with him the letter in which 
 Mabel spoke of her visit to Portland, and her 
 recognition by Mr. Ramshart, and that which 
 related her subsequent meeting with Inspector 
 Dadge, whom she had now taken in the 
 house as a lodger. He had also a letter 
 written from Portland by Mr. Ramshart to 
 Mabel, and addressed to Northampton 
 Square. This he had opened by holding the 
 flap over a basin of boiling water till the gum 
 was loosed. Having read the contents, how-
 
 232 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 ever, he had no intention of forwarding this 
 letter to its destination. He seated himself 
 on a bench under a tree in a corner of the 
 park, which at this early hour was deserted, 
 and there he reperused the clergyman's letter 
 with a close attention. 
 
 " Portland Convict Prison. 
 
 "Dear Madam, 
 
 '' I am going back to London to-day, 
 having finished my temporary duty here, and 
 I am glad to say that I have been the means 
 of raising a little hope in your poor husband. 
 Since your visit he has been more composed, 
 but the doctor has thought it advisable to 
 place him in the infirmary until he quite 
 ceases from coughing. 
 
 " My interest in your husband's case will 
 not be abandoned. I have had several con- 
 versations with him. He has convinced me 
 of his innocence, and I will leave no stone 
 unturned to persuade the world that he has 
 been wrongly punished. You will ask me 
 how I propose to act, and I myself ask how ? 
 But Joseph in the pit, Daniel in the lion's 
 den, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 233 
 
 furnace, were all in predicaments whence, 
 humanly speaking, they could not be rescued. 
 The Lord found a way, and we also must 
 trust to His all-powerful Hand. I only ask 
 you to be patient, and to join with me in 
 praying that His help will not fail us in 
 causing things now hidden to be made plain. 
 Remember that, however it may be with 
 earthly judges. His mercy endureth for ever. 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "Tobias Ramshart." 
 
 '' A meddlesome fellow that ! " grumbled 
 Travers, as he restored the letter to his 
 pocket. *' Of course he cannot work for 
 Albert without consulting Mab at every step, 
 and if once those two get together there's an 
 end of me." 
 
 Half aloud he said this ; and, rising from 
 his seat, sauntered along with his eyes down- 
 cast till he walked abruptly into a crowd near 
 the Serpentine. 
 
 The pond had just been dragged for the 
 body of a suicide, and the long poles with 
 cramped hooks had drawn to the shore the 
 corpse of a. well-dressed man of middle age.
 
 2 34 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 There he lay on his back, surrounded by a 
 thickening throng of loafers, mudlarks, nurse- 
 maids, and police. His body was swollen, 
 his face was hideously puffed and marbled 
 with violet, his blue hands were bie as 
 boxing-gloves, and all over him was a mess 
 of weeds and slime. Travers ^azed at the 
 repulsive sight, saw the body lifted stark and 
 dripping on to a stretcher, and passed on with 
 the pensive expression of his face much 
 deepened. 
 
 " Fauorh ! what fool was that ?" he solilo- 
 quized. '* Yet that will be my fate, too, if I 
 do not succeed in what I am attempting. It's 
 a toss-up ; a barouche for Mab or a stretcher 
 for me." 
 
 His situation was, in truth, growing 
 desperate. The thrashing which he had 
 received from Captain Ramshart had broken 
 his nerve for the writing of blackmail articles, 
 and without such effusions his newspaper 
 must soon go to the ground. He had no 
 friends or resources besides the money he 
 had filched by raising funds for young 
 Harrowell. From the day when he had run 
 away from home at seventeen, until now, he
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 235 
 
 had been llvinor on his wits, and he had 
 nothing to show for it. He had passed 
 under a dozen different names, and tried all 
 the short cuts to fortune, but they had only- 
 landed him in quagmires. It so happened 
 that his own patronymic was the only one 
 under which he had never risked his luck, and 
 he had quite lately resumed it, with a sort of 
 gamblers presentiment that it would bring 
 him a change of wind. Another thing that 
 buoyed him up was the fact that he had 
 resisted the temptation to abscond with the 
 proceeds of ^Mr. Harrowell's eleven-hundred- 
 pound cheque. By this act of self-restraint 
 he had, as it seemed to him, virtually in- 
 vested a thousand pounds in the larger specu- 
 lation on which he was now embarked ; and 
 he would be a mere dolt if he did not make 
 his sunken capital yield a huge profit. 
 
 As Travers walked meditating among the 
 park trees, he switched a golden-headed 
 stick, and, in so doing, brought the ferule 
 inadvertently against the trunk of a tree, 
 snapping the stick in halves. He at once 
 dropped the half that he was holding, and 
 strolled on with utter indifference : by which
 
 236 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 trait the whole character of the man stood 
 revealed. Almost anybody else would have 
 picked up the broken piece and stared 
 ruefully at it ; he would have carried the 
 two pieces home, have tried to get them 
 mended, and, failing in that, would have let 
 them encumber some shelf for a time, in- 
 determinate. Travers had reckoned in a 
 flash of thought that the possession of the 
 broken stick would be of more worry to 
 him than it was worth, and he had simply 
 dropped it. 
 
 So it w^as in his relations with his'^sister. 
 It was of no use to repine because Mabel 
 and Mr. Ramshart and Inspector Dadge 
 stood across his path. It was enough that 
 they had been moved there like pawns by 
 the Invisible Hand that is always playing 
 against gamesters like himself, and he must 
 proceed to remove them from their respective 
 squares. 
 
 Already he had provided against the chance 
 of inopportune visits from Mr. Ramshart by 
 forsaking his lodgings in Clerkenwell. He 
 had told his landlady, Mrs. Tobb, that he 
 was s^oing abroad, and, giving her a sub-
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 237 
 
 stantial fee, had ordered her to forward any 
 letters that might come for him to the office 
 of his paper. These precautions would keep 
 the pawn Tobb safely blocked on her square. 
 As for Mabel, it was unsafe that she should 
 be exposed to renew acquaintanceship with 
 Mr. Ramshart or live under the vigilant eye 
 of a policeman (Travers knew little about 
 Inspector Dadge, but he harboured an innate 
 antipathy against all the police), so she must 
 be made to leave her post-office. Even 
 then, however, the major difficulty would 
 have to be surmounted of getting her fast 
 engaged to Charlie Harrowell. 
 
 If only she would have worked willingly 
 with him, how easy it would all have been ! 
 And what was asked of her ? Why, nothing 
 but to recognize that her marriage was void, 
 nothing but to snap the frayed cord, a mere 
 filament, that bound her to a man who was 
 as truly dead as though a tomb-slab lay 
 over him ! 
 
 Principles are plants which can only grow 
 in hearts where they have been nurtured 
 from childhood. How could Travers have 
 any, reared, as he had been, by a father who
 
 238 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 drank and by a step-mother who loathed 
 him as the brat of her despised husband ? 
 But Travers could admire in his sister that 
 which was wanting in himself, and he was 
 shrewd enough to reason that Mabel's honesty- 
 might form part of the assemblage of qualities 
 which had captivated Charlie Harrowell ; 
 therefore, that it was a commodity which 
 had some value to himself, and was worth 
 keeping unimpaired. 
 
 " I mustn't flurry the child. It's better 
 that she should act in perfect Ignorance, but 
 I shall be working for her happiness, and 
 she will be candid enough to own it, if she 
 ever finds out." To this reflection Travers 
 held fast, during his morning walk, as a 
 man clutches a rope while treading near 
 a precipice. 
 
 For he had his idea ; and if he pondered 
 lone over the course which he meant to 
 take, it was not that any squeamish scruple 
 trammelled him, but simply that he had to 
 make sure that the thing which he was going 
 to do would not bring down overwhelming 
 ruin upon himself. Thus does the man who 
 is about to insert the blasting tube pause
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 239 
 
 before he lights the fuse, and considers 
 well whether he shall have time to escape 
 before the overhanging masses of rock crash 
 down. 
 
 At last, with a quickened pulse and glitter- 
 ing eye, Travers stepped over the line which 
 divided hesitation from resolve. The risks 
 to himself were small and the chances of 
 success almost certain. Havinof concluded 
 this, he walked quickly out of the park, took 
 a cab, and was driven to his city office. 
 
 But instead of going in he went down 
 Fleet Street, and entered a shop where 
 stamping machines and small printing-presses 
 were sold. He bought one of those presses 
 which are given to school-boys as playthings, 
 and which print a few lines. Then he betook 
 himself to a stationer's, where he purchased 
 some black-bordered note-paper and enve- 
 lopes, and, with his two parcels, he ran up 
 the staircase to his office. His clerk, J iff kins, 
 was seated as usual in the outer room, cullino- 
 addresses from the Directory, and transferring 
 them to a ledger. 
 
 *' Nothing new ? " said Travers to him. 
 
 "Nothing, sir; but ever so much profit
 
 240 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 pouring in to the paper — publicity in heaps, 
 — ^just the very thing we want." 
 
 " Fresh subscribers, do you mean ? " 
 
 *' Better than that, sir. Two gentlemen 
 called and threatened action for libel. Very 
 angry they were, sir : talked of pulling our 
 noses. But I think I heard you once say 
 that libel actions were the making of a 
 paper ? " 
 
 *'Go on with your work," said Travers, 
 with a shrug ; '* and mind, I am not at home 
 to anybody." 
 
 " Very well, thank you, sir." 
 
 Travers locked himself in his room, and, 
 in a minute, was hard at work over his little 
 printing-press, with his coat off. It was not 
 easy to work, for in the setting up of type 
 his novice hands made many a mistake. 
 Now he placed one of the leaden letters 
 upside down in its groove, now he forgot 
 the brass plates that formed the spaces, 
 next he smeared too much ink on the 
 type. One after another his proofs came 
 out spoilt. 
 
 He was attempting to print the wordr,, 
 ''Her Majesty's Convict Priso7i^ Portland^
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 24 1 
 
 At length, after much blackening of his fingers 
 with the greasy ink, he succeeded in producing 
 a clear imprint on the top of a sheet of letter- 
 paper. 
 
