L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN 1VER.SITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 R562st 
 
 V.I
 
 /c 
 
 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 " man church," " no church," 
 
 "OWEN: A WAIF," " MAT TIE : A STRAY,' 
 
 " CHRISTIE'S FAITH," 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13. GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1870. 
 
 The rifjht of Translation is reserved.
 
 Losuoa : 
 
 PRINTED BY MACDONALD AJTO TUGWELL, BLKNHEIM HOrSB, 
 BLENHEIM STREET. OXFORD STREET.
 
 8S.3 
 
 V, ± 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 $^ 
 
 .N. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 LITTLE JENNY. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 1. The Tally-shop in Jlt^ction Street 
 
 n. s. G 
 
 in. Master Bridge has a doubt of Miss Chris- 
 
 topherson's Sanity 
 IV. Uncle Spanswick 
 V. '^Detached" 
 VI. The late Visitor 
 VII. A Skirmish 
 Vm. Convalescent 
 IX. Mrs. Bridge settles her little 
 X. " Going down for a Blow" 
 XL The beginning of the Holiday 
 XII. Watched .... 
 
 XIII. Mr.Lawson speaks up for his Step-daughter 209 
 
 XIV. Giving way 233 
 
 Account 
 
 26 
 
 36 
 
 53 
 
 71 
 
 87 
 
 109 
 
 124 
 
 143 
 
 163 
 
 176 
 
 195 
 
 ^
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XV. The sick Mother 252 
 
 XVI. Miss Christopherson's Escort . . 263 
 
 XVII. A Father AT Bay 281 
 
 XVni. Afraid of her 296 
 
 BOOK n. 
 
 THE OLD romance. 
 
 I. The Woodlands 309
 
 BOOK I 
 
 LITTLE JENNY. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IN JUNCTION STREET. 
 
 TT was a wet __wmter. It was a wann, un- 
 -*■ healthy winter, according to the papers 
 and the Registrar's returns ; but poor people, 
 Spitalfields way, had a word to say in defence 
 of it. Trades were a trifle slackish, perhaps — 
 the weavers, in particular, were not rejoicing — 
 but coals were moderate in price, and the bread 
 was " down," thank God. The " young uns " 
 had not such appetites as usual, and that was 
 an advantage ; and they who were sick — sick 
 unto death many of them in fever-haunted 
 streets — had their medicine from the dispensary, 
 and only cost their parents trouble, which even 
 poor parents, as a rule, do not seem to mind. 
 
 Still, in this strangely-constituted world there 
 are folk who are never satisfied ; and Mr. Mar- 
 
 b2
 
 4 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 maduke Spanswick, of Junction Street, Spital- 
 fields, bad been beard more tban once to 
 murmur at tbe times. He told bis customers — 
 especially tbose wbo were back in tbeir weekly 
 payments — tbat sucb times never were, or, if 
 tbey bad been, tbat be had never known tbem ; 
 be discoursed eloquently upon tbe subject of 
 arrears ; to tbose from wbom no bope of settle- 
 ment was likely to arise, be was sbort and 
 bitter ; and to tbose wbo paid "svitb punctuality 
 and despatch, bis speech was silver and as of 
 fine music. In this he may not appear to devi- 
 ate a great deal from the common order of 
 creditors ; but possibly the reader has not run- 
 up a Kttle bill at Spanswick*s shop in Junction 
 Street. Only those in debt to Spanswick were 
 aware that his shortness and bitterness were 
 peculiar to himself; and only those wbo paid 
 their way ever fully appreciated bis jovial airs 
 and bis fine, ftdl-flavoured jests. Which was 
 Mr. Spanswick's natural character we may dis- 
 cover in the course of our narrative, for it is not 
 part of our vocation to label the gentleman as
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IN JXrXCTIOX STREET. 5 
 
 a set-off. We shall drop in upon him one 
 Saturday evening at half-past seven by the 
 clock in the great steeple of Spitalfields church, 
 and take him as we find him. 
 
 At half-past seven, then, in the January 
 month of that damp winter, when salesmen 
 were shouting themselves hoarse in Spitalfields 
 Market adjacent, and all Spitalfields — in defi- 
 ance of the drizzling rain, the w^eather, which 
 was *' muggy," and the streets, w^hich were 
 "slushy" — was alive and restless. Saturday's 
 wages had been paid, Sunday's dinners were to 
 be purchased, the shops were full, the kerb- 
 stones were alive w4th hucksters, the police — 
 under extra pressure of business engendered by 
 public-house disputes, and men with barrows 
 who would not move on so rapidly as could be 
 wished — perspired under their iron-plated hats, 
 which were then patent to the times. 
 
 It was the policeman at the comer of Junc- 
 tion Street whom Miss Christopherson button- 
 holed, at the very moment that he was making 
 a good case out of a man with '' herrings eight
 
 6 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 a groat," and asked the way to Mr. Spanswick's. 
 
 " There it is, just across the way. And now, 
 you sir, if you don't catch up that basket " 
 
 *' But I cannot see Mr. Spanswick's, my good 
 officer, and I have been twice down the street 
 already. May I trouble you to show me 
 again ?" 
 
 The policeman, struck by the speaker's voice, 
 as by a something decisive and new to him in 
 Junction Street, or by her courteous salutation 
 to him as " officer," regarded more attentively 
 the lady who had thus addressed him. She 
 w^as a pale an d pretty woman, of about twenty 
 years of age, with large gray eyes ; a woman 
 of the middle height, slightly made, neatly and 
 quietly dressed for general life, but rather a 
 " swell " for Junction Street. She wore tightly- 
 fitting kid-gloves, and her bonnet, which was 
 not out of the fashion, was protected from the 
 night's drizzle by a silk umbrella with a red- 
 cornelian handle. The official saw at a glance 
 that this was a person out of the common way 
 to encounter on a Saturday night in one of the
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JL-XCTIOX STREET. 7 
 
 busiest streets in Spitalfields. He was a shrewd 
 fellow, who knew a lady when he saw one, and 
 his second reply to her was more respectful and 
 less vague. 
 
 " I'll show you the shop, miss, if you'll step 
 across the road with me." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 The policeman escorted Miss Christopherson 
 across the road, and through a maze of barrows 
 and a crowd of folk out marketing, and landed 
 her in safety on the other side. 
 
 " Is Junction Street always like this ?" she 
 asked, a little curiously; "always so many 
 people, and — such strange-looking people f 
 
 " Always like this on Saturdays, of course," he 
 answered. " There, this is Spanswick's, miss." 
 
 " Oh, dear, is it ?" she said, hesitating for an 
 instant as the great hand of the policeman 
 pushed back a s\ving glass-door, and thus af- 
 forded a glimpse of a busy scene within. 
 
 The policeman noticed her hesitation. 
 
 ** Is it anything I can be of use in?" he asked. 
 
 ''No, thank you," was the quick reply; and
 
 8 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 then, after thanking him again for his services, 
 Miss Christopherson, as though ashamed of past 
 vacillation, stepped boldly into Mr. Spanswick's 
 establishment. 
 
 Yes, they were very busy at Spanswick's. 
 Mr. Spanswick was driving a good trade ; and, 
 to quote a favourite phrase of his, ** was up to 
 his eyes in it." There were thirty people in 
 Spanswick's, and the shop was constructed to 
 hold a dozen comfortably. They were talking 
 energetically, or listening to voluble discourses 
 as to quality, quantity, and price, from three 
 smirk vulgar-looking young men behind the 
 counter ; they were pleading very earnestly to 
 an older-looking man with a squint, who sat in 
 a remote corner with a desk before him ; they 
 were struggling for places, wrangling amongst 
 themselves for precedence, and adding still far- 
 ther to the general inconvenience by huge mar- 
 ket-baskets which three-fourths of them carried 
 on their sides, and drove into the sides of other 
 people. There was one specimen of the male 
 sex amongst a battalion of dirty, slip-shod,
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JrXCTIOX STREET. 9 
 
 hollow-eyed female customers, a good-looking 
 youth of sixteen or seventeen years of age, who 
 appeared to be very much embarrassed, and 
 very red and very poor. He was the only one 
 to glance at Miss Christopherson as she entered, 
 and to betray for an instant a considerable 
 amount of surprise at her appearance, as if he 
 had recognised her, or as if the presence of a 
 lady at that time and place was to be wondered 
 at by him. 
 
 Mr. Spanswick dealt in drapery goods, and, by 
 way of supplement, in rickety washstands, small 
 dressiQg-glasses,flaringoLl-cloths and carpets, and 
 drab chests of drawers with hideous black han- 
 dles, all heaped together at one end of the shop, 
 and representing the furniture department. Mr. 
 Spanswick dealt in hardware, and weaiing ap- 
 parel for male and female also ; indeed, it was 
 difficult to determine in what he did not deal, 
 or for what he was not disposed to receive 
 money on account, or part with for weekly in- 
 stalments, the purchaser taking away the goods 
 if her husband were in full work, or she herself
 
 10 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 could show the receipt for last week's rent. For 
 the *' Spitalfields Emporium " — this was the 
 title Mr. Spanswick had had painted over his 
 shop-front, and so had baffled for a while Miss 
 Chnstopherson's search for him — was in the 
 tally trade ; and Mr. Spanswick, though he 
 called himself a draper, a furniture dealer, and 
 a carpet merchant, and disguised the fact to 
 one or two friends as well as he was able in so 
 unblushing a neighbourhood, was a tally-man. 
 
 A tally-man in a good Avay of business was 
 he ; a man doing well, for he worked early and 
 late as a rule, though he had his little pleasures 
 when opportunity offered, and who, when he 
 was not in the shop between seven A.M. and 
 nine P.M., was in all probability making his 
 statement of facts before the presiding deity at 
 the County Court in Whitechapel, where he had 
 been known to take out, in hard times, three or 
 four hundred summonses at once, and was gene- 
 rally so good a customer that, next to the judge, 
 no one was respected more by the numerous 
 functionaries attached to the establishment.
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JUXCTIOX STREET. 11 
 
 Mr. Spanswick himself was in his counting- 
 house counting out his money, examining his 
 bills, and not altogether neglectful of his cus- 
 tomers, upon whom he could look down through 
 the glass windows which divided him from the 
 shop, and appeared to shut him in a snugger 
 and more select business of his own. The 
 counting-house at the back was raised a foot or 
 two, and allowed Mr. Spanswick to survey 
 clearly all that was passing below him: and 
 there was a framed pane of glass that went on 
 hinges, and enabled Mr. Spanswick to open it, 
 and shout through those various directions to 
 his men, or salutations to his customers, which 
 appeared necessary in a business of many de- 
 tails and many patrons. 
 
 He must have watched there like a hawk, 
 Miss Christopherson thought afterwards; for 
 she had not been two minutes in the shop be- 
 fore the pane was Qung back, and a loud voice 
 called through the aperture with rough polite- 
 ness, 
 
 " Will wait upon you in a minute, ma'am."
 
 12 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 Miss Christopherson was scarcely aware that 
 it was she who had been addressed by the su- 
 perior power, until lined and angular faces were 
 turned in her direction. Then she glanced to- 
 wards the little inner office, and saw a broad- 
 faced, bushy-haired, bushy- whiskered man of 
 one or two-and-thirty, bowing and smiling in 
 the blandest manner at her. 
 
 " Thank you. I wish to " 
 
 "In one minute, ma'am, you shall receive 
 every attention," he said, in the same loud 
 tones, which floated uppermost over a sea of 
 many voices ; and then the glass trap was 
 closed, the big face was bending over the ac- 
 counts by the light of a lamp with a green re- 
 flector thereon, and the haggard countenances 
 of the customers were tm-ning once more to- 
 wards her with strange interest. 
 
 Miss Christopherson made the best of her po- 
 sition after a while ; she was a yoimg woman 
 capable of adapting herself to circumstances. 
 She w^as in a new, strange world, but it was 
 full of interest to her ; and though Mr. Spans-
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IN JUNCTION STREET. 13 
 
 wick did not keep his promise by attending to 
 her in the course of the next minute, she 
 evinced no impatience at the delay. 
 
 She did not understand the nature of Mr. 
 Spanswick's business at first, and was perplex- 
 ed by the numerous dog's-eared, dirty memor- 
 andum-books which the customers passed across 
 the counter, and wherein the seedy clerks made 
 entries of weekly payments. She was puzzled 
 by the eagerness and earnestness of the crowd 
 before the counter, not knowing how valuable 
 time was — especially Saturday-night's time — to 
 these workmen's wives, whose husbands were 
 waiting for them at the " Eleven Bells," or the 
 " Angel's Crown," and would not know when 
 to stop their " half-and-half" if they were not 
 quickly fetched away. She was puzzled most 
 of all by the youth whom she had first ob- 
 served, and who had been surprised at her en- 
 trance ; and gradually her study of him led her 
 to forget Mr. Spanswick's want of punctuahty. 
 
 He was a youth who was as much out of 
 place as herself, for all his difierent estate, and
 
 14 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 his approximation to that class by which he was 
 suiTomided. He was excited, he buttoned and 
 unbuttoned his jacket with nervous hands, he 
 endeavoured to attract the attention, being a 
 tall youth, of the men behind the counter by 
 standing on tiptoe and waving his book — for 
 he also had a memorandum-book — above the 
 shabby bonnets of the women in front of him ; 
 he looked round at Miss Christopherson several 
 times wistfully, and blushed at meeting her 
 curious gaze ; he coughed, he shuffled with 
 liis feet, he glanced at a clock fixed over the 
 furniture department, and he endeavoured to 
 edge his way at last to the front, and was 
 rewarded by a shower of cutting reproaches 
 from two elderly ladies, who told him that he 
 ought to know better than to go on " a-scroug- 
 ing " like that. 
 
 " I'm very sorry," he said, " but it is really 
 my turn. It was my turn to be attended to 
 half an hour since. I want to get out of this." 
 
 To which mild expostulation the lady whom 
 he was addressing — a sharp little woman, with
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JUNCTION STREET. 15 
 
 her bonnet all on one side — asked if he thought 
 himself a man. 
 
 " I do not know that that is anything to do 
 with the question," he said, directing a half- 
 laughing glance towards Miss Christopherson, 
 as though he had been assured of her attention 
 to the dispute ; and then, suddenly becoming 
 very red again, " but I really must arrange this 
 Kttle matter. Ill not keep anybody long." 
 
 Mr. Spanswick's broad face suddenly popped 
 itself through the trap, and the sharp voice 
 called forth : 
 
 " I say, none of that ; we're not going to 
 stand any rows here ; you must wait your tm-n, 
 young fellow." 
 
 " But I have waited my turn. Are you Mr. 
 Spanswick, sir?" 
 
 "Well, I was once," said Mr. Spanswick, and 
 the remark was taken as a joke by the women 
 before and the young men behind the counter, 
 who all laughed, but whether at the humour of 
 the reply, or to keep Mr. Spanswick company, 
 who was laughing himself, was a matter of
 
 16 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 some doubt. Miss Christopherson fancied that 
 he rolled his eyes towards her, to see if she 
 were also laughing at his pleasantry ; but her 
 face wore a grave aspect, which did not change 
 with other people's. 
 
 " I merely want to know whether I can settle 
 Mrs. Bridge's account, sir, and open a fresh 
 one ; because," began the youth, when Mr. 
 Spanswick interrupted him : 
 
 " I'm too busy to attend to you just now. 
 Bridge, Bridge — let me see. Oh ! you had 
 better speak to Mr. Kayley." 
 
 He indicated Mr. Kayley, who was the gentle- 
 man with the squint sitting at a desk in the 
 corner below him, and who was fortunately dis- 
 engaged just then ; and after another glance at 
 Miss Christopherson, whose appearance had evi- 
 dently impressed him, and a bland " One mo- 
 ment more, if you will allow me, madam," he 
 closed the trap again, and was seen through his 
 stuffy conservatory scratching his head over his 
 accounts. The youth advanced to Mr. Kayley's 
 desk, which was in approximation to Miss Chris-
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IN JUXCTIOX STREET. 17 
 
 topherson, who moved a few paces aside, lest 
 she should be considered anxious to learn the 
 reason for this youth's impetuosity. But she 
 had not excluded herself from the dialogue be- 
 tween them, for Mr. Kayley spoke in a high 
 sharp falsetto, and told the youth to speak up 
 also, as he was a little deaf. 
 
 Mr. Kayley was not only a little deaf. Miss 
 Chiistopherson thought, but also a little dirty. 
 He was a thin old man, with a bald head, in- 
 differently clean, and two lappets of gray hair, 
 looking very like gray worsted, hanging behind 
 his ears. His face was yellow, and puckered 
 into innumerable wrinkles ; and his linen collar 
 ^d shirt were of a colour that so exactly 
 matched his features, that the first impression 
 of an observer was that he was dispensing with 
 those articles of masculine apparel, for ease and 
 coolness, that warm winter's night. 
 
 " Now, what is it ?" he said, sharply ; " and 
 do speak out." 
 
 " It's Mrs. Bridge's account," replied the 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 youth, after an embarrassed, almost shamefaced 
 glance at Miss Christ opherson. 
 
 " Oh ! it's Mrs. Bridge's accoimt," said Mr. 
 Kayley, turning over several leaves of the great 
 book before him. *' Ah ! we should have sum- 
 moned Mrs. Bridge long ago, if we could have 
 found her. She owes two pounds nineteen 
 shillings and sixpence, I remember. Here it is 
 — two pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence, 
 Mrs. Deborah Bridge, 12 Grove Court, Pelham 
 Street, Spitalfields, the last address." 
 
 '' It's Star Court, No. 1, now." 
 
 "Oh! is it? No. 1." Mr. Kayley made a 
 note of this at once. 
 
 " It would have been paid long ago. She was 
 paying off very regularly — you may remember 
 that too, Mr. Kayley — when she fell ill; and 
 then I lost my situation ; and I have not been 
 able to get anything else until just now, when 
 things, I hope, have taken a turn. I did not 
 know of this account ; I don't Hke this way of 
 domg business ; and the poor old lady was 
 aware of my objections, and kept the matter
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IN JTXCTIOX STREET. 19 
 
 from me as long as she could, until " — here he 
 compressed his lips suddenly — " someone came 
 from this place when I was out, luckily for him, 
 and left a message." 
 
 " Why luckily for him ?" inquired Mr. Kayley, 
 with his head on one side. 
 
 " Well, we need not go into that," said the 
 young man, looking as if he had said more than 
 he had intended to say ; " he wasn't civil ; but 
 I do not know the individual, and do not want ; 
 I have not called to complain." 
 
 " Have you come to pay anything off?" was 
 the next question. 
 
 "Yes, I have." 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "It's a question," was the answer. "I am 
 very willing to pay off by weekly instalments, 
 or to settle the whole amount, if you have no 
 objection to my opening a fresh account. I 
 think," he added, hesitatingly, "that I could 
 pay it all." 
 
 " I thought that you did not like our way of 
 doing business ?" 
 
 c 2
 
 20 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Neither do I," said the youth, frankly : " it's 
 expensive for us, who have not the ready money 
 to buy in a better market. But, for all that, we 
 are in for it," he added, ruefully. 
 
 " What goods do you Avant ?" 
 
 " Well, I must have another blanket, and some 
 flannel. The old lady is dying by inches of 
 ague for the want of them ; and I shall be able 
 to go on regularly this time." 
 
 " Where are you working?" 
 
 " At Merton's, the brewers." 
 
 A voice from above startled the clerk and the 
 customer; they looked up, and the head of the 
 presiding judge was again visible through the 
 aperture. 
 
 " Ain't it Mrs. Bridge, who gave us all that 
 trouble, Kayley — J\Irs. Bridge of Grove-court ?" 
 asked Mr. Spanswick. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mr. Kayley, rising and raising 
 his two hands to the bottom panes of Mr. Spans- 
 wick's glass-house ; " she's come to Star-court ; 
 he's going to pay off the lot — wants to open 
 another account, — blankets and flannel ; he — "
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JUNCTION STREET. 21 
 
 And here Mr. Kayley's voice dropped to an in- 
 audible whisper, and Mr. Spanswick's head was 
 seen to nod once or twice to Mr. Kayely's pro- 
 positions. 
 
 "Very well. — One moment more, madam. 
 You perceive it's Saturday night, and we hardly 
 know where to turn, I assure you." 
 
 The latter part of this harangue was delivered 
 to Miss Christopherson, who reddened at the 
 bland persuasiveness of the speaker, and in- 
 clined her head very slightly, as if in assent to 
 his argument. She was anxious to explain her 
 business and be gone now ; but it was impossible 
 to explain at the top of her voice to a gentleman 
 in an inner room, into which he did not seem in- 
 clined to invite her ; and she was not able to 
 address any of the assistants at present. 
 
 This time, however, Mr. Spanswick was as 
 good as his word ; for before the youth had 
 settled the debt of the slow-paying Mrs. Bridge, 
 Miss Christopherson was startled by finding 
 the principal of the establishment at her elbow. 
 He had left his room, descended a few steps,
 
 22 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 and entered the shop by a side-door, whilst the 
 lady was musing on that life around her, in 
 which she had never thought to mix. 
 
 " Now, my dear madam, what can I have the 
 pleasure of showing you ?" he said, rubbing one 
 fat white hand over the other. 
 
 He was a bigger and a heavier man than he 
 had appeared at a distance thi-ough his conser- 
 vatory — a man of an amazing chest, which was 
 festooned by an amazing gold chain, weighing 
 probably about three quarters of a pound. He 
 was not a bad-looking man, but his features 
 were on an uncomfortably large scale, like his 
 chest and chain; his eyes were protuberant and 
 stony, and his broad ruddy face was framed 
 vrith such a mass of bristly whisker, and his 
 broad forehead surmounted with so vigorous a 
 crop of porcupine-quills rather than hair, that 
 his general appearance was as hard, fierce, and 
 unsympathetic as befitted his vocation, and de- 
 fied all those specious manners which he put on 
 to his best customers, and was displaying then 
 to Miss Christopherson.
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JL'XCTIOX STREET. 23 
 
 " You are Mr. Spanswick, I presume ?" 
 
 " Such is my appellative, madam," he replied, 
 with a low bow. 
 
 "I am Miss Christopherson, from the City 
 Clerks' Orphan Asylum, Camberwell, and " 
 
 " Oh, indeed I"' he interrupted ; and ^liss 
 Christopherson noticed that his eyes became 
 more protuberant, and that an odd expression of 
 surprise, almost of discomfiture, was visible for an 
 instant on his open countenance. " Oh, indeed 
 — Oh, indeed ! Will you kindly step this way ? 
 Will you obKge me by stepping this way into 
 my room ? I must really apologise ; I thought 
 that you had come on business of the shop. 
 Although I ought not to have thought that, 
 either," he added, with another polite bow, as 
 he recovered himself suddenly, " knowing a 
 lady, when I meet one, just as a real West-end 
 gentleman might do, you see. Pray step this 
 way." 
 
 Running glibly on, he conducted Miss Christo- 
 pherson through the side-door, up three stairs, 
 and into his counting-house, shutting the door
 
 24 STERN XECESSITY. 
 
 after him, and taking care to pull the movable 
 pane of glass close, lest Mr. Kayley's deafness 
 might fail him all at once. He placed a chair 
 for her, glanced furtively from her face to his 
 customers below, many of whom were staring 
 up at him and the lady thus honoured by a pri- 
 vate interview, drew forth a silk handkerchief, 
 wiped his forehead vigorously, sat himself down 
 at his desk, and said, 
 
 '* I am every attention. Miss Stufiferson." 
 
 " Miss Christ opherson." 
 
 " ^liss Christopherson — I beg pardon," he said 
 — " I am every attention. There — there is no 
 bad news, I hope '?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say that there is bad news, 
 and that I am charged to communicate it to you." 
 
 " What bad news can you possibly have 
 brought to me ?" 
 
 He turned as pale as his rubicund countenance 
 would permit, and waited for her statement 
 with an anxiety that he was not able to disguise, 
 for all the set smile with which his face was 
 stamped.
 
 THE TALLY-SHOP IX JUNXTIOX STREET. 25 
 
 " I regret to say," continued Miss Christo- 
 pherson, " that your cousin Jane lies dangerously 
 ill in the infirmary of our institution."
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 S. G. 
 
 rpHE effect on Mr. Marmadude Spanswick, of 
 -■- Junction Street, Spitalfields, at receiving 
 the intelligence of his cousin's illness, was 
 scarcely that which Miss Christopherson had 
 anticipated. To the Avatchfiil gray eyes of his 
 observer, or to her suspicious fancies, being pos- 
 sibly a suspicious woman, it was as though Mr. 
 Spanswick had suddenly brightened up. 
 
 When the worst is known, it is often a relief 
 to a nature sensitively organized, and perhaps 
 the tally-man had feared that his cousin was 
 dead. 
 
 " 111, is she ? Yes, that's bad news," he replied 
 in a calm tone of voice ; " I should say that was 
 bad newSj certainly."
 
 s. G. 27 
 
 "You did not expect worse, Mr. Spans- 
 wick r 
 
 " oil ! no," lie said briskly ; " it's bad enough. 
 What's the matter with Jenny ?" 
 
 '' Smallpox." 
 
 " The devil !" he said, and drew his chair a 
 few feet away from Miss Christ opherson, who 
 tried hard to disguise a smile at his sudden 
 exhibition of alarm. " I'm not nervous about 
 such things," he said, detecting her effort at re- 
 pression ; " I'm not nervous, thank heaven ! at 
 anything ; not I. Why, that lot there," pointing 
 to his customers, " are swarming with fevers 
 and smallpoxes, and come here every day from 
 awfiil unhealthy places ; but they don't give no 
 trouble 'to me. I never catch nothing, ma'am. 
 I never had a day's illness in my life. I'm blest 
 with perfect health and strength, and energy." 
 
 Miss Chi-ist opherson waited till this self- 
 eulogium was delivered, and then said very 
 quietly, 
 
 " The poor girl appears to be uneasy in her 
 mind — to be affected with a strange restless-
 
 28 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ness, wliich the doctor says stands iu the way 
 of her recovery." 
 
 " What's she got to be restless about ?" he 
 asked ; *' she's all the comforts that a place like 
 yours can bestow — she's a good home, good peo- 
 ple about her, every attention from the nurses 
 and governesses, I'm sure." 
 
 He put on his broad smile, and bowed, being 
 more solicitous to impress his visitor by his 
 manner than interested in his cousin's health, 
 Miss Christophers on thought again uncharit- 
 ably. 
 
 '"' She wishes " 
 
 " One moment, ma'am, if you will permit," he 
 said, rising, leaning across his desk, and dash- 
 ing his hand against the pane, which he sent 
 outwards on its hinges once more. " Kayley !" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Here !" 
 
 The two claws of the old cashier were seen 
 the instant afterwards hanging to the window- 
 ledge, as though the old man purposed climb- 
 ing upwards in that direction, and Miss Christo-
 
 S. G. 29 
 
 plierson knew that Mr. Spanswick was looking 
 down into his yellow dirty face. 
 
 " You have got all the money from young 
 Bridge?" he said, in a tone inaudible to the 
 customers ; " that troublesome old woman has 
 settled up, then f 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " How much did you say young Bridge might 
 draw for?" 
 
 " I said five pounds : ugh, ugh 1" he replied 
 in a feeble croak, as if in enjoyment at a pleasant 
 jest which had just occurred at that moment. 
 
 " He shan't draw five pence," said the pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 Mr. Spanswick went back to his seat, leaving 
 his trap open, for two reasons — one of wjiich 
 was that, though he was not afraid of smallpox, 
 he did not exactly perceive the advantage of 
 hermetically sealing himself up with a lady 
 who had recently come from a very bad case. 
 He was a man ahve to a sense of precaution, 
 far-seeing and shrewd, or he would never have 
 prospered in Spitalfields.
 
 30 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' Now, madam, you were saying " 
 
 "Yes, — one minute in my turn, Mr. Spans- 
 wick ; but that boy has just paid all his money 
 away on the faith of youi* clerk's word." 
 
 *' We should not have got his money else," he 
 said, knowingly, after recovering from his sur- 
 prise at this diversion ; " we have to look sharp 
 at this kind of business — this ignoble kind of 
 busmess, I daresay you think in your heart. 
 Miss Christopherson — or we should be imposed 
 upon at every turn. They're awfal thieves 
 about here." 
 
 "But he is being served," said the lady, 
 glancing through the window. 
 
 " So he is, by Cjeorge ! Mr. White !" he called 
 out. 
 
 '' Sir !" said the shopman, who was attending 
 to the requirements of Master Bridge, and who 
 answered without looking up from the task of 
 expatiating on the merits of some flannel before 
 him. 
 
 " S. G." 
 
 "Yes, sir."
 
 S. G. 31 
 
 Miss Christopherson was an excitable young 
 woman. She was new to Spitalfields life, to 
 tally-shop tactics, to the close fighting betAveen 
 the poor and those on whom the poor depend, 
 and she said shai-ply, 
 
 "What does S. G. mean?" 
 
 Mr. Spanswick hesitated, as if reluctant to 
 divulge the secrets of his trade ; and then, with 
 his knowing air still more highly developed, he 
 replied, " It means * Send goods.' " 
 
 " And those goods you do not intend to 
 send?" 
 
 " Well, not in this instance," he said, laugh- 
 ing, until the stern expression which had sud- 
 denly come to his visitor's countenance brought 
 his hilarity to a full stop. 
 
 " I beg pardon," he said, " I am detaining you 
 from the asylum, and forgetting poor Jenny 
 too. So she's awful bad ?" 
 
 " She is very ill, as I have informed you," 
 said Miss Christopherson, coldly; "and she 
 Avishes for your father's address, that she may 
 write to him."
 
 32 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Why, Avhat does she want to write to him 
 for?" he asked. 
 
 " She is anxious to see her uncle." 
 
 "But what for ^" 
 
 "It appears natural enough to me. You and 
 he are the only ties she has in the world, poor 
 thing." 
 
 She looked so hard at Mr. Spanswick, that 
 that gentleman, had he not had a better opinion 
 of himself, might have imagined that she was 
 pitying his cousin for having one tie too many. 
 