 Then he took up a pen and wrote on the 
 sheet, in a careful engrossed hand that was 
 not his. They were not many lines, and he 
 appeared satisfied when he read them over. 
 The letter was folded, and now he placed it 
 in the envelope which had contained Mr. 
 Ramshart's letter to Mabel ; after which, he 
 smudged the postmark a little, so as to 
 render the date indistinct, while leaving the 
 word '' Portsmouth " quite clear. This done, 
 he enclosed the letter in a white envelope, 
 which he directed to Mrs. Snow. But he 
 had another letter to indite — a very short 
 one again — on black-edged paper, and the 
 envelope of this second missive he addressed 
 to " The Governor of the Convict Prison, 
 Portland." 
 
 There wjls nothing more to do now but to 
 stamp the letters and post them. Travers 
 washed his hands expeditiously, went down 
 into the street, and threw the letters into the 
 nearest pillar-box. 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 The thlnor -^vas done now. The match 
 had been appHed to the fuse, and Travers 
 had only to await the effects of the blasting 
 powder.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Charlie and his sisters had arrived at 
 Taplow, on their visit to the Blews. They 
 were at dinner on their first evening, and the 
 wines were being served. 
 
 ''Volnay, or Larose ? " said the butler, in 
 a sepulchral voice. 
 
 '* I do not understand what he is askinor," 
 whispered Lucy Harrowell to her neighbour 
 at table. 
 
 " He wants to know whether you will take 
 Burgundy or Bordeaux." 
 
 " More wine ? Oh no, thank you. Have 
 you noticed what a terrible quantity of wine 
 is being wasted at this table ? " Saying this, 
 Lucy glanced up and down the white cloth, 
 around which twenty-four guests were seated, 
 and noted that nearly three scores of glasses 
 of various shapes and colours remained half
 
 244 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN, 
 
 full. " I wonder what becomes of all that 
 wine that is sent away." 
 
 " I have heard that servants pour the 
 heel-taps into one big decanter, and enjoy 
 the mixture. We mix by degrees ; they at 
 one draught. It is only a difference of taste." 
 
 '' Do you know that there is enough wine 
 in these glasses to bring back many a poor 
 suffering patient to health ? Doctors often 
 prescribe a little good wine to the poor as 
 the best medicine, and we find it so difficult 
 to procure for them. How unequally this 
 world's boons are distributed ! " 
 
 " You are quite a Socialist, I see." 
 
 '' What is a Socialist ? " 
 
 "A person who wants to go share and 
 share alike with others. The essential to 
 this faith, however, is to have nothing of one's 
 * own to share." 
 
 This was too profound for Lucy. Her 
 neighbour was Mr. Florian Darkleigh, a 
 famous author. He was writing " The 
 Chronicles of Human Error," a work in an 
 unlimited number of volumes, which was to 
 absorb his lifetime. The first volume, 
 already published, had met with a prodigious
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 245 
 
 success, and caused him to be nicknamed, in 
 literary circles, '' The Great Blunderbuss." 
 He was a Rabelaisian sort of man, no longer 
 in his prime, but not yet stricken in years ; 
 stout, with bushy hair grizzling, thick lips 
 and twinkling eyes. Socially his chief pre- 
 occupation was to divest casual acquaintances 
 of the delusion that his name of Darkleigh 
 had anything to do with his complexion or 
 that of his forefathers. It was an old Anglo- 
 Saxon name signifying dark (oak), and leigh 
 (place, whence the French have derived their 
 word lieri). When ''' the Great Blunder- 
 buss " had enlightened his hearers on these 
 points, he was at rest. It was the one 
 infirmity of a great mind. 
 
 Mr. Darkleigh was amused by Lucy's 
 companionship. He had ascertained that 
 this was her first dinner-party, and it 
 interested him to see that, far from being 
 enchanted by the beautiful adornments of 
 Mrs. Asher Blew's dinner-table, she despised 
 the whole exhibition as a parade of gluttony. 
 Good breeding restrained her from saying as 
 much, but her opinions pierced through the 
 remarks which she hazarded about the in-
 
 246 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 ordinate length of the dinner. When punch 
 a la romaine {alias cura9oa-ice) was served, 
 she rejoiced that the banquet was at last 
 over, and was amazed to see pdtd de foie 
 gras, grouse, and salad handed round after- 
 wards. 
 
 *' Is it usual to eat the sweets in the middle 
 of dinner } " she asked timidly. 
 
 " Oh no ; there are more sweets coming by- 
 and-by," answered Mr. Darkleigh, chuckling. 
 '' This ice was a mere refresher ; it stops the 
 process of digestion, and flogs up the jaded 
 appetite so that people can eat more." 
 
 "That is, more than they want. How 
 very strange ! " She was going to say, " How 
 disgusting!" but luckily found the right 
 word. Just at that moment her attention 
 was attracted by one of the footmen in blue 
 plush breeches, who was pouring water into 
 Mr. Asher Blew's tumbler, and she was 
 moved to inquire if her host was a teetotaler. 
 
 " Not by profession, but of necessity. 
 Poor Blew is on bad terms with his liver, 
 and this tyrannical organ will allow him to 
 take nothing at dinner but a plateful of curry 
 and a tumbler of boiling water. Cold fare.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 247 
 
 some would call it ; but the expression would 
 hardly be appropriate. However, I think we 
 have a cold-water drinker at the table, and 
 there's another who is dinino- off milk and 
 sippets of bread, and a third who is thinning 
 himself with salad and lemon squash." 
 
 ''It reminds one of the doctor's dietary list 
 in a hospital," observed Lucy : which made 
 Mr. Darkleigh laugh so much, that she won- 
 dered artlessly what she could have said that 
 was so funny. 
 
 The Great Blunderbuss was checked in his 
 merriment by a question addressed to him 
 across the table : '' Isn"t it Hugh Armstrong 
 who's sending those letters on Egypt to the 
 Express ? " 
 
 " The very man. He must have done his 
 final letter, though, for he writes to me that 
 he is coming home." 
 
 " Oh, do you know Mr. Armstrong ? " 
 exclaimed Lucy, with a quick turn of the 
 head. 
 
 *' Yes, he is a very old friend of mine. Do 
 you know him } " 
 
 " He is engaged to my sister," answered 
 Lucy, proudly. The moment the words were
 
 248 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 out of her mouth, she reflected that she had 
 no business to divulge this secret, and that, 
 moreover, she had not spoken quite correctly, 
 seeing that Hugh and Ann were not regularly 
 affianced. But her truthful endeavours to 
 explain exactly how matters stood, only drew 
 a series of absent-minded nods from the 
 author, who was engaged in surveying Ann 
 Harrowell, seated opposite. Mrs. Asher Blew 
 had taken care to circulate among her guests 
 that the Harrowell girls were heiresses to 
 a quarter of a million apiece, and Mr. Dark- 
 leigh meditated, after a good look at Ann, 
 that his friend Armstrong was a lucky fellow. 
 The two sisters were arrayed in pearl-grey 
 dresses of Japanese silk, cut a little open at 
 the front, and merely adorned with bunches 
 of geraniums out of Mrs. Asher Blew's 
 ofarden. These dresses — the richest Ann 
 and Lucy had ever worn — compared modestly 
 with the gorgeous raiment of some of the 
 young ladies present ; but the beauty of the 
 two girls, and their reputation for wealth, 
 won them much deferential admiration from 
 the men, and caused them to be watched 
 with some jealousy by the young ladies who,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 249 
 
 albeit more splendidly attired, were not so 
 brilliantly circumstanced. 
 
 Unlike her sister, Ann was enjoying her- 
 self perfectly at this dinner. The novelty of 
 the scene stimulated in her a curiosity to 
 learn as much as she could about the world 
 to which she was being introduced ; and, 
 affecting no knowledge which she did not 
 possess, she evinced the most natural interest 
 in the conversation of her neighbours. Had 
 she been an egregious flirt she could not have 
 ministered more adroitly to the vanity of 
 these two gentlemen. The one was Sir 
 Anthony Griffinhoof, alderman and ex-sheriff 
 of London, the next on the roll for the 
 mayoralty — a puny, piping-voiced city father, 
 with head white as a snowball ; the other 
 was a Captain St. Hubert Chipchase, a former 
 Hussar officer, dry as a bone, with brown 
 face and hands, an iron-grey moustache, a 
 nose and eyes like a kestrel's. Captain 
 Chipchase went about the world with a 
 double-barrelled gun, intent upon destruction. 
 Nothing y^r^ 7iaturcB that moved upon four 
 legs (saving a British fox) or that clove the 
 air on wings was safe from him. He had
 
 250 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 killed lions and tigers in any number, and 
 no longer found much excitement in such 
 sport, seeing that the self-defensive tactics 
 of these wild beasts did not keep pace with 
 the improvements in modern firearms. He 
 perhaps sighed for the resurrection of the 
 antediluvian mammoth, but only that he 
 might have a shot at this animal ; and the 
 megatherium, too, as he confessed to Ann, 
 might afford some lively moments. 
 
 '' You've seen models of the brute at the 
 Crystal Palace ; now, if his hide were pro- 
 portionately thicker than a crocodile's, you'd 
 have to be very nice in your choice of 
 bullets, and be bound to shoot straight for 
 his eye ; and the fun would be that no tree 
 less stout than a three-century oak would 
 give you any cover from him. He'd come 
 charging upon you like a two- story house." 
 
 '' Dear me, do you call that fun ? " laughed 
 Ann Harrowell. " I should think the fun 
 would consist in running away behind a 
 four-storied house. I suppose, however, 
 you sometimes shoot smaller game in Eng- 
 land ? " 
 
 ^' I ought to be on the moors now," said
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 25 I 
 
 Captain Chipchase, highly flattered at the 
 attention which Ann paid to the stories of 
 his prowess. " I hope, though, to get up to 
 Scotland, and shoot a stag or two before the 
 autumn is over. Sometimes you do come in 
 for a good thing in the off-season, even in 
 England. The other day, for instance, I 
 was staying in Lincolnshire, and heard that 
 two plumed herons had been sighted in the 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 '* They have become very rare in England, 
 have they not ? " 
 
 ''Yes, that's just it," answered the captain, 
 with something that resembled excitement. 
 " You may imagine, I was out with my gun 
 before daybreak. The time to spot these 
 birds is at dawn, just as they are taking an 
 early snack on the borders of a marsh. But 
 it was raining like fury, and the keeper and 
 I were drenched. Nothing to be seen of 
 the herons. We heard they had strayed five 
 miles off, and trudged after them. Would 
 you believe it, w^e were in pursuit all day ? " 
 
 *' Poor birds ! I hope they got aw^ay," 
 exclaimed Ann, innocently. 
 
 '' Well, h'm ! that's a lady's wish — quite
 
 252 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 natural," responded the captain. " We came 
 upon them after we'd been nearly twelve 
 hours on the tramp — the pair of them beside 
 a pool, each with one leg tucked up. I'd 
 just a second for sighting before they were 
 up whirring and screaming : crack, crack — 
 two shots, and down they went. I've had 
 'em stuffed ; but they weren't much to look 
 at — lean and moulting, you know, — and make 
 a poor show." 
 
 Captain Chipchase had never been so 
 much '' drawn out " in his life, and rose from 
 table with the mental acknowledgment, " An 
 uncommonly fine girl that, 'pon my word ! " 
 
 The while it was being whispered about 
 poor Ann, by the gorgeously caparisoned 
 young ladies, " Oh, did you see how that 
 Miss Harrowell flirted with Captain Chip- 
 chase ? It was positively disgraceful ! " 
 
 After dinner the whole company adjourned 
 to the lawn, which sloped down to the 
 Thames. There coffee was served, and the 
 men lighted up their cigarettes and cigars ; 
 while the ladies, for whom wraps were 
 brought out, seated themselves on forms and 
 cushioned basket-chairs under the trees. The
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 sickle of a new moon threw a faint shimmer 
 upon the gliding river, there was a pleasant 
 sound of rushing water, and a fresh scent of 
 weeds pervaded the night air. 
 
 Sir Anthony Griffinhoof, who had been 
 rather cut out by Captain Chipchase at 
 dinner, settled himself on a camp-stool beside 
 Ann, and began to unfold his plans for 
 making the procession which should in- 
 augurate his year of mayoralty more than 
 usually attractive. His idea was to discard 
 monstrosities like Gog and Magog, and to 
 ordain a cortdge of one hundred lovely young 
 matrons and as many beautiful girls, all in 
 historical costume. The gallant city knight 
 was the more intent upon this scheme, as his 
 sister, Miss Griffinhoof, v/ho kept house for 
 him and meant to be Lady Mayoress, did 
 not encourage his holding much intercourse 
 w^ith beautiful matrons and lovely maidens 
 at ordinary times. 
 
 ** You see, we should make our public 
 pageants accord with the refinements of the 
 age," said the white-headed little man, who 
 was by trade a cotton-wool merchant. ''Away 
 with everything ugly! Down with things
 
 254 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 that provoke vulgar laughter ! Now, I should 
 say that, if we grouped the ladies in scores 
 — twenty for each historical period, making 
 five centuries in all — it would be extremely 
 nice." 
 
 "Very nice, indeed, I am sure," acquiesced 
 Ann. 
 
 " I am so very glad you like my idea," 
 continued Sir Anthony. " But now comes 
 the question : Would it not be most desirable 
 that our procession should consist of real 
 ladies ? On careful consideration, it has 
 seemed to me that the wives and daughters 
 of our most respected city merchants would 
 be the best possible impersonators. You 
 see, if we engaged professionals — such as 
 ballet girls, ahem ! — it might lead us very 
 far." 
 
 *' Would it ? " said Ann, not guessing 
 whither Sir Anthony could be led. '* I 
 should think that ladles accustomed to appear 
 in public would perform their parts better 
 than others." 
 
 ''True, very true; but we must think of 
 the decorum of the show," observed the 
 knight, with a pensive shake of his little
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 255 
 
 head. " To realize my conception in its 
 entirety, it would be essential that our — a — 
 obliging ladies should sing an ode or some- 
 thing in front of the Guildhall as the Lord 
 Mayor walked into the banquet. I have 
 been thinking I would ask the poet laureate 
 to compose that ode, for a fee, of course — 
 a substantial fee." 
 
 While the future Lord Mayor chirupped 
 on his camp-stool, the rumour had gone the 
 round of the lawn — as such things promptly 
 do — that Miss Harrowell was not in the 
 marriage market, being engaged to a gentle- 
 man in Egypt. This caused a revulsion of 
 feeling in her favour among the young ladies, 
 and it gave solace to Miss Griffinhoof — a 
 masculine lady, with short-cut hair, a divided 
 skirt, and a double eye-glass, — who had been 
 watching her brother under the rims of her 
 glasses, bethinking her that she ought to 
 choose a moment for interveninof. On the 
 other hand, the tidings seemed to depress 
 Captain Chipchase, and they disturbed the 
 plans of Mrs. Asher Blew, who, in under- 
 taking to chaperon the Harrowell girls, had 
 some very practical aims. The good lady
 
 256 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 was persuaded that she would be rendering 
 a great service to her husband's old friend, 
 Harrowell, and to several of her own friends 
 as well, if she got Ann, Lucy, and Charlie 
 comfortably engaged ; and she was already 
 regarding the fortunes of these young people 
 as three valuable pieces of patronage which 
 had been placed at her disposal. 
 
 She sidled up to Ann, rustling in a brocade 
 skirt both rich and costly. Her plump arms 
 were encircled with heavy diamond bracelets, 
 and a large crescent sparkled in her grey 
 hair, powdered ct la mai'dchale. Vera incessu 
 patuit Dea. With her buxom figure, double 
 chin, and well-poised head, Mrs. Blew was 
 the type of those society queens — they are 
 many, and yet too few — who rule with 
 recognized authority over a circle of their 
 own creating. It is no easy matter to " form 
 a set," and the women who succeed in doing 
 so have all the same assemblage of qualities 
 — a mixture of shrewdness and tact, of 
 worldliness, good nature, and strong sense. 
 An authoress in a small way, a churchwoman 
 of pronounced views, a politician who frankly 
 proclaimed her opinions and tried to win
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 257 
 
 converts, Mrs. Blew possessed above all 
 things the arts of never making enemies, 
 and of selecting with judgment those on 
 whom she could rely to be her fast friends. 
 
 " My dear Sir Anthony, you must not 
 monopolize Miss Harrowell in this way," she 
 said cheerfully ; '' all the other ladies will be 
 jealous." 
 
 The little alderman was up in a moment, 
 frisking and making salaams ; but he soon 
 retired, to be told by his strong-minded 
 sister that his bed-time was approaching, and 
 Mrs. Blew settled into a friendly conversation 
 with Ann. A chance allusion to Hugh 
 Armstrong was quite enough to show her 
 how matters stood. Under the gentle 
 pressure of a few motherly questions, the 
 story of Ann's love and of her father's oppo- 
 sition all came out. 
 
 " But your sister has been saying at table 
 that you were actually engaged ? " 
 
 " Lucy ought not to have said that," 
 exclaimed Ann, startled. '* We do not want 
 it to be known." 
 
 " But you can tell me, dear. I know Mr. 
 Armstrong, and think him a perfect gentle- 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 man, as well as a most gifted man." Which 
 did not mean that Mrs. Blew was going to 
 espouse Hugh Armstrong's suit all at once. 
 But she sided instinctively with clever men ; 
 and she had another rule, which was never 
 to war against a passion or a prejudice until 
 she had gauged its strength. So she spoke 
 in genial praise of Hugh Armstrong, and her 
 words were sweet music to Ann, as she sat 
 listening to the rush of water and to the 
 sound, which suddenly arose in the air, of 
 far-off church-bells. 
 
 For it was Saturday night, and some bell- 
 ringers, a mile or two away, were practising 
 their peals. 
 
 " And far off sounds, for the night so clear is, 
 Awake the echoes of bygone times ; 
 The muffled roar of the distant weir is 
 Cheered by the clang of the Marlow chimes." 
 
 The softening notes, now merry, now 
 mournful, as they came rippling through the 
 calm summer atmosphere, recalled to Ann's 
 memory a certain water-party at Hampton 
 Court — one of the very few she had ever 
 joined — at which Hugh had proposed to her. 
 That was just such an evening as this one ;
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 259 
 
 and this one, thanks to Mrs. Blew's pleasant 
 talk, seemed to Ann one of the most agree- 
 able she had ever enjoyed. 
 
 Everybody, indeed, was enjoying himself 
 or herself — except, perhaps, poor Charlie 
 Harrowell, who had been assigned at dinner 
 to one of the most provokingly amusing 
 and charmingly saucy girls of Mrs. Blew's 
 acquaintance. She was an Honourable Miss 
 Winifred Champion, and was the girl of the 
 highest rank present, being sister of Lord 
 Champlesse, an Under Secretary of State- 
 Now, Lord Champlesse was not rich, and 
 Miss Winnie guessed with no great trouble 
 that she had been made to sit beside Mr. 
 Charles Harrowell at table because this 
 young man was heir to half a million of 
 money. Girls are supposed not to know of 
 these things. Their elders elaborate plans 
 for them, and they must keep their eyes and 
 ears shut, not suspecting or piecing two and 
 two together. Some, however, do go through 
 the process of mental arithmetic, as Miss 
 Winnie had done, for she was pardonably 
 curious at times to know what was going to 
 be her lot in life.
 
 2 6o THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 What is more, Winnie Champion liked 
 Charlie Harrowell at first sight. He was 
 handsome, well-dressed, and good-tempered. 
 She saw at a glance that, if he became very- 
 fond of her (for this was an essential point), 
 she would get a husband whom she could 
 manage with her little finger all her days. 
 These husbands when unearthed must be 
 caught quickly. 
 