 " Yes ; but she don't ask to see me, does she?*' 
 
 '' No." 
 
 *' And don't that strike you as a little odd, 
 ma'am ?" he asked : " as a little ungrateful ? for 
 I've done a good deal for her, and will put her 
 in the business when she grows up, though I 
 don't like women behind the counter, with all 
 due deference to a sex for which I have the 
 highest respect." 
 
 He bowed again; then his eyes wandered 
 towards the shop, and to Mr. White, who was 
 serving Master Bridge, or rather taking Master
 
 s. G. 33 
 
 Bridge's order — and Master Bridge in — and 
 finally came round to his visitor once more. 
 
 "Jenny was always fond of my father; they 
 suit each other, he being a bit childish, as per- 
 haps you've heard," he continued. " I will let 
 him know this as soon as possible." 
 
 " Will you oblige me with his address ?" asked 
 Miss Christopherson. 
 
 " His address ? I — I really do not know it, 
 at the present moment," he replied slowly. 
 
 "Not know it?" 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, I don't !" he said, with Spital- 
 fields frankness ; "he's travelling for my house, 
 and until I get a letter from him — which is 
 generally once a day — there is no saying where 
 one is likely to drop upon the old gentleman. 
 Ours is a business full of branches, what one 
 might call a rummificatory business, in fact." 
 
 " And you trust your father, who you say is 
 a little childish, in a business of this complicated 
 nature ?" asked Miss Christopherson. 
 
 *' Eh ? — oh ! yes," he answered ; " he is use- 
 ful sometimes, and one must be filial even at a 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 discount ; and the mistakes he makes — and he 
 does make no end of them — a son is inclined to 
 put up with. And then I cannot say that he is 
 extremely childish, for he is sharp enough in 
 some things. There goes young Bridge!" he 
 muttered to himself. 
 
 Miss Christopherson looked in the same di- 
 rection ; the shop-door was opening, and the 
 youth, relieved in mind at the accomplishment of 
 his mission, was stepping into Junction Street. 
 
 "Poor fellow !" she muttered. 
 
 " Ma'am f said Mr. Spanswick. 
 
 " I was not speaking to you," she answered, 
 almost sharply, as she rose from her seat. " I 
 am sorry that I have to return with so unsatis- 
 factory a message to your cousin. She is look- 
 ing forward anxiously, very anxiously, to your 
 father's visit." 
 
 " He wiJl be in town to-morrow, I daresay ; 
 Sunday is a favourite day of his for travelling, 
 Miss Christopherson." 
 
 ^' I am sorry to hear it," was the quick re- 
 sponse.
 
 s. G. 35 
 
 " I object to Sunday travelling myself," said 
 Mr. Spanswick, with alacrity ; " but my father 
 has odd ideas of his own on many subjects." 
 
 '* Good evening." 
 
 *' Good evening, if you are really going, 
 ma'am," he said, lising, half-presenting his hand, 
 and then drawing it back, as Miss Christopher- 
 son appeared not to observe this friendly move- 
 ment. *' I am charmed to have met a young 
 lady of whom my cousin Jenny has spoken 
 frequently in very high terms." 
 
 " If she should be any worse I will write to 
 
 you." 
 
 " I thank you." 
 
 He held the door open for her, cautioned her 
 to mind the steps, and went down after her 
 into the shop, along which she walked very 
 quickly, as if glad to be gone from the premises. 
 
 " That's a nice gu-l, and no mistake," he re- 
 marked, as he went back to his den. 
 
 "That's a miserable mean cur," said Maud 
 Christopherson, decisively, as she passed into 
 the busy street without. 
 
 d2
 
 36 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT OF mSS CHRISTO- 
 
 ITISS CHRISTOPHERSON, feeling dissatis- 
 -*-'-^ fied with the result of her mission, and 
 not at all pleased with the general deportment 
 of Marmaduke Spanswick, put up her umbrella 
 and made all the haste that she could out of 
 Junction Street. It was close upon nine o'clock 
 at night, and the streets were fuller and noisier 
 than when she had quitted them ; the coster- 
 mongers were shouting forth the quality and 
 price of the wares upon their barrows ; men and 
 women were streaming into the gin-shops ; there 
 was a fight in Spitalfields Market, and people 
 were running to see part of the fan before the 
 police put a stop to it ; a child with bare feet
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 37 
 
 was standing in the muddy road, singing dog- 
 gerel verses ; and a woman, who should have 
 been a child, so young was she, was making a 
 drunken speech, with her baby in her arms, to 
 a ribald few who had stopped to listen to her 
 maunderings. 
 
 Half-way towards the broader thoroughfare 
 of Bishopsgate Street she met with Master Bridge 
 again. It may be said that Master Bridge had 
 contrived to overtake her, for he came behind 
 her and touched her on the shoulder. 
 
 " I thought that I had lost you, Miss Christo- 
 pherson," he said, blushing and stammering at 
 her surprise. 
 
 " How do you know my name ?" she asked. 
 
 " You told it to Mr. Spanswick when I was 
 in the shop. Don't you remember?" 
 
 " Ah ! I recollect now. What do you want 
 with me, my poor boy ?" 
 
 It was a kind inquiry, but he did not appear 
 to relish her style of address. He looked in a 
 somewhat dignified manner at her for a moment 
 before he laughed again.
 
 38 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *'We]l — I wanted to — to tell jou," be said, 
 beginning suddenly to stammer, " not to go to 
 that place if you want any goods, or any credit, 
 or any kindness. It's not a place I liked to see 
 you in, and you would be treated better any- 
 where else ; it's only people up a tree — I daresay 
 you don't know what ' up a tree ' means now 1 
 — who go to such a shop as Spanswick's." 
 
 " Your interest in a stranger is very remark- 
 able," said Miss Christopherson, more coldly; 
 for this was, after all, a big boy ; and — Heaven 
 have mercy upon us and upon them! — how pre- 
 cocious big boys are nowadays ! 
 
 He was dashed down immediately by the 
 change in her voice ; he fell into his rightful 
 position, and the good-looking face, which had 
 beamed with smiles a moment since, became 
 suddenly grave. 
 
 " You are not exactly a stranger," he replied. 
 " I did not know your name before this evening, 
 but I knew you." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " I will walk with you till you find an omni-
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 39 
 
 bus, and we are in a more respectable thorough- 
 fare, where you are safer and I more shabby," 
 the boy said, with a frankness which pleased 
 his listener, " because I msh to persuade you 
 not to go to Spanswick's. I cannot understand 
 how you heard of him at Camberwell." 
 
 " You know that I live at Camberwell, then ?" 
 " Why, you told him that too," he said, " al- 
 though I knew it before ; for you and the chil- 
 dren and the rest of the governesses used to 
 come to church every Sunday at St. Cuthbert's 
 — twelve months ago, that was : and when I 
 want a good walk, I often go over to St. Cuth- 
 bert's still on Sunday mornings, to see the old 
 place and — the old faces." 
 
 *'You go regularly to church, then?" 
 " Yes. The old lady would break her heart 
 if I did not go to church regularly." 
 "Your mother?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, my grandmother, who keeps house 
 for me," said he ; " my mother and father are 
 country people, you know — that is, you do 
 know now. I am in London to make my for-
 
 40 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 tune, and they are waiting very anxiously for 
 it down at Bray ling in Dorsetshire. So am 1 
 — waiting for it in town," he added drily. 
 
 " Brayling !" she ejaculated — " Brayling in 
 Dorsetshire !" 
 
 Miss Christopherson, had she not met with a 
 new surprise, would have been amused by the 
 boy's confidence, by a certain amount of self- 
 possession which was rare in a youth of his 
 age and station, and which showed itself de- 
 spite occasional touches of embarrassment. He 
 was a singular boy, and she had always been 
 interested in singular people. Mediocrity in 
 everything Miss Christopherson had invariably 
 despised. 
 
 *^ And you advise me not to go to the Spital- 
 fields Emporium any more V 
 
 ** I advise you not to go — to be sure I do." 
 
 "Well, I will not." 
 
 "Thank you," he said, as though she had 
 conferred a favour upon him ; and as she 
 smiled at this, he burst forth with considerable 
 impetuosity —
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 41 
 
 " Oh ! you are laughing at me ; well, it is 
 ridiculous for a fellow like me to advise a lady 
 like you ; but I — I thought" — and here he be- 
 trayed his nervousness at approaching a deli- 
 cate subject — " that you might be a little hard 
 up. People are often hard up, even in Camber- 
 well." 
 
 " I do not know that I am particularly hard 
 up at present," she said, repeating his phrase 
 as if she perfectly understood its signification ; 
 " in fact, some people tell me that I am pretty 
 well off — for a governess." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that — though it's no busi- 
 ness of mine," he added. 
 
 "And some people tell me that I am a very 
 odd woman — too eccentric to live long, or, at 
 all events, to keep long in my right mind," she 
 added, with a scornfulness which the boy did 
 not attempt to understand, and only marvelled 
 at. " My mother would tell you this, for one, 
 without a moment's hesitation. Now, Master 
 Bridge, look me in the face, and tell me if you 
 would think me very mad if I were to ask you
 
 42 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 to borrow of me two pounds nineteen shillings 
 and sixpence." 
 
 Master Bridge's lower jaw dropped for a 
 moment, and he took a deep breath. 
 
 "Why do you not answer?" she inquired, 
 after a long pause for his reply. 
 
 " Well, Miss Christopherson, I should think 
 you a little mad, perhaps," he said, thus ad- 
 jured. 
 
 " If I wanted to get rid of my money — if I 
 hated money, even ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you know nothing of me — because 
 I may be a terrible scamp, for anything you 
 can tell to the contrary." 
 
 " You may ; but I do not think you are. And 
 whether you be a scamp or not, I should like 
 to lend you this amount." 
 
 She stopped at the corner of a street leading 
 to Bishopsgate Street, and looked the boy in 
 the face, who returned her gaze steadfastly, 
 and thought what a sharp, almost cross coun-
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 43 
 
 tenance had suddenly confronted his. She was 
 excited, too, for the gloved hand which held the 
 umbrella shook a little with her agitation. 
 
 " Poor Miss Christopherson," thought Master 
 Bridge, " to think that she should be a little 
 mad after all !'' 
 
 " No, I'd rather not have your money, thank 
 you," he said very hurriedly ; " and I will say 
 good night now, with your permission." 
 
 " Stay a moment," she cried. " You don't 
 know that Mr. Spanswick of the Emporium has 
 taken your money, and has no intention of open- 
 ing a fresh account with you, or of sending the 
 goods home which you have ordered." 
 
 " Who — Spanswick ? Oh, he would never 
 think of such a trick as that ; he would not be 
 such a downright scamp. I don't believe that 
 that's like Spanswick." 
 
 " He says it is business." 
 
 " But do you mean to say that he — that he — 
 will not send home the goods ? If I thought — " 
 
 And the boy clenched his fists, and stamped 
 both feet upon the pavement.
 
 44 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " It is a just debt. He is a man of no fine 
 feelings, and doubtless thinks that he is justified 
 in getting his money in any way that presents 
 itself; most men do." 
 
 " I promised the old lady — and she gets sharp 
 and querulous when put ofi" — and — oh, Spans- 
 wick and his ugly cashier would not have lied 
 like that. You must have fancied this." 
 
 /' Will you borrow two pounds nineteen shil- 
 lings and sixpence of me. Master Bridge?" 
 
 " Ah ! you remember the amount I paid that 
 yellow scarecrow, I see," he said ; '* and per- 
 haps I understand, or half understand, what is 
 in your thoughts concerning me. But I would 
 rather not take your money." 
 
 " What is your grandmother to do ?" 
 
 " Struggle on, as she has struggled on before 
 ^^ith. me. If it's all as you say, I may try and 
 choke Spanswick by flying at his bull-throat, 
 or I may fling a stone through his window, 
 and so lose my new berth and find another at 
 government expense — I " 
 
 " Will you take this money ? If you can re-
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 45 
 
 pay SpansTsdck, you can repay me, I suppose." 
 
 "No," he said doggedly. "1 — I can't bor- 
 row from a strange lady in the streets, or one 
 to whom I am strange, at least. I don't think 
 you mad now. I know you to be as kind and 
 good as I have always thought you when you 
 have been sitting amongst those orphan girls, 
 who love you so much " 
 
 ** No, they do not," she said, interrupting him. 
 
 " I'll be as gi'ateful as if I had the money, 
 and the old lady her blankets and flannels ; but 
 do not ask me any more, please. Why, you do 
 not know what a proud fellow I am, or my 
 grandmother is, or the good souls in the coun- 
 try are. We are all awfully stuck-up ; and this 
 will not do, Miss Christopherson." 
 
 " You silly, thick-headed boy," she said sharp- 
 ly? " yo^ don't know why I want to help you. 
 Your people are no strangers to me. I come 
 from Brayling in Dorsetshire ; I have lived there 
 nearly all my life. Your father and mother I 
 have known from the day they came to Bray- 
 ling ; and they were never too proud to accept
 
 46 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 a kindness that was not flung at them like a 
 bone. They called me Miss Lawson at Bray- 
 ling, before I went away." 
 
 " You — you Miss Lawson !" cried the boy, 
 aghast; "the lady of whom my people have 
 written so often, whom they missed so much — 
 the rich lady ! Oh ! you don't know how odd 
 this is to me — how " 
 
 And then he paused, and looked at her with 
 tears in his eyes. 
 
 "Will you take that money, which I lend to 
 Matthew Bridge's boy to help him in a strait," 
 she asked, " to please a friend of your mo- 
 ther's?" 
 
 The boy hung down his head, and answered 
 in a more submissive tone : 
 
 " If you can trust me, Miss Lawson, I will 
 take it." 
 
 " I am not Miss Lawson ; I shall never be so 
 again. It was never my right name," she said, 
 with some degree of warmth, as she opened her 
 purse, took three sovereigns therefrom, and 
 handed them to the boy. " Have you a six-
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 47 
 
 pence, Master Bridge ?" she asked very quietly, 
 the instant afterwards. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Christopherson," he answered. 
 
 He gave her the sixpence in return for the 
 gold, murmured his thanks, and regarded her 
 very wistfully. He had large gray eyes, not 
 unlike her own ; and the look in them was piti- 
 ful, respectful, and wondering. 
 
 " And to think that you — that you," he said, 
 " are at the orphan-school as teacher, and that 
 I have always believed you to be a poor girl — 
 or almost poor. Do they know " 
 
 " Not anything," she answered. " Good 
 night." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 He took off his cap by way of salutation to 
 her, but he forgot to put it on again, and he 
 stood looking after her bareheaded, with the 
 small rain descending on him slowly, until she 
 was merged in the stream of human life. Then 
 he pulled his cap over his brows, thrust his 
 hands into his pockets, and turned back in the 
 direction of Junction Street.
 
 48 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " This will be something to astonish the old 
 lady with, at any rate," he said, as he marched 
 onwards for a few minutes. Suddenly he came 
 to a fall stop, paused for an instant, and then 
 dashed madly back along the middle of the road, 
 in the direction which Miss Christopherson had 
 taken. She had walked very sharply, or an 
 omnibus had overtaken her, or she had hired a 
 cab, he thought, when he came up with her 
 again, and startled her by gasping forth her 
 name. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I'm a terrible nuisance, 
 I'm afraid ; but you never told me what you 
 came to Mr. Spanswick's for." 
 
 " Is it any business of yours ?" she asked, a 
 little put out of temper at his reappearance. 
 
 "No; but it has struck me that I may be of 
 assistance to you, as I should like to be. Is 
 anything wrong at the school with little Spans- 
 wick?" 
 
 " That's a shrewd guess," she said. 
 
 " I have heard the old man — that is, Spans- 
 wick's father. Miss Christopherson — talk of his
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 49 
 
 little niece a great deal. It is a way of his to 
 bother people like that ; but it did not strike 
 me that she was at your orphan-school till this 
 minute." 
 
 " You know Uncle Spanswick, then ?" 
 
 " Yes ; a little." 
 
 " I thought that you did not go to Spanswick's 
 place ; that this was your first visit, on your 
 own account, to that shop in Junction Street." 
 
 " So it is. But Uncle Spanswick does not live 
 in Junction Street." 
 
 " Where does he live ?" 
 
 " I do not know exactly. I think that I could 
 find out." 
 
 " He is travelling for his son. Bridge." 
 
 " Travelling for his son ! He does not travel 
 much, I think. He's always about here." 
 
 Miss Christopherson looked surprised. 
 
 " Find him for me, if you can. Tell him that 
 I think his niece is dying, and that, if he wants 
 to see her, he must come at once." 
 
 " I will find him," he said. 
 
 He went away in search of him immediately 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 veil before he returned home to his grand- 
 mother to astound her with his news. He went 
 to various strange places in Whitechapel, Spit- 
 alfields, and Shoreditch, taking a great many- 
 dingy coffee-houses en route, and asking many 
 questions of their landlords ; looking in at small 
 barbers' shops, where easy shaving was to be 
 had for a halfpenny, and where Spanswick senior 
 was probably shaven easily for that specified 
 amount ; but finding him not at his haunts, and 
 meeting with no one who could afibrd him any 
 information as to the precise locality of Mr. 
 Spanswick's lodgings. He had nearly given up 
 his search for that night, and was thinking of 
 his grandmother, when he found himself once 
 more in Junction Street. The clock in the 
 steeple of Spitalfields Church was striking 
 eleven. 
 
 " By Jove ! what will the old lady say, if she 
 has not gone to bed ofiended with me ?" he 
 said. 
 
 He stood and looked across the way at Mar- 
 maduke Span slack's Emporium, where business
 
 MASTER BRIDGE HAS A DOUBT. 51 
 
 was less brisk at that hour, but where the pro- 
 prietor was still doing pretty well. As he 
 paused, the man who had waited upon him 
 behind the counter issued forth, hatless and 
 with a pen behind his ear, and a letter in his 
 hand, which he flapped to and fro carelessly as 
 he paused for a moment to hold parley with 
 the butcher's young man next door. 
 
 " Where are you off to, Jack f the butcher 
 remarked as Master Bridge crossed the road. 
 
 " Oh ! to old Spanswick's," Jack said smiily ; 
 " as if a feller had not enough slavery of it in 
 there. As if — Well, what do you want ?" 
 
 Master Bridge had touched his arm at this 
 moment. 
 
 " I say, have those things gone home ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; you'll find them all at home, I 
 daresay — if you wait long enough,'* he added, 
 as young Bridge thanked him very respectfully 
 and walked away. The shopman lingered for 
 a few moments to tell the story of the governor's 
 sharp practice with the Biidges ; and there 
 were several hearty roars of laughter between 
 
 e2
 
 52 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 the butcher and the draper's man, until they 
 were suddenly cut short by the appearance of 
 Mr. Spanswick at his shop-door, and by Mr. 
 Spanswick bursting into a volley of oaths at 
 finding his assistant's " cussed hulking car- 
 cass," as he termed it, still within a few paces 
 of the business. 
 
 The young man muttered hasty excuses, and 
 fled for his life along Junction Street, and Mas- 
 ter Geoffry Bridge followed in his wake.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 
 
 IIR. WHITE, the junior assistant at the 
 -'"'-'- Spitalfields Emporium, slackened his pace, 
 and " took it easy," as he termed it, when fully 
 assured that several streets lay between him 
 and his master. In common with the two young 
 men and the dirty old one who held office under 
 Mr. Spanswick, Mr. White was afraid of his 
 principal. Spanswick was not so bad at times. 
 If he had his little tempers, he had his little 
 jokes ; but it was as well known on the premises 
 as beyond them, in the tortuous streets whose 
 denizens dealt at Spanswick's, that he stood no 
 nonsense. In the memory of his oldest ser- 
 vant, ;Mr. Kayley, and of the oldest inhabitant
 
 54 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ill Spitalfields, he had never been known to 
 stand any nonsense. When he told his young 
 man that he was to go next Saturday night, 
 the young man went, for it was understood that 
 the master had made up his mind, and was not 
 likely to change it ; when he locked up another 
 young man for confiscating several rolls of 
 scarlet satin libbon — a favourite colour, on which 
 there was always a run in the spring-van 
 season — nobody begged for mercy, not even 
 the mother, who lived hard by, for it was 
 thoroughly understood that the purloiner was 
 to go to trial ; when he brought his big hand 
 upon the counter, and informed a trembling 
 woman who had fallen into arrears of payment 
 that, if the money was not forthcoming by to- 
 morrow afternoon, he should sew her up, the 
 woman was sewn up by legal process accord- 
 ingly, which commenced punctually at the hour 
 mentioned. This was the only way, he as- 
 serted, to do business in Junction Street ; and 
 to do business with any 'prospect of great profits 
 to himself, probably it was. Out of business —
 
 l":nxle spaxs^^ck. 55 
 
 very often in it — he was full of his fun ; to his 
 best customers he was a charming man across 
 the counter, or when he met them in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and in a favourite bar-parlour round 
 the corner after nine o'clock on Monday nights 
 he was more than convivial, for he promoted 
 conviviality in others, and was president of the 
 George Street Harmonic Meetings, and always 
 led off with " Heigh-ho, tantivy ! " which he 
 sung very well indeed. He was n.ot a bad 
 neighbour, and his fellow-tradesmen in the 
 vicinity sought his acquaintance, went to dog- 
 fights and cricket-matches with him, when he 
 could afford the time, laughed at his jokes, and 
 were pleased if he took then- daughters to the 
 Standard or East London, where the ladies said 
 he was always such a gentleman. 
 
 People who had no business relations with 
 Mr. Spanswick liked liim best, and saw his 
 brightest side. Mr. White did not like him at all, 
 and he had been nearly twelve months in his 
 service without seeing any brightness in him. 
 
 " If I could poison 'im with strike-nine, I'd do
 
 5t> STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 it," Mr. White had been heard to declare to a 
 confidential friend ; but the opportunity had not 
 presented itself, or Mr. White had not thought 
 it worth his while. 
 
 And yet Mr. White thought a great deal of 
 his wrongs. He was brooding on the last in- 
 dignity which had been launched at him, as 
 he went along bare-headed, after the fashion of 
 East-end shopmen out on business, or he might 
 have observed that Master Bridge was close on 
 his heels, and have considered it a curious 
 coincidence. He went down various streets of 
 a squalid character at a leisurely pace, nodding 
 in a patronising manner at those customers 
 whom he met proceeding to their homes, and 
 stopping once at a tobacconist's shop, which, 
 after long study of the contents of its window, 
 he entered, and bought three cigars for four- 
 pence-halfpenny, intending to show off a bit 
 to-morrow, if it were at all fine, in the Victoria 
 Park. 
 
 Master Bridge thought the shopman would 
 never get on; but the journey's end was ac-
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 57 
 
 complished at last, in a narrow court that ran 
 at right angles to Star-court, where his grand- 
 mother kept house for him. 
 
 " Who would have thought of old Spanswick 
 being so close to ns ?" said Geoffry Bridge, as 
 he dived into the darkness after Mr. White. 
 Here another idea seized him. " Who would 
 have thought of Spanswick sending round to 
 the old man to tell him of his niece's illness ? " 
 was his second remark. 
 
 Mr. \ATiite knocked at the last house in the 
 court, and Master Bridge slackened his pace. 
 The door was opened before he reached the 
 man whose footsteps he had been tracking, and 
 he heard the inquiry put as to whether Mr. 
 Spanswick was in. 
 
 "He's not in yet," croaked a woman's 
 voice. 
 
 " Then I'll go up to his room, and wait for 
 him." 
 
 " I don't know when he's coming home ; he 
 keeps orful hours." 
 
 " Top back, I s'pose, as before ?" said Mr.
 
 5S STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 AVhite, without any attention to this remark. 
 
 " If it's a letter," said the woman, " you can 
 leave it, without going up a-muddying my 
 stairs. I've got company to-morrer — my gal's 
 going to be married." 
 
 " It's more than my place is worth not to 
 give it him himself — though that's not worth 
 much," he added surlily. 
 
 " Jest wipe your feet then," said the land- 
 lady. 
 
 Mr. White was admitted, the door was closed, 
 and Geoffry Bridge was left without in the 
 night drizzle to deliberate upon his next step. 
 
 " Out I" said Geoffry ; " then I'll run round to 
 the old lady and see if the blankets have come, 
 before I call on Uncle Spanswick, and make 
 sure that it's all right." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. White had ascended the 
 stairs without wiping his feet, to show his con- 
 tempt for injunctions which no law of his 
 country compelled him to follow ; and the old 
 woman lost her temper, and screamed after him 
 that he was a rip, and that she'd remember him;
 
 UXCLE SPAXSWICK. 59 
 
 not knoTN-ing, poor woman, what a luxury it was 
 for the young man to disobey instructions. 
 
 Mr. White went upstairs with a deal of un- 
 necessary noise and superfluous whistling ; 
 kicked open the door of the top-floor room, to 
 save himself the trouble of taking his right hand 
 out of his pocket ; marched in, and found, to his 
 amazement, that the gentleman of whom he was 
 in search was lying on the floor, under a small 
 heap of tattered bedclothes, reading his penny 
 weekly newspaper by the aid of a rushlight, 
 which was on a chair in dangerous proximity 
 to himself and the sheets. 
 
 "Well, ^\Tiite," he said, looking over the 
 edge of his newspaper, as the visitor entered, 
 " what on earth have you been making all this 
 row about?" 
 
 " Hallo !" ciied Mr. AVhite ; " what ! you are 
 in, then?" 
 
 " Yes ; and in bed. WTiat's the matter ?" 
 
 " Why, that lying woman in the parlour told 
 me you were out." 
 
 " Very likely," was the response, " for the lie
 
 60 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 was an advantage ; and I daresay she wanted 
 to save her stairs, as there are rare doings to- 
 moiTow — a marriage in the family below. Ever 
 been married, White ?" 
 
 " I can't say as I have," said "WTiite, with a 
 short laugh, " or that I mean to.'' 
 
 " Quite right. Will you sit down ?" 
 
 Mr. White looked round, but saw nothing to sit 
 upon. The furniture consisted of one chair, on 
 which was the senior Mr. Spanswick's rushlight ; 
 there was neither table nor drawers in the 
 room ; it was a room of ghastly bareness. 
 
 " Here's a seat," said Mr. Spanswick, coolly 
 taking the battered tin candlestick in which the 
 rushlight was fixed, and placing it on the bolster 
 beside him, where it tilted forwards ominously ; 
 " will this do f ' 
 
 " Thank'ee, yes, for I'm fit to drop ; I've been 
 at it ever since seven this morning ; druv hard. 
 You know what he is ?" 
 
 *' Yes, I know what he is," was the stern re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " Although he is a son of yours, you don't care 
 about a feller speaking out ?"
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 61 
 
 "No, I don't care." 
 
 "He wouldn't leave you in this plight — his 
 own father — if he was a man. I've said so afore, 
 Mister Spanswick." 
 
 " Then I wouldn't say it again." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Once is enough. It's no good worrying at 
 a grievance. I take things philosophically, 
 
 don't I r 
 
 " I don't know how you take them," said Mr. 
 White, with a sudden sullenness. 
 
 " Well, what is the news ? Is that letter for 
 me r 
 
 "Yes, it is." 
 
 " Are you to wait for an answer ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am." 
 
 " Then I'll finish this article first ; one thing 
 at a time. White." 
 
 " Jest as you like. I'm in no hurry to get 
 back before the shop shuts. I shall say you 
 were out, and that I had to wait." 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Mr. Spanswick coolly, 
 as he held the newspaper close to his eyes, after
 
 e2 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 the manner of a ' man very short-sighted, and 
 commenced reading diligently. Mr. White lean- 
 ed back in the chair and enjoyed perfect ease. He 
 drew his cigars from his pocket, unrolled the 
 paper in which they were wrapped, and atten- 
 tively examined them and smelt them; and when 
 satisfied, from the result of his careful scrutiny, 
 that they were of the right sort, he took stock 
 of the recumbent figure before him. 
 
 Uncle Spanswick was an odd-looking man, 
 evidently a tall man by the length of limb which 
 was stretched beneath his bedclothes, or a var- 
 iety of articles that served for bedclothes. That 
 he was an attenuated man it was easy to judge 
 from his sharp pinched features, and the thin 
 hands — all bones and ropy veins — which clutch- 
 ed at the newspaper. A wild-looking man also, 
 despite that coolness with which he bad receiv- 
 ed Mr. White's unlooked-for advent, with a 
 tangled mane of light-brown hair, going on for 
 gray, and long brownish-gray whiskers, which 
 lay upon the torn coverlet of his bed, and gave 
 him an unkempt shaggy look. A man very much
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 63 
 
 lined, and with a restless pair of eyes, which 
 rolled from corner to corner as he read his news- 
 paper in a manner that rendered his observer 
 slightly nervous, for Mr. White had not the heart 
 of a lion. 
 
 " Anything hup, Mr. Spans wick ?" he asked at 
 la^t. 
 
 " Up where f ' 
 
 " Anything new in the papers that's very in- 
 teresting ?" 
 
 " Nothing new." 
 
 " I thought there was." 
 
 " Why f was the inquiry. 
 
 " I don't know ; you look as if there was," 
 
 " There's a murder, WTiite ; I'm fond of mur- 
 ders." And he glared over his paper so fixedly 
 at his companion, that Mr. White perspired a 
 little, and said that it was quite time he was 
 off. 
 
 " Pass the letter," said Mr. Spanswick. " As 
 if you could not allow a man to finish his article 
 in peace — you know how pressed I am, and what 
 little time I get."
 
 64 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 He crumpled up his paper, and put it behind 
 his head, where Mr. White expected to see it 
 catch fire every instant ; took the letter from the 
 hands of his son's assistant, opened the envelope, 
 drew forth the note inside, and sent several shil- 
 lings "flying about the room. Mr. Spanswick's 
 cool deportment wholly left him at this; he sprang 
 up in bed, leaned forwards on his hands, and 
 yelled forth, with a shrill vehemence that cur- 
 dled every drop of blood in Mr. White's body : 
 
 " Look at the money, you gaping idiot ! Why 
 didn't you tell me that my son had sent me 
 money f 
 
 "I forgot — I — mind the light, there — it's 
 going, mister, and we shall all be burnt to 
 hashes." 
 