 Winnie pursued towards Charlie exactly 
 the same method as Ann had adopted 
 towards Captain Chipchase — she tried to 
 draw him out, but met only with a series 
 of checks. There was not a single topic of 
 conversation on which the two could talk 
 with a common understanding. Miss Wini- 
 fred's male acquaintances were officers in 
 crack regiments, holders of government ap- 
 pointments, budding diplomatists. University 
 men, or boys at Eton and Harrow. They 
 were members of first-rate cricket clubs, and 
 they raced at Henley under the colours of 
 distinguished rowing clubs ; in London, their 
 region was Clubland, abroad they frequented 
 Hombourg, Monaco, and the Riviera. 
 Winnie's attempts to start gossip were there-
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 26 [ 
 
 fore like dispiriting efforts to draw a blank 
 cover. The people of whom she talked, and 
 their haunts, were as far from Charlie's ken 
 as Mesopotamia. He felt almost as if his 
 mocking neighbour were making fun of him, 
 and finished his dinner mortified to think 
 what a ridiculous figure he had cut. 
 
 But in this he was mistaken, for Winnie 
 judged him to be one of the most unaffected 
 young men whom she had ever met. She 
 respected him far more than if he had 
 strained himself to gabble of things beyond 
 his knowledge. Nor did she desert him 
 after dinner, but stood beside him on the 
 lawn while he smoked, and she imparted to 
 him information about this reach of the 
 Thames, and the dwellers on the banks 
 thereof. It then transpired that she was 
 one of the house party at Cobalt Lodge (Mr. 
 Blew's place), and there was a project afoot 
 for a picnic in Cliefden Woods on Monday, 
 from which she anticipated great fun. Has 
 it been said that Winnie was a very pretty 
 girl, with arch eyes and a laughing mouth, 
 set with bewitching rows of teeth ? Ex- 
 tremely smart was she, too, in her dress,
 
 262 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 quick and graceful in her movements, and 
 she talked the good pure English of a 
 gentlewoman, unshoddied by Americanisms 
 or sporting slang. 
 
 "Do you ever go to the theatre?" she 
 asked abruptly, as the church-bells ceased 
 ringing, and chatting was resumed after an 
 interval of listening silence. 
 
 *' Oh yes, I've been going almost every 
 night for the last two months," answered 
 Charlie, delighted to find a topic on which 
 he could at last give a connoisseur's opinion. 
 
 *' You are more fortunate than we are — I 
 mean my mother and I. I have only been 
 * out ' one season, and during the two months 
 we had so many parties that there was 
 scarcely any time for the theatre." 
 
 '' Do you generally live in the country ? " 
 
 *' Yes, as my brother is unmarried, my 
 mother and I live at his house, Naught Hall, 
 near Norwich." 
 
 ** And do you never come up to town 
 except in the season ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, now and then, for a fortnight, 
 but that is not enough to keep me learned in 
 theatrical matters. Yet I do like the theatre
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 263 
 
 SO much. Last winter we got up some 
 private theatricals at Norwich for a charity, 
 and I played ' Yum- Yum ' in the Mikado.'' 
 
 '' I should love to hear you sing some of 
 that music ; I delight in it." 
 
 " I will sing with pleasure. I promised 
 Mr. Blew that I would," said Winnie, readily. 
 " Do you sing }'' 
 
 " Only comic songs." 
 
 ** Well, but those are the songs that every- 
 body likes." 
 
 " You misunderstand me," replied Charlie, 
 with a smile. " When I try to sing I make 
 everybody laugh ; that's the only reason why 
 my songs are comic." 
 
 " Oh, that's very good," laughed Winnie, 
 with a bright peal of mirth, which was as 
 much as to say, " Well, there's something in 
 the young man, after all." And she turned 
 to Mr. Blew, who was passing by. " Mr. 
 Blew, will you lead me to your piano ? 
 Here is Mr. Harrowell dying to hear me 
 sing ' Yum-Yum.' " 
 
 Mr. Blew, who, what between his tyrannical 
 liver and the capriciousness of the English 
 climate, led the existence of a valetudinarian,
 
 264 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 was pacing about the lawn to quicken his 
 circulation, his head cased in a skull-cap and 
 a Scotch plaid round his shoulders. He 
 deferred to Miss Champions request with 
 celerity, and the first bars of Sullivan's 
 music quickly stirred the company from their 
 seats, and brought them in groups to the 
 gravel path in front of the open door- windows 
 of the drawing-room. 
 
 Winifred had a tuneful voice, and it was 
 with genuine expression and true comedy- 
 archness that she carolled the song to the 
 Sun and Moon. 
 
 " Ah, pray make no mistake ! 
 We are not shy ; 
 We're very wide awake, 
 The moon and I." 
 
 Among a cluster of men who clapped their 
 hands loudly at the final notes, Charlie heard 
 somebody ejaculate, " What a downright 
 stunning girl that Miss Champion is ! " 
 
 Charlie Harrowell thought so too. 
 
 About an hour after this, Ann and Lucy, 
 in their two-bedded room, were comparing 
 notes on the day's events. Ann, under the 
 placid sensations of the evening which she
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 265 
 
 had spent, was not disposed to be severe 
 with Lucy for having made her secret public. 
 She avowed that she thought her host and 
 hostess all kindness, and was most grateful 
 to them for their invitation. But Lucy 
 shook her head — to her the life at Cobalt 
 Lodge presented only matters for criticism. 
 
 '' Why, Annie, the people here seem to 
 think of nothing but amusements." 
 
 " Their ways are not ours, Lucy ; but if 
 they succeed in amusing one another, that is 
 something surely." 
 
 *' But amusement should not be the pur- 
 pose of our lives," remonstrated Lucy, gravely. 
 " And do you know, Annie, I am most curious 
 to see how such people as this spend their 
 Sunday."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Sunday was kept at Cobalt Lodge as in 
 most other well-ordered English households. 
 Breakfast over, Mrs. Blew asked who was 
 going to church, and everybody was going, 
 except Mr. Blew, who could not expose him- 
 self to draughts. It was Mr. Blew's standing 
 complaint that churches are not made at least 
 as comfortable as concert-rooms, and he 
 attacked every vicar and churchwarden whom 
 he met, with the questions : " Why don't 
 you put up door-curtains ? When are you 
 going to build a vestibule where people can 
 leave their hats, overcoats, and umbrellas ? 
 Why should I sit cramped in a narrow pew 
 with a damp overcoat on, my knees against 
 a wet umbrella, and my heels scraping the 
 nap of my best hat ? " 
 
 " Don't you agree with me ? " he said to
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 267 
 
 Lucy at breakfast. " I hear you are a great 
 authority on matters ecclesiastical at High- 
 bury. Can't you prevail on your clergy- 
 man to protect his congregation against 
 rheumatism ? " 
 
 Lucy murmured an indistinct reply, for 
 this suggestion of clerical duties had never 
 occurred to her. 
 
 ** I don't believe a man ever feels more 
 devotional from having a fit of sneezing," 
 continued the indigo merchant. " Give me 
 the old-fashioned pews, with their moreen 
 curtains and well-cushioned corners. Look 
 at the corporation pews in the old city 
 churches ! Why, the mere prayer-books, 
 with their large print and their wide slab 
 to rest on, are a pleasure to read out of! 
 Your modern prayer-books, that fit into the 
 waistcoat pocket, and with print no bigger 
 than pin-marks, are regular instruments of 
 torture." 
 
 The house party at the lodge consisted 
 of twelve persons, including the host and 
 hostess and their grown-up son and daughter, 
 Grey and Violet. Besides the Harrowells, 
 there were Winnie and her mother, Lady
 
 268 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 Champlesse, Mr. Darkleigh, Captain Chip- 
 chase, and a young man, whose surname was 
 always unintelligibly pronounced when he 
 was introduced, but whom everybody ad- 
 dressed as Dick. He had been a college 
 chum of Grey Blew's at Cambridge, and was 
 a silent, whiskered, athletic young man, who 
 ate heartily and made himself generally 
 useful. He took the bow oar in river ex- 
 cursions, he had given his arm to Miss 
 Griffinhoof at yesterday's dinner, and, on this 
 Sunday morning. Miss Violet Blew deputed 
 him to collect the hymn-books and to pro- 
 vide small silver money for the offertory 
 bags. 
 
 The whole party did not go to the same 
 church. The Great Blunderbuss sought out- 
 of-the-way places of worship, and he delighted 
 to return home with tit-bits of oddities which 
 he had discovered in doctrine or elocution. 
 These he registered in the capacious note- 
 books whence he derived the materials for 
 his " Chronicles of Human Error." Captain 
 Chipchase, to whom the Sabbath was an 
 " off day," to be spent as hazard should 
 determine, decided to keep the Blunderbuss
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 269 
 
 company — a case of natural affinities, re- 
 marked Grey Blew, who revelled in small 
 jokes, though a very correct young man in 
 all other particulars. " Captain Chipchase, 
 it will be your business to see that your 
 companion is properly primed with sound 
 teaching." 
 
 " Of course Chipchase likes to go with a 
 big gun," laughed Mr. Asher Blew. 
 
 "In that case, I'll take him to Windsor, to 
 hear one of the canons," retorted the famous 
 author ; and the whole circle laughed at this 
 facetiousness, in a way which Lucy thought 
 hardly becoming in people who were setting 
 out for church. 
 
 Grey Blew, his sister, and Dick were to 
 take Lady Champlesse and Winnie to see 
 the historical church at Bray. Winnie, by 
 a sidelong glance at Charlie, invited him to 
 join their party ; but Charlie felt bound to 
 escort his hostess, who was going with Ann 
 and Lucy to the parish church. There they 
 sat in a new-fashioned pew, and were edified 
 with the orthodox service of two hours' 
 length, comprising Litany, Communion, and 
 a half-hour's sermon.
 
 2 70 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 '' Some people call these services too long, 
 but I am no advocate for shortening them," 
 remarked Mrs. Blew, when she had returned 
 home with the satisfaction of a weekly duty 
 accomplished. '' We may be sure that, when- 
 ever the prayers are abridged, clergymen will 
 lenethen the sermons." 
 
 " That is certainly the impression I 
 gathered from the place where Chipchase 
 and I have been this morning," assented 
 Mr. Darkleigh. " The prayers were short, 
 but the preaching wild and abundant." 
 
 *' The ' Orphan ' and the Blunderbuss 
 have been to a Salvation Army Barracks," 
 explained Grey Blew, who was making him- 
 self agreeable to Ann and Lucy, whilst all 
 were waiting on the lawn for luncheon. 
 
 *' Is Captain Chipchase an orphan ? " asked 
 Ann, sympathetically. 
 
 *' Oh, I beg pardon ; only a small joke of 
 ours," said Grey Blew. '* We call him the 
 ' Off 'un ' because he's always * off' to some 
 distant part of the globe." 
 
 " I hope you feel the better for your 
 morning's exercises, Captain Chipchase," said 
 Mrs. Blew.
 
 THE ALDERMAN'S CHILDREN. 27I 
 
 " I feel like a man well winged," answered 
 the gallant sportsman. " There was a young 
 lady on the platform called herself a sergeant- 
 major, and said she was going to fire 'gospel 
 shots ' at us." 
 
 "Yes, Chipchase was quite in his element," 
 chuckled Mr. Darkleigh. 
 
 Winifred Champion was well pleased with 
 her visit to Bray Church, and at luncheon 
 she told Charlie all about the famous Vicar 
 of Bray, promising, furthermore, that she 
 would sing him the well-known song about 
 that worthy. ** But not to-day, of course, for 
 it is not a Sunday song." 
 
 " How do you class Sunday songs from 
 the others. Miss Champion ? " inquired Mr. 
 Darkleigh with a grin. 
 
 '* Ask mamma," replied Winnie, cleverly 
 evading the point. 
 
 " Has Lady Champlesse a very hard-and- 
 fast line of demarcation ? " 
 
 " Not at all," answered Winnie's mother, 
 who was a quiet, low-spoken lady. " I 
 suppose it is with singing as with talking ; 
 we must take care not to offend the company 
 in which we may happen to be."
 
 2 72 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " I should have no objection myself to 
 hear on Sundays any songs that I like on 
 weekdays," interposed Mrs. Blew ; '' but I 
 do strongly object to the kind of people who 
 agitate for innovations on our Sunday. 
 There are persons who manage to throw 
 profanity even into the riding of a bicycle 
 on Sunday ; they do so with such evident 
 relish at the idea that somebody may be 
 shocked by their performance." 
 
 Nothinof could be more decorous than 
 Mrs. Blew's own outward observance of the 
 Day of Rest. She possessed several volumes 
 of sermons, and never failed to take up one 
 after Sunday luncheon. If she sometimes 
 dozed off during the perusal, the warmth of 
 the sun could always be pleaded as an excuse 
 in summer, and that of the fireplace ^t other 
 times of the year. 
 
 But, on this particular Sunday, she did not 
 indulge in her usual nap. Mr. Blew owned 
 several carriages and a steam launch, and, 
 soon after lunch was finished, the launch got 
 up steam, and a waggonette was driven round 
 to convey all, and as many as pleased, to 
 half-past four service at St. George's, Windsor.
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 273 
 
 Two parties were again formed. Ann and 
 Lucy went with Mrs. Blew in the carnage, 
 Charlie took a seat beside Winnie in the 
 launch. 
 
 "What a delightful way of going to 
 church ! " he said, as the light craft, bounding 
 like a swan, and leaving a long trail of foam 
 on the stream, shot the arches of Maidenhead 
 Bridge. 
 
 " This is a very cranky old launch, though," 
 remarked Grey Blew, who was seated on the 
 other side of Winnie. " If you're thinking 
 of buying one of your own, I'd go to a 
 different maker. This man's boilers are 
 always giving trouble." 
 
 Grey Blew had heard that old Mr. Har- 
 rowell was absurdly rich, and he had con- 
 cluded off-hand that his heir must be as other 
 wealthy young men. But to poor Charlie 
 the words sounded like irony. He had 
 already noticed with pangs of envy on what 
 free and easy terms Mr. Blew and his son 
 seemed to stand. Grey had his own dog- 
 cart, his London club, chambers, and valet ; 
 he had announced at breakfast a number of 
 appointments which he should have to keep 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 2 74 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 during the week, and a round of visits to 
 country houses that he was going to pay 
 when the shooting season began. 
 
 But there had not been the sHghtest 
 pretence of asking parental sanction to any 
 of his movements. Was he not an old 
 Rugbeian and Cantab, who had done well 
 at school and college, and had every right 
 to be trusted by his parents ? Though barely 
 twenty-five, he was already a partner in his 
 father's firm, and there was not a keener 
 young man of business in the whole indigo 
 trade. As Charlie and Winnie discussed 
 about the scenery they were passing, Grey 
 dropped into a " shop " conversation with 
 his well-muffled father, and Charlie over 
 heard the words, " Calcutta, last shipment, 
 Marseilles, shortest route," ending up with 
 the exclamation, " I think I'll run over to 
 Marseilles myself." The fact was that, for 
 all his appearances of amusing himself. Grey 
 Blew directed the entire activity of his mind 
 and body to the furtherance of the family 
 business. Charlie had not seen much of him 
 in the office whilst he was a clerk at Blew's, 
 for Grey was concerned with the foreign
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHTLDREX. 2/5 
 
 branch houses. He had twice been out to 
 India. 
 
 Violet Blew was more under parental con- 
 trol than her brother, but not much ap- 
 parently. She was a beauty of twenty-one 
 summers, who had been out three seasons, 
 but remained as fresh-looking and cool as a 
 strawberry ice. She dressed as she pleased 
 — and it pleased her to dress very ex- 
 travagantly, — and she seemed to have a 
 good deal of pocket-money, for she talked 
 unconcernedly ^of buying this and that, and 
 bantered her father about a milliner's bill 
 which she was going to present him on his 
 next birthday by way of a forget-me-not. 
 
 Yet this family, who lived in such luxury 
 and whose surroundings were so perfect, — 
 this family who had a town and country 
 home, carriages, horses, launch, and a troop 
 of servants in livery, — were continually be- 
 moaning their poverty. They aspired to 
 buy a large estate, and to take their places 
 among the landed gentry ; but the capricious- 
 ness of the indigo trade gave Mr. Blew little 
 hope of being able to gratify this ambition. 
 
 " The estate of Woodlands, near your
 
 276 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 place in Norfolk, is in the market," said 
 Grey Blew, turning suddenly to Winnie. 
 " Do you know it ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed," answered Winnie, quickly ; 
 " it belonged to my great-grandfather. That 
 was in the days before my kinsfolk had 
 begun to make ducks and drakes of their 
 substance." 
 
 *' How jolly ! " observed Blew. '' If we 
 weren't so poor, we'd buy it, and we should 
 become neighbours." 
 
 " It can't be in my time, my dear boy," re- 
 marked Mr. Blew ; '' unless you be a sensible 
 fellow, and look out for a wife with money." 
 
 " Oh, I must have my fling first, father ! " 
 replied Grey, lightly. " But, Harrowell, that 
 place would just do for your father — shooting, 
 trout stream, hall, and ever so many thousand 
 acres — all for a hundred and twenty thousand 
 pounds. Your father is thinking of buying 
 an estate, isn't he ? " 
 
 "Yes, and I have been advising him to 
 seize at this chance," remarked Mr. Blew. 
 
 Winnie glanced at Charlie, and the latter 
 marvelled. He had no idea that his father 
 thouo-ht of buying an estate — no more notion
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 277 
 
 of that than of the balances in the paternal 
 ledgers and banker's books. He had even 
 begun to evolve a romance in which Grey 
 Blew became the owner of Woodlands, 
 married Winnie, and thus restored a Champion 
 to her ancestral domain. 
 
 But Winnie herself can have seen no 
 prospects in this direction, for she treated 
 Grey with no more than friendly notice, 
 whereas she laid herself out to make quite 
 a confidant of Charlie. Their launch dashed 
 along, sounding its shrill whistle now and 
 then to warn lumbering '' tubs," full of Sunday 
 excursionists, off its course ; and Winnie found 
 no difficulty in kindling responsive enthu- 
 siasm in her companion as she told him the 
 names of the pretty places on the banks to 
 right and left of them. Past Bray Lock and 
 Monkey Island, along to Surly Hall and 
 Boveney Lock, away to the rushes, the 
 willow-clumps of Clewe and the Brocas 
 elms, with the grand towers of Windsor 
 Castle in full view, and so to the boat-house 
 just above Windsor Bridge, where the launch 
 glided smoothly alongside a raft, and landed 
 its party.
 
 2/8 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 It had been a trip of great charm to 
 Charlie ; but this was not because of Winnie's 
 prattle alone. Winnie might chat as she 
 would, but Charlie did not forget Mabel ; 
 and all the way over the river he had been 
 thinkinor how delio^htful it would be to have 
 Mabel seated where Winnie sat, to be as 
 close to her, to see Winnie's look of gladness 
 transferred to Mabel's usually pensive face, 
 and to hear Mabel hum such snatches of 
 song as occasionally broke from Winnie's 
 lips, albeit it was the Sabbath day. 
 
 Did Winnie notice that there was some 
 bar between herself and Charlie ? Not yet. 
 Girls are sharp, but they are liable to illusions. 
 She and Charlie had stalls side by side in 
 St. George's Chapel, with banners of Knights 
 of the Garter and heraldic gift plates above 
 their heads. They followed the anthem of 
 the choir out of the same book, and they 
 joined together in the responses and canticles. 
 Then, when the service was over, they wan- 
 dered away to the castle terraces, and 
 lingered over the parapets to exult in the 
 glorious landscape of the home park, and 
 the winding Thames, the chapel, and the
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 279 
 
 playing-fields of Eton. In the orange light 
 of an August afternoon, with the trees 
 already sere in the leaf, and displaying every 
 shade of tint from the russet of the chestnut 
 to the blood-red of the maple, the prospect 
 was one at which the eye could not tire of 
 gazing. 
 