 Mr. Spanswick stopped his candlestick with a 
 quick hand, and placed it on the chair from 
 which Mr. White had sprung galvanically. The 
 instant afterwards he was out of bed, crawling 
 over the floor for the money that had been sent 
 him, and keeping one eye on Mr. ^ATiite, who 
 was assisting him to pick it up.
 
 UXCLE SPAXSWICK. 65 
 
 " He says four shillings for fare there and 
 back, and ten shillings for my weeks' keep ; 
 that's fourteen shillings," he remarked when he 
 had crawled into bed again ; "let me see if it's 
 all right." 
 
 " Here's six shillings." 
 
 "Then you have got a shilling," said Mr. 
 Spanswick. " Oh, no, here it is ; I have it. 
 Now, what does Marmaduke want me to do for 
 this ? It is not likely that it has been sent for 
 nothing ; though he's not so bad — not so very 
 bad," he muttered. 
 
 He read the letter attentively, holding it 
 close to his eyes, as he had held the newspaper 
 a moment since, and glaring at it in much the 
 same fierce fashion. 
 
 " Oh ! that's all," he said, when he had read 
 the missive. 
 
 " Private and confidential ?" said Mr. White 
 interrogatively. 
 
 " No. The Browns have run away with 
 seven pounds' worth of furniture, and I am to 
 be at Guildford in the morning by the first train, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 and see if the man and his wife are in Castle 
 Street, No. 204, and, if the information's wrong, 
 to wait at the ' Feathers ' beer-shop till he 
 writes to me on Monday, and tells me what to 
 do. Well, it's nothing new. Good night." 
 
 " ^Yhsit shall I tell the governor f 
 
 " That liis orders shall be attended to." 
 
 He took np his paper again, and Mr. White 
 said curiously, 
 
 " Do you generally read yourself off to sleep 
 like that ?" 
 
 " When I can sleep," was the answer. 
 
 Mr. White bade him good night, and closed 
 the door behind him ; and Mr. Spanswick senior 
 put the paper on his chest, crossed his lank 
 hands upon the paper, and listened to his late 
 visitor's heavy feet as they descended the stairs, 
 slipping suddenly at the last flight, and bringing 
 Mr. White heavily, and of a heap, to the bottom, 
 along with a copper stick, which, to his dying 
 day, Mr. White firmly believed that the landlady 
 had set upon the stairs expressly for him. 
 
 " Ah, he has not broken his neck," said the
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 67 
 
 senior Mr. Spanswick calmly, when the door 
 was slammed to afterwards ; then he lay and 
 thought very attentively, blinking a little at the 
 rushhght, and holding communion with it in a 
 dreamy manner. 
 
 " Marmaduke is in a hurry," he said ; " Mar- 
 maduke never liked to lose money." 
 
 Suddenly he got out of bed, and commenced 
 dressing himself. 
 
 '* I'll walk it, and save the fare," he muttered ; 
 '* I can get down to-morrow early if I start at 
 once. I'm a good walker ; it's not far for me." 
 
 When he was dressed, in a shabby suit of 
 black, which he brushed with his hands, and put 
 on with the greatest caution, he folded his news- 
 paper, placed it in his breast-pocket, made sure 
 again that the money which had been sent him 
 was correct, put on a very rusty hat, which in 
 its day had been the property of some one who 
 had had a larger head — it was a gift of Marma- 
 duke's, in fact — and which came over his ears 
 and eyebrows very easily. 
 
 He extinguished his rushlight, and went 
 
 f2
 
 68 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 out of the room and downstaii's, a tall man with 
 a stoop. On the mat on which Mr. ^Vhite had 
 not wiped his feet, he found his landlady await- 
 ing him. 
 
 "What are you about the stairs for, Mr. 
 Spanswick?" she said tartly; "it's jest as if every- 
 body was a-doing it on puppus." 
 
 " I am going out, Mrs. Wilcox." 
 
 " Then I locks you out, for I ain't a-going to 
 leave the latch on to-night for nobody." 
 
 " I shall not be back for a week at least." 
 
 " Oh, very well." 
 
 " Tell Kitty that I wish her good luck with 
 her marriage, and that I am sorry I cannot look 
 in to-morrow afternoon to wish her joy for my- 
 self." 
 
 "* Thank'ee, thank'ee, Mister Spanswick," said 
 the woman, much mollified by her top-floor- 
 back's good wishes ; and then she shut him out 
 in the court, and heard him feeling his way for 
 a while with his stick, as if the darkness without 
 was very dense that night. 
 
 Mrs. Wilcox had been in her front room more
 
 UNCLE SPANSWICK. 69 
 
 than a quarter of an hour after this, helping 
 her daughter Kitty with her wedding-dress — a 
 bkie merino, and bought at the Emporium — 
 when a heavy knocking sounded at the street- 
 door again. 
 
 " If the old wretch hasn't come back, after 
 all I I knew he would." 
 
 But the old wretch had not come back ; and 
 it was a tall, rosy-faced, curly-haired youth, 
 who would have stepped with his boots into the 
 passage, had it not been that Mrs. Wilcox was 
 on the alert, and put the door ajar with 
 promptitude, nearly shutting Master Bridge's 
 foot in also. 
 
 *«Wotisit now?" 
 
 " Old Mr. Spanswick— has he come home, 
 please r 
 
 " He has been home, and he has just gone out 
 again." 
 
 " Gone out — where ?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " ^Yhen will he be back f ' 
 
 " He says that he won't be back for a week."
 
 70 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' How long has he been gone ?" 
 
 " Not a minit — you might catch him if you 
 run a bit." 
 
 Geoffry Bridge turned at once, and ran for 
 his life down the court, turning to the left at 
 the top, as he had come from the right without 
 encountering him of whom he was in search ; 
 and the mendacious Mrs. Wilcox locked up for 
 the night.
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1IIISSCHRIST0PHERS0N reached the iron 
 •^'-^ gates of the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum 
 shortly after ten o'clock. The City Clerks' 
 Orphan Asylum was an institution that did 
 everything by rule, and the man at the gate 
 entered the time of Miss Christopherson's return 
 as though it was a minute of some consequence. 
 A matron of the place met her under an arcade 
 of the quadrangle, and after making a cu'cuit 
 round her for precaution's sake, said, 
 
 " How late you are !" 
 
 " Yes, it is late." 
 
 " Mrs. Thurtle is so cross." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," was the answer.
 
 72 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Crossing the square plot of ground towards 
 the infirmary quarters, Miss Christopherson en- 
 countered the mistress of the establishment, a 
 tall portly woman, of the " commanding " genus, 
 who made also a circuit round her, something 
 mder than that of the last lady whom she had 
 met, and came to a full stop at a respectful dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson, this is really too bad," 
 said Mrs. Thurtle, in a tone of grave reproof. 
 
 " I am late, madam ; but I was detained at 
 Mr. Spanswick's." 
 
 " You know the child mil only let you attend 
 her, and that it would not be safe for the school 
 to send another young woman into an infected 
 room. You are aware. Miss Christopherson, that 
 you have been ' detached ' for the purpose of 
 devoting your sole attention to Jane Spans - 
 wick." 
 
 "I am devoting my sole attention to her, 
 madam ; I hope that she has not been fretting 
 since my absence." 
 
 " She has been very instable, I hear ; she is a
 
 DETACHED. 73 
 
 most irritable child, and the nui'se she has actu- 
 ally insulted." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that." 
 
 " May I ask what is the result of your visit to 
 the draper's ? Have you found her uncle f 
 
 " He is not at home ; his son has no imme- 
 diate means of communicating with him, he 
 says." 
 
 "He says?" said Mrs. Thurtle, quickly; "do 
 you not believe him ?" 
 
 " I have no reason for disbelieving him," re- 
 plied Miss Christopherson. 
 
 "It is very annoying," said Mrs. Thurtle; 
 " the doctor says the child's mind is quite un- 
 settled by her odd fancy." 
 
 " It is unsettled," said Miss Christopherson ; 
 " and it is not an odd fancy, if you will excuse 
 my poor opinion." 
 
 Miss Christopherson spoke humbly, as a sub- 
 ordinate should do to a superior in office ; but 
 the mistress of the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum 
 objected to her opinion nevertheless. 
 
 " Why is it not an odd fancy, may I ask, as
 
 74 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 you have been pleased to see this distressing 
 case in a different light from me ?" asked Mrs. 
 Thurtle, almost sharply. 
 
 *' The uncle is the only one whom she ap- 
 pears to love in the world, or who she thinks 
 loves her ; and it is natural to wish to see him 
 at the last." 
 
 " Strange people upset the establishment by 
 getting into wrong places," said the mistress 
 wearily ; " and sooner or later we all must die." 
 
 " But not die alone, looking at a bare wall 
 and a hired nurse," replied Miss Christopherson 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Our dear charges are not likely, poor lambs, 
 to have many friends," said Mrs. Thurtle, pro- 
 ceeding on her way, with a grave shake of her 
 head. "Good evening, Miss Christopherson. 
 You will let me know if she gets worse ; and 
 you will please keep to her room as much as 
 you can, for the sake of our little orphans. Ah !" 
 with a heavy sigh, " this has been a trying time 
 for us all !" 
 
 Miss Christopherson bowed, and continued
 
 DETACHED. 75 
 
 her progress. She entered that portion of the 
 building allotted to an infirmary, the servants 
 making every possible way for her, and walked 
 towards the door of a room lying apart, as it 
 were, from the others, at the end of a long cor- 
 ridor. This was the room set aside for any 
 patient or patients suffenng from a contagious 
 disorder ; and here Jane Spans wick, the " de- 
 tached " one, was struggling for her life. 
 
 Miss Christopherson knocked softly, and a 
 stout, motherly-looking soul, in an old-fashion- 
 ed frill cap, opened the door the instant after- 
 wards. 
 
 " There, here she is, Jenny. Did I not say 
 she'd come before the hour struck ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but you have said it after every hour, 
 you know," said a feeble little voice. — " Come 
 in, Miss Christopherson. Oh I what a time you 
 have been away !" 
 
 ** Not asleep, then, Jenny ?" said the gover- 
 ness, entering the room, and looking towards a 
 little bed, on which a girl of an uncertain age 
 — she might have been ten, judging by her fra-
 
 76 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 gility, and twenty, by her pale, thoughtful- 
 looking face — was lying. 
 
 "Asleep? — no," she answered; "1 have not 
 been trying to sleep." 
 
 " That was wrong of yon," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson, taking off her bonnet and cloak, and 
 sitting by the bedside. The little girl put forth 
 her wasted hand, and the young woman took 
 it within her own, and gazed down upon her 
 earnestly. There were no marks of the ravages 
 of a terrible disease upon Jenny Spanswick. 
 The disorder she had passed through bravely, 
 and it was a relapse which had struck her down. 
 On the white, pinched face, there was no dis- 
 figurement. Ten days back she had congratu- 
 lated herself on not having been made plainer 
 than she was before her illness ; and though 
 Jenny Spanswick had never been exactly a 
 plain girl, still no one would have set her down 
 for a pretty one at this stage of her career. In 
 her bed that warm winter's night she looked 
 very old-fashioned, and yet she was only four- 
 teen years of age, after all.
 
 DETACHED. 77 
 
 "What did uncle say, Miss Christopherson ?" 
 asked the child at last ; " was he not very much 
 frightened f 
 
 "I am going to tell you all from the commence- 
 ment," said the governess cautiously, *' and you 
 must let me tell the story my own way." 
 
 " I won't interrupt you," she said ; and a pair 
 of dark eyes looked very hard at her as she 
 spoke. " I won't say another word until you 
 have finished." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson has not had her supper 
 yet, Jenny," said the nurse, by way of a sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 " She can have her supper and talk too — she 
 always does," said Jenny. 
 
 " To be sure I can — and will." 
 
 " And when Mrs. Gray has done rattling the 
 plates about, I shall be glad of your beginning," 
 said the child, impatiently. 
 
 Miss Christopherson's supper, a very plain one 
 of bread and cheese, was now before her, and 
 she was sitting at the table, close to the sick 
 child. The nurse withdrew, and Miss Christo-
 
 78 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 pherson commenced her story. It was a pain- 
 ful recital, for the sequel was disheartening ; 
 but she acquitted herself with considerable skill, 
 albeit the effect upon her listener was as she had 
 anticipated. She spoke of her visit to Spital- 
 fields, of her discovery of the Emporium, and 
 her interview with its proprietor, dwelHng very 
 decisively on Mr. Marmaduke Spanswick's pro- 
 mise to communicate with his father at the 
 earliest opportunity, and his opinion that he 
 should see his father within a few hours from 
 that time. 
 
 *' So, Jenny, with only those few hours to 
 wait," said Miss Christopherson, cheerfully, "and 
 those hours to be spent in sleep, let us hope, till 
 the time comes, we may consider the mission a 
 satisfactory one." 
 
 " Do you think so, Miss Maud ?" asked the 
 chHd. 
 
 Jenny Spanswick had addressed the gover- 
 ness lately as Miss Maud. She had not begged 
 the favour of that familiarity, but the governess 
 had guessed her wish, strangely enough, and
 
 DETACHED. 79 
 
 had asked if she would call her by her Christian 
 name. The governess was certainly odd; she 
 did not like the idea of the child going out of 
 the world calling her Miss Christopherson. 
 
 She looked away a Httle. 
 
 " Yes, in its way. Not so satisfactory, Jenny, 
 as if I had found your uncle ; but the next tiling 
 to it." 
 
 " It's a long way off it to me," she said, fret- 
 fully. " I can't see him coming along the road. 
 Marmaduke will never tell him." 
 
 " Why should he not ?" asked Miss Christo- 
 pherson, bending over her eagerly. 
 
 "Ah! why should he f was the enigmatical 
 rejoinder. 
 
 *' He knows that you are fond of your uncle, 
 and that you are ill " 
 
 " Did you tell him very ill ?" said the child, 
 quickly here. 
 
 " Yes, very ill, dear," replied Miss Christo- 
 pherson. 
 
 " And that the doctor says " 
 
 '* There, never mind what the doctor has
 
 80 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 said," cried Miss Christopherson, interrupting 
 her in her turn. " I do not believe everything 
 that the doctors say ; I never did, I never shall, 
 Jenny. There can be no reason for your cousin 
 keeping this illness a secret from your uncle, 
 surely?" 
 
 **N — no," said Jenny. 
 
 " You do not know of any reason 1" 
 
 " I do not know of any," said the girl, with a 
 slight emphasis. 
 
 "But guess at one, and perhaps a foolish 
 one," said Miss Christopherson; "harassing 
 yourself into a fever, which keeps you back, 
 when peace of mind is the best chance for your 
 health." 
 
 "Yes, you have said that before," said the 
 girl, wearily. " Oh ! if he would only come — 
 if someone would only tell him !" she cried, with 
 a sudden fervour which would have alarmed one 
 less used to these impulsive fits than Miss Chris- 
 topherson was by this time. " If I had not been 
 so foolish as to keep my illness from him, lest it 
 should frighten him to death — and now my
 
 DETACHED. 81 
 
 dying without Avishing him good-bye I Oh I it 
 will kill him, it will kill him !" 
 
 She buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed 
 violently. She tossed to and fi'o with restless 
 force, until the hand of the governess — who had 
 stood by her, and wished to stand by her, when 
 nei-vous oificials had made every excuse to keep 
 away — rested on her mass of raven hair. 
 
 " Courage, Jenny ! What did you promise 
 me, even at the worst?" asked 'Miss Christo- 
 pherson, in the gentlest of tones. 
 
 " I am not grieving for myself," said the girl, 
 becoming suddenly grave and passive. " I 
 don't think I shall be afraid to die — though I 
 shan t hke it ver}/ much ! You don't see — some- 
 times I think you won't see — that I am grieving 
 about him." 
 
 ^'I do see that, Jenny," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson. 
 
 "I want to say something to him which I 
 ought to have said long ago — which I have 
 been trying to say, but did not like, and could 
 not find courage for, because I was a coward." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 S2 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 '^ What was it f ' 
 
 ** It's — it's a little secret, perhaps a fancy 
 only ; 1 can't very well tell you," she said slowly ; 
 " haven't you your little secret or fancy about 
 something, and tell nobody ?" 
 
 Miss Christopherson looked down. 
 
 " Perhaps I have, Jenny," she repeated. " You 
 are a sharp child for your age." 
 
 " My cousin Marmaduke is sharp, and so is 
 Uncle William, they say," repeated the child ; 
 " but I'm not sharp enough. Mrs. Thurtle — I 
 don't Hke Mrs. Thurtle," she added in a whisper 
 — " says that I'm a silly thing." 
 
 " Will you try and sleep, Jenny ? " 
 
 "I'U try, if you like." 
 
 " Do, dear." 
 
 " You're going to sit up again?" 
 
 " A little while." 
 
 " All night — ^because it's ordered f 
 
 '' Jenny, if you do not shut your eyes, I shall 
 be very cross with you," said Miss Christopher- 
 son, gently enough. 
 
 "I am going to try to sleep. But if he
 
 DETACHED. 83 
 
 comes — if he rings that big bell at the gates, 
 however late, you will see that the porter lets 
 him in. I am sure that you will do that." 
 
 " I have the pass-keys to-night. The porter 
 has gone to bed. I w411 let him in myself." 
 
 " How kind you are ! If I were only half as 
 good, I should be sure of heaven." 
 
 " Jenny !" cried Miss Chnstopherson, warmly, 
 " I'm bad, and sullen, and spiteful, and mali- 
 cious, and hated by everybody — by everybody 
 in all the world, my dear ! Don't say another 
 word, don't vex me, don't disturb me." 
 
 Jenny succumbed to this vehemence, and 
 closed her eyes. But she lay thinking of it for 
 long afterwards. There was no sleep for her, 
 no chance of sleep ; but she did not say as much 
 again, and she only opened her quivering eye- 
 lids sufficiently wide to watch the figure of her 
 favourite nurse, w^ho had stolen to the low- 
 burning fire, and was brooding over it, ^vith one 
 fair white hand holding her chin, and her elbow 
 resting on her lap. She thought there for a 
 ong period ; the great clock of the establish- 
 
 g2
 
 84 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ment — a noisy, sonorous clock, which had been 
 presented by the first patron, and which Jenny 
 Spanswick wished had been buried with him — 
 struck twelve, and one, without the graceful 
 figure by the fii-e changing its position. Sud- 
 denly the coals in the grate fell together with a 
 harsh noise, and Maud Christopherson glanced 
 towards the bed. 
 
 " Asleep, Jenny f 
 
 " No, Miss Maud." 
 
 '' Try, child, try. Count fifty thousand ; I 
 have heard that that is a good plan." 
 
 Jenny did not count fifty thousand, and did 
 not fall asleep ; but Miss Christopherson herself 
 began to doze instead of her. She was tired 
 with her journey ; the silence in the room had 
 its quiescent efiect, and all was very still with- 
 out. 
 
 Suddenly Jenny raised her head to listen. 
 Someone, a long way off on the footpath lead- 
 ing to the institution, was advancing at a sharp 
 pace. It was like his step ; so very like his step 
 to her excited fancy, that she cried out sharply.
 
 DETACHED. 85 
 
 " Miss Maud, I hear him ; I — I think I hear 
 him coming !" 
 
 Miss Christopherson was awake directly, and 
 looking anxiously towards her. 
 
 " Fancy, Jenny. Do try and " 
 
 She started to her feet. The bell at the 
 great iron gates clanged loudly, and as it seemed 
 to her incessantly, and she was moving to the 
 door the instant afterwards. 
 
 " It is he !" cried Jenny. " Oh ! make haste !" 
 
 " It may be a runaway ring," said the gover- 
 ness. " Do not excite yourself unnecessarily ; 
 do not be disappointed if this is someone else." 
 
 She went swiftly from the room along the 
 corridor, down the stone steps, through the 
 door into the cool quadrangle, where the fine 
 rain was falling still, across to the oaken gates, 
 which she unlocked, and beyond them to the 
 great iron gates, whereat a tall, high-shouldered 
 man was standing, clutching at the railings, 
 and peering through them eagerly. 
 
 " What is your business ?" asked Miss Cliris- 
 topherson.
 
 S6 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 " My name is Spanswick. There is a little 
 child here — my niece — who is very ill, I — I am 
 told." 
 
 " Come in," said the governess, unlocking the 
 gate ; " I am glad that yon are here." 
 
 She admitted the tall man, who raised a 
 large and shabby hat to her ; she locked the 
 gate, opened the oaken doors, which she also 
 locked behind her, crossed the quadrangle, 
 passed with him through the infirmary door, 
 locking that also, went up the stone steps, 
 along the corridor, and into the sick-room, with 
 the tall shabby man, who had asked no ques- 
 tions by the way. 
 
 Jenny held her arms towards him as he en- 
 tered, and shrieked out : 
 
 " I knew you would come ! — oh ! I knew that 
 you would not stop away when I was ill !" 
 
 The man gave one heavy sob at the sight of 
 her, went across the room with quick steps, 
 knelt down, and put his arms around her as she 
 lay there. " Oh ! Jenny, dear," he faltered forth, 
 "how's this?"
 
 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 
 
 rPHERE was a silence of several minutes' du- 
 -*- ration after the tall shabby man had sunk 
 down at the bedside of the sick child. Jenny 
 Spanswick lay with two wasted hands on the 
 shoulders of him who had come in search of 
 her, and the man gazed eagerly into her face, 
 as if he would learn from it all the truth. 
 
 Suddenly he looked away from her towards 
 the slight figure of Miss Christopherson stand- 
 ing by the door. 
 
 " How long has this been ?" he said huskily. 
 
 " Some weeks," replied the governess. 
 
 "And no one to let me know how ill she 
 was !" he said, reproachfully.
 
 88 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " It was your niece's wish." 
 
 " I was afraid that you would fret about it. 
 I have not been very ill — seriously ill, as they 
 say — until a few days back," explained the 
 child ; " and then I thought that I should like 
 to see you very much." 
 
 The man looked hard into her face, as if 
 puzzled yet by what he read there, and then 
 glanced again towards the figure by the door. 
 
 " May I speak to you for one moment ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 Miss Christopherson assented. 
 
 He rose and left the room with her. Outside 
 in the corridor he said very quickly : 
 
 " You are the nurse. What does the doctor 
 say of her ? — is it hopeless ? — for God's sake 
 say that this is not a hopeless case, for she is 
 everything to me !" 
 
 " I am one of the governesses of this institu- 
 tion," said Miss Christopherson, with a calmness 
 which afforded a strange contrast to the visitor's 
 excitement, " not the nurse. The doctor thinks 
 that there is very little hope."
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 89 
 
 " And what do you think ?" he asked anxi- 
 ously, as though her opinion, even against a 
 medical man's, would be of value to him, and he 
 would cling to some faint hope himself. 
 
 " I thought that there was a chance until to- 
 night." 
 
 " I can't believe this — oh ! I will not believe 
 it I" he cried wildly. "God would never be so 
 cruel to me !" 
 
 " Hush, sir !" said Miss Christopherson, shock- 
 ed by his vehemence ; " you forget yourself and 
 me." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said humbly ; '* I 
 have forgotten myself and you — I apologise. 
 But this is a dead brother's child. She is as 
 much alone in the world as I am ; and Ave two 
 together might have been of comfort to each 
 other, if it had pleased Him who now afflicts us." 
 
 He spoke between his set teeth, as if he re- 
 belled against his trials, and felt himself a man 
 much injured by his Maker. Miss Christopher- 
 eon shuddered as she became conscious of the 
 depth of his despair.
 
 90 STERX XECESSITY. 
 
 "You had better return to the room — the 
 child is quick, and will guess all that you have 
 been saying." 
 
 " Do you think so V he said, with a scared 
 look at the governess. " Let us return, then ; 
 she must not have that thought upon her mind, 
 it might throw her back ; for she vnll get better 
 — oh ! yes, she will get better !" 
 
 When his hand was on the door, which he had 
 closed upon leaving the room, he said sud- 
 denly : 
 
 " You were in Spitalfields to-night, I think. 
 You told young Bridge to find me outl" 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. 
 
 " Suspecting that my son would not send the 
 intelligence in time to be of use ; why did you 
 think that, may I ask ? He is," he added slow- 
 ly, " a very good son to me." 
 
 " I suggested to Master Bridge that he might 
 be of use in endeavouring to discover you," 
 said Miss Christopherson. " It struck me that 
 Mr. Spanswick of Junction Street might even 
 forget his cousin's illness."
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 91 
 
 *' He has a very good memory," said the 
 senior Spanswick thoughtfully. " He would 
 have taken every pains to find me out." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that." 
 
 " He — but she will wonder very much what 
 we are talking about," he cried. " Poor Jenny !" 
 
 He passed at once into the room, and went 
 to the bedside again — taking a chair close to 
 the sick girl, who smiled faintly as he came 
 back to her. 
 
 " You have been — " she began. 
 
 " Yes, talking of you," he said interrupting 
 her ; " of what the doctor says, Jenny ; and how 
 strong you will get if you only try, my dear, 
 now that the worst is over and the old times 
 are coming back. You will be running about 
 with all the rest of them soon, just as if nothing 
 had happened. But you must try, you know ; 
 you must not give way ; you must eat and drink 
 and grow strong. We must not have any 
 fancies, Jenny dear." 
 
 He seemed to assure himself rather than her, 
 for he rubbed his thin hands together and spoke
 
 92 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 almost with cheerfulness, until her dark inquir- 
 ing eyes met his and made his heart flinch. 
 Still he went on with increasing volubility, and 
 spoke of the doctor's consolatory words with an 
 eloquence and decisiveness which took Miss 
 Christopherson's breath away. 
 
 " What a clever doctor, to know all this !" 
 said Jenny with a little sigh ; "and how sly of 
 him to keep it from me, and look always so 
 grave when he comes to feel my pulse, as if he 
 did not believe the truth himself ! Perhaps he 
 doesn't." 
 
 "You're all right, Jenny," Mr. Spanswick 
 said firmly. " You have been frightening your- 
 self to death — that is, out of your wits, I mean 
 — and the people here have kept you much too 
 low." 
 
 He scowled at Miss Cristopherson, as if he 
 considered that she had had a hand in that. 
 Jenny looked in her direction also, and mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " I have been very anxious — oh, more an- 
 xious than I can tell you now — to see you. I
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 93 
 
 wanted to ask you something which I can't well 
 ask before anybody else." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Uncle William; "what's 
 that ?" 
 
 " Wait a moment — let me think," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 Miss Christopherson understood the child, and 
 said: "I will leave you with your uncle, Jenny, 
 for a while. If you want me, Mr. Spanswick, 
 please to touch that hand-bell. I shall be in the 
 next room." 
 
 Miss Christopherson withdrew, and Jenny 
 whispered, 
 
 "I don't know what I should have done 
 without her. She has been very kind to me." 
 
 " I don't like the look of her myself," muttered 
 William Spanswick ; *' there's a something in her 
 head just here, Jenny," he said, touching his own 
 forehead, " which speaks of a terrible temper — 
 of a woman who would have her own way, or 
 die for it. I should think, now, that the orphans 
 here had rather a sharp time of it, if she has 
 much to do with them."
 
 94 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 "All, you do not know her," said Jenny; '* I 
 only liked her a little when I was well, for she ivas 
 hard with the lessons now and then ; but, oh, 
 when I fell ill I saw how good and brave she 
 was directly. She has never left me — and 
 they were all afraid of me except herself. Why, 
 even the doctor was afraid, I think ; and I know 
 that she told him so, for they don't speak now." 
 " She stood by you like that ?" he said. 
 " Yes, she did indeed." 
 
 " I like the look of her now, as I would like 
 the look of an angel," he said heartily. 
 
 " I was sure you would when you knew all," 
 she answered. 
 
 There was a pause after Jenny's defence of 
 Miss Christopherson, a long and awkward pause, 
 which William SpansAvick did not seem capable 
 of breaking. He sat wdth his head upon his 
 chest, as if he had fallen into deep thought ; he 
 appeared to be waiting for something strange 
 which was not to be avoided, and which he 
 might find it difficult to combat, for all the 
 wisdom of his fifty years. There was some-
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 95 
 
 thing which she ^vished to say to him, and he 
 only knew of one subject that he had not the 
 courage to encounter, though he had wished it, 
 and looked forward to it many times — hoping 
 and believing that it would some day come to 
 liim with a blessing in its revelation. He was 
 conscious that the dark eyes of the child were 
 fixed upon him with strange earnestness, but 
 he did not regard her again ; he knew that she 
 was reading every line of his face as she had 
 never read it yet in all her life. Lying there 
 so long, and now, Heaven help her ! perhaps so 
 close upon the end, should he tell her a great 
 lie ? "Would that Heaven have mercy on him 
 and his one hope if he did? 
 
 He felt her hand touch his, but he did not 
 look at her. 
 
 ^'•Father r she said, in a low whisper. 
 
 He trembled, and there were tears in his 
 eyes which brimmed over, though he hid them 
 from her. 
 
 " Father ! it is father, is it not T she asked, 
 more softly still.
 
 96 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Why should you think so, Jenny f he re- 
 plied, in tones as low as hers ; " what has made 
 you think — of that ?" 
 
 " I have thought so for two years past," she 
 said ; " it came upon me by degrees, and I did 
 not like to ask you, did not like to know, lest it 
 should be wrong. But if I am to die, as they 
 all say I must, I — I thought that I should like 
 to be quite sure." 
 
 " Which would you have me be, or wish me 
 to be?" he said, turning to her with a new 
 eagerness. 
 
 "My father!" 
 
 " The uncle would be all that was honest and 
 affectionate, Jenny," he said, speaking very 
 slowly ; " able to look you in the face as you 
 grew up, and be to you all that a father should 
 be, save in name ; the father you would despise 
 more with every day, until the time would 
 come for you to tell him so." 
 
 " No, no, that could not be !" she cried ; " for 
 I should be your daughter always, sharing all 
 your troubles, if you would let me."
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 97 
 
 "Iflwoiildl" 
 
 *' And dying here, not knomng you, passing 
 to heaven — I hope it's heaven, for I have not 
 done much wrong, and am only fourteen, you 
 know — I should be glad to hear you call me 
 daughter once." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear daughter, whom I love so 
 much, you must not die, but live ! — live to teach 
 me the way to heaven along with you !" 
 
 He clasped her in his arms and kissed her 
 passionately, and father and child shed tears of 
 joy and sorrow, strangely commingled in that 
 hour of revelation. 
 
 " I will never say a word of this — I think I 
 know why 1 should not," said Jenny. 
 
 " If you leave me, I will tell them all," he said 
 fiercely ; *' it will not matter then what becomes 
 of such a wretch as I am. I shall be glad to 
 tell them." 
 
 "Hush— too loud!" 
 
 " I will tell them that my brother's death in 
 Paris was passed off as my own, and that you 
 were not an orphan child, Jenny," he cried; 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " and they may hang me for it, if the law will 
 let them. What shall I care f 
 
 " Is this so great a crime ?" asked Jenny, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You have no right here. It is only a dead 
 father that gives you a claim to this charity." 
 
 "Ah! I see." 
 
 " Starvation and ruin — the workhouse school 
 for you, the workhouse ward for me — were be- 
 fore me, and this. I chose this," he said, his 
 voice sinking to a low whisper again. 
 
 " You may make it up to them some day ?" she 
 said eagerly ; " who knows what may happen 
 after I am gone, or what good luck may come 
 to you ? Don't let us think of it now." 
 
 " You have thought of it too much already, 
 Jenny," he replied sadly ; " it has weighed upon 
 your mind at a time when it should have had 
 nothing to disturb it, and reduced you very low. 
 Why, it has almost killed you !" he added with 
 a groan.
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 99 
 
 " Perhaps I may get well now, for I feel hap- 
 pier and stronger in knowing it is as I wished, 
 and as I prayed." 
 
 *' An odd thing to pray for. It would have 
 been better, Jenny, to have left me -^dth my 
 secret until you had done with the establish- 
 ment." 
 
 " You forget again," said Jenny sadly. 
 
 " Xo, I don't," he answered ; " do you think I 
 should be sitting here so coolly, if I had a doubt 
 of your getting better ? Oh, you are sure to 
 get well. I look forward — I always did. You 
 must not think differently from me," he added ; 
 " you only feel weak after your illness, and per- 
 haps the clergyman has been fnghtening you, 
 child — a clerg}^man will if he can, though he 
 never seems particularly frightened himself. 
 You are to live — I am sure you are to live." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson would say that it was 
 wrong to talk Kke that, father." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson knows nothing about 
 it," he answered ; "and now, do not say ' father' 
 again — it's a name which might escape you at 
 
 h2
 
 100 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 an awkward moment, and do you and me harm. 
 I am in yom* power, child." 
 
 " Ah, you are sorry that you have told me — 
 you don't trust me." 
 
 " I trust you," he said. *' You know the con- 
 sequences, and as you get stronger, so you will 
 be on your guard for the sake of the old father 
 from whom you have scared his secret by all 
 that silly talk of dying. Why, Jenny, you are 
 better already !" 
 
 " I will try hard to get better." 
 
 " That's well." 
 
 She lay and thought for a moment, then she 
 said : 
 
 " Is Marmaduke my brother ?" 
 
 " Thank God, no," replied her father quickly. 
 
 " I am glad of that," said the invalid. " Then 
 it was his — " 
 
 "You must not ask any more questions, 
 Jenny," he said, interrupting her. " Let the 
 past be ; it is an unpleasant one to me, as you 
 will know presently — as you must know now. 
 It—"
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 101 
 
 He was intermpted in his turn by the entrance 
 of Miss Christopherson. 
 
 "Yon are talking too much to ray Kttle pati- 
 ent," she said, *' and forgetting that she is very 
 weak, Mr. Spanswick. I hope that this confi- 
 dential interview is at an end." 
 
 '^ We have had scarcely confidences to ex- 
 change," said William Spanswick. *' Jenny has 
 been anxious about her uncle — she is low and 
 nervous, that is all." 
 
 " Let us hope that that is all," said Miss 
 Christopherson somewhat coldly. 
 
 She went back to her old seat by the fire, and 
 thought there for a while ; then she got up, and 
 took her keys from her pocket. 
 
 " I will see you out now, Mr. Spanswick," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, I think it is time," he said, rising at this 
 emphatic hint. " I am robbing poor Jenny of 
 her night's rest, and a night's rest is everything 
 to her." 
 
 Miss Christopherson bowed slightly, as if in 
 assent to this remark, and William Spanswick
 
 102 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 thought once more that he did not admire the 
 look of her head, or believe in her general afia- 
 bilitj. But she had been kind to his child, was 
 his second thought, and had stood by her in a 
 disease from which most people shrunk away, 
 and so Heaven bless her for her unselfishness ! 
 
 " I may come and see her when I please, now 
 that she is ill ?" he asked of Miss Christopher- 
 son. 
 
 " Yes, when you please," was the reply ; " and 
 you had better favour me with your address as 
 well," she added, after he had bidden Jenny 
 good-bye, and was proceeding along the cor- 
 ridor by the governess's side. 
 
 He mentioned it at once, and she said that 
 she had a good memory, and should not forget 
 it. 
 
 " I should like to call every morning and eve- 
 ning for a little while, if it be not too great a 
 trouble," he said deferentially. " I have had all 
 my life a great interest in that girl." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so," was the answer. 
 
 It was an answer which made him start for
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 103 
 
 an instant, and glance at her nervously ; but the 
 governess was looking calmly ahead of her, 
 and it must have been only his conscience, his 
 own fears, which had been suddenly aroused 
 that night, that had suggested that there was 
 anything strange, or of meaning, in her answer 
 to him. 
 
 " And I shall be no great trouble ?" 
 
 " Not if you do not stop too long," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 When they were crossing the quadrangle, he 
 said suddenly, 
 
 "And do you think — you that have watched 
 her through all her illness, as she tells me — that 
 she will die 1 Do you really think so, now ?" 
 
 " Thinking so, I came in search of you to-night. 
 Otherwise, Mr. Spanswick " 
 
 " Otherwise — " he repeated as she paused. 
 
 " It might have been better for you to keep 
 away." 
 
 Again he glanced towards her. Had she 
 been listening ? Was it possible that she could 
 have heard a word of anything that he and
 
 104 STERN XECESSITr. 
 
 Jenny had said, even if her sense of honour had 
 not restrained her from eavesdropping ? 
 
 " Why f he ventured to ask. 
 
 " You have disturbed Jenny. A visit here 
 is an event. Orphan children have few friends." 
 
 " It is natural. Only such poor relations as 
 those of which I am a sample cling to the little 
 ones, and are not very reputable or welcome 
 visitors." 
 
 " There are stated days for visits." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 "Of which you have only twice availed 
 yourself, Mr. Spanswick, during the last two 
 years." 
 
 *' Yes," he replied, "but Jenny has been to see 
 me — when I had my little home in the country 
 last year, for instance — and I have written to 
 her very often. I have felt myself in the way 
 here until this crisis. Now, Miss Christ opherson, 
 my visits will become very frequent until she is 
 out of danger. I think I have said that I should 
 like to call every morning and evening, and to 
 see her at least once a day ? "
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 105 
 
 " There will be no objection offered to your 
 visits by the authorities." 
 
 "And when she is out of clanger I shall not 
 trouble you any more," he said. 
 
 " Thank you," she answered drily. 
 
 He did not like her manner. Standing at 
 the ii'on gates, looking down at her pale face as 
 she unlocked them — the cold, unimpressive, 
 hard face, as he thought — he liked her manner 
 worse than ever. " I am afraid," he said slowly, 
 almost abjectly, as though he feared that here 
 was an enemy before him, " that I have incon- 
 venienced you very much to-night. The hour is 
 late, and my visit has been most untimely." 
 
 " I am glad that you have called ; I said so 
 when I first admitted you," she said. 
 
 " Yes, but " 
 
 *' Glad for the sake of the child, who has been 
 strange in her manner, and very anxious about 
 you," she said, interrupting him ; " we wrote to 
 you first, and the letter was returned." 
 
 " Ay, very likely. I am not long in one place. 
 I travel for my son at times."
 
 106 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 "Mr.Marmaduke Spanswick of Junction Street 
 told me so this evening/' 
 
 " Indeed !" he said. 
 
 The gate was opened, but he did not pass 
 through it at once. Something was on his 
 mind, and he hesitated. 
 
 " Have you anything more to say to me, Mr. 
 Spanswick ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Nothing," he replied ; " save to thank you 
 with all my heart for that kindness to my niece 
 of which she has spoken, and for which I, as 
 well as she, am deeply grateful. Believe me, 
 young lady, that I am deeply and intensely 
 grateful." 
 
 The young lady thus addressed inclined her 
 head slowly, but did not respond to this ebulli- 
 tion of feeling. 
 
 "And I may be able to prove some day that 
 I have not forgotten yoiu: kindness to poor 
 Jenny." 
 
 "Poor Jenny I" she said, rather to herself 
 than him. 
 
 " You have no faith in her recovery," he said.
 
 THE LATE VISITOR. 107 
 
 *' You Avill not see her with my eyes, or hope 
 with me." 
 
 " Her mind is at rest — she may possibly re- 
 cover. 1 have not much hope." 
 
 " She will live, oh ! she will live ! I do not 
 think for an instant of her dying." 
 
 " I see that ; and yet it might be so much the 
 best for her.'' 
 
 He had passed through the gate after an 
 elevation of his unwieldly hat, and she was 
 looking through the railings, and turning the 
 key in the lock after him. Yes, it was a strange 
 set face ; the gray eyes were so large and cold 
 that he did not care to meet them. 
 
 *' I do not see how it could be for the best." 
 
 " She has been here from six years of age, 
 she tells me ; she has had eight years of a quiet, 
 peaceful, truthful life, and knows nothing of 
 the world lying beyond these gates. If she re- 
 cover, she will pass in another year from this 
 asylum to that world and you." 
 
 She turned and went rapidly fi'om the gates, 
 leaving him peering through them as she had
 
 108 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 found him at an earlier hour of that dark damp 
 morning. 
 
 He walked away at last, full of thought, and 
 with no trace of that philosophy in him of which 
 he had boasted to Mr. White in his lodgings 
 not long since. 
 
 " Can she suspect me ?" he muttered, as he 
 set his face towards town.
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SKIRMISH. 
 
 ATO one had any doubt at twelve o'clock on 
 -^' Sunday morning that Jenny Spanswick 
 was worse. The meeting with " Uncle William " 
 did not appear to have had the desired effect ; 
 from the moment that he had taken his departure 
 she had become more feverish and restless. Mrs. 
 Thurtle, the lady-superintendent, expressed it 
 as her opinion, when the news was brought to 
 her, that it was all Miss Chris topherson's fault, 
 and that Miss Christopherson should have 
 known better than to have admitted this rela- 
 tion in the middle of the night, and thus have 
 disturbed the child unnecessarily. She should 
 have used more discretion, Mrs. Thurtle con- 
 sidered. The doctor said he thought so too ;
 
 110 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 but then he had not liked Miss Christopherson 
 since the day on which she had hinted that he 
 was afraid of his patient's malady, and he gave 
 orders that no one was to see Jenny Spanswick 
 again without his permission first accorded. 
 
 William Spanswick was told this by the porter 
 at the oaken gates — the iron gates were not 
 closed in the daytime — and the effect upon 
 him was not that which the functionary had 
 bargained for. 
 
 " Who says this ? who gives this order ?" he 
 asked, with a sudden ferocity which startled the 
 man in office. 
 
 " I had it from the lady-superintendent." 
 
 " She has no right to keep me out, if the 
 child is worse ; the child may die without me. 
 Tell the lady-superintendent or Miss Christo- 
 pherson that I have come some miles to see the 
 girl." 
 
 " The lady-superintendent is at church," said 
 the porter, endeavouring to shut the oaken 
 gate, which he had incautiously opened, and in 
 which act he was balked by Mr. Spanswick's
 
 A SKIK^nSH. Ill 
 
 foot being in the way. " You can call to-night 
 and hear how the girl is." 
 
 " I tell you that I will see her !" cried Spans- 
 wick. 
 
 " Hullo I you must not make that row here," 
 said the porter, who thought it high time that 
 he asserted his authority, after being shouted 
 at by one of the shabbiest fellows whom he had 
 seen for many a day, " or you'll have a police- 
 man after you. People who come here have 
 generally civil tongues in their heads ; it an- 
 swers better. You'll let me shut the gate — 
 Lord!" 
 
 William Spans wick had thrust the gate back 
 with no small strength for a man who did not 
 appear to be strong ; and the porter, unprepared 
 for the movement, was caught in the chest, and 
 sent ungracefully staggering towards his lodge- 
 door. Before he could recover himself, William 
 Spanswick was half across the quadrangle, and 
 before he was up with him again, the intruder 
 was at the door which Miss Christopherson had 
 unlocked for him a few hours ago.
 
 112 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " You'll have to suffer for this !" gasped forth 
 the porter ; " you'll have " 
 
 " I will not take an answer from you," said 
 William Spans wick, turning, and regarding the 
 man so fiercely that he backed a step or two 
 again ; " this is a matter of life and death, and I 
 will have no messages by servants." 
 
 Miss Christopherson opened the door before 
 he had ceased speaking. From the window of 
 her room she had seen the altercation, and 
 guessed the reason for it. She had hastened 
 down the stairs to confront William Spanswick. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ?" she said in- 
 dignantly ; " why are you two men brawling 
 together on a Sabbath morning ?" 
 
 " He says he will come in," cried the porter. 
 " He's bust the rim of my hat, which was very 
 nearly the bridge of my nose, mum ; and he's 
 banged against my chest orful with the gate." 
 
 " Jenny — she's worse, then, Miss Chiistopher- 
 son ?" said Spanswick eagerly ; " he tells me 
 that my girl's worse." 
 
 " Yes, and if you wish to kill her outright,
 
 A SKIRMISH. 113 
 
 yoTi can see her," said Miss Christopherson. 
 
 *' Oh ! so bad as that !" and the man wrung 
 his hands together; " then " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence, and Miss Cliris- 
 topherson said, 
 
 " The doctor tells me that you must not see 
 her yet, and I think that it is best." 
 
 " But if she dies " 
 
 " She shall not die without seeing you again, 
 William Spanswick ; I promise you that." 
 
 *'But 
 
 ** There is no immediate danger ; she is sim- 
 ply worse this morning. She is not quite her- 
 self; when she dozes, her mind wanders strange- 
 ly, and she says strange things." 
 
 Mr. Spanswick, in his concern for his daugh- 
 ter, did not heed these words, but he remem- 
 bered them afterwards, and they rendered him 
 anxious. 
 
 "Who is with her?" 
 
 "I wait upon her myself; she does not like 
 the nurse much." 
 
 " Then go back to her, please," he said quick- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ly ; " she is natui'ally nervous, and if she has 
 already missed you, it may excite her. I am 
 detaining you ; I will call again this afternoon, 
 and once more in the evening. Perhaps, if she 
 is better. Miss Christopherson, they will let me 
 see her in the evening ? " he added very anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " I am afraid that they will not allow you to 
 see her to-day." 
 
 "Ask the doctor; ask Jenny if she thinks 
 that I should be a trouble to her." 
 
 He walked away hurriedly, forgetting in his 
 haste to apologise to the porter whose hat he 
 had broken, and whose nose he had grazed ; 
 and that gentleman went back to his lodge, 
 aggrieved at the want of attention which Miss 
 Chiistopherson had paid to his complaint. 
 When the children came back from church — 
 there was no chapel or chaplain attached to 
 this establishment, and a long row of little ones 
 in green skirts, and straw bonnets with green 
 ribbons, filed through the gate with Mrs. Thur- 
 tle, heavy in furs and velvets, as befitted a lady-
 
 A SKIK^nSH. 115 
 
 superintendent, bringing up the rear — the man 
 wdth the large hat and the wild hairy face was 
 pacing np and down in front of the asylum still. 
 Mrs. Thm'tle was not in the habit of accompany- 
 ing the orphans to church as a rule, but usually 
 spent her Sundays with some fashionable rela- 
 tions in the west of London, leaving the princi- 
 pal governess in charge ; but there were times 
 when it was necessary to show that " her heart," 
 as she expressed it, *' was in her work." The 
 appearance of William Spanswick — and a very 
 disreputable appearance it was in the sun — 
 struck her as peculiar; and the wistful look 
 which he directed towards her, seemed so sug- 
 gestive of indiscriminate almsgiving, that she 
 had already begun to inform him that she had 
 nothing to give away, when he raised his hat 
 respectfully, and stepped aside. 
 
 " What is that man waiting about here for ?" 
 she asked of the porter, as he held the oaken 
 gates back. 
 
 Peter saw his opportunity, and availed him- 
 self of it immediately. 
 
 i2
 
 116 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' He's been about here all the morning, mum," 
 he said, with great volubility, after taking a 
 long breath by way of a start. " He's been ask- 
 ing for Miss Chris topherson and you, and a- 
 saucing me because I said he couldn't come in, 
 and a-using the most frightful language ; and 
 he sent the gate bang back against me in his 
 wiolence, and damaged the institution's hat ; 
 and I've had such a pain in my chest ever since 
 that I ain't been able to stand upright. He 
 would come in; and he bounced across the 
 square before I could stop him, and Miss Christo- 
 pherson came down and spoke to him." 
 
 *' What did she say to this man's insolence V 
 
 *' Well, mum, she asked him if he'd be kind 
 enuf to call again in the afternoon, and also in 
 the evening, when she'd ask the doctor if he 
 might stop a bit." 
 
 " I will inquire into this matter." 
 
 Mrs. T hurtle immediately went to her daven- 
 port in the drawing-room, and wrote as follows : 
 
 " The lady-superintendent requests Miss Chris- 
 topherson to report as to the disturbance which
 
 A SKIRMISH. 117 
 
 has occurred this morning at the gates of the 
 institution." 
 
 This missive was despatched by Mrs. Thurtle's 
 special attendant to an attendant of the estab- 
 lishment, who was to wait for an answer, but 
 on no account to go near the room wherein 
 Jenny Spanswick was having another sharp 
 battle for her life. The answer arrived in due 
 course by the same means of communication. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson believes that Mr. Spans- 
 wick was excited by the doctor's order that he 
 was not to see Jane." 
 
 "Curt," said Mrs. Thurtle to herself. "I 
 never liked that young woman ; she is too inde- 
 pendent : I must get her out. I said she should 
 go long since." 
 
 And as Mrs. Thurtle was all-powerful in office, 
 and had a happy facility for working out of the 
 establishment those young ladies who were in 
 any way objectionable to her, it was possible 
 from that moment that Maud Chris topherson's 
 days were numbered at the City Clerks' Orphan 
 Asylum. Mrs. Thurtle was fond of homage, and
 
 118 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Miss Christophers on had not paid her any great 
 degree of reverence. Miss Christopherson had 
 been two years in the establishment, had been 
 selected from about fifty candidates by the 
 governing committee, at whose preference Mrs. 
 Thurtle had wondered ever since, and had been 
 so precise in the performance of her duties that 
 it had been a difficult task to find anything to 
 complain of. But the governess had not been 
 impressed by the hauteur or the condescension 
 of the lady-superintendent. She had presented 
 always the same calm, almost indifferent aspect 
 to her ; had taken her orders and obeyed them 
 with a grave composure that was at times par- 
 ticularly aggravating. And to Mrs. Thurtle's 
 mind this governess had always been an aggra- 
 vating young person. She was very reserved, 
 she did not appear to have any relations or 
 friends ; the children in the establishment did 
 not think her very genial, and occasionally dis- 
 covered her to be very severe on their short- 
 comings ; and it was only that odd objection- 
 able orphan, Jenny Spanswick, who had seemed
 
 A SKIK^nSH. 119 
 
 in any way to take to her of all the living crea- 
 tures in the place. 
 
 She was a clever governess and a good disci- 
 plinarian. She was better than the other half- 
 dozen, for the matter of that, thought Mrs. 
 Thurtle in her heart ; but she had committed the 
 unpardonable fault of not being impressed by 
 the high position to which Mrs. Thurtle had at- 
 tained. When she spoke to her, it was as if she 
 were unconscious of the great gulf of class di- 
 vision which separated one from another ; and 
 then — here was a second offence which Mrs. 
 Thurtle as a woman never forgave — though she 
 dressed quietly and in good taste, it was evident 
 to the lady-superintendent that Miss Christo- 
 pherson spent every shilling of her salary upon 
 her back. She was certain that last black silk 
 had cost half a guinea a yard, if it had cost a 
 farthing ; and a young person in Miss Christo- 
 pherson's position should have known better 
 than to purchase a material so costly that even 
 Mrs. Thurtle, with a salary of four hundred 
 pounds per annum, and with a suite of apart-
 
 120 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ments and gas and coals provided, would have 
 hesitated before indulging in the luxury. She 
 did not like Miss Christopherson, and she was 
 almost sure that Miss Christopherson did not 
 like her ; and the doctor, who came once a-day 
 to see to the general ailments of the children, 
 had also told Mrs. Thurtle, that of all the cool, 
 independent, argumentative young women whom 
 he had ever met in the long course of his pro- 
 fessional career. Miss Christopherson was the 
 most astounding specimen. She — she — she," 
 Doctor Parker stuttered a little when he was 
 excited, " — actually had — had — had — the auda- 
 city to t-t-t-tell him that she thought that he 
 was n-n-n-n-nervous in little Sp-Sp-Sp-Spans- 
 wick's case." 
 
 So Miss Christopherson was not loved much 
 at the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum, and from 
 hints that she had let drop in the course of this 
 history, it is probable she was aware of the fact, 
 and that it even depressed her a little and render- 
 ed her, even with herself — for she was a thought- 
 ful woman — somewhat dissatisfied. Jenny
 
 A SKIRmSH. 121 
 
 Spanswick's sudden fancy for her had startled 
 her considerably ; for Jenny in full health had 
 not taken any more notice of her than the rest 
 of the children had. But her morbid reasoning 
 on the subject had reduced itself to the follow- 
 ing: Jenny was grateful for the attention she 
 had received when so many of the officials were 
 afraid of her. When Jenny was better she 
 would fall back into her old place amongst the 
 children, as was natural, as she would wish 
 herself that Jenny should. She did not w^ant 
 affection, she did not seek it. She had 
 scarcely come to the institution in the hope of 
 gaining any. She w^as aware how natural it 
 was for everybody to dislike her ; she was a w^o- 
 man w^ho spoke her mind, and had not the gift 
 of impressing favourably those people who 
 crossed her path. At home she had been very 
 much disliked — of course she had, or she would 
 not have been where she was then — and the 
 poor had toadied, not respected her. It was 
 her unlucky gift, she believed — possibly with a 
 naive conceit, for all her dull thoughts — to see
 
 122 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 farther into the hearts of people than most wo- 
 men of her age ; and encountering that selfish- 
 ness, or that vanity, or that falseness about her 
 which asserted itself as a virtue, an accomplish- 
 ment, or a truth, she had had the courage to say 
 she saw it; and this, allied to her ungracious man- 
 ner, which she could not help, she was certain, 
 had not set a crowd of friends round her. She 
 shrugged her shoulders, and thought that she 
 was glad of it ; but she was conscious of becom- 
 ing a firmer, a duller, and even a more suspicious 
 woman. Perhaps Mrs. Thurtle was right, and 
 Miss Christopherson was a " very odd young 
 person." 
 
 She was odd enough to see William Spans- 
 wick when he called again in the afternoon, 
 and to assure him that Jenny was sleeping 
 calmly ; and in the evening, knowing his time 
 to the minute, she was at the gate to break to 
 him the intelligence that the doctor considered 
 it would not be safe to disturb the child by a 
 visit at so late an hour. 
 
 " But she is better this evening," she added.
 
 A SKIRMISH. 123 
 
 *' You are sure of that ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Quite sure of that, Miss Christopherson V 
 
 " Why should I try to deceive you ?" 
 
 He did not relish this rejoinder, and Miss 
 Christopherson spoke ^^^ith a sharpness that 
 startled him. For about the twentieth time it 
 struck him that Miss Christopherson was a 
 young woman to be wary of. 
 
 "In a case of this urgency I am sure that 
 you would not," he said slowly ; " and you — 
 yes, you — take a load from my heart. I may 
 see her to-morrow, then ?" 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow morning, if she is no worse." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He bowed low, as if in gratitude, and would 
 have expressed his thanks to her, had not Miss 
 Christopherson bade him a hasty good-night, 
 and departed with an unlooked-for rapidity 
 from his presence. 
 
 Peter, the instant afterwards, slammed the 
 door in his face, and William Spans wick walked 
 away.
 
 124 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONVALESCENT. 
 
 JENNY was better the next day, and William 
 Spanswick saw his daughter for a few mi- 
 nutes ; on the Tuesday she was not quite so 
 well ; on the Wednesday she was better again ; 
 and from that day she continued to improve. 
 And as Jenny grew stronger by degrees, she 
 spoke less of her uncle William, and that gen- 
 tleman began gradually to assume a new, cool, 
 philosophic air, which was strangely at variance 
 with his past excitement. 
 
 "I do not think. Miss Christopherson," he 
 said one afternoon, about a fortnight after this, 
 when Jenny — a wan, large-eyed child — was 
 sitting by the fireside in a chair, propped up by
 
 COXVALESCENT. 125 
 
 cushions, " that 1 need trouble you and excite 
 the porter downstairs by further visits to my 
 niece. She is in a fair way towards recovery, 
 and I have my business to attend to. You 
 have been kind, and Jenny and her poor uncle 
 will always remember you with gratitude." 
 
 " I have done my duty, Mr. Spanswick," said 
 Miss Christ opherson, closing a small book that 
 she had been reading, " and I have been paid 
 for it." 
 
 " But not with my uncle's thanks," said 
 Jenny, " nor with mine. Why, I am sure with- 
 out you I should have died." 
 
 " I took my place here as a matter of course, 
 not as a matter of affection," replied Miss Chris- 
 topherson, almost pettishly. " I cannot say 
 that I should have liked to catch the smallpox, 
 or that I would not have evaded my duty if I 
 had been able ; but there is nothing to thank 
 me for." 
 
 " Oh I Miss Maud — Miss Christopherson I 
 must say now, I suppose ?" she added, with a 
 wistful look towards her.
 
 126 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " If you please," replied the governess ; " I 
 think it will be best." 
 
 n Yery well," said Jenny, somewhat sadly. 
 
 " And as for dying without my help," added 
 the governess, " have you been here all these 
 years and failed to learn where your gratitude 
 should be placed ?" 
 
 "Yes — yes, I know that. Miss Christopher- 
 son. I have prayed, I — I hope I have been 
 thankful. Don't you remember one night 
 teaching me a new prayer ? I shan't forget it 
 ever again, and " 
 
 " I did not teach you ; you were afraid to 
 die, and said it yourself. I teach you to pray, 
 indeed !" she added, almost scornfully. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson is religious, then ?" said 
 Wilham Spanswick, regarding her almost sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " No, I am not. I wish I were." 
 
 He continued to stare at her so intently, that 
 she said, after a moment's deliberation, 
 
 "Why do you ask f 
 
 " Pardon me," he replied, "it was a liberty
 
 CONVALESCENT. 127 
 
 to ask the question. I am an inquisitive and 
 garrulous mendicant." 
 
 " Still you had a reason for asking?" 
 
 "Ye-es." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " Well," he said frankly, " I am not a religi- 
 ous man. I have suffered in my time from 
 people professing to be religious, and hence I 
 have grown suspicious, perhaps uncharitable. 
 If you had preached at me or Jenny, I should 
 not have liked you, and I wish. Miss Christo- 
 pherson, to carry away with me the grateful 
 remembrance of one who was very g(:>od to her^ 
 
 " I have nursed Jenny at the request of the 
 lady-superintendent," said Maud Christopher- 
 son ; " thank Mrs. Thurtle as you leave this 
 place, not me." 
 
 "x4.nd though Jenny has not been in any 
 danger, and I have not been in the least ner- 
 vous concerning her — you may remember that 
 I said she would recover very speedily — still, 
 you have been attentive and kind, and thank 
 you I do with all my heart."
 
 128 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 He bowed, and Miss Christopherson kept her 
 fall gray eyes upon him. 
 
 "How old are you, Mr. Spanswick ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 William Spanswick stared dreamily at this 
 inquiry, but answered, 
 
 " Fifty." 
 
 "And your son Marmaduke, of that tragic 
 business in Spitalfields, thirty, I should say. 
 You must have married at an early age." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Good afternoon. Were I you, I would call 
 on Mrs. Thurtle, Mr. Spanswick, and thank her 
 as you go away." 
 
 " Thank you for your advice, Miss Christo- 
 pherson ; I will do so." 
 
 Miss Christopherson laid her book on the chair 
 she had quitted — it was a small volume with a 
 yellow-paper cover — and went from the room, 
 closing the door behind her. Mr. Spanswick 
 looked at his daughter, after the door was shut, 
 and said in a low eager tone, 
 
 " Jenny, you have not told her?"
 
 CONYALESCEXT. 129 
 
 '' I ? Oh ! no, not for the world !" 
 
 " 1 don't Hke her manner ; I don't like her." 
 
 " Oh, father !" 
 
 " Hush ; say ' uncle,' " he cried. " No, 1 don't 
 like her ; I try hard, but 1 cannot. She looks 
 like a woman who knows too much." 
 
 " It is fancy." 
 
 For a man who prided himself on his self-pos- 
 session, he was easily disturbed that afternoon. 
 He looked down at the narrow strip of carpet 
 which went round the bed, he shuffled his feet 
 uneasily, he bit the finger-nails of his right 
 hand, which Jenny saw was shaking a little as 
 it was raised towards his mouth. 
 