 " What an enchanting place this is ! " ex- 
 claimed Charlie. *' It makes one wish to be 
 an artist that one^ might come out and sit 
 with an easel." 
 
 '' Do you draw ? " asked Winnie. 
 
 " Oh no. Miss Champion, I can do 
 nothing ! " he answered, with a sort of 
 desperation. '* You see, I was never at a 
 public school and university like Grey. I 
 know nothing and nobody ; I'm not clever. 
 I'm a regular duffer, and almost owe you an 
 apology for taxing so much of your time and 
 good nature." 
 
 *' Why, what can make a young man take 
 so disenchanted a view of life at your age ? " 
 she answered, feeling that a secret tie was 
 already knit between them by this confession. 
 *' I should like to know what there is that 
 Mr. Blew can do, and which you could not
 
 2 So THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 do with a little trying ? I suppose what you 
 mean to say Is, that you have lived much at 
 home ? " 
 
 "Very much at home," he answered 
 bitterly. *' I'm so much there that my father 
 thinks it a sin if I am absent from dinner, 
 and he would hold me for lost If I did one- 
 half of what Grey Blew does with his father's 
 approval. Would you believe it, it was quite 
 news to me to hear to-day that my father 
 thought of buying an estate ? It was less 
 than three months ago that I was informed 
 of his being rich." 
 
 " I should think that must have been a 
 very welcome piece of information." 
 
 '* It seems somehow to have made us all 
 quarrelsome and miserable at home," replied 
 Charlie. *' But why do I trouble you with 
 my affairs ? I was only thinking that, if my 
 father would give me some of his superfluous 
 money, I should ask for nothing better all 
 my life than to own a place like Cobalt 
 Lodge. The Blews would be welcome to 
 the Norfolk estate." 
 
 " I think I should be perfectly happy 
 there, too," said Winnie, unguardedly.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 28 1 
 
 ** All I should ask In addition would be 
 a wife," continued Charlie, — "one good and 
 pretty, like — like yourself." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Harrowell, that is going rather 
 fast ! " exclaimed Winnie, just raising her eyes 
 with a laugh, and then casting them down 
 with a blush. 
 
 Whereupon Charlie looked stupid. He 
 had been thinking of Mabel, but just as he 
 was going to let her name slip, he had turned 
 off the sentence into what he intended to be 
 a meaningless compliment. It was not till 
 the words were out that he perceived his 
 compliment resembled a declaration, and had 
 been taken as such. 
 
 On the return journey to the Lodge, the 
 parties were reversed ; those who came by 
 road going back by the river. Charlie and 
 Winnie were seated opposite to each other 
 in the waggonette. They kept silent, for 
 Mr. Darkleigh, Violet Blew, and her brother 
 carried on the talking ; but now and then 
 Winnie, lifting her eyes, met Charlie's, and 
 looked down again. This gave him sensations 
 as novel as they were bewildering. Had he 
 really proposed and been well-nigh accepted
 
 282 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 on the spot ? Was the taking of a life's 
 pledge nothing more than that ? Charlie 
 was not so dull as to be unobservant of the 
 fact that his presumed advances had been 
 kindly received, and suddenly a voice 
 whispered in his ear that if he were to 
 win the affections of this pretty, high-born 
 creature, the sister of a peer, his father 
 would doubtless approve his choice with 
 delight, and settle on him a handsome 
 income from the day of his marriage. 
 
 But what of Mabel ? Yes, but was he 
 sure of ever winning Mabel ? Had she 
 vouchsafed him a single sign of love ? Who 
 was she ? and where was she ? W^as it even 
 certain that he should ever see her ao^ain ? 
 She had assured Ann solemnly that she 
 would meet him no more, and against this 
 assurance he had only Travers's vague en- 
 couragements. 
 
 Nevertheless Mabel's gentle face rose 
 before Charlie, and he was in love. So 
 much in love that, while he dressed for 
 dinner, he resolved to remove all misunder- 
 standings from Miss Winifred's mind by 
 hinting as broadly as possible how he was
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 283 
 
 situated. He also determined that his 
 demeanour towards Winnie throughout the 
 evening must be politely cool. 
 
 Meanwhile, Winnie on her side was medi- 
 tating. If she had known Mr. Charles 
 Harrowell for a week, she would have gone 
 straightway to her mother, and carried the 
 tidings of his offer. But to be seen and 
 proposed to in twenty-four hours was a little 
 too summary. The cavalier-like celerity of 
 the wooing made Winnie doubt the serious- 
 ness of this young man, and she concluded 
 that she must watch him a little more closely 
 than she had done, in order to see whether 
 her first estimate of him had not been a 
 mistaken one. And, in the meantime, she 
 too resolved that her behaviour must be cool 
 and circumspect. 
 
 But alas for young people who meet on 
 a summer evening at a glittering dinner-table 
 purposing to be cool to each other ! It so 
 happened that, just before dinner, Charlie was 
 introduced to a venerable archdeacon, and 
 remained nearly ten minutes in conversation 
 with this old gentleman. The archdeacon 
 was seated on one side of Winnie at table —
 
 284 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 Charlie sitting on the other, — and, being an 
 old friend of the Champion family, he 
 whispered — 
 
 *' Can you tell me the name of that young 
 man near you ? I did not catch it." 
 
 " Mr. Charles Harrowell. He is the son 
 of an alderman." 
 
 ** Dear me ! He is a handsome young 
 fellow, and so right-minded." 
 
 " Had you time to judge of his right- 
 mindedness ? '' 
 
 *' That is rather a matter of instinct than 
 judgment, I take it. I was comparing him 
 with so many other young men one meets 
 in these times. He appears to have no 
 conceit in him." 
 
 It often requires no more than this to 
 shape the current of a girFs fancy. The 
 praise of a man by other men is of all 
 testimony to character the most valuable. 
 
 There could not be much love-making at 
 dinner. But for the very reason that Charlie 
 was rather reticent, Winnie argued in favour 
 of his sincerity, which she had for a moment 
 doubted ; whilst he, struck by her reserve, 
 imagined that she must have been deluded
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 285 
 
 regarding her sentiments towards him, 
 whereat, such is human nature, he felt 
 piqued. 
 
 A moment's silence precedes the rising of 
 the ladies from the table. In that moment, 
 somehow and apropos of nothing, Winnie 
 and Charlie exchanged a smile. When she 
 had risen, she gazed full at him, and in the 
 brief flash of her eyes, which scrutinized his 
 features like a book, he must have seen that 
 he had found favour in her sight. She 
 walked by him, bending her face over a 
 bunch of roses ; and he, standing in the 
 group of men, followed her retreating figure 
 with a long, dazed glance.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 It was understood that the Harrowells were 
 to remain several days at Taplow, and a 
 water-party to Cookham had been planned 
 for the Monday. These arrangements were 
 marred by the weather. On Monday morn- 
 ing it began to rain as though it had never 
 rained before. Grey Blew and his anony- 
 mous friend Dick had been up early, in their 
 flannels, to reconnoitre the heavens, but at 
 breakfast time the clouds were dripping 
 in perpendicular streams, and there was 
 not the smallest rent of blue in the leaden 
 sky. To make things worse, Mr. Asher Blew 
 got an attack of rheumatism, and had to lie 
 abed. 
 
 Under the circumstances, the visit was 
 bound to terminate ; but Mrs. Blew kindly 
 renewed her invitation to the Harrowells, as
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 287 
 
 also to Lady Champlesse and her daughter, 
 for the first fine Saturday. 
 
 ** If the weather looks promising next 
 Saturday, we will send you an early tele- 
 gram," she said, Lady Champlesse having 
 stated that she and Winifred were going to 
 stay with Lord Champlesse in London till 
 the end of the Parliamentary session. 
 
 It was a great disappointment to Winnie 
 that the water-party had to be put off. Half 
 through the night she had lain awake, reflect- 
 ing on the strange fate which had brought 
 her to the verge of matrimony with a man 
 of whose very existence she had been un- 
 aware two days before. She had looked to 
 the water-party to ripen her acquaintanceship 
 with Charlie, but she was already past any 
 doubt as to his having truly made her an 
 offer of marriage. Of course she weighed 
 the pros and cons of a match with a man who 
 was much her inferior in social station, and 
 she avowed to herself that if Mr. Charles 
 Harrowell were not very rich his suit would 
 be unacceptable. But social position or 
 money counts for something in all calculations 
 of wedlock, and Winnie always returned to
 
 288 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 the thought that Charlie was good-tempered 
 and right-minded — audi, the archdeacon, — 
 and that he would make a docile and 
 affectionate husband. Then what a family 
 triumph for her if Mr. Harrowell were to 
 buy the estate of Woodlands ! 
 
 Charlie's nocturnal reflections were of a 
 very different order. He condemned himself 
 severely for his levity. All through the 
 evening he had acted as though he were 
 under the fascination of Winnie, and he had 
 not said a word to convey that his affections 
 were plighted elsewhere. Now, Charlie was 
 bound to reason that, if he had no love for 
 Mabel, it was foolish not to dismiss her from 
 his mind at once, but that if he did love her 
 it was iniquitous to be unfaithful to her by 
 word or deed. 
 
 Had there been a leave-taking at the 
 lodge his self-upbraidings might have in- 
 fluenced his manner of parting from Winnie. 
 She would have noticed a coldness, have 
 resented it, and the two would probably have 
 separated never to meet again as friends. 
 