 "Yes, it must be fancy,'' he said at last ; '-but 
 there's an awful sharpness about that woman 
 which keeps one uneasy, and you must be eter- 
 nally on your guard so long as she is with you, 
 Jenny. She is one of the good women, all 
 justice and no mercy, I know." 
 
 " Oh ! you cannot know that." 
 
 *' Yes, I can," he said quickly to her ; " I 
 guess it. But I should be a brute, if I were not 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 glad to see you strong again, and gratefnl to 
 her who has helped so much to your recovery. 
 What are they gomg to do with you, Jenny, 
 now f ' 
 
 " I shall go back to school next week, unless 
 any notice is taken of what Miss Christopherson 
 says." 
 
 ''What does she say?" 
 
 " That I ought to go out of town for a week 
 or two, into the country, or to the seaside some- 
 where; and she has spoken to Mrs. Thurtle 
 about it." 
 
 " And Mrs. Thurtle f 
 
 " I think she would be very glad to see me 
 go ; she's frightened," said Jenny, with a sup- 
 pressed giggle. " Oh I dear, isn't she dreadfully 
 frightened of me !" 
 
 " ^^^lat a holiday it would be ! And perhaps 
 they would farm you out somewhere, and I 
 could walk down and see you, Jenny." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson would be sent with me, 
 I think ; for they are afraid of her too." 
 
 " I'm afraid of her," he muttered ; " for an-
 
 CONVALESCENT. 131 
 
 other year I must be afraid of them all, till they 
 have found a place for you, Jenny, or I am able 
 to come here and say, * Times have changed 
 with me ; I am in a position to support my 
 niece, and to keep her from the degradation of 
 service.' Great heaven — service !" 
 
 He stamped his foot upon the floor, and Jen- 
 ny looked nervously towards him. 
 
 " You must write and tell me all the news, 
 Jenny, and to what part of the country you are 
 going. I think the committee will send you 
 into the country. And now, my dear desolate 
 girl, good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye." 
 
 He put his arms round her, and kissed her 
 face several times, pausing at last with his two 
 thin hands upon the child's shoulders. 
 
 " Another year and you will be fifteen," he 
 said, " and it is likely — it is more than likely — 
 that we shall have a home to go to. I have 
 been saving money," he added huskily, " I have 
 been scraping money together for you and me 
 
 k2
 
 132 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 to begin the world afresh ; don't tell a soul of 
 that." 
 
 " Ah, you have been starving youi'self for 
 me !" cried Jenny. 
 
 " Oh ! no, I live well," he said hastily ; " don't 
 get that idea into your head, girl ; Marmaduke 
 is a prince of a fellow, and pays me liberally for 
 the services I render him. I have more money 
 than I know what to do with." 
 
 *' I shouldn't have thought it," said Jenny, as 
 she looked at her father's threadbare suit, and 
 Marmaduke Spanswick's cast-off hat, which he 
 was holding in his hand. 
 
 " Appearances are deceptive, Jenny ; you have 
 written that wise precept in your copy-book ; 
 you have " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, left Jenny's side, and 
 went across the room to the chair on w^hich 
 Miss Christopherson had placed the book she 
 had been perusing. 
 
 " Wha,t is the matter ?" asked Jenny. 
 
 " Nothing ; only what a book to seek amuse- 
 ment from! 'An Account of the Asylum for
 
 CONVALESCENT. 133 
 
 the City Clerks' Female Orphans, Camberwell.' 
 I should have thought that she had enough of 
 the reality of the establishment. Good God !" 
 he cried in a louder tone. 
 
 " What is it now ?" and Jenny sprung to her 
 feet. 
 
 " Hush ! nothing, nothing; you are not to ex- 
 cite yourself, and there is nothing to be alarmed 
 at ; you must always imitate my presence of 
 mind, and not let little matters unnerve you. 
 Some one — he Avas a deuced clever fellow, Jenny 
 — has said, that if we give way to little trou- 
 bles, the great ones in due course will crush, the 
 life from us." 
 
 " But is there any little trouble there '?" asked 
 Jenny, pointing to the book. 
 
 " No, only a list of subscribers, with your dead 
 father's name down for fifty pounds, — ah, I was 
 rich and generous then I — and the donation has 
 startled me. What a heap of money it seems 
 now!" 
 
 " Have you quite finished your leave takings'?" 
 inquired Miss Christopherson as she entered.
 
 134 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' Yes," said William Spanswick ; "and Jenny 
 has promised to get strong, for her old uncle's 
 sake." 
 
 " I think she will get on now." 
 
 " She tells me there is a chance of her going 
 into the country." 
 
 " Yes, there is a faint chance. It is only the 
 expense, I believe, which stands in the way. 
 Our funds are not particularly flourishing just 
 now." 
 
 She glanced at the book in Mr. Spanswick's 
 hand, and he said : 
 
 " I have taken the liberty of inspecting this. 
 The donations and subscriptions appear to be 
 large." 
 
 " They have been large in their time, but this 
 is an establishment that has absorbed an immense 
 amount of money. It is not a well-managed in- 
 stitution, according to my own ideas, and the 
 money has not been judiciously spent." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; money very seldom is. But 
 fortunately there has been plenty to spend, 
 and in a good work."
 
 COX^'ALESCEXT. 135 
 
 " Fresh charities spring up, and the old ones 
 get out of fashion," said Miss Christ opherson. 
 
 " And yet here is a recent donation from one 
 M. L. of three thousand pounds. That is a 
 windfall, surely." 
 
 ^' How do you know that that is a recent do- 
 nation?" 
 
 " This is the new report, I perceive, dated in 
 the present year." 
 
 " Oh, you have not seen that ; will you take 
 it with you 1 It may amuse you, ^Ir. Spans- 
 ^vick, as you are interested in the asylum." 
 
 " I am robbing you." 
 
 " I can get another." 
 
 William Spanswick looked hard at her, as if 
 her manner were still objectionable, let him try 
 ever so hard to like her who had been kind to 
 Jenny. He put the book in his pocket, with his 
 eyes still fixed upon her. He muttered his 
 thanks again for all past interest in his 
 " niece ;" then kissed his child, made a low bow 
 and went away. Outside in the corridor he 
 waited for a few moments, as though he ex-
 
 136 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 pected that Miss Christopherson would follow 
 him ; and as he leant his back against the wall 
 he panted as if suffering from some violent ex- 
 ertion which had robbed him of his breath. 
 Once a key turned in a lock near him, and he 
 stood upright and grim, a man on guard again ; 
 but Miss Christopherson did not appear, and he 
 once more sought the wall for his support, and 
 wiped his face and forehead with his handker- 
 chief, like a man who found that winter's after- 
 noon extremely hot and enervating. He went 
 on at last, slowly descending the stairs which 
 led to the door that opened on the quadrangle. 
 Here he encountered the porter, who had never 
 forgiven him that Sunday's irreverent skirmish. 
 
 " Peter," he said with a sudden and easy fa- 
 miliarity, "will you be kind enough to show 
 me to the lady-superintendent's apartments ?" 
 
 " Are you told to go there ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am." 
 
 " Then they're straight afore you." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He walked towards that portion of the arcade
 
 CONVALESCENT. 137 
 
 which au impatient gesture of Peter's hand and 
 arm had indicated, and found himself regarding 
 a mahogany door with " the Lady-superinten- 
 dent's Office" written thereon in big white capi- 
 tals. Here, after a moment's hesitation, he 
 Iniocked, and one of the orphans — a big girl, 
 growing rapidly out of her last institution-frock 
 — responded to his summons. 
 
 " Is the lady-superintendent within f he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, I think she is." 
 
 '' Will you tell her that Mr. Spanswick would 
 be glad to see her, and to thank her before 
 going away f 
 
 The orphan retired, and presently another door 
 at the end of a long passage opened, and Mrs. 
 Thurtle was faintly visible in the distance to the 
 short-sighted person who had requested an in- 
 terview. 
 
 '* That will do, my good man ; don't come any 
 nearer, please," she cried. " Your name is 
 Spanswick, I think you said." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing very low ; '* and
 
 138 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 1 have felt it my duty to call upon you, now that 
 my visits here are no longer necessary, to thank 
 you very humbly and very heartily for your 
 great kindness in allowing me to see my niece 
 so often ; for the great kindness, in fact, which 
 has been shown her during her long illness by 
 all the members of your estimable establish- 
 ment." 
 
 " We have done our best — ^it has been a severe 
 trial and a great anxiety — but we have done our 
 best." 
 
 " To Miss Christopherson in particular, I, as 
 Jenny's nearest surviving relative, am deeply 
 indebted." 
 
 "Miss Christopherson has carried out her 
 orders very well, I have no doubt," said Mrs. 
 Thurtle, with a less degree of condescension 
 suddenly apparent. 
 
 William Spanswick was a short-sighted man, 
 but he was a man of quick observation in one 
 respect. If he could not very clearly see her 
 face, he understood at once her character. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson considers that all thanks
 
 CONVALESCENT. 139 
 
 are duo to you, madam, for the care which you 
 have taken, and the kind orders for Jenny's 
 comfort and security which it has pleased you 
 to give ; and I have thought that you would not 
 consider it a liberty if I ventured to express to 
 you the deep sense of gratitude which I feel, 
 and which I can only repay to a lady of your 
 high position in words which spring from the 
 heart." 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle was pleased at this attention, 
 and she could not help bowing in return to 
 William Spanswick's reverent obeisance. 
 
 " 1 hope we have done our best for Jane," she 
 said. 
 
 " Jane, tells me that there is a probability of 
 sending her into the country for a week." 
 
 " Yes, I hope there is," said Mrs. Thm-tle with 
 alacrity. "It depends upon the committee's 
 decision next Friday morning. I shall support 
 the resolution with all my interest." 
 
 "Thank you. I am living in the country 
 now," he said suddenly, as if a new suggestion 
 had just occurred to him. " I have a little
 
 140 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 cottage, in fact, with a piece of garden-ground, 
 at Sevenoaks, and Jenny might stay with me 
 for a week or two until she got quite well." 
 
 " Yes ; but there's Miss Christopherson, who 
 might spread the infection over the whole place if 
 she came direct from the infirmary. Thank you, 
 thank you, my good man ; I will mention all 
 you say to the board ; it is very kind of you, in- 
 deed. Good afternoon !" 
 
 He made another low bow, expressed his 
 thanks again with easy fluency, and withdrew, 
 leaving Mrs. Thurtle impressed with the con- 
 viction that Jenny Spans wick's uncle was quite 
 a superior kind of individual. He went slowly 
 out of the place, a man in deep thought. When 
 he was in the street he said to himself, 
 
 " She wished me to do it : did she think that 
 I might find a friend in the principal, if things 
 came to the worst ?" 
 
 He took off his hat for coolness, and, as he 
 went on, he staggered a little in his walk, hke a 
 man who had grown weak and ill, or who had 
 been drinking. He put on his hat at last, and
 
 CONVALESCENT. 141 
 
 drew from his pocket the Report of the Asylum 
 for the City Clerks' Female Orphans, and read 
 it eagerly, with the pamphlet very close to his 
 eyes. He seemed to have grown weaker in 
 the legs, or to have drunk more, as he read 
 and re-read one particular paragraph which 
 Bomebody — was it ^liss Christopherson's hand, 
 for mercy's sake? he wondered — had marked 
 with a strong pencil-line. 
 
 The paragraph was one of many relating to 
 the rules, which were stitched together with the 
 list of contributors and guardians ; it ran as 
 follows : 
 
 "And should it be afterwards discovered 
 that the father, or, in case both parents have 
 been certified to be dead, either parent, of any 
 child so admitted is alive, or that any fraudulent 
 representation has been made relative to the 
 parent's settlement, the child shall be immedi- 
 ately sent to the said parent or settlement. The 
 following certificate and declarations, which are 
 to be procured by application at the asylum, 
 are required by the committee before any or-
 
 142 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 phan girl can be placed on the list of candidates 
 for admittance into the asylum ; and any per- 
 son certifying or declaring anything therein 
 which shall be untrue, is subject to two years' 
 imprisonment." 
 
 Why had Miss Christopherson underlined the 
 paragraph, if she had not known or guessed the 
 lie which eight years ago had helped Jenny 
 Spanswick to a home ?
 
 143 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 
 
 rpHE committee met in the board-room of the 
 -■■ asylum at eleven o'clock on the following 
 Friday. The committee met once a fortnight 
 to transact a little business, sift appeal claims, 
 write a few cheques, and Hsten to any reports 
 from officers or servants that might have been 
 sent in during the last fourteen days. It was a 
 fussy committee, that took up a deal of time 
 over coffee and biscuits, and talked rather more 
 of the public and pohtical business of the day 
 than of the private affairs appertaining to the 
 institution. But this is a weakness common to 
 board-meetings in general. It was about half- 
 past twelve when the case of Jane Spanswick,
 
 144 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 aged fourteen, came under notice of the gen- 
 tlemen at the table ; and when Mrs. T hurtle 
 stated it as her opinion that it would be better, 
 for the safety of the asylum, that Jane Spans- 
 TvHick should have a fortnight in the country 
 than be thrown among the school-girls, and 
 possibly disseminate this shocking malady far 
 and wide, four gentlemen of the board were of 
 Mrs. Thurtle's opinion ; four considered that it 
 was an unnecessary expense, and was establish- 
 ing a bad precedent ; one old fellow was for vac- 
 cinating everybody in the establishment, com- 
 mencing with Mrs. Thurtle — who was very 
 much alarmed at the suggestion, having recent- 
 ly been vaccinated surreptitiously, and being in 
 doubt whether another operation might not be 
 too much for her — and finishing with Peter at the 
 gate ; and a hardened member pooh-poohed 
 everybody's suggestion but his own, which was 
 that Jenny should remain in the infirmary for 
 another month. The whole afair was about to 
 be postponed until the n(ixt meeting, when a 
 letter arrived by post fi.'om a subscriber of the
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 145 
 
 institution, addressed to the chairman of tlie 
 committee then sitting. 
 
 It was a letter signed with the initials M. L. 
 — the respectable initials of that benefactor who, 
 a year ago, had forwarded a cheque for three 
 thousand pounds to the institution — and the 
 writer, in reminding the chairman of that dona- 
 tion, begged to express himself, or herself, as 
 one who had proved that the interest of the 
 orphan establishment had been not lightly stud- 
 ied. The writer had heard of a case of small- 
 pox in the school, and trusted that no ex- 
 pense would be spared to keep the patient se- 
 parated from the rest of the inmates of the 
 asylum, and to send the sufferer with a trust- 
 worthy officer to the sea -side as soon as her con- 
 valescence would permit. And, as a further dona- 
 tion to the funds of the institution, M. L. begged 
 to enclose a draft for twenty pounds. 
 
 *' Where does M. L. get her information from ?" 
 asked the chairman; "this is very extraor- 
 dinary." 
 
 " I don t care how much information she gets, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 if she pays for it in this handsome manner," said 
 another member laughing. 
 
 " I think it is rather a shabby donation for a 
 person who can afford three thousand pounds in 
 one lump," remarked the gentleman who had 
 suggested universal vaccination. 
 
 *' There's only one thing to consider : Ave can- 
 not afford to disregard M. L.'s ad\dce, I think," 
 said the chairman. 
 
 " I don't see that," said the gentleman who 
 had spoken before him. 
 
 The matter was put to the vote, and it was 
 decided that J enny Spanswick was to go to the 
 sea-side for a fortnight. Then Mrs. Thurtle 
 suggested that Miss Christopherson should ac- 
 company her, and said nothing of Mr. Spans- 
 wick's offer ; and that suggestion being also 
 agreed to by the board. Miss Christopherson 
 was informed in due course that the committee 
 had voted five pounds for the expenses, con- 
 sidering that sum would be sufficient, used eco- 
 nomically, to pay for board and lodging for a
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 147 
 
 fortnight in a humble locality, and for railway 
 travelling there and back third class. 
 
 Miss Christopherson was summoned to the 
 lady-superintendent's quarters to receive this 
 information, which was delivered in a loud voice 
 at the end' of the long corridor, as in Uncle 
 Spanswick's case. 
 
 " Very well, Mrs. Thurtle," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson ; "I suppose the board considers the 
 money sufficient." 
 
 *' Of course it is sufficient !" said Mrs. Thurtle 
 sharply ; '" you do not require very grand apart- 
 ments, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Jane is used to large rooms here, at least." 
 
 " You must get the best rooms you can for 
 your money — and I trust, Miss Christopherson, 
 that you will not be w^asteful or improvident, 
 for I think less than a fortnight will not be of 
 the slightest use to anybody." 
 
 "I daresay we shall be able to make the 
 money last," replied the governess. 
 
 " I hope you will. It only requu'es a little 
 prudence and a little economy on your part." 
 
 l2
 
 148 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " And it will be a nice holiday for you — extra 
 leave, as it were." 
 
 " Yes, it will be a holiday," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson wearily, " for I am rather tired." 
 
 Tired of the asylum, she meant — tired of the 
 orphans, who were not half so interesting in 
 reality as they had appeared in the distance when 
 the strange idea had beset her — she had been 
 beset by many strange ideas through life — that 
 she should like to live and move amongst them, 
 an orphan with themselves. 
 
 " I shall come down to Hastings myself al- 
 most immediately," said Mrs. Thurtle, " and see 
 if you and Jenny are comfortable. My sister is 
 staying in Robertson Terrace there." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the governess, w4th languid 
 interest. 
 
 Then Miss Christopherson returned to the 
 infirmary, and Mrs. Thurtle sat down before the 
 large library-table to resume her correspond- 
 ence, and to shake her head over the small 
 sign of gratitude w4nch the governess had
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 149 
 
 shown for all the trouble that had been taken 
 to place her on escort-duty. 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle was deep m the composition of 
 a letter to M. L. — by order of the board — ex- 
 pressing the thanks of the committee for the 
 donation and suggestion, and stating that her 
 idea had already been decided upon when M. 
 L.'s favoui' of the 14th instant had arrived; and 
 she was composing her epistle with great care and 
 sua\'ity, and with an evident desire to impress 
 the donor with her accomplishments as a corre- 
 spondent, when her studies were intruded upon 
 by a peculiar rapping on the panels of the door. 
 
 "Come in I" said Mrs. Thurtle absently; and 
 a very small, thin, yellow old lady, in an old- 
 fashioned black-beaver bonnet, entered the room 
 with some difficulty, and immediately began 
 dancing, or, rather, indulging in a series of 
 tremulous movements of the arms and legs, that 
 ^Irs. Thurtle took for dancing at first sight. 
 
 " My good woman," she said loftily, " what is 
 the meaning of this unseemly behaviour? Why 
 did you not knock at the outer door ?"
 
 1 50 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " I knocked, but nobody answered." 
 
 " You should have waited." 
 
 " So I did," answered the intruder, " until I 
 was tired. I'm not strong — I've had a terrible 
 trouble to find the place — it isn't a day fit for a 
 cat to be out." 
 
 " What is the nature of your business ?" asked 
 Mrs. Thurtle, wath an increasing severity of de- 
 meanour. 
 
 "I'll tell you in a minute," replied the little 
 woman, seating herself on a vacant chair a 
 little distance from Mrs. Thurtle, and proceed- 
 ing to take off a pair of india-rubber goloshes, 
 which she put on a corner of the superinten- 
 dent's desk, by way of retaining her property 
 in her mind. " I have been running to keep 
 myself warm, and my breath is not what it used 
 to be. Yours isn't, I daresay, though you are 
 younger than I ; but then you are a great deal 
 stouter, and fat makes all the difference. Are 
 you one of the governesses ?" 
 
 " I am the lady -superintendent of this estab- 
 lishment, and I will thank "
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOL^'T. 151 
 
 "Oh! pray don't thank me for anything," 
 said the old lady, speaking with great volu- 
 bility ; " I have done nothing to oblige you ; I 
 have come to pay some money back that's owing 
 to one of the governesses here. It's I that have 
 to thank somebody, that's all." 
 
 " You had better go to the next door, my 
 good woman," said Mrs. Thurtle ; " and take 
 those nasty india-rubber things away." 
 
 " It is not very likely that I am going to 
 leave them here," said the old lady, eyeing the 
 lady-superintendent more closely, and her sharp 
 features taking a sharper expression for an in- 
 stant ; " this is the last present of a good 
 grandson, though I don't say so to his face. 
 You have a grandson perhaps, and will agree 
 with me that it is not a good plan to flatter 
 your juniors." 
 
 " Good morning," said Mrs. Thurtle, strug- 
 gling hard to preserve her imperturbability, but 
 dying to burst forth. A grandson, indeed I 
 Whom could this objectionable old woman want 
 to see at the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum?
 
 1 52 STERN KECESSITY. 
 
 She was not a lady, she was sure no lady 
 would ever have worn such a bonnet ; and jet 
 there was an assumption of equality, and even 
 independence, strangely at variance with her 
 faded suit of black. The old lady began shak- 
 ing again directly she was on her feet and had 
 her goloshes in her hand. 
 
 " I shall find Miss Christopherson next door, 
 thenf she asked. 
 
 " Oh ! it's Miss Christopherson you want !" 
 said Mrs. Thurtle. " Are you a friend of hers ?" 
 
 " She's a friend of mine," was the reply. 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle did not see the distinction ; but 
 she was far too much annoyed — being a lady 
 of uncertain temper — to see anything very 
 clearly. Grandson, indeed ! 
 
 " You had better ask the porter to fetch your 
 friend," said Mrs. Thurtle ; " and another time, 
 please to remember that the servants of the 
 establishment are generally seen after six o'clock 
 in the evening." 
 
 " I am not likely to come here again. Pray 
 don't excite yourself about me, ma'am ;" here
 
 MRS. BRrOGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 153 
 
 her shaking hand dropped the goloshes, and the 
 old lady went on her knees to pick them up, 
 and appeared to be engaged in sconring the 
 floor with them for a few minutes. " I trouble 
 nobody — I am not likely to begin at my age. I 
 shall only trespass upon Miss Christ opherson's 
 attention for a few minutes," she added, as she 
 rose to her feet again, " and then get back to 
 Spitalfields as fast as possible. But why a 
 servant V 
 
 A strong suspicion that the intruder had re- 
 cently escaped from a lunatic asylum — there 
 was a private madhouse within a few yards of 
 them — seized Mrs. Thurtle at this instant, and 
 she turned pale and found a difficulty in breath- 
 ing as the little woman came hopping in a kind 
 of kangaroo fashion towards the desk again, 
 and put her yellow, wrinkled, stern face close 
 to hers. 
 
 " I — I do not understand you." 
 
 " Why a sei-vant ? " repeated the visitor. 
 '* You called Miss Christopherson a servant, or 
 implied that she was one, this minute. That
 
 154 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 cannot be ; that is not very likely, under any 
 cii'cumstances." 
 
 *^ Miss Christophers on is a governess here, 
 and consequently a servant of the establish- 
 ment." 
 
 ^' Like yourself — oh, I see," said the little 
 woman ; " for you know as well as I do that she 
 is a real lady ; and real ladies — how rare they 
 are ! Good morning !" 
 
 " Well, in all my life I never did," said Mrs. 
 Thurtle to herself, after the departure of the 
 visitor. " The insolence, the — the — oh, I'll give 
 it to Miss Christopherson for this presently !" 
 
 Meanwhile the eccentric old lady had doubled 
 herself together in a witch-like fashion, and gone 
 in search of the porter. She was a woman who 
 felt the cold acutely, for she shivered as she 
 went on under the arcades, and appeared to ex- 
 perience a difficulty in breathing until she had 
 grown accustomed to the keen north-easter 
 which she had braved that February morning in 
 coming thither. The porter was discovered ; 
 and presently the governess of Avhom the old
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUXT. 155 
 
 lady was in search came down from the infir- 
 mary, to gaze almost with as much astonish- 
 ment as Mrs. Thm'tle had done at the strange 
 visitor. 
 
 ^' You are the cliild I want," said the old 
 woman, upon seeing her. '^ I know the face 
 well — it's the real Christopherson face — I know 
 you, though you were a baby when I saw you 
 last." 
 
 " What is it that you require of me ?" asked 
 the governess. 
 
 " My name is Bridge — old Deborah Bridge — 
 the woman who left Brayling, in Dorset, to take 
 care of an invalid daughter, who died, and then 
 was just in time for the grandson who came to 
 London to make his fortune. I knew your 
 father — the handsome man ! — before he died, 
 and his father before him, when we Bridges 
 were better off, and speculation had not ruined 
 us. I knew your grandmother, and your mo- 
 ther when she was a vain beauty, and ran away 
 with George Christopherson. I wonder what 
 made her marry a Lawson after that — I never
 
 156 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 liked the Lawsons, they were pnrse -proud toad- 
 stools !" 
 
 Mrs. Bridge spoke with the same volubility 
 which had ah-eady astonished Mrs. Thurtle, and 
 Miss Christopherson had great difficulty in fol- 
 lowing her. 
 
 *' I do not remember you," she said, at last. 
 
 " You remember the name ?" 
 
 "Well." 
 
 " I Avas in London a year after your father 
 died, and left you — one of the prettiest girls in 
 Dorset — to your mother's care. I said then, 
 ' Poor little Maud !' Was that right f 
 
 *' It was true," said Miss Christopherson, sadly. 
 
 " Others said, ' Rich little Maud,' after I had 
 gone ; and then it became the rich Miss Lawson 
 when your mother took the Lawson name, along 
 with the stiff-necked man. I remember every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Mrs. Bridge !" said Miss Christopherson, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " I beg pardon — I hurt your feelings. I was 
 never a refined woman, and my misfortunes
 
 MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 157 
 
 have not tended to make me more ladylike," she 
 said. " I have not come, Miss Christopherson, 
 to force myself upon you with a story of old 
 times. The Bridges are poor, disagreeable 
 people, and don't care for favours. They live, 
 and — what a terrible draught there is, to be 
 sure !" 
 
 " Will you come into my room for a few 
 minutes ?" 
 
 " Thank you, but I am pressed for time. You 
 know what brings me here ?" 
 
 " Curiosity, perhaps." 
 
 " You should know better than that," said 
 Mrs. Bridge, diving her arm with some difficulty 
 into a deep pocket. *' I am never curious about 
 other people's affairs, though it is a puzzle what 
 puts you in this den, unless it's independence." 
 
 "It is independence." 
 
 " Ah ! I think that I could work out all the 
 story, if I had time," she said ; " but I haven't ; 
 and Geofiry wdll wonder what has become of 
 me. There's your money in that paper — two 
 pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence — which
 
 158 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 you were foolish enough to lend my boy. We 
 have saved it up, and there it is, Miss Christo- 
 pherson. The boy is getting on in his new 
 situation, as I was siure he would, if he had a 
 fair trial. AVhy, they have raised him another 
 five shillings a week at the brewer's already. 
 There's your money, and thank you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Miss Christopherson, very 
 quietly, in her turn. 
 
 " I would not let the boy bring it, though he 
 is sensible enough in his way for seventeen. He 
 only thought you a poor governess, and it was 
 a silly boy's fancy for a woman older than him- 
 self — my own boy had it in the country long 
 ago — all boys have it, I daresay. i\.nd to think 
 that it was you he used to stare at in church, 
 instead of saying his prayers properly ; and to 
 walk from Spitalfields to this part of the world, 
 too, after we had moved, coming back all of a 
 glow on Sundays to say, ' Grandmother, I have 
 seen her ; she's looking prettier than ever. If 
 that girl will only wait till I grow up, I'll have 
 a try for her ; see if I don't. It's the face I like,
 
 ]MRS. BRIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOUNT. 159 
 
 the face I fancy ;' and so he used to run on Kke 
 a mad boy, till I scolded him for his nonsense. 
 And to think that it was yon I It's like a book. 
 But all that nonsense has gone out of his head 
 now. He's very sorry, he's heartily ashamed of 
 himself; he laughs at what a young fool he was 
 — he's always laughing — ^though he would be 
 very cross if he knew that I had been telling 
 you all this." 
 
 " Your grandson must be a very odd boy." 
 
 " He is an odd boy ; I don't know what to 
 make of him. It's a bad sign," she remarked, 
 shaking her head, "when boys think of the 
 girls too early. Have you anything else to say 
 tome?" 
 
 " Nothing. You can spare this money, Mrs. 
 Bridge?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. If we could not, you would have 
 had it back all the same," was the ungracious an- 
 swer ; *' for I cannot bear favours, especially 
 jfrom your family, and that's the truth. I'd 
 rather beg or borrow — I don't know that I 
 would not steal — from a stranger than ask any-
 
 160 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 one I have ever known for sixpence. But I 
 think that this was none the less kind of you. 
 Good day !" 
 
 " Good day !" said Miss Christopherson. 
 
 The old woman offered her shaking hand, 
 aad Miss Christopherson placed hers within 
 it. 
 
 "If an old woman's blessing is worth any- 
 thing to you, take it, young lady," she said. 
 
 " I take it," said Miss Christopherson, bend- 
 ing her head as though it were descending upon 
 her as she spoke. 
 
 " Then God bless you, Maud Christopherson !" 
 
 " Thank you. The last one who said ' God 
 bless you, Maud !' was the handsome father of 
 whom you have spoken to-day. I was a very 
 little girl then, but how well I remember when 
 he said it !" 
 
 " AVhen they brought him home from the hunt 
 in his fine scarlet suit ? He died in the great 
 drawing-room before they could take him up- 
 stairs, I recollect. And you have been alone 
 ever since ?"
 
 MRS. BEIDGE SETTLES HER LITTLE ACCOL'^'T. IGl 
 
 *' Yes, quite alone." 
 
 " But your mother " 
 
 " Please go now, Mrs. Bridge," she said, com- 
 pressing her lips. " I am on duty here. My 
 mother is very well, thank you." 
 
 Thus this strange couple separated ; and Miss 
 Christopher son stood ^dth one little foot on the 
 stairs, thinking very deeply, long after old 
 Mrs. Bridge had passed through the great oaken 
 gates. It was Mrs. Thurtle who surprised her 
 there. 
 
 " Good gracious. Miss Christopherson ! not in 
 the infirmary yet ? I thought that impertinent 
 old woman had left some time ago. Who was 
 she ? what was tliis about money ? what busi- 
 ness had she to come here at unseasonable 
 hours? Why do these disreputable people" — she 
 was thinking of Uncle Spanswick, who, though 
 he came to see Jenny, always asked for Miss 
 Christopherson — " come in such shoals to you ? 
 I really must insist upon an explanation." 
 
 " I will give you one presently," said Maud 
 absently, " if I think it necessary." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson !" 
 
 The governess looked more attentively at 
 her superior officer. 
 
 " Yes, if 1 think it necessary," she said, '* I 
 will." 
 
 " I do not know whether I am to consider 
 this as an insult or not, but I must inform you, 
 Miss Christopherson, that unless, upon mature 
 reflection, I am perfectly satisfied with your 
 conduct, I shall make this, upon your return 
 from Hastings, the subject of a special report to 
 the committee." 
 
 " I shall have to report myself, Mrs. Thurtle," 
 said Miss Christopherson ; and with this enigma- 
 tical reply the governess went up-stairs, with- 
 out bestowing another glance upon her principal.
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " GOING DOWN FOR A BLOW." 
 
 TflSS CHRISTOPHERSON, having in charge 
 -'-'-^ that refractory orphan, Jane Spanswick, 
 — who had given much trouble and anxiety to 
 the heads of the estabhshment by taking to 
 herself one of the most unpleasant of mala- 
 dies, and by not taking to it kindly after all 
 that had been done for her, but insisting upon 
 particular nurses, special visits from her uncle, 
 and an objection to all the good things which 
 infirmary diet had placed at her disposal, — went 
 away to Hastings on the following Monday 
 afternoon. Miss Christopherson received her 
 five pounds, which she tm-ned over in her hand 
 ^-ith an odd smile that Mrs. Thurtle set down 
 as disparaging, and listened to much advice of 
 
 m2
 
 164 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 a grave sensible kind, delivered at a distance 
 and with due precaution, concerning the right 
 way in which a governess and pupil should con- 
 duct themselves when away from the authority 
 to which they were subject. Mrs. Thurtle was 
 frigid and lofty, and so marred the effect of her 
 discourse ; she had not forgiven Miss Christopher- 
 son her trespasses against her, and a draft in 
 pencil of the report with which she had threat^ 
 ened the governess was in her pocket when she 
 expressed a hope that Miss Christopherson would 
 know how to behave herself away from Camber- 
 well. 
 
 Miss Christopherson listened to the lecture 
 patiently, and then said : 
 
 " You wall require an account of this money 
 upon my return ?" 
 
 " No ; it will not be necessary, unless any ex- 
 cess of expenditure occurs." 
 
 " Jane Spanswick shall not cost the institu- 
 tion more than five pounds," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson thoughtfully. " I think that I can pro- 
 mise that."
 
 GOEN'G DOWN FOR A BLOW. 165 
 
 " I have carefully calculated the expense of a 
 quiet mode of living ; one room, say at twelve 
 shillings a-week, and humble bnt not fi-ugal 
 fare." 
 
 "Jenny would be all the better for port- 
 wine." 
 
 " The fresh invigorating sea is better than all 
 the wine in the world !*' cried Mrs. Thurtle with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " Not to drink, surely ?" 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle walked away with great rapid- 
 ity, and Jenny Spanswick, who had been an at- 
 tentive listener, said, 
 
 " Oh my !" 
 
 " Why do you say ' Oh my,' Jenny f asked 
 Miss Christopherson, looking down at her pupil. 
 
 " I don't think Mrs. Thurtle liked your saying 
 that." 
 
 "I did not intend her to like it, Jane Spans- 
 wick," said the governess, with a little frown. 
 " She put me out of temper with her common- 
 places ; I am easily put out. Here is the cab, 
 and so we go away, both of us !"
 
 166 STERN KECESSITY. 
 
 " We shall soon be back again," said Jenny 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " I am not quite certain of that," replied Miss 
 Christopherson. 
 
 " Not return ? Why, what is to hinder us ?" 
 
 " Inclination, perhaps." 
 
 "But—" 
 
 "But, Jane Spanswick, the less you trouble 
 rae and yourself the better, at present. Have I 
 not told you that I am out of temper ?" 
 
 " Oh dear, I am sorry ; for I have been so 
 pleased at the idea of this holiday with you. Miss 
 Maud. I want you to let me call you ' Miss 
 Maud' till the holiday is up ; after that, and for 
 all my life, * the governess.' " 
 
 Miss Christopherson had di'awn a letter from 
 her pocket, and as she broke the seal she look- 
 ed intently, almost sorrowfully, at the speaker. 
 
 " It will be ' Miss Christopherson' long before 
 the fourteen days are over, I think," she said. 
 *' You are strong now, and two weeks with me 
 will be too much for a child's affection. Be- 
 sides — "
 
 GOING DOWN FOR A BLOW. 1G7 
 
 "Besides — " repeated Jenoy, as she paused. 
 
 " There, don't worry me ; leave me to come 
 roxmd, Jenny." 
 
 Jane Spanswick was silent for a while, and 
 the dark eyes watched the earnest face of the 
 young woman who had nursed her through her 
 illness. Yes, it was an earnest face ; perhaps a 
 face with even a severe expression at times, for 
 all its prettiness and natural refinement. It 
 softened over the letter which she perused, 
 Jenny was certain ; the lips wreathed themselves 
 into smiles, the eyes sparkled, and even a mus- 
 ical little laugh rippled forth. And yet it was 
 only an institution letter, Jenny Spanswick w^as 
 certain ; for the great red-and-white embossed 
 seal at the back of the envelope spoke of the 
 City Clerks' Orphan Asylum, upon which they 
 were both gladly turning their backs. 
 
 " There, I am in high spirits now !" cried Miss 
 Christopherson, tearing the letter into very small 
 pieces, which she dropped from the window in- 
 to the roadway.
 
 168 STERN NECESSITy. 
 
 " And all through that institution letter ?" 
 
 " How did you guess ? — Oh, the big seal, of 
 course. Yes, Jenny, all through that institu- 
 tion letter." 
 
 She laughed again, as at a pleasant reminis- 
 cence connected with it ; but detecting an in- 
 tense curiosity in Jenny Spanswick's gaze, and 
 objecting to further questioning, she turned the 
 conversation by asking her young companion 
 if she had written to her uncle, and told him 
 the news of her departure to Hastings. Yes, 
 Jenny had written. Poor uncle, if he could only 
 come down to Hastings for a day, what a deal 
 of good it would do him I 
 
 " I should not be very much surprised to see 
 him," said Maud Christopherson. 
 
 At the railway station, and after the railway por- 
 ter had wheeled away two small boxes belonging 
 to the travellers, there was a surprise for them. 
 Miss Christopherson was getting out her purse 
 and looking with some hesitation at the third- 
 class passengers who were taking theii* tickets 
 at the booking-office, and Jenny was standing
 
 GOIXG DOT\Tv^ FOR A BLOW. 1G9 
 
 by her side, bewildered by the bustle and ex- 
 citenient, when Mr. Marmaduke Spanswick, in 
 a new black billycock-hat, and with his third- 
 class ticket stuck in the band thereof, loomed 
 before them, large, ruddy, and oppressive. Miss 
 Christophers on felt herself colouring with vexa- 
 tion, and Marmaduke's watchful and protuber- 
 ant eyes noticed this, and took it for a welcome 
 blush of satisfaction at his presence. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Christopherson ? — 
 How d'ye do, Jenny?" he said, shaking hands 
 with his cousin first, and then offering his big 
 brimstone-gloved paw so emphatically to the 
 governess that she took it instinctively, and 
 then got away from it as quickly as possible. 
 ^' Going down to Hastings for a blow, like me ? 
 Nothing like a good blow to put the stomach — 
 I should say the system — in order. I have great 
 pleasure in experiencing this happy coinci- 
 dence." 
 
 He made one of his Junction Street boAvs at 
 this, and Miss Christopherson looked keenly at 
 him, for an instant.
 
 170 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " You knew that we were going to Hastings, 
 Jenny and I?" 
 
 " Upon my honour, I had not the slightest 
 idea that I should enjoy the pleasure of your 
 company as a fellow-traveller. Will you allow me 
 to get the tickets ? May I be permitted to — " 
 
 *' I will get my own tickets, thank you." 
 
 "Then I'll find a comfortable carriage for 
 you. I've often managed to get a second-class 
 carriage by tipping the guard a shilling. It's 
 no loss to them, and it's convenient to us. 
 Will you come with me, Jenny, or stay with 
 Miss Christopherson ?" 
 
 " Jenny will stay with me," said Miss Chris- 
 topherson. 
 
 "Oh, certainly; perhaps it's best. — You're 
 not looking so bad, old girl," he said to Jenny, 
 " after all the fright you've given the lot of 
 us." 
 
 He went away in great haste after the com- 
 fortable carriage which he had promised to 
 secure for the governess and her charge, and 
 Maud Christopherson went round to another
 
 GOING DOWX FOR A BLOW. 171 
 
 pigeon-hole in the partition which hemmed-in 
 the booking-clerks, and took two first-class 
 tickets for St. Leonards. 
 
 " To Hastings," said Jenny, who was at her 
 elbow. 
 
 " I have altered my mind ; I shall get out at 
 the last station but one," she said, and then 
 they went slowly towards the railway platform. 
 When they were merged in the crowd of human 
 life about them ; when the passengers were 
 jostling each other, and bells were ringing, and 
 guards were clipping little pieces out of tickets, 
 and the doors of the train were being banged-to 
 and opened decisively and banged-to again, and 
 there were only two minutes and a half left be- 
 fore the time of starting, — the governess press- 
 ed Jenny's hand, which was in her own, so 
 suddenly, that the girl looked up and said, as 
 though her name had been mentioned : 
 
 " Yes, Miss Maud." 
 
 " Your cousin does not often take a holi- 
 day from Junction Street in February, does 
 he?"
 
 172 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 "I don't kuow. I never heard of his taking 
 a holiday before." 
 
 "He is going down for a blow, he says." 
 
 " He does not seem to want it much." 
 
 "You will understand, Jane Spanswick," 
 she said sharply, so sharply that Jenny's eyes 
 distended themselves and then filled suddenly 
 with tears, " that your cousin's presence in 
 Hastings is nothing to us, and that the less 
 we see of him the better." 
 
 " Very well, Miss Maud. I am sure I don't 
 want to see him very often." 
 
 The object of these remarks came dashing to- 
 wards them in rather an excited manner. 
 
 "Make haste, my dear madam! — Do look 
 sharp, Jenny ! — I couldn't work the second- 
 class, but I have got my portmanteau on a seat 
 with the back to the engme, and we shall go 
 down famously. Here, I say ! — Hi, Miss Chris- 
 topherson!" he shouted after her, "that's first 
 class, you know !" 
 
 But the guard had opened the door at her 
 request, and was inspecting the tickets she had
 
 GOING DOWN FOR A BLOW. 173 
 
 in her hand. Even then Mr. Marmaduke 
 Spanswick could not believe his eyes for an 
 instant. 
 
 *' I say, it's first class !"he said in the gover- 
 ness's ear again. 
 
 " I always travel first class," said Miss Chris- 
 topherson distantly. 
 
 " Well, but — but how do you manage it ? " he 
 w^as almost on the point of inquiring, when the 
 guard shouted out a peremptory " Take your 
 seats !" someone called " all right !" and he knew 
 that he had not a moment to spare if he was 
 anxious concerning that blow which was good 
 for his stomach. 
 
 " I don't make this out," he muttered ; and 
 then he wrenched at the handle of the door of 
 his third-class compartment, and was just in 
 time to save his train. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Christopherson and Jenny 
 had entered the first-class compartment, where 
 only one passenger was sitting, diligently em- 
 ployed in cutting the leaves of a periodical 
 which lay upon his knees. He was a fair-haired,
 
 174 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 long-whiskered mau, tall, slim, young, and 
 good-looking ; and as Miss Christopherson en- 
 tered the carriage she knew that in evading 
 Marmaduke Spanswick's obtmsiveness she had 
 stepped from the frying-pan into the fire. 
 
 There was no effort to withdraw again, how- 
 ever ; she felt that it was too late, and that the 
 meeting with him — with that man above all 
 men in the world ! — must take place once more, 
 a^ she had hoped it never would. As the shrill 
 whistle sounded, and the guards, porters, friends 
 of passengers, and newspaper boys seemed to 
 glide away, and to leave the train upon a 
 wilderness of housetops, the man looked up 
 and recognised the governess of the City Clerks* 
 Orphanage. 
 
 " Maud !" he cried ; and then in a tone which 
 was quickly restrained he said, " Miss Lawson I" 
 correcting himself an instant afterwards, and 
 for the third time, by addressing her by the 
 name which is most familiar to ourselves : "Miss 
 Christopherson," he said, " it is you ! You are 
 going down to them, then ? I am very glad —
 
 GOING DOWN FOR A BLOW. 175 
 
 I am indeed very, very glad to know this, and 
 to see you." 
 
 She did not respond to Lis expression of glad- 
 ness, but caught quickly, — she seemed ever a 
 quick woman — at two words of his address that 
 had alarmed her. 
 
 " To them /" she repeated. " They are at 
 Hastings, then, my lord ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am going down to see them now." 
 
 " I am not," was the reply.
 
 176 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE HOLIDAY. 
 
 I FTER the brief dialogue which we have 
 ^ given in our last chapter, there was a long 
 silence between Maud Chris topherson and the 
 gentleman who sat on the opposite side of the 
 carriage facing Jenny Spanswick. Neither 
 seemed disposed for a while to continue the 
 conversation. The governess of the City Clerks' 
 Orphan Asylum studied the house-tops with 
 grave intentness; and the tall, fair-whiskered 
 man, after looking askance at her, and from her 
 to Jenny Spanswick, who certainly bewildered 
 him, cut slowly at the leaves of the periodical 
 until the task which he had set himself was 
 completed, when he resumed his furtive glances. 
 It was evident that Jenny Spanswick was far
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. 177 
 
 more of a riddle to him than Maud Christopher- 
 son, and the City Clerks' orphan began to feel 
 uncomfortable at his curious attention. Wheji 
 she looked up, she generally encountered a pair 
 of blue eyes — not the blue of the sky, but the 
 " sky blue " of the milkman — directed towards 
 her with a strange expression ; and though they 
 were immediately dropped upon encountering 
 her own, or fixed as if in perfect unconsciousness 
 upon something immediately above her head, 
 they returned to their object of interest when 
 Jenny looked away again. 
 
 Meanwhile the train proceeded; the broad 
 expanse of house-roofs, chimney-pots, and fact- 
 ory shafts gave place to thin lines of houses 
 standing on scrubby patches of waste land where 
 boys were playing ; the thin lines of houses and 
 the waste land gave way to trees and fields, 
 and then to lines of houses again, and of houses 
 half-built, at which a colony of labourers was 
 busy ; finally, to more trees and fields Avithout a 
 break in them, and the great city lying in its 
 own smoke at a respectful distance from the 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 travellers. When the train was faMy on its 
 way, the gentleman took all the breath from 
 Jenny by suddenly addressing her. 
 
 " Would you like to see the pictures ?" he said, 
 handing her the periodical; "I think they'll 
 amuse you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Jenny, very humbly 
 and politely, and her little gray-worsted gloves 
 were stretched forth to take the paper. But 
 she was more interested in Miss Christopher- 
 son's friend than in the illustrated periodical 
 which had been placed at her disposal. The 
 gentleman amused her without doubt, for he was 
 from a world of which she had only read in 
 books, and he was a friend of the lady who had 
 been kind to her when all the rest of them at 
 Camberwell had shrunk away. Miss Christo- 
 pherson had called him " my lord," and she won- 
 dered if all lords were like him, and had such 
 fair whiskers, such insipid blue eyes, and such 
 long thin legs that Jenny thought if he were 
 feathered he would be very like a bird. She 
 wondered also how it was that the governess
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. ITV? 
 
 knew a real live lord, and how long he had 
 known the governess to warrant him in calling 
 her — as he had done in the first instance — by 
 her Christian name. She began to render him 
 uncomfortable in his turn by her rigid scrutiny, 
 Avhich was particularly unpleasant to him now 
 that he had given up the study of her. Those 
 round black eyes suddenly peering at him over 
 the newspaper almost rendered him nervous. 
 Why did that odd, old-fashioned, half-shabbily 
 dressed child with whom Maud Christopherson 
 was in company, stare at him thus pertinacious- 
 ly, he wondered. He called her to a sense of 
 politeness at last by saying, 
 
 " They're not bad pictures, are they ? " 
 Jenny turned very red, but she answered 
 quite truthfully, 
 
 " I have not been looking at them, sir." 
 The gentleman was aware of that fact for 
 himself; and when Jenny had begun to assume 
 an interest in the wood-engravings, he changed 
 his place suddenly, and faced the governess. 
 
 - n2
 
 180 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' I am afraid that you are annoyed at this 
 meeting, Miss Christopherson," he said in a low 
 voice, quite inaudible to Jenny Spanswick, and 
 much to her inward dissatisfaction, "and 1 
 should be sorry to distress you unnecessarily. 
 You know that — you should know that at least," 
 he added, half reproachfully. 
 
 *' Yes, I know that," she answered. 
 
 "And I have not offended you?" he said, 
 quite earnestly. 
 
 "In no way whatever am I offended with 
 anyone," she answered, in a voice as low as his 
 own, and again to the disappointment of Miss 
 Spanswick; "I have outlived my sense — say 
 my morbid sense if you will — of injury." 
 
 "Then " 
 
 "Then why do I hold myself aloof from 
 them ?" she asked for herself, seeing that he 
 hesitated for an instant to proceed with his 
 question. " Because my nature does not assimi- 
 late with theirs, and I would leave them that 
 peace which my presence, my ill-temper and 
 pride, will not allow them to enjoy. I might
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLn)AY. 181 
 
 have explained all tins in three words, my lord 
 — ' We don't agree.' " 
 
 " You will allow me to tell them that I have 
 met you ?" 
 
 '^ I would rather that you did not," said Miss 
 Christophers on ; " a little disturbs my mother, 
 and excites her husband. They are not anxi- 
 ous about me ;" here she could not resist a mo- 
 mentary scornful expression passing across her 
 face ; " if they had me at home to-morrow, the 
 old mistakes, misconstructions, and quarrels 
 would arise." 
 
 " I am not sure of that — I hope " 
 
 " The question is not worth discussing," said 
 Miss Christopherson quietly; "it is better for 
 us all that I remain my own mistress — it is in- 
 finitely better for myself, and you have heard 
 what a selfish woman I am." 
 
 " I have not heard," he said more warmly ; 
 " had such an assertion reached my ears, I 
 would have emphatically denied it." 
 
 " Thank you for your championship," she re- 
 plied bitterly; "I am afraid you would have
 
 182 STERX XECESSITY. 
 
 waged war in vain against the arguments which 
 Mr. Lawson would have brought to bear on his 
 side of the question. 'WTiat a beautiful day for 
 February, is it not ?" 
 
 " A very beautiful day indeed," he said ; 
 "bright, if cold." 
 
 " Somewhat cold, perhaps." 
 
 There was another long pause; Miss Christo- 
 pherson again studied the landscape attentively, 
 and the nobleman thought that he would pay 
 Aliss SpansAvick a glance meanwhile. Yes, it 
 was just as he had imagined ; the dark eyes of 
 the girl were peering above the top of the paper 
 still, and he was sure that her ears were pricked 
 up like a cat's. 
 
 " You have been abroad I suppose. Miss Chris- 
 topherson?" he said at last. 
 
 " ^o, I have remained in England," she said ; 
 " and have been endeavouring to make myself 
 useful to society — with very little success." 
 
 " Useful — oh I indeed I" he said, somewhat 
 doubtfully ; " and that child in the corner is — 
 is "
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. 183 
 
 "Is a fnend of mine, Lord Evesby," Miss 
 Christopherson explained ; " she has been ill of 
 small-pox, and is going down with me to Hast- 
 ings for change of air." 
 
 " Small-pox !" repeated Lord Evesbv, after a 
 little start ; " ah ! a disagreeable complaint I Is 
 it — is it quite safe to have her in the carriage 
 ^vith you ■?" 
 
 " Yes, quite safe for me,'' she replied, with a 
 slight emphasis. 
 
 " I was only thinking of you,'' he said ; " when 
 I was a boy I had all the ailments under the sun, 
 and catching anything fresh is a sheer impossi- 
 bility on my part. You must not attempt to 
 fiighten me away, Ilkliss Maud ; I shall not make 
 my escape at the next station.*' 
 
 He said it laughingly, looking a handsome 
 man as he laughed ; and Miss Christopherson 
 even condescended to smile a little before she 
 addressed him suddenly and irrelevantly. 
 
 " Mrs. Lawson is well ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, she is well, I beheve.''
 
 184 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Quite well, and liappy ?" 
 
 *' Quite well, and happy, I should say," he 
 said. " I do not visit at your step-father's house 
 so frequently as I used in the old days. I have 
 not seen them for six months." 
 
 " Ah ! the old days !" murmured Miss Christo- 
 pherson ; and as she turned her sad young face 
 towards the glass agam. Lord Evesby noticed 
 that her lip quivered for an instant. He did 
 not look a wise man — we are sure that in many 
 things this young nobleman was far from wise 
 — but he was quick in this instance to seize upon 
 an opportunity which he believed had presented 
 itself. 
 
 " The old days, when I saw you very often, 
 and from which I date so much of joy ; the old 
 days, which a word of yours can restore so 
 thoroughly to all of us." 
 
 Low as his voice was, there was pathos, pro- 
 bably truth, in its tones ; but Miss Christopher- 
 son was not affected by it. Her face assumed 
 an expression almost stern, and if the colour 
 faded from it for an instant, there was no em-
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLn)AY. 185 
 
 baiTassment or reciprocity of sentiment in her 
 reply. 
 
 " The old days never come back to one who 
 has lost as much faith in them as I have." 
 
 " Is it not possible to restore that faith ; to 
 prove that yon judged hastily and acted rashly, 
 despite that sense of injury of which you have 
 already spoken ?" 
 
 " I said that I had outlived all sense of injury," 
 said Maud Christopherson. " I have done it as 
 completely as I have outlived all the false senti- 
 ment which was natural to a girl of seventeen." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " But Lord Evesby is too much of a gentleman 
 to distress me by pursuing this subject, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " I am silent," he replied. 
 
 This was all the conversation that ensued be- 
 tween these two friends of a past time, of which 
 we know so little, until Hayward's Heath was 
 reached. Jenny Spanswick had not heard a 
 word of the dialogue, but, being a curious girl, 
 had wondered very much what it was all about,
 
 186 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 and why they had dropped theh voices to so 
 low a key. She formed her own conclusions on 
 the subject, being a quick girl, but she sat very 
 demure and quiet in her corner of the carriage, 
 glancing out of the window a great deal, and at 
 the wood-engravings of the illustrated news- 
 paper a little. When Lord Evesby had relapsed 
 into silence, and was sitting with his arms 
 folded on his chest in a thoughtful pose, Maud 
 Christopherson changed her seat to the side of 
 Jenny Spanswick, and asked her proUgSe if she 
 were tired with the journey. 
 
 " Not at all, thank you," answered Jenny, 
 briskly. 
 
 " That is well. You are stronger than I fan- 
 cied you were." 
 
 After which assertion Miss Christopherson be- 
 came thoughtful herself, and Jenny considered 
 that, taking it altogether, it was a very dull 
 journey to the sea. 
 
 At Hayward's Heath the train stopped, and 
 the instant afterwards the door was wrenched 
 open, and the big form of Mr. Marmaduke
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. 187 
 
 Spanswick stood on the step blocking up the 
 aperture. 
 
 " Well, who would have thought of you and 
 Jenny comhig out like this I" he said. "I made 
 sure it was third class ; for everybody of a care- 
 ful turn travels third class now-a-days. I never 
 was more surprised in my life than when J saw 
 you turn in here, upon my word ! They're not 
 a bad sort at Camberwell, if they let you do the 
 grand in this style, Miss Christ opherson. flow 
 are you getting on? Can I fetch you anything 
 in the way of refreshments "? How's Jenny V* 
 
 "We are getting on very well, thank you," 
 said Miss Christophers on, without looking in his 
 direction. 
 
 "And you won't take anything at present?" 
 
 " Not at present." 
 
 " All right ; I shall find you at Hastings 
 Station, and I will see after the luggage for 
 you," said Mr. Spanswick, eyeing Lord Evesby 
 as he spoke ; " it will save you trouble and 
 expense. Porters are always looking after six- 
 pences, confound them ! Always happy to be
 
 188 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 of service to the ladies — especially ^vhen the 
 ladies are young and pretty, you know, Miss 
 (3hristopherson." 
 
 Lord Evesby had listened with an astonish- 
 ment Avhich he Avas incapable of disguising to 
 this friendly salutation on the part of Marma- 
 duke Spanswick towards the governess ; it was 
 beyond all comprehension ; and the mystery in 
 which it had pleased the eccentric and obstinate 
 girl to enshroud herself appeared to become 
 denser than before. He could not understand 
 how a girl of Maud's refinement — strange 
 though she was in many things — could have 
 made the acquaintance of so vulgar a specimen 
 of humanity. That she had made it was evi- 
 dent, and that she Avas annoyed by the man's 
 officiousness was palpable to him also by that 
 contraction of the white forehead wdiich he per- 
 fectly remembered. Had he not studied her 
 temper — especially her ill-temper — in the old 
 days to which he had alluded at an earlier 
 period of their journey ? He thought it was 
 time for him to interfere.
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. 189 
 
 " I am afraid, Miss Christoplierson, that you 
 feel the draught here," he said. 
 
 *' A little, perhaps — not much." 
 
 " Will you oblige us by shutting the door, my 
 good man ?" he said, turning to Marmaduke, 
 and addressing him in that thick, slow utter- 
 ance which makes at times a great impression 
 on the irrepressible cad. 
 
 It made a great impression on Marmaduke, 
 who had had an eye on his lordship from the 
 first moment of opening the carriage-door. He 
 fell off the step, and nearly went under the 
 train in his astonishment ; then he recovered 
 himself, and \\'ith the door ajar, made the 
 most of his opportunity for a minute and a 
 half. 
 
 " Certainly, my lord — I beg pardon, my lord. 
 I had not the slightest idea, my lord, that you 
 were suffering from the draught, or that my 
 friend here felt the draught in any way. Glad 
 to see your lordship looking so well." 
 
 "I do not think I have the pleasure of your 
 acquaintance," said Lord Evesby, very dis-
 
 190 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 tantly — quite five miles ofi* the gentleman, at 
 least. 
 
 " No — no. I don't asj^ire to the honour, my 
 lord — of course not ; you're not in my line at 
 all," said Mr. Spans wick, backing, and abso- 
 lutely blushing; "but I knoAv your lordship's 
 face well enough. When I go down to the races, 
 and do a modest sov. on the favourite, I see 
 your lordship in the ring, and it is a pleasure to 
 see the real downright sporting-gentleman. 
 Good-morning, my lord." 
 
 Marmaduke Spans wick shut the door of the 
 carriage, and w^ent back to his own compart- 
 ment, where he sat and thought so desperately, 
 that a baby in the arms of its mother opposite 
 shrieked with terror at his stony glare. 
 
 " I'm hanged if I can make this out," he said 
 at last ; after which summing-up of his position, 
 he hoped no lady or gentleman had any objec- 
 tion to smoking, especially no lady — there 
 W'Cre no smoking-carriages in those days — and 
 took consolation from his meerschaum-pipe for 
 the remainder of the journey.
 
 THE BEGIXXIXG OF THE HOLIDAY. 191 
 
 Meanwhile Lord Evesby was as much puzzled 
 as Marmaduke Spanswick, though he did not 
 express himself as forcibly. 
 
 " You know that gentleman ?" he said to 
 Maud Christopherson, with an elevation of his 
 eyebrows so expressive of his surprise that the 
 governess resented it. 
 
 " Yes, Lord Evesby — very welL" 
 
 " Not a friend of yours. I saw by your face 
 that he was not a friend." 
 
 " He is the first cousin of my friend here," 
 said Maud ; " very respectable in his way, and 
 has a capital business in Junction Street, Spital- 
 fields." 
 
 " Great heaven !" ejaculated Lord Evesby. 
 
 "A man who is making money, though he 
 only wagers, as you have just heard, his modest 
 sov. on the favourite. I have seen his shop 
 crowded on a Saturday evening." 
 
 *' Surely you don't visit Spitalfields very fre- 
 quently, Miss Christopherson?" he asked al- 
 most satirically. 
 
 " When T please — when it suits my conveni-
 
 192 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ence," said Maud sharply, and the heightened 
 colour spread itself for an instant over her 
 face. 
 
 He saw the change, and took his cue from 
 it. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said humbly ; '' I ask 
 ten thousand pardons. I had no right to put 
 such questions to you. I had forgotten." 
 
 "Forgotten how hasty I was — how a word 
 would always put me into one of my ' tempers,' " 
 she answered. 
 
 " No. Forgotten what was due to you as a 
 lady, and to myself as a gentleman," he said 
 frankly. *' Will you accept my apology?" 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " You have a right to choose your own friends 
 — you said that long ago ; and if I am not of the 
 number now, I regret it deeply." 
 
 "You should congratulate yourself," said 
 Maud Christopherson. 
 
 *' And if that gentleman — " 
 " Well, he is no friend of mine," said Maud 
 very quietly now. " I have no friends. I like
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE HOLIDAY. 193 
 
 enemies best ; and I make them wherever I 
 go/' 
 
 '' You have not forgiven me, I see." 
 
 " Yes, I have," said Maud, " if there were 
 anything to forgive. It is Jenny Spanswick 
 here who should speak up for her family." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind, Miss Maud," said Jenny ; 
 " I don't suppose Lord Evesby would care much 
 for Marmaduke. I don't care a great deal for 
 him myself, though I try hard sometimes, be- 
 cause he's good to uncle." 
 