 But all Mrs. Blew's guests, excepting 
 Dick, w^ent up to town by an eleven-o'clock
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 289 
 
 train and In the same first-class compartment, 
 the Great Blunderbuss making himself funny 
 on the way with anecdotes. The leave- 
 taking took place on the platform at Padding- 
 ton, and was necessarily hurried. Lady 
 Champlesse, furtively nudged thereto by 
 Winnie, invited Ann and her sister to call 
 upon her In Portman Square ; and Winnie 
 said to Ann, naturally pretending to Ignore 
 Charlie — 
 
 " Then we shall see you again at Taplow 
 on Saturday, If It's fine ? " 
 
 '' I hope so, If papa will allow It,'' answered 
 Ann, whereat there was *' Good-bye " all 
 round, and Charlie parted from Winnie with 
 a squeeze of the hand. 
 
 Yes, there was a squeeze, and why ? 
 Because Winnie had looked wistfully at him, 
 and he did not like to part from her un- 
 kindly. But he was ashamed of this new act 
 of weakness, and called himself a donkey for 
 it, as he helped his sisters Into their four- 
 wheeler. 
 
 How dismal is a home-coming In the rain, 
 and In a reeking, rickety cab that smells of 
 mouldy straw ! Ann had been perfectly 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 pleased with her two days at Cobalt Lodge, 
 and was returning with a healthy purpose of 
 diffusing through her own home some of the 
 cheerfulness which she had amassed in the 
 country. Lucy remained in a censorious 
 mood, but on that very account felt the more 
 disposed to make the best of things at High- 
 bury. By comparison, however, with the 
 smart abode which they had just left, every- 
 thing in their own house seemed suddenly 
 to have deteriorated ; the rooms had shrunk 
 to half their size, and the furniture looked 
 shabby. Most wretched, too, was the gloom 
 of the London sky, that rendered all parts of 
 the house insufferably dark, while the rain 
 pattered steadily and dolefully upon the 
 window panes. 
 
 Mr. Harrowellwas, of course, not at home. 
 When Eliza, the old parlour-maid, had assisted 
 the wet cabman to carry the boxes upstairs, 
 one of Ann's first questions was about her 
 father s health, and thereupon came a surprise 
 for the little circle. 
 
 "He was looking well as usual, miss, when 
 I last saw him ; but, you know, he's gone into 
 the country."
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 29 1 
 
 " No, we were not aware of it. Into what 
 part of the country ? " 
 
 " I can't say, miss. I served master with 
 the cold dinner we always have at half-past 
 one on Sundays, but it was my Sunday out, 
 and Jemima took him up his meat tea on a 
 tray at eight o'clock. He ate it in the study, 
 feeling the parlour too lonely, he said. Then 
 he spoke something to Jemima about going 
 into the country to-day, and wanting me to 
 pack up a few things for him ; but he must 
 have altered his mind, for he was out of the 
 house before any of us was up this morning. 
 When I came down at seven o'clock his 
 bed-room door stood open, and the chain of 
 the house-door was unfastened." 
 
 *' He went to catch an early train," sug- 
 gested Charlie. " Perhaps he has gone 
 down to Norfolk to look at that estate of 
 which the Blews were speaking." 
 
 " Papa left no message or note for us, 
 Eliza ? " resumed Ann. 
 
 " No, miss ; and he can't have gone far, for 
 he's took no luggage with him. His port- 
 manteau and bag are standing at the top of 
 the cupboard In his bed-room."
 
 292 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREX. 
 
 *' Papa did not expect us home to-day," 
 observed Lucy, " and it may be that he will 
 not come back till late." 
 
 For all that, Mr. Harrowell's children went 
 into the study together to see if any note 
 had been left on the table unnoticed by Eliza. 
 It must be said that they all felt some little 
 relief that their father was out of town, and 
 might not return till late ; and yet, unknown 
 to one another, the three had all made up 
 their minds to be very good to their father. 
 Ann and Lucy longed for domestic peace. 
 The former thought she could well put her 
 love affairs out of sight until Hugh Arm- 
 strong came back from Egypt and pleaded 
 his cause for himself, and Lucy was anxious 
 to recover her father's sanction for unre- 
 strained visiting among the poor. As for 
 Charlie, he had been impressed by the con- 
 cord existing between Mr. Blew and Grey, 
 and he was cogitating as to whether he could 
 not act so as to win back his father's con- 
 fidence, and banish that awkward idea of the 
 China voyage from the latter's resolves. 
 Charlie's dutiful dispositions were so visible 
 in his manner of alluding to his father, that,
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 293 
 
 when he spoke about going up to town, Ann 
 did not think of pressing upon him the 
 customary entreaty to be home for dinner. 
 
 It was CharHe himself who said, '' I shall be 
 back long before six. I have only one visit 
 to pay." He was going to see Travers. It 
 was, moreover, his set purpose that this 
 visit should bring about an explanation with 
 Mabel. From his sojourn at Taplow and 
 his facile conquest of Winifred Champion, 
 Charlie had derived at least this benefit, that 
 he had a better opinion of himself than 
 beJfore, and he judged himself entitled to ask 
 plainly what chance there was of Mabel's 
 ever accepting his courtship. Why should 
 he beat about the bush ? His intentions 
 were honourable, and it was now for Mabel 
 to say whether she would treat him as a boy 
 or as a man. 
 
 Armed with the plucky determination to 
 have it out with Travers, Charlie climbed 
 the staircase of Ascot Chambers, and rang 
 v/ithout nervousness at his friend's door. 
 Travers kept no servant, so opened the door 
 himself, but he recoiled with a disconcerted 
 air at the sio^ht of Charlie.
 
 294 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 *' Why, I thought you were going to be 
 away for some days more ? " 
 
 Was it fancy on Charhe's part ? — but the 
 grey light falHng on Travers's countenance 
 made it look ghastly. His eyes, fixed inter- 
 rogatively on his visitor, were positively 
 haggard, and he continued to hold the door- 
 handle as though he did not wish to admit 
 anybody. 
 
 '' The rain has driven us home," said 
 Charlie, perplexed by his friend's appearance 
 and manner. " May I come in ? " 
 
 ** Yes ; but — to tell you the truth, my sister 
 is with me," stammered Travers, in quite a 
 husky voice. 
 
 " So much the better. Travers, I must 
 see the Baroness." 
 
 " Well, if you must, you must," replied 
 Travers, recklessly. " Only just let me 
 prepare her for your visit. You won't mind 
 being shown into my bed-room ? " 
 
 Charlie was conducted across the passage, 
 and left alone in the bed-room, an arrange- 
 ment at which he was not sorry, for he began 
 to experience a slight trepidation at the 
 suddenly approaching interview. It was a
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 295 
 
 handsomely furnished bed-chamber, every- 
 thing in it being new and ordained according 
 to the taste of a fashionable upholsterer. 
 
 Alone, Charlie did what every other young 
 man would have done in his situation ; he 
 began by inspecting himself in the toilet 
 glass, pulled his collar up and his wristbands 
 down, and ran a hand through his hair. 
 Then he moved to the window, stared at the 
 traffic in muddy Piccadilly, and rehearsed 
 fragments of the little speeches with which 
 he intended to accost Mabel. 
 
 If he could only have overheard what 
 Travers was saying to Mabel all this while ! 
 
 For Travers had stepped quickly back to 
 the room where he had left his sister, who 
 sat on a sofa with a handkerchief to her 
 eyes, after a long fit of crying. 
 
 *' Mab, Charlie is here," he said, in a 
 breathless tone. " And now, in this very 
 hour, your fate and mine will be put to the 
 touch. If you falter we are done for." 
 
 " Chaunie, how can I see him ! " exclaimed 
 Mabel, half risinor, as though she would take 
 to flight. 
 
 " But you must see him."
 
 296 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 "After the cruel blow I have just suffered, 
 I cannot. It is too soon." 
 
 " Nonsense," retorted Travers, peremp- 
 torily. " You became a widow more than 
 four years ago, though you chose to consider 
 yourself bound, but at last you are really 
 free. The pang of being severed from a 
 husband whom you could only see through 
 a grating can't have been so sharp, and 
 now you have a fortune and a life's happiness 
 within your grasp, if you will only rouse 
 yourself." 
 
 What was the meaninor of these words ? 
 Why, this — that on the Saturday, a few 
 hours after Travers had posted his letters 
 in Fleet Street, Mabel had received a com- 
 munication dated from Portland and an- 
 nouncing her husband's death. The letter 
 was signed by the governor, and stated in 
 cold, official terms that the convict, Albert 
 Snow, having been removed to the infirmary, 
 was found to be suffering from galloping 
 consumption, and had sunk rapidly after a 
 few days' illness. He was to be buried in 
 the cemetery of the convict depot. 
 
 Overwhelmed by this intelHgence, Mabel
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 297 
 
 had set off panting to see her brother, and 
 she had found him at home. At this first 
 meeting he was sympathetic but business- 
 Hke. She returned to see him on Sunday, 
 and here she was again on the Monday by 
 his request. This was her third visit since 
 the tidings of her bereavement, and at every 
 interview Travers had inculcated upon her 
 that she must now grasp the chance in Hfe 
 that was offered her by Chadie Harrowell's 
 affection. She could not put on mourning 
 for her husband or proclaim her widowhood 
 as a new thing, for she had been passing at 
 Finsbury Park for a widow. It would be 
 absurd to have Albert Snow's body removed 
 from Portland, and to go to the expense of 
 a costly funeral for him. Let the past, with 
 its miserable associations, be blotted out. 
 The man was now released from bis sorrows 
 and buried. God give him rest ! That is 
 what Chauncey Travers said. 
 
 And now he returned to this theme with a 
 redoubled energy ; for, as he repeated, stand- 
 ing over his sister and speaking almost in 
 her ear, the critical moment had come, and 
 she must take her decisions on the spot.
 
 298 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 
 
 '' It is all very well of you to talk of 
 nursing your grief," he muttered, looking 
 round to see that the door was shut, '' but 
 just reflect how things will stand with you 
 a year hence. The events of to-day will be 
 old then, and shall you feel glad if you have 
 spurned the love of a man who could have 
 made a happy woman of you ? " 
 
 *' But you know, Chaunie, Mr. Harrowell's 
 friends will never allow him to marry me," 
 protested Mabel. ''And there could be no 
 happiness for me unless I told him the whole 
 truth. He must know everything, and when 
 he does know, he will turn away." 
 