 Lord Evesby was startled by the quickness 
 mth which Jenny Spanswick had caught up 
 his name, but he did not comment upon it. He 
 folded his arms again, pulled one of his long 
 fair whiskers caressingly, and tried — as ]\larma- 
 duke was trying in a humbler department of the 
 train — to master the position. 
 
 At St. Leonards, Miss Christopherson and 
 Jenny Spanswick prepared to alight, and Lord 
 Evesby assisted them from the carriage. 
 
 " We shall meet, I suppose- I hope," he said 
 almost earnestly. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Miss Christophers on shook her head. 
 
 " I think that it is very unlikely." 
 
 "And if we meet?" 
 
 " Oh, leave me to myself, please," she ans- 
 wered. 
 
 " And the Lawsons — yonr mother ?" 
 
 " Unless you betray my confidence, they will 
 not think of me," she said coldly. 
 
 ilnd then Lord Evesby stepped back to the 
 carriage, and Miss Christopherson gave direc- 
 tions to the guard to get her two small boxes 
 from the luggage-van. The train moved on a 
 few minutes afterwards, and as one of the 
 third-class compartments glided past, the head 
 of Marmaduke Spanswick was seen at the win- 
 dow, vacant and stony still. 
 
 " It's — it's the wrong station for you !" Mar- 
 maduke shouted forth ; and then, seeing that 
 Miss Christopherson was giving directions about 
 her luggage, he relinquished the riddle in de- 
 spair, and once again swore at its incomprehen- 
 sibility.
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WATCHED. 
 
 " TTTHERE are we going to look for lodgings, 
 ' * Miss Maud V' asked Jenny. 
 
 " We have them already," said the governess ; 
 " I answered an advertisement, and engaged 
 them two days ago." 
 
 " Shall I call a fly for you, ma'am ?" asked the 
 porter. 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 A fly was procured, and Miss Chiistopherson, 
 her orphan child, and her boxes, were driven to 
 Warnor Square. 
 
 "Not one of these grand houses?" gasped 
 forth Jenny, as the fly stopped at the address 
 which Miss Christopherson had given ; " not one 
 of these?" 
 
 02
 
 19(J STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " For a fortnight — why not, Jenny ?" said the 
 governess. " I have been saving Tip ray money 
 lately, and I was determined that they should 
 not put you and me into a back street. I was 
 not used to back streets before I came to the 
 Asylum." 
 
 " Ah, you were a lady once," said Jenny ; " I 
 see that now. For you know real lords — and 
 you were never like the rest of them at the In- 
 stitution. Oh ! I am sony that you ever got 
 poor !" 
 
 " Yes, I am poor enough," replied the gover- 
 ness sadly. 
 
 "What a pity! is it not?" 
 
 " I am not quite certain," said Miss Christo- 
 pherson. 
 
 They entered the house, and Avere ushered 
 into a drawing room on the first floor, a well- 
 furnished room for a lodging-house, boasting a 
 piano and a suite of furniture that was not of 
 shiny leather. 
 
 " You will find your room next to mine, and 
 mine adjoining the drawing room, Jenny," said
 
 WATCHED. 197 
 
 Miss Christopherson ; " ring for anything that 
 you requii-e, as if the place belonged to you. 
 I want to see how you can play the lady for a 
 fortnight." 
 
 " I am afraid that I cannot play that part at 
 all," said Jenny, laughing. 
 
 " Try, to oblige me." 
 
 Jenny promised that she would try, and went 
 to her room a little puzzled with Miss Christo- 
 pherson herself. The governess was an odd 
 girl, certainly — odd, and extravagant, and cross 
 at times ; but Jenny Spanswick loved her all 
 the better for her eccentricities. 
 
 They had a humble six-o'clock tea, having 
 dined at the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum before 
 starting on their journey ; and then the night 
 was upon them before they were aware in those 
 early days of the new year. Miss Christopher- 
 son was not quite herself that night, Jenny was 
 certain. She was very thoughtful, although she 
 made many efforts to talk to Jenny, to tell her 
 of the walks and drives about the place, and of 
 the great sea which was restless that night, and
 
 198 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 broke in thunderous masses upon the beach a 
 short distance beyond the square. But she fell 
 fathoms deep from her at last, giving up 
 her attempt to talk commonplaces, and forget- 
 ting Jenny Spanswick as completely as though 
 she had never lived — as though she had never 
 been born to influence her life for so much that 
 was strange, and for so much that was to last to 
 the end. 
 
 Jenny Spanswick did not seek to interrupt 
 her, but went softly to the couch at the back of 
 the room, curled up her feet thereon, and en- 
 deavoured to take interest in the illustrated 
 periodical which she had brought to the lodg- 
 ings, without a thought as to its rightful pos- 
 sessor. She read several paragraphs attentive- 
 ly, examined all the prints, and glanced frequent- 
 ly, at the governess, sitting there so still and 
 gi*ave, with one hand on her temples pushing 
 back her mass of brown hair, and the other 
 tracing pm-poseless hieroglyphics on the table- 
 cover, or following its pattern unconsciously, as 
 she dreamed on. A fair picture, in the light of
 
 WATCHED. 199 
 
 the lamp which the servant had brought in an 
 hour ago, — a something which touched the heart 
 of the young girl watching her with a stronger 
 and deeper interest than she had hitherto known, 
 and assured her that there was much of sorrow 
 at the other heart with wliich hers beat in uni- 
 son. 
 
 Jenny went off to sleep watching her. She 
 made one or two ineffectual efforts to keep her 
 eyes open ; but the room grew misty, and the 
 governess disappeared for several minutes at a 
 time, and then was found again, still working 
 out her problem from the pattern of the table- 
 cover, and finally became confused with the 
 great oU-lamp, the looking-glass upon the man- 
 telpiece, the fire fast dying out from inattention, 
 and the piano in the corner of the room. All 
 faded into a blank, and Jenny Spanswick slept 
 comfortably, with her chin on her chest, and 
 Lord Evesby's newspaper crumpled together in 
 her hands. How long Jenny had slept thus she 
 was never aware ; hours had passed, for she had 
 dreamt a great deal in the interim ; she had
 
 200 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 done the journey from the noisy London sta- 
 tion to St. Leonards again ; had had her school- 
 lessons heard by Lord Evesby, with her cousin 
 Marmaduke grinning at her through the window 
 of the carriage, and the governess trying to 
 scratch him down the face ; had reached her 
 lodgings where the landlady was having in the 
 coals, and wanted Lord Evesby and Marmaduke 
 and herself to assist in carrying them before 
 the rain came on, and where the coals w^ere 
 continually being shot down the area by every- 
 body but herself, who was pronounced too 
 weak to carry the big black sacks, which Lord 
 Evesby and Marmaduke found very easy work. 
 Suddenly she awoke with a start, and discovered 
 that she was close to the edge of the sofa, with 
 her head hanging over the side, and half the 
 blood in her body in it. She sat up, and 
 saw that the lamp was burning low, the fire out, 
 the room full of shadow, and devoid of every- 
 thing liviiig and breathing therein save herself. 
 The coals were still being delivered below with 
 punctuality and despatch, she thought, until she
 
 WATCHED. 201 
 
 remembered where she was, and how she had 
 listened to the thud of the waves, and the heavy 
 drag-drag of the pebbles on the beach, before she 
 had fallen off to sleep. 
 
 Jenny Spanswick sat heaped upon the sofa, 
 collecting her ideas, for a w^hile ; then she put 
 her feet to the floor, and found that they had 
 not awakened as quickly as herself, but were 
 full of " pins-and-needles ;" and whilst raising 
 herself gently, and trying if it were possible to 
 walk, a strange and heavy sob startled her. 
 
 " Miss Maud is ill," was her first thought, and 
 she was on her feet in an instant, making 
 towards the French window, which her quick 
 eyes had seen was open, and through which the 
 sound had seemed to issue. She drew back a 
 heavy red curtain, and stole out upon the bal- 
 cony, where she believed that she should find 
 the governess, and where she found her, as she 
 thought she should. 
 
 It was a bright night, though the sky was 
 flecked with many white masses of cloud, from 
 which the moon had lately stolen. All was very
 
 202 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 still. The square was empty and dark, and the 
 gas was burning dimly in it. The carriage- 
 road and the parade were free from visitors ; 
 and only the sea beyond them was tossing and 
 heaving with its own excitement. Miss Chris- 
 topherson was standing on the balcony look- 
 ing out to sea, when Jenny Spanswick touched 
 her arm. 
 
 " Are you not well. Miss Maud f 
 
 The governess started at her intruder, and 
 Jenny Spanswick saw that she had been crying, 
 and that the tears were still wet upon her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Jenny, I am well enough," she 
 said hurriedly ; " go in, child. The night air is 
 too keen for you." 
 
 " And for you, I fancy." 
 
 "Don't you think that I am strong?" she 
 asked, with a forced little laugh. " Why, if my 
 nei'ves had not been of iron, I should have 
 broken up long ago." 
 
 " I wonder what it is that makes you so un- 
 happy. Miss Maud," said Jenny Spanswick,
 
 WATCHED. 203 
 
 creeping closely to her ; " for this is not the first 
 time that I have seen you crying, although you 
 are so very firm." 
 
 *' ^Mien did you see me before ?" she asked 
 sharply. 
 
 " In the night, — once or twice, I think twice, 
 — when you were my dear nurse at the in- 
 fii-mary." 
 
 " Fancy, child, fancy," said Maud Christopher- 
 son ; but she drew Jenny Spanswick to her, and 
 put part of the shawl which she was wearing 
 round the girl's shoulders for protection sake. "I 
 am a very strong-minded young woman, every- 
 body says, and you must have dreamed of my 
 tears, Jenny." 
 
 " Have I dreamed of these ? " asked Jenny 
 Spanswick. 
 
 " No ; these are realities, born of a spasm of 
 regret at being too much alone in the world. 
 Nothing more, upon my word." 
 
 " If I live to grow up, to get strong, and 
 well, and rich, you shall never be alone," said 
 Jenny.
 
 204 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " What a promise !" cried Miss Christopher- 
 son, so scornfully, that Jenny almost retreated 
 from the shawl. 
 
 " Oh ! you don't believe me. You don't think 
 that a child like me can ever live to be grate- 
 ful ; but she can — she will !" 
 
 " You are talking nonsense, Jenny ; and you 
 will find out what nonsense it is some day, 
 when you look back upon this night. You 
 know with what a bad temper I am afflicted, 
 and how it sets everybody against me, every- 
 body in all the world, because I cannot fawn, 
 or flatter, or submit. And I like everybody 
 against me ; it suits me. I'm not miserable." 
 
 She was excited, and the arm which had been 
 passed lightly round Jenny's neck to keep the 
 shawl there, tightened suddenly, and nearly 
 ' garotted her listener. 
 
 *' I know what has made you fret to-night," 
 said Jenny, when the arm had relaxed its pres- 
 sure, and she could find her voice. 
 
 " Clever girl, what f 
 
 "The sight of him."
 
 WATCHED. 205 
 
 " Of whom, Jenny V asked Maud, carelessly 
 — '* of your cousin Marmaduke ?" 
 
 '^ Oh ! no ; of Lord Evesby, who was, perhaps 
 — at least, I think " 
 
 "Go on. I like the truth, Jenny — I don't 
 find much of it about ; but I like it, for all 
 that." 
 
 " Who was a sweetheart of yours once, then ; 
 wasn't he ?" 
 
 Maud Christopherson was silent for a mo- 
 ment, then she said, very lightly, 
 
 " Almost a sweetheart, as you call it, Jenny 
 — not quite." 
 
 " x\nd you quarrelled ?" 
 
 *'• No, I frightened him away," she said, draw- 
 ing her towards the room ; " and there is all 
 the story. And now, do not speak of this 
 again ; it was a great liberty, but, you see, I 
 have not flown into a passion, and resented it, 
 as I ought to have done — as I shall do on an- 
 other occasion, if you are not less inquisitive. 
 And I was not crying about Lord Evesby, my 
 lost doll, Jenny," she said, when they were in
 
 206 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 the room again ; *' but at the sight of the great 
 sea, and the calm night, and the stillness over 
 all, which reminded me of a home that I had 
 once, and of a father who lived in it." 
 
 " And your father loved you very much ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I was a child then," said Maud 
 bitterly. " Good night, Jenny ; it is time you 
 were in bed. We are past regulation hours." 
 
 " Good night, Miss Maud." 
 
 Jenny Spanswick went away to her room, 
 and the governess, after a moment's hesitation, 
 returned to the balcony, where her small friend 
 had surprised her. There was peace without 
 there in the cold night, and she was feverish, and 
 had not thought out to the end all the studies 
 on which Jenny had intruded. She wanted 
 rest, perfect stillness, time to reflect upon the 
 past ; time to reahze her position in the future, 
 with these figures marching once more to the 
 front, and threatening all the past misconcep- 
 tions, which had made her what she was. She 
 did not give way again ; standing in the sha- 
 dow of the balcony looking out to sea, those
 
 • WATCHED. 207 
 
 reminiscences which had touched her heart 
 were far enough from her when she took up 
 that old firm look, which told of a will difficult 
 to inflaence, perhaps impossible to subdue. 
 
 And again on that night her thoughts were 
 destined to be intruded upon, and a fresh sub- 
 ject for contemplation to arise. She had not 
 remained there five minutes, when some one 
 came along the parade, crossed the road, and 
 stood against the lamp-post looking down the 
 square, and towards that row of houses of which 
 her own house formed a part. She was sure 
 that the figure was of some one whom she 
 knew — closely resembling that of the wild- 
 looking, hairy-faced man, who had called him- 
 self Uncle Spanswick. He was smoking a 
 short pipe, and was buttoned to the throat in a 
 long greatcoat, with the collar turned up about 
 his ears ; but she was sure it was he. He wait- 
 ed there, unconscious of the watcher on the bal- 
 cony, until he was joined by a tall stout man, 
 who was also smoking, and the sparks of whose 
 pipe made a trail of fire across the night, as he
 
 208 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 came up. They stood together for a few mo- 
 ments ; Mr. Marmaduke Spanswick — for it was 
 that gentleman, Maud Christopherson was as- 
 sured — pointed with his stick towards the 
 house from the balcony of which she was an 
 unwilling watcher of their movements ; and the 
 figure of the elder man nodded his head once 
 or twice to the directions of the other. 
 
 They did not enter the square, but walked 
 away together, as if they had become suddenly 
 aware of her figure in the shadow of the bal- 
 cony, or as if there were no further occasion to 
 be abroad that night. 
 
 " Watched," said Miss Christopherson to her- 
 self ; and thinking of the Spanswicks' presence 
 in Hastings, she went back to the drawing- 
 room, and forgot her OAvn affairs in considering 
 the advent of Jenny's relations upon the scene 
 of action.
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP FOR HIS STEP-DAUGHTER. 
 
 ^f ISS CHRISTOPHERSON and her charge, 
 Jenny Spanswick, were up early the fol- 
 lomng mornuig. The City Clerks' female or- 
 phan had been surprised by the governess's 
 appearance at her bedside as a clock in the 
 house was striking six ; and she thought once 
 that Miss Christopherson looked a trifle firmer 
 and harder than she had seen her in the busiest 
 days at the Asylum, when the weather was hot, 
 and the children were " trying." 
 
 *' Get up, Jenny," she said quickly ; " we must 
 not waste time in the country. The morning 
 will be fine and bright, and we will have an 
 early breakfast, and go for a long day's drive 
 away from here." 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 " Away fi-orn here I" said Jenny, wondering a 
 little. 
 
 " Yes ; into tlie country. It will be cold by 
 the sea." 
 
 " You are not afraid of meeting " 
 
 " I do not know of what I am afraid, at pre- 
 sent," said Miss Christopherson, interrupting 
 her ; " but I do not care to be taken off my 
 guard. Get up, please ; we shall leave here at 
 half-past seven." 
 
 Jenny asked no more questions ; and Miss 
 Christopherson left the room, and began to ring 
 the drawing-room bell with calm persistency, 
 until the breakfast was on the table. 
 
 The landlady, somewhat red in the face with 
 suppressed excitement, appeared with the ser- 
 vant and the breakfast-tray. 
 
 "I thought that you would be tired with 
 your journey yesterday, madam," she said po- 
 litely, " and would not be quite punctual to the 
 early hour you mentioned last night." 
 
 " I am always punctual, be pleased to imder- 
 stand," said Miss Christopherson, with severity.
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 211 
 
 " When I mentioned a quarter to seven, I did 
 not mean a quarter past," she added, glancing 
 at the timepiece on the mantelshelf. 
 
 '^ It shall not occur again." 
 
 " Thank you. Have you ordered a carriage 
 and a pair of horses for me at half-past seven '?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " I shall not dine at home to-day," said Maud, 
 *' and I am never at home to anyone or under 
 any ch'cumstances. You will probably have 
 visitors inquiring for me ; tell them that I have 
 driven out and have not mentioned an hour at 
 which I shall return. Tell them also that which 
 1 have told you." 
 
 " Never at home under any ch'cumstances — 
 dear me I — yes, ma'am." 
 
 " That will do." 
 
 The landlady departed, and when her servant 
 came downstairs after her, she expressed it as 
 her belief that her new lodger was queer. Miss 
 Christopherson had wi-itten to her from " The 
 Asylum, Camberwell," — good gi*acious I perhaps 
 it was a lunatic asylum — when she had an- 
 
 p2
 
 212 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 swered her advertisement about her drawing- 
 room floor last week, and had told her of a 
 young Mend who had had the smallpox Christ- 
 mas last, and who, being still weak, had been 
 recommended change of air. The landlady had 
 responded, and mentioned her terms, which had 
 been accepted at once with a frankness that had 
 made her regret ever since not having asked 
 another guinea. But lodgings were plentiful 
 and lodgers were scarce that February ; and 
 had the young lady not been insane, or addicted 
 to such early rising, Mrs. Green would have 
 considered that she had not done badly with 
 her drawing-room floor for a fortnight.- But 
 she was in doubt when Miss Christopherson and 
 that plainly-dressed child, her companion, were 
 driven away at the unnatural hour of half-past 
 seven into the country ; and the numerous in- 
 quiries for Miss Christopherson during the day 
 from all kinds of visitors set in a little after 
 nine o'clock, and kept the knocker and the bell 
 continually on the move. The Visitors' List — 
 a fashionable hue-and-cry paper, which Miss
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 213 
 
 Christopherson had not taken into her calcula- 
 tions — had been published that morning, and 
 all Hastings appeared to be startled by the in- 
 formation, which Mrs. Green, w4th a proper re- 
 gard for advertising her establishment, had im- 
 parted to the publishers, that ]\Iiss Christopher- 
 son and friend had arrived at No. 243 Warrior 
 Square. 
 
 The first arrival was a portly man with a 
 broad chest, and the largest gold chain that 
 Mrs. Green's servant had ever seen in her life, 
 running all over his waistcoat. He asked for 
 Miss Christopherson with a smirk and a bow, 
 which impressed the maid considerably, and hear- 
 ing that Miss Christopherson was not at home, 
 he trusted that he could speak to Miss Spans- 
 wick for a few minutes. Being informed that 
 Miss Spanswick was also out, he inquired for 
 the landlady, and was shown into a back parlour, 
 where Mrs. Green, better versed in humanity, 
 thought that the gentleman, as she said after- 
 wards, was not of much account. 
 
 " I beg pardon," said Marmaduke, " but 1 am
 
 214 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 anxious to pay my respects to Miss Christopher- 
 son — quite an old friend, I may say — and not 
 at home, I am informed." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson has been out since half- 
 past seven." 
 
 " With your permission, madam, I will wait 
 for her return, then." 
 
 " She has gone out with Miss Spans wick, and 
 will not be back till late. She's not at home, 
 sir, under any circumstances to anybody, she 
 left me word to say," said Mrs. Green, with 
 great decision. 
 
 " Oh ! she'll be at home to me," said Marma- 
 duke, with an easy confidence that took Mrs. 
 Green aback. " I'm Miss Spans wick's cousin — 
 one of the family, you must know. She'll be 
 back to lunch, or dinner, or tea, or something, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 " I can't say, sir. If you leave your card, I'll 
 put it in the basket in the drawing-room, and 
 Miss Christopherson will see it when she returns 
 from her drive." 
 
 ** Oh ! she has gone for a drive, then ?"
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 215 
 
 " Yes. She left in a carriage and pair, at 
 half-past seven." 
 
 Mr. Spanswick junior whistled to himself, 
 passed his hand over his forehead, and wished 
 the landlady good morning. He did not leave 
 his card as requested ; and when he was out of 
 the house he stood with his hat on the back of 
 his head, looking at the square before him for a 
 while. 
 
 " It's a rum start," he said ; " blessed if I make 
 it out yet ! I wonder what her game is 1 " 
 
 At half-past ten o'clock another visitor to Miss 
 Christophers on called at Mrs. Green's. A tall 
 thin gentleman this time, with long legs and 
 fair whiskers ; rather a good-looking gentleman, 
 Mrs. Green considered. He only asked for Miss 
 Christopherson, and appeared to be taken as 
 much aback as Mr. Marmaduke Spanswick at the 
 message which was delivered to him. 
 
 " Never at home under any circumstances," he 
 repeated, colouring. " I am sorry that she has 
 left you those instructions to convey to me. 
 Good morning."
 
 216 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 He placed his card on the table, and, with 
 one glance, Mrs. Green saw that a real lord had 
 called, and was impressed accordingly. 
 
 " I am sorry, my lord," she began, when he 
 suddenly sat down, and in a manner somewhat 
 excited asked for pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 " I will write her a few lines," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Green placed her desk at his disposal, 
 and Lord Evesby, with a hand that trembled a 
 little, dashed off the following : — 
 
 "Dear Miss Christopherson, — Your step- 
 father and your mother saw the announcement 
 of your arrival in the Visitors' List this morning. 
 You will not think that I have betrayed your 
 secret. They will call ; receive them as a 
 daughter, if you can, for your mother's sake and 
 your own. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, Evesby." 
 
 Lord Evesby folded and sealed this epistle, 
 thanked Mrs. Green, and departed. 
 
 " Well, to think that Miss Christopherson 
 knows a lord !" said Mrs. Green. She was sit-
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 217 
 
 ting in the back drawing-room, reflecting upon 
 this, when a third visitor arnved for Miss Chris- 
 topherson. He did not insist upon seeing the 
 landlady, after the fashion of the two gentle- 
 men who had preceded him ; but asked many 
 questions of the servant, and subjected her to a 
 searching cross-examination until she shut the 
 door in his face ; for he was a man whom no 
 well-regulated servant's mind coiild possibly 
 put up with. 
 
 " A shabby man, with whity-brown whiskers 
 growing all manner of w-ays, mum, and, oh lor ! 
 such a hat ! He wanted to wait for Miss Chris- 
 topherson or for Miss Spanswick," the servant 
 continued, " and said he did not mind how long 
 he waited, and was I sure that the ladies had 
 not taken their boxes with them and gone off 
 for good ; and as he went away, I'm as certain 
 as I'm a standing here, that the man had not 
 a sole to his boots." 
 
 " This is extremely odd," said Mrs. Green, as 
 fairly perplexed as Marmaduke Spanswick, but 
 arriving more rapidly at a solution ; " it must
 
 218 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 have something to do with the lunatic business. 
 All kinds of people go mad, and must be put 
 somewhere. She has advertised my place, and 
 come down here for patients." 
 
 Before Mrs. Green sat down to her early din- 
 ner, a fourth gentleman had asked to see Miss 
 Christopherson, and then to see her. He was 
 shown into the room, a man of the middle 
 height, dark-haired, heavy-browed, very up- 
 right, with a stiff black stock holding him by 
 the throat like a vice, but bringing no blood 
 into a face that might have been better looking 
 had it been several degrees less ghastly. 
 
 He jerked his head slightly towards Mrs. 
 Green, and then asked at what hour Miss Chris- 
 topherson and friend were expected home. 
 
 "Miss Christopherson did not mention any 
 hour in particular," said the landlady. 
 
 " You are sure she is not at home ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Quite sure," said Mrs. Green indignantly. 
 
 "And she has not mentioned any hour at 
 which she is likely to return ?"
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 219 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 He frowned at Mrs. Green, as though she 
 were a secret agent in a plot against him, laid 
 his card upon the table, and walked in a stately 
 manner from the house, after informing the 
 landlady that he should call again in the course 
 of the afternoon. 
 
 " I'm sure he has a patient for Miss Christo- 
 pherson," said Mrs. Green, after he had gone. 
 " Oh, dear ! this is getting very dreadful." 
 
 Mr. Lawson, for that was the gentleman's 
 name, called again in the afternoon, and once 
 in the dusk of the evening, when he found a 
 shabbily-dressed man upon the door-step, argu- 
 ing with the maid-servant. 
 
 " I tell you that they ain't come back yet ; 
 and if you've a message for them, that you'd 
 better leave it, than be a continually knocking 
 here," said the domestic, now irate and agi- 
 tated. 
 
 The man withdrew, but left no message ; and 
 Mr. Lawson looked after him for a moment or 
 two.
 
 220 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 '* Has that person called for Miss Christopher- 
 son ?" he asked of the servant. 
 
 " Yes, su' ; everybody keeps a-calling, and she 
 ain't come back yet, and " 
 
 " I will wait for her," said Mr. Lawson, snap- 
 ping his teeth together unpleasantly. "Be 
 good enough to show me into her sitting- 
 room." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The servant complied with his request, and 
 then informed Mrs. Green of Mr. Lawson's de- 
 termination. Mrs. Green went upstairs, and 
 found Mr. Lawson firmly planted on the hearth- 
 rug, with his back to the fire, and his eyes fixed 
 upon the letter and card that had been left for 
 his step-daughter. 
 
 " Lord Evesby has called ?" said Mr. Lawson, 
 pointing towards the note which lay upon the 
 table. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Did he write that note here ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Thank you. I shall not require your atten-
 
 MR. LAWSON SPEAKS UP. 221 
 
 dance, Mrs. Green. I have made up my mind 
 to remain here until Miss Christopherson re- 
 turns." 
 
 « But " 
 
 " It is a duty which devolves upon me," he 
 condescended to explain ; " I am Miss Christo- 
 pherson's father." 
 
 " God bless me !" said Mrs. Green. 
 
 She did not attempt to continue the conversa- 
 tion, but retired with haste from the first-floor 
 drawing-room. She was right in her surmise, 
 then ; Miss Christopherson was the keeper of a 
 lunatic asylum, and had come to Hastings with 
 the object of taking a few patients back with 
 her to Camberwell. And this was one of them, 
 a man of not more than two-and-thirty years 
 of age, who said he was the father of a young 
 woman of twenty. It was all very unpleasant, 
 and the sooner Miss Christopherson departed 
 the better, if the house was to be filled with 
 raging-mad people. Her own servant, who 
 had been sorely tried that day, had actually 
 talked of giving warning, if Miss Christopher-
 
 222 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 son's friends kept worrying her like this, and — 
 Yes, there was another knock and ring, as she 
 was a born woman ! 
 
 " Is Miss Chris topherson in f 
 
 " No, she isn't, ma'am. She left word that 
 she was never to be in. She's out for the day ; 
 she'll be always out, she says," replied the ser- 
 vant very quickly now. 
 
 " Where is your mistress ?" asked the new- 
 comer peremptorily, but with a voice that Mrs. 
 Green was assured trembled with indignation. 
 " I wish to speak to her, if you please." 
 
 "AYhat name?" 
 
 '• Mrs. Thurtle. There is my card." 
 
 Mrs. Green and Mrs. Thurtle stood face to 
 face a few minutes afterwards in the back 
 drawing-room. Mrs. Thurtle began at once. 
 
 " Is this Miss Christopherson's apartment ?" 
 
 « No, ma'am." 
 
 " Show me to it, if you please. I would pre- 
 fer speaking to you there." 
 
 "A gentleman is waiting for Miss Christo- 
 pherson, madam ; but "
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 223 
 
 " A gentleman — what kind of gentleman ?" 
 gasped forth Mrs. Thurtle. 
 
 " A gentleman of about thirty-two or three." 
 
 " This is atrocious ! " cried Mrs. Thurtle ; 
 " show me the way directly ! No prevarication, 
 please. I am the superintendent of the Asylum 
 to which your lodger belongs ; and it is a mercy 
 for us all that I have come down to Hastings 
 sooner than I anticipated, and in time, I hope, 
 to put a stop to this." 
 
 "To put a stop to what, ma'am? Good 
 gracious ! is anytliing wrong ? Has anybody 
 escaped ?" 
 
 "A great deal is wrong ! " cried Mrs. Thurtle. 
 '* These fine apartments are wrong in a young 
 woman of Miss Christopherson's position ; that 
 man must be wrong ; everything is wrong ; and 
 it is Providence that has sent me hither this 
 afternoon. Upstairs?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; the drawing-room floor." 
 
 "Oh, of course, the best rooms in the house," 
 said Mrs. Thm-tle ironically. 
 
 Mrs. Green led the way, pondering deeply
 
 224 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 and trembling excessively. The new-comer 
 might be the head of the mad-house, but it was 
 her firm opinion that she was another visitor 
 hopelessly deranged. She showed Mrs. Thurtle 
 into the drawing-room, and stood by the door, 
 ready for a precipitate flight and a call for the 
 police. 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle sailed into the room, looked to- 
 wards the gentleman on the hearth-rug, who 
 returned her stare with interest after the faintest 
 inclination of his head, to which salutation Mrs. 
 Thurtle did not respond in any way. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Green, let me have no mistake 
 about this," said Mrs. Thurtle, sitting down ; 
 " you have a young person lodging here of the 
 name ol Miss Christophers on ; she has a child of 
 fourteen years of age with her, by name Jane 
 Spanswick ; is that correct V 
 
 " That is correct." 
 
 " Miss Christopherson is in receipt of thirty 
 pounds per annum from the City Clerks' Orphan 
 Asylum, of which institution I am the lady 
 superintendent ; and is allowed five pounds for
 
 MR. LAWSON SPEAKS UP. 225 
 
 a fortnight's expenses for herself and pupil, and 
 she" — fanning herself suddenly with a book 
 that was on the table — " has taken these apart- 
 ments in Warrior Square, at how much a-week, 
 I should like to ask f ' 
 
 " Five guineas a-week, ma'am, with extras.'* 
 
 " Then where does the money come from ? — 
 who supplies a governess with the means for 
 this extravagance?" 
 