 "No, he won't,'' replied Travers. "You 
 shall tell him everything you like, but first 
 make sure of his love. It is of no use to 
 begin a confession until you can trust the 
 hearer." 
 
 " But may I tell him later ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course ; you shall make a clean 
 breast of the whole sorry business," he re- 
 joined, in an impatient, vibrating voice. 
 " To-day I only want you to satisfy yourself 
 that the young fellow is one whom you 
 yourself could love and trust. Just see him ; 
 you won't be asked to commit yourself"
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 299 
 
 There was worldly sense in what Travers 
 uttered, and Mabel could only take refuge 
 in the wavering observation that Mr. Har- 
 rowell's courtship had hitherto caused her 
 pain. " I have struggled against the feeling 
 that he could be anything more to me than 
 a kind-hearted boy who was your friend," 
 she said. 
 
 " He is not a boy ; he is a man, and I can 
 see to-day that he is no longer to be trifled 
 with," replied Travers. '' But enough of 
 this ! Time presses, and before Heaven I 
 charge you to remember, Mab, that I have 
 done my best for you as a brother. You 
 will bitterly repent of it all your life if you 
 reject my guidance. Do you think I would 
 propose to you to take a husband of whose 
 character I was not sure ? You know I am 
 too fond of you for that. And now let me 
 call Charlie in." 
 
 He left the room, unheeding a dissentient 
 gesture from her, and the next minute the 
 door was opened. It closed again behind 
 Charlie, who, with a brave eagerness, 
 hastened forward and took Mabel's hand. 
 
 " At last. Baroness ! Oh, I am so happy 
 at seeing you again ! "
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 '' Don't call me ' Baroness,' " she said, 
 gently motioning him to take a seat beside 
 her on the sofa. 
 
 " What may I call you, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, call me — call me " But the 
 
 right form of address did not occur to her. 
 
 '' Let me call you Mabel," he entreated, 
 grasping both her hands in his. '' You know 
 I wrote to say that I loved you, but you 
 can have no idea of how deep my love is. 
 There was something that attracted me 
 towards you from the first moment we met, 
 and since then I have been thinking of you 
 without ceasing." 
 
 *' You are very young to talk of love, Mr. 
 Harrowell," she said, looking up at him 
 timidly, but moved by his impassioned words, 
 "and you do not know me. There have 
 been very sad passages in my life." 
 
 '* Yes, you were married, and you gave 
 your first love to your husband who is dead," 
 he interrupted. " I know I cannot expect 
 that you should ever feel towards me as I 
 do towards you, who are my first love. But 
 you will let yourself be touched by my 
 willingness to accept what affection you can
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 give me In return for mine. I shall be so 
 dreadfully miserable if you refuse me. Speak 
 to me one word of encouragement. Say just 
 ♦ Yes,' Mabel." 
 
 " Not now ; perhaps later — in a year's 
 time," she murmured, trying to disengage 
 her hands. But he held them fast. 
 
 " You are not going to say that we must 
 be parted for a year ! You will allow me to 
 see you, even though you make no answer 
 to my prayers ? " 
 
 " Occasionally, but not often, Mr. Har- 
 rowell. Let us be patient," she pleaded. 
 
 " But how can you learn to know me if we 
 never meet ? Grant me at least a few happy 
 moments every day." 
 
 His face was close to her, animated with 
 youthful fervour, and most comely ; his voice 
 also had the ring of true love, — any woman 
 could have detected that ; and Mabel, agitated 
 as she was, yielded to the emotion of feeling 
 that there was a man on earth who worshipped 
 her. But what a torment underlay this brief 
 rapture ! Would the day ever come when 
 Charlie should sit beside her like this, hear 
 her terrible story, and, after hearing it, try to
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 seize her hands again as he was doing now ? 
 Ah, this was a dream ! 
 
 They sat talking for a Httle longer, he 
 pressing her to fix a day for their next meet- 
 ing, and she feebly resisting. Yet her heart 
 was getting troubled, and she said to herself 
 that it would be better not to put off for too 
 long the crisis that must unite them or set 
 them for ever asunder. She must meet him 
 again, and, at the first favourable opportunity, 
 very soon, and before she lost her own self- 
 control, she would put his love to the crucial 
 lest. 
 
 *' I shall be comino^ into town ao^ain' on 
 Thursday," she said ; " and if you like to 
 
 call here But you will leave me now, 
 
 Mr. Harrowell." 
 
 " Not before Thursday ! " he exclaimed, 
 crestfallen. '' But you will give me a longer 
 time then, dearest Mabel, won't you ? I 
 want to tell you all about myself, my plans, 
 my hopes. We will be alone for at least an 
 hour on Thursday. Say yes." 
 
 ** Yes," she answered ; but in the same 
 breath sighed, '' No — no ; " for he had 
 cauo^ht her little wrists, and was covering
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 303 
 
 her fingers with kisses. So bold is young- 
 love when it has vanquished its first timidity 
 that he would have done more than this ; 
 but she stepped back, holding up a reproach- 
 ful hand. *' No, no, please, Mr. Harrowell ! " 
 ***** 
 
 " Well ? " anxiously asked Travers, who 
 had been waiting in the passage for Charlie's 
 coming out. 
 
 '' Oh, it's all right ! " exclaimed Charlie. 
 *' She has Hstened to me, and I am the 
 happiest of men." 
 
 ***** 
 
 ''You are home early enough to-day, 
 Charlie," was Ann's cheerful remark, as her 
 brother came in, a good hour before the time 
 for laying the dinner-cloth. 
 
 " I had not much to do in town," he 
 answered, sitting down beside his sisters, 
 who were working near the parlour window. 
 The rain had ceased, and some large tracts 
 of blue chequered the watery greyness of 
 the clouds. The Highbury field was covered 
 with a slight mist from the rising damp, and 
 the drops fell in liquid diamonds from the 
 trees.
 
 304 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 
 
 " We have no news of papa yet, and I 
 have thought we had better put off dinner 
 for an hour, if he is not here by six," observed 
 Ann. " The chicken and the fish can be 
 cooked at short notice." 
 
 ** Poor father ! I wonder whether he has 
 really gone down to Norfolk to look at that 
 estate," exclaimed her brother. There was 
 a gladsome look about Charlie. His eyes 
 were bright, and his affectionate way of 
 saying *' poor father " struck his sisters. 
 
 '' Yes, poor father ! " ejaculated Ann ; *' it 
 will be a great sorrow to him to leave High- 
 bury. If he buys this estate, it is altogether 
 for our sakes." 
 
 " Did you say it was to cost a hundred 
 and twenty thousand pounds ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 *' That is what the Blews said." 
 
 •'It would be so strange to form new 
 associations," continued Lucy, who was work- 
 ing something in wool for a church bazaar. 
 '' I hope there is a fine old church at Wood- 
 lands." 
 
 *' If the church were out of repair, we 
 might take some pleasure in restoring it," 
 observed Ann, who was plying a tiny needle
 
 THE ALDERMAN S CHILDREN. 305 
 
 on some silk embroidery. *' Yet, somehow, 
 I cannot imagine papa living away from 
 London, and walking about fields in gaiters, 
 the owner of crops and cattle, and learned 
 on pigs and poultry." 
 
 So they talked until the cloth was laid, 
 and after that killed time during the hour of 
 grace which they were to allow their father. 
 Charlie took up a newspaper ; but his eyes 
 wandered often enough from the columns, 
 and he, love-struck youngster, was not con- 
 scious of the flight of time. 
 
 By seven Mr. Harrowell had not returned, 
 so they sat down to dinner. They were a 
 light-hearted trio, and Ann jestingly proposed 
 that Charlie, being the head of the family 
 for the nonce, should take the paternal seat. 
 
 ** No, I've not nerve enough for that," 
 laughed Charlie. '* I think I can imagine 
 father's face if he came in. It would be like 
 Henry the Fourth catching his son with the 
 crown on." 
 
 " Papa must have dined alone here almost 
 for the first time the other day," remarked 
 Ann. " How seldom it is that we have 
 dined here without him ! " 
 
 VOL. I. 20
 
 3o6 THE alderman's children. 
 
 " Father's absences from table were notable 
 events, like eclipses of the sun," concurred 
 Charlie, who was carving from a side place. 
 '' I declare, though, his empty chair looks 
 quite ghostly without him." 
 
 The evening had to be passed ; but at ten 
 o'clock all hope was abandoned of seeing 
 Mr. Harrowell home that day. 
 
 " I think it is rather strange, though, that 
 he should not have telegraphed," reflected 
 Ann. ** As he had no luggage with him, he 
 evidently intended returning to-night, and he 
 must have missed a train." 
 
 "Why should he telegraph, if he thinks 
 us away from home ? " answered Lucy. 
 
 " Besides, country telegraph stations close 
 when the hens go to roost," observed Charlie. 
 
 However, Charlie said that he would sit 
 up till midnight ; though at eleven he told 
 his sisters that they had better go to bed. 
 They went, and Charlie waited alone in the 
 dining-room till twelve o'clock struck. Then 
 the house and the street being all silent, he 
 put up the door-chain, turned out the gas, 
 and went upstairs, passing the door of his 
 father's bedroom wide open.
 
 THE alderman's CHILDREN. 307 
 
 He had not ascended two steps of the 
 next flight of stairs, when he thought he 
 heard a noise like a dull thud in his father's 
 room. He turned and walked in, shading 
 his candle with a hand. The light threw a 
 faint flicker over the large chamber, with its 
 four-post bedstead and white quilt ; but 
 Charlie saw nothing to account for the noise. 
 
 *' It must have been the wind in the 
 chimney," he muttered, and resumed his way 
 upstairs. 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. G-, C. &" Co.
 
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