 The pale-faced man on the hearth-rug re- 
 ceived Mrs. Thurtle's withering glance towards 
 him with composure, and then smiled with a 
 suddenness that was startling. 
 
 " You will excuse me, madam, but I do not 
 quite follow you," he said. 
 
 ^'I am not addressing you," replied Mrs. 
 Thurtle, sharply ; "I will ask you some ques- 
 tions presently." 
 
 " Thank you. After Mrs. Green has done us 
 the favour of retiring, perhaps 1" said Mr. Law- 
 son. 
 
 '* No, sir, I will not be left alone with you," 
 
 VOL. I, Q
 
 226 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 cried Mrs. Thurtle ; " I would not trust myself 
 alone with any man." 
 
 " It is as well to be prudent in these times," 
 said Mr. Lawson coolly. ''Take a seat, Mrs. 
 Green, whilst I ask the superintendent of the 
 City Clerks' Orphan Asylum to explain the 
 reason why a lady of good family and great 
 property is holding the subordinate position of 
 governess in her charity-school. I was not 
 aware that Miss Christopherson had adopted so 
 strange a course, although prepared for any 
 eccentricity on her part. She left her mother 
 and her stepfather — I am her stepfather, madam 
 — to be her own mistress, because a sense of 
 duty led me to draw out a plan for her future 
 course in life, which her independence would 
 not allow her to follow — for her own advantage 
 though it was ; and she submits to the slavery 
 of service, and to the orders of people im- 
 measurably her inferiors. My stepdaughter," 
 he said in a louder and more pompous tone of 
 voice, as he poised himself upon his toes to ad- 
 dress the astonished Mrs. Thurtle, " has lowered
 
 xMK. LAWSOX SPEAXS UP. 227 
 
 US ^^^tll herself, and we shall feel the indignity 
 that has been put upon us for the remainder of 
 our lives. Had she taken the place of superin- 
 tendent — which she could have easily obtained 
 — it would have been a disgrace to an old 
 family ; but to serve as governess is indeed a 
 blow." 
 
 " I don't see — I don't make out why — " began 
 Mrs. Thurtle ; and then she came to a full stop, 
 fairly bewildered by the revelation which Mr. 
 Lawson had taken so much pains to deliver. 
 Mr. Lawson was a man of many words, and he 
 recommenced directly : 
 
 " This City Clerks' Orphan Asylum — an ex- 
 tremely ill-managed institution, madam," Mr. 
 Lawson said emphatically, " has been before me 
 more than once, to my great annoyance. When 
 Miss Christophers on, by the indiscreet codicil of 
 a very indiscreet parent, came into her large 
 property at eighteen years of age, she was fool- 
 ish enough to give three thousand pounds to 
 your absurd institution, and I fear has followed 
 up this large donation by other grants, if she 
 
 q2
 
 228 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 be as passionately attached to orphan children 
 as she was two years since ; and to have served 
 as teacher to them argues very badly for her 
 care of those great possessions, which it should 
 be her duty to preserve to herself and her 
 family. No woman — however Quixotic — has a 
 right to be neglectful of a hundred and fifty 
 thousand pounds. A hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand pounds," he repeated, with grave delibera- 
 tion, *' is a responsibility to herself, to her best 
 friends, and to society." 
 
 "A hundred and fifty thou Mrs. Blue, 
 
 will you be good enough to get me a glass of 
 water?" 
 
 Mrs. Green hurried away, and returned with 
 a glass of water to find Mr. Lawson still preach- 
 ing at Mrs. Thurtle on his family's importance, 
 and overpowering that lady with his eloquence. 
 
 " It always struck me that there was some- 
 thing very superior about Miss Christopherson," 
 Mrs. Thurtle said feebly, as she took the glass 
 from the landlady's hand ; " but I did not real- 
 ize — though I always suspected — that she was
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 229 
 
 of a good family. I have always thought- 
 
 The door had opened again, and the subject 
 of the long discussion was looking in upon them 
 with keen attention. 
 
 " Maud, my child !" said Mr. Lawson, turning 
 to her. 
 
 " My dear Miss Christopherson, I could not 
 rest in London until 1 was sure that you 
 had brought that poor child down in safety, 
 and without any personal inconvenience," cried 
 Mrs. Thurtle. 
 
 "See to Miss Spans^nck, Mrs. Green," said 
 Maud ; " she is very tired. I have thought too 
 much of myself, and have worn her out vriih a 
 long drive." 
 
 " Have you dined, ma'am ?" asked ^Ii's. Green, 
 with a deep curtsey. 
 
 " Yes, thank you." 
 
 Then she turned and faced her two visitors, 
 and it was doubtful by her expression of coun- 
 tenance which of them she was the more glad to 
 see. 
 
 "Maud," said Mr. Lawson again, advanc-
 
 230 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ing towards her with some shght hesitation. 
 
 " Presently, Mr. Lawson," she said, almost 
 impatiently ; " not now, if you please. You 
 have told Mrs. Thurtlef 
 
 " Yes, I have," he answered ; " it was my 
 duty " 
 
 "You have precipitated an explanation and 
 an apology," she said, coldly ; " but it is only 
 by a few days. Mrs. Thm-tle, my resignation of 
 the post of governess at the City Clerks' Orphan 
 Asylum is already written, and will be sent to 
 the establishment to-morrow. For the present 
 I am still an official, by order of the board. 
 Have you called with any commands for me?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, not any, Miss Christopherson. The 
 poor child is well, I hope f 
 
 " She is tired with a long drive, that is all," 
 replied Maud. " Would you like to see her f 
 
 " Oh ! dear, no," said Mrs. Thurtle, rising with 
 alacrity, and remembering for the first time in 
 her excitement Jane Spanswick's late malady ; 
 *' pray do not disturb her on my account. I will 
 call to-morrow and have a chat with you. I
 
 MR. LAWSOX SPEAKS UP. 231 
 
 fear that I am intruding now. I — I just thought 
 that I would see if you were comfortably placed. 
 AVhat a charming look-out you have here, to be 
 sure ! I always liked Warrior Square ; my 
 sister is staying in Robertson Terrace, near the 
 hotel which they are building. Good afternoon. 
 Good afternoon, Mr. Lawson." 
 
 Mrs. Thurtle, after receiving somewhat cold 
 responses to her final adieux, hurried downstairs 
 in a state of great confusion, and clambered 
 into the fly which had been waiting for her. 
 The carriage and pair which Miss Christopherson 
 had hired had not yet left the front of the house, 
 and Mrs. Thurtle glanced from it to her own 
 shabby conveyance, and felt more be^aldered 
 than ever. Mrs. Thurtle had a reverence for 
 position and wealth: her whole life had been 
 spent in futile efforts to get into society, incited 
 by that miserable vanity which strives ever for 
 a sphere above its own, and submits to a thou- 
 sand rebuffs for one petty distinction. When 
 she was a captain's wife, she had spent a great 
 deal of her husband's money in the difficult art
 
 232 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 of keeping up appearances ; and when she was 
 a widow, and had dropped to the management 
 of the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum, she had car- 
 ried all her pride to the new place, and tyran- 
 nized over those who had not rendered her hom- 
 age; and now the woman who might have 
 served her turn, and helped her onwards, and 
 been a friend to her and lent her money — Mrs. 
 Thurtle often had little bills coming in which 
 she found it inconvenient to settle — she had 
 been mistaken in, and had browbeaten, and had 
 tried to work out. 
 
 " This will bring me to an early grave," said 
 Mrs. Thurtle to herself. " What a chance I have 
 lost, if it is all true ! A woman who could send 
 three thousand pounds to an asylum, and only 
 sign herself M. L. ! It's wonderful ! " 
 
 The rusty horse bore her and the fly back to 
 her sister's apartments in Robertson Terrace, 
 and bore her away for ever from these pages.
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 GIYIXG WAY. 
 
 l/TAUD CflRISTOPHERSON, after formally 
 -^"-^ bowing out the lady-superintendeut of the 
 City Clerks' Orphan Asylum, turned to the gen- 
 tleman who had taken so much pains to obtain 
 an interview with her. She was very pale ; all 
 the colour that a country drive had given her 
 had faded from her cheeks, and the hard expres- 
 sion, which seemed natural to her at times, was 
 there, as Jenny Spanswick had seen it, as she 
 had seen it often herself, looking into her dress- 
 ing-glass when the day was over, and there 
 had been much to disturb her. She looked like 
 a woman prepared to stand her ground — like 
 one who had long ago made up her mind, and 
 was annoyed — nay, almost incensed in her heart
 
 234 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 — to encounter a man wlio had the audacity to 
 seek to change it. Yes, certainly a bad-tem- 
 pered woman was Maud Christopherson ; he had 
 always said so. Surveying her then from be- 
 neath his bushy black brows, he knew that there 
 was another proof of her obduracy in the un- 
 wavering look — was it contemptuous ? he hoped 
 not — which she directed towards him from the 
 vantage-ground of that hearth-rug, which he 
 was reluctant to quit, and to which he had re- 
 treated when his step-daughter had failed to 
 perceive that he had held his hands towards her. 
 An unforgiving, unmalleable young woman, he 
 was very sure. 
 
 She was the first to speak, standing by the 
 table, on which she leaned her hand, and show- 
 ing by that position her desire that the inter- 
 view should be a brief one. 
 
 " I did not think that you would have con- 
 sidered it necessary to seek me out, Mr. Lawson," 
 she said coldly ; " I understood that it was ar- 
 ranged that I should go my way, and that you 
 and Mrs. Lawson should go yours. It was the
 
 GIVING WAY. 235 
 
 wish of the three parties to the contract." 
 
 " I regret that wish," he answered. 
 
 " I do not," was the reply. 
 
 " It was a quarrel — a bitter quarrel, I own — 
 between us, and I take my share of the blame 
 for a want of courtesy, or a want of sympathy 
 with you. We were all three too proud, Maud, 
 and did not allow enough for each other's fail- 
 ings. But I was sorry directly that you had 
 left us." 
 
 " It is late in the day for an apology, Mr. 
 Lawson," answered Maud ; " it is not required 
 by me, and it sits ungracefully on a man of your 
 temperament." 
 
 " All is not forgotten or forgiven, then ?" he 
 said, frowning at her, though he tried very 
 hard to keep his brows from contracting as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " I am not likely to forget that my life was a 
 misery at Brayling," said Maud Christopherson, 
 with sudden warmth ; " that you set my mother 
 — Heaven help me ! my own mother — against 
 me, because your plans were not mine, or my
 
 236 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ideas about the money which my father left me 
 were not your own ; because I was a woman who 
 thought for herself, and you would have had me 
 a puppet to think through you." 
 
 " You were young — so very young," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 " And yet — but all this has been said," she 
 added, checking herself, " and there is no occa- 
 casion for hard words between us. I spoke my 
 mind in Brayling before I went away, and there 
 is an end of the story. I was hasty in some 
 things, I own that ; and I forgive much, per- 
 haps all, for peace's sake; but 1 forget no- 
 thing." 
 
 " This is implacability," he said. 
 
 " Why are you here to tell me this ?" cried 
 Maud Christophers on very angrily again. " I 
 have not sought you out, or sent for you. You 
 have no authority over me ; I am my own mis- 
 tress ; and I shall never return to your home." 
 
 " Have you been happy away from us ?" 
 
 " No," was the answer. 
 
 ^' You have sought better friends than your
 
 GIVING WAY. 237 
 
 mother and myself — truer ones, and more hon- 
 est advisers," he said satirically; "have you 
 found them ?" 
 
 " I am hard to please," replied the stepdaugh- 
 ter, *' or true friends and honest folk are very 
 hard to meet with." 
 
 " Ah I my child, because of your natural dis- 
 trust ; your quick temper, which resents every- 
 thing ; your eccentricity, which seeks strange 
 methods of obtaining that which you require." 
 
 " Possibly," said Maud. 
 
 There was an embarrassing silence, which 
 neither broke for a while. The man on the 
 hearth-rug swayed from his heels to his toes, 
 and surveyed the stepdaughter whom he had 
 hoped to impress ; and she stood looking down 
 at the book which was close to her hand, as if 
 considering that his last remarks were deserving 
 of attention. 
 
 " You will think again of giving us up," he 
 said at last ; " of the folly and the scandal which 
 this unnatural separation has caused." 
 
 She turned upon him at this, and he flinched
 
 238 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 from the eves which flashed at him their 
 new fire. 
 
 *'That folly and scandal were of your creat- 
 iug." 
 
 " Your mother " 
 
 "My mother told me in my dead father's 
 house that I made her miserable, that I stood 
 between her and all comfort ; and I went away," 
 she cried. *' I shall never return." 
 
 " Your mother was excited — we were all ex- 
 cited," said Mr. Lawson ; " and I hope we are 
 all sorry now for past recriminations." 
 
 *' Has she said that she is sorry ?" asked Maud 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," replied her visitor. 
 
 " I am glad of that. Tell her I am sorry too," 
 said Maud quickly, as she turned away her face 
 for an instant from him ; " sorry for my own hard 
 words, though I see with every day more clear- 
 ly how much better the separation was for all 
 of us." 
 
 "No, Maud, it was not," said Mr. Lawson
 
 GIVING WAY. 239 
 
 firmly ; *' and you will see that presently with 
 me. There," with an easy cheerfulness, which 
 did not sit particularly well upon him, " I have 
 broken the ice. I have been met with some very 
 hard words for the effort ; and I hope something 
 will come of this, now that I have found you." 
 
 " Found me I I presume that Lord Evesby 
 broke his promise to me," said Maud, now very 
 self-possessed ; " he was always a weak man, 
 that poor bankrupt nobleman, who would have 
 mamed my money for the sake of his estate, 
 and taken me as a necessary incumbrance." 
 
 " Lord Evesby has told me nothing, Maud — 
 see how harshly you judge everj^body ! You 
 are among the arrivals in the town paper of 
 this morning." 
 
 " The town paper honours the governess." 
 
 " Oh, that freak I there, again — " 
 
 "Pardon me, but I have not asked for an 
 
 opinion upon that," she said ; " regard it as a 
 
 freak. Think that I was mad, or that I had 
 
 given all my money away, and it was necessary
 
 240 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 I should get a situation somewhere ; but spareme 
 the expression of your thoughts." 
 
 Mr. Lawson only caught at one part of this 
 remonstrance, but it turned him of a greenish 
 hue. 
 
 " Given all the money away," he said softly 
 to himself ; and he glared at her as though it was 
 possible for a woman of her character to commit 
 even so serious an act as that. He recovered 
 himself after a minute's hard breathing, and said, 
 
 " I will not detain you longer, Maud. I see 
 unhappily that a past reminiscence, for which I 
 have expressed my regrets, and even heard 
 your own, lies like a bar between us. I trust 
 to remove it — upon my honour, I trust yet to re- 
 move it. Your mother's illness — " 
 
 " What !" said Maud, breaking in with a new 
 eagerness, " is she ill ? How long has she been 
 
 ill r 
 
 " Some weeks. She was taken ill in London, 
 and the air of Hastings was recommended to 
 her. Of course it is your mother who sends 
 me here, and who hopes that you will come to
 
 GIVING WAY. 241 
 
 see her before she returns to The Woodlands. 
 I should have uientioned this at once, but you 
 have been too quick with me." 
 
 "And has she improved since her stay 
 here?" 
 
 "No. She is weak, and anxious to get 
 home." 
 
 *' And the physicians — you have had physi- 
 cians of course — what do they say?" 
 
 " Sir Benjamin, who is staying here, and 
 whom I called in this morning, thinks that it is 
 a serious case, which only time and freedom 
 from anxiety may cure. I fear," he said gloom- 
 ily, " that she is past cure, then." 
 
 " Has she — she ever asked for me — ever 
 wished to see me ?" asked Maud slowly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Tell her that I will come, then — for a few 
 minutes — only a few minutes," she said with 
 sudden haste, " to judge for myself how ill she 
 is, and not in any way to distress her. Write 
 your present address there, please," she added, 
 giving him Lord Evesby's sealed envelope with 
 
 VOL. I. li
 
 242 STERX XECESSITY. 
 
 a shaking hand, " and I will call to-niglit. Tell 
 her, if she tliinks that I shall disturb her in any- 
 way, she need not see me — it may not be ne- 
 cessary." 
 
 " She will rejoice at the good news which I 
 take back to her." 
 
 " She is very ill, then ?" said Maud suspici- 
 ously. 
 
 "You doubt my word?" he asked reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " No," she replied ; " I will come. Let me see 
 her alone." 
 
 *' Miss Chi"istopherson, I will not intrude upon 
 you again this evening," he replied, with a stiff 
 bow. Then he walked out of the room and 
 from the house, like a man whose feelings had 
 been hurt. But when he was round the corner 
 of Warrior Square, he rubbed one black glove 
 over the other with considerable energy, and 
 chuckled to himself so loudly, that a shabby 
 man in a large hat, who had been hovering 
 about the square all day, looked after him with 
 deep attention.
 
 GinXG WAY. 243 
 
 Meanwhile, Maud Christopherson had knock- 
 ed at the door of Jenny Spanswick's room, and 
 entered. Jenny was lying on the bed, looking 
 very tired and wan, but she smiled as the go- 
 verness entered. 
 
 " I am getting better," she said : '• I feel strong 
 enough now." 
 
 "That is well," replied Maud : " I have rung 
 for tea, which 's\^ll brighten you, Jenny. After 
 tea I am going to see my mother." 
 
 Jenny Spanswdck's black eyes rapidly in- 
 creased in size. 
 
 " See how selfish I am to leave you I" Maud 
 said — "just as we were getting such good 
 friends, too ; and I had much to tell you this 
 evening about a new plan that I have formed, 
 in which you and I are to play the chief parts 
 — you and I together, of all the odd people in 
 the world." 
 
 "Yes," said Jenny, marvelling at her excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " But we will talk of that to-morrow — a long 
 talk, Jenny,'* said Miss Christopherson : " and I 
 
 r2
 
 244 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 will tell YOU all my secrets, and you shall see 
 what a disagreeable, ill-grained, furious woman 
 I am. And yet you will like me in time — in 
 the good time at which I am looking there." 
 
 Miss Christopherson's face was flushed now, 
 and in her deep gray eyes there was a steady 
 light, which gave life to her face, and made her 
 Yery handsome in that hour. Jenny regarded 
 her still with wonder. 
 
 " Come in to tea soon — or shall I bring it to 
 you r 
 
 " No, no, I am not tired. I look so, perhaps ; 
 but I haYe been asleep, Miss Maud, and dream- 
 ing of the beautiful ride OYer again, and the 
 bright country, and you." 
 
 " Of me ? Why, did I not giYC you the night- 
 mare ?" said Maud, laughing. 
 
 " How I shall remember this day ! — hoY^ I 
 shall always look back upon it as the first true 
 holiday of my life ! Oh ! dear, Y^hat a deal of 
 money it must haYe cost you !" 
 
 " I haYe been saYing money lately," said 
 Maud ; ** and there was no one to say that I
 
 GIYIXG WAY. 245 
 
 was improvident and rash — not one. And 
 there will be no one to say that to me ever 
 again. Let them talk as they please, Maud 
 Christopherson is her own mistress to the end 
 of the chapter. Did I tell you that my mother 
 has asked to see me ?" 
 
 *' Yes," said Jenny. 
 
 " My own mother, with whom I parted bad 
 friends, and who was a good mother when the 
 father was living — the dear, good, thoughtful 
 father, who saw this day for me, Jenny. Come 
 in to tea soon." 
 
 Maud Christopherson departed ; and when 
 Jenny Spanswick had shaken off her depres- 
 sion, she followed her into the drawing-room, 
 and found the governess sitting with her bonnet 
 and shawl on, tapping her fingers restlessly 
 upon the edge of the tea-tray. 
 
 " What a time you have been !" she said. 
 " Did I tell you that my mother was ill ?" 
 
 " No, Miss Maud." 
 
 " Yes, she is ill, and late visits always unset- 
 tle invahds for the night. You should know
 
 246 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 that ; for when your father called upon you that 
 Saturday night, how ill you were the rest of 
 the day ! I go early, I shall return early ; I 
 would not disturb her for the world. She was 
 always a delicate woman, Jenny. When she 
 was a girl, they used to call her the Brayling 
 Rose, and everybody used to fall in love with 
 her. But she grew stronger after I was born, 
 they said, and she was a high-spirited woman 
 always. That is why we had a httle quarrel, 
 she and I, for I took after her, having her spirit 
 too ; and my father, he was a proud man, who 
 could not bear a word said in opposition to his 
 own ; so my hateful disposition is not to be 
 wondered at. What are you staring in that 
 manner for, Jenny ?" 
 
 " N — nothing," said Jenny Spanswick. 
 
 " I'll tell you a long story to-morrow, and 
 you shall advise me what to do, though I will 
 not promise to take your advice. How hot the 
 room is ! — how hot the tea is ! I wish you would 
 not stare so, Jenny." 
 
 Jenny Spanswick looked into her tea-cup,
 
 GIVING WAY. 247 
 
 and stirred her tea round and round, and stared 
 no more at the governess. Her lieart was beat- 
 ing very rapidly ; for Miss Christopherson had 
 mentioned her father in her excited speech, and 
 Jenny was not sure that she had meant to say 
 her uncle. But Miss Christopherson was un- 
 aware of what she was sa^^ing that evening. 
 Her mother had asked to see her ; her mother 
 was ill ; and the only friend left was the dark- 
 browed man whom she had taken for her second 
 husband, and who was eight years her junior. 
 It w^as dark before tea was over, and the ser- 
 vant had brought in the table-lamp. The 
 brighter light cast Lord Evesby's letter into 
 greater prominence, and Miss Christopherson 
 took up the missive, read the address which her 
 step-father had written on the envelope, and 
 then broke the seal, and glanced at Lord Eves- 
 by's hasty lines. 
 
 " Poor fellow, how frightened he is I" she said, 
 tearing the letter into fragments. " I wonder 
 what wall become of him I" 
 
 She rose to her feet hastily.
 
 248 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " How the time has run on ! I shall not be 
 late, but do not sit up for me. Get a long 
 night's rest, and to-morrow " 
 
 " What of to-morrow?" asked Jenny curiously. 
 
 " Why, the morrow begins a new life. Mark 
 my words, for I am a prophetess, Jenny." 
 
 Maud Christopherson went away in the same 
 excited manner. The new life apart from the 
 Asylum appeared to have come : and the weary 
 school-hours, the uncongenial atmosphere into 
 which it had pleased her eccentricity to pene- 
 trate, seemed to belong already to that past 
 which the heiress and the poor man's daughter 
 had shared together. She went away singing ; 
 she almost forgot her mother's illness in the 
 thought of seeing that mother again, in the 
 remembrance of the wish expressed to meet the 
 daughter who had rebelled and left home. She 
 walked rapidly along Eversfield Place, looking 
 for the number of her step-father's lodgings ; 
 and it was not till she was in the hall that her 
 high spirits deserted her, and she became very 
 grave and anxious.
 
 GIYIXG WAY. 249 
 
 " Mrs. Lawson f she said to a page who had 
 opened the door. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Give this card to her." 
 
 The page glanced at the card. 
 
 " Oh ! I was to show yon np at once, if you 
 please." 
 
 Miss Christopherson followed the page up- 
 stairs to a well-furnished sitting-room on the 
 first floor. 
 
 " Miss Christopherson," he announced. 
 
 She passed in, and the page closed the door 
 behind her. The room was dimly lighted by 
 the gas, as though the glare of light had been 
 subdued to suit the weak sight of her who lay 
 upon the sofa, — a tall thin woman, with a face 
 whose handsomeness w^as fadmg fast away. 
 She looked up with a forced air of indifference, 
 that checked the daughter's first step tow^ards 
 her for an instant, until the change in her had 
 struck home to the heart. Then the new man- 
 ner, born of the impulse wdiich had shadowed 
 the face of the younger woman, and drawn her
 
 250 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 figure up erect and stiff at the greeting, vanish- 
 ed suddenly, and Maud went across the room 
 with faltering steps and arms outstretched. 
 
 " Oh, my poor mamma — my dear mamma ! 
 may I come to you again V 
 
 She sank down on her knees ; and the mo- 
 ther, changing also very suddenly, flung her 
 arms round her who had yearned for her em- 
 brace. 
 
 " My little Maudy," she murmured, " you are 
 welcome here. You have come back to me, 
 then?" 
 
 '^ Yes, once more, and for a little while," re- 
 plied the daughter. 
 
 Then they were both very still, both very 
 happy at the meeting, though the self-willed 
 girl had already implied that she was not there 
 " for good." She half knelt at her mother's 
 side, with her face hidden from that part of the 
 room at which the invalid was gazing through 
 the tears that had risen to her eyes. Maud did 
 not know this ; she was too disturbed at heart 
 to attempt to watch her mother's face, to be at
 
 GH'IXG WAY. 251 
 
 once doubtful of her, or of those about her. 
 She did not observe that another door had 
 been opened noiselessly, and closed again, and 
 that for an instant the grim face of her step- 
 father had peered in upon the scene from the 
 shadows lurking in the darkened room. She 
 was a suspicious woman, — at least everyone 
 said so, and she had more than once confessed 
 it to herself, — ^but she did not dream of plotters 
 in that hour of reconcilement.
 
 252 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 
 
 rpHERE was a long silence, and it was not till 
 ^ Maud Christ opherson was sitting by her 
 mother's side, and had studied her intently for 
 some minutes, that the faint voice of the invalid 
 said a little querulously, 
 
 " Do you find me very much altered, Maud ?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma — very much." 
 
 Maud was a plain speaker, and seldom dis- 
 guised her thoughts. It was a bad habit, de- 
 spite its truthfulness, and had made her some 
 enemies. The mother, who did not like plain- 
 speaking, flinched a little. 
 
 *' I am looking my worst to-night," she said 
 in explanation. " This silk dress does not suit 
 me — brown never did, if you remember, Maud
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 253 
 
 — and I have sufiered a great deal of pain to- 
 day. I daresay that I look ten years older to 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Xot so much as that, perhaps." 
 
 She had not aged so much as she had lost her 
 brightness of complexion, and become sallow and 
 sunken-eyed. She was a woman of forty, who 
 looked very ill indeed ; not a woman premature- 
 ly lined and gray, but a woman fretting herself 
 away before her time. 
 
 " And yet you were not quite eighteen when 
 you left The Woodlands when that terrible tem- 
 per, which would not give way, asserted itself 
 and took you from us." 
 
 " Shall we speak of my stubbornness — my con- 
 viction that it was better for me to leave you to 
 your husband ? Shall we go back to the times 
 of a bitter disagreement, mamma ? Is it worth 
 while?" 
 
 " Xo ; it is not," replied Mrs. Lawson ; " and 
 if you are sorry — " 
 
 " Sorry that I wounded your feelings, yes — I 
 wrote and told you so, but you returned my
 
 254 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 letter unopened ; not sorry that I left home. I 
 do not own it," she cried proudly ; " I have not 
 come to own it, but to see the mother whom I 
 love, and who has asked to see me." 
 
 " I did not — " began Mrs. Lawson ; then she 
 paused and wrung her fingers, thickly girt with 
 rings, together. 
 
 " You did not ?" said Maud quickly. 
 
 " That is, I did not ask till to-day ; for you 
 had no right to leave me, and to assert your own 
 independence so completely. You were all to 
 me." 
 
 " Mamma !" and the face that bent over the 
 fretful woman's was full of love and earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 " And I missed you, Maud : and that is all I 
 will say of the past, except," looking very firm 
 for an instant, " that I thought I would rather 
 die than ask one so undutiful to come back." 
 
 "And what has made you so ill as this ?" ask- 
 ed Maud quickly. 
 
 She was a girl anxious to defend herself, quick 
 to be led into argument, and to speak warmly
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 255 
 
 in her own defence ; but she repressed the im- 
 pulse that night, and struggled hard with the 
 little self-command of which she had to boast. 
 She dashed away almost regretfully from that 
 old subject, which had influenced her character, 
 shadowed much of her life, and wherein no one 
 could see her in the light in which she had set 
 herself. 
 
 " I have been won-ied, Maud ; little things al- 
 ways worry me," the mother replied ; '^ and giv- 
 ing way in health has fretted me more than I 
 would care to own to anyone save you. xA.nd 
 then I had no one to understand me, no one in 
 whom I could trust." 
 
 " Mr. Lawson," suggested Maud. 
 
 "Oh, he is very good to me, of course," she 
 said languidly ; " but a husband is not like a 
 daughter, and he has many pursuits which take 
 him from home ; and then I am wholly alone." 
 
 '• I see," said Maud, slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 " Of com'se, I am happy enough," ^Irs. Law- 
 son continued, though she tried hard to keep 
 down a sudden lump which came halfway into
 
 256 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 her throat, and rendered her for an instant 
 speechless. " I remember — that you prophesied 
 I should be very unhappy with Alfred ; but how 
 wrong you were to say that ! See how many 
 times in your life, Maud, you have been wrong !" 
 
 " Yes," said Maud absently, " I have, it seems." 
 
 " It is hard to be shattered in this way, and 
 at my early age," Mrs. Lawson said. " I did 
 not feel anything very deeply until I had so 
 much time to think. I lie like this, thinking 
 from morning till night, for days together, Maud; 
 and then I get strong again — almost." 
 
 " You read ?" 
 
 " I was never fond of reading. I do not re- 
 member getting through a book in my life," re- 
 plied the mother wearily. " I lived for society 
 when I was one of its ornaments. I say it with- 
 out vanity, I hope, but I ivas one of its orna- 
 ments, and not a long while ago either." 
 
 Mrs. Lawson sighed, and the child by her first 
 marriage sighed also, but not for the same 
 reason. 
 
 "You're not unlike me in some respects," said
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 257 
 
 Mrs. Lawson, looking at her daughter with 
 great interest again, " but your eyes are gray, 
 and mine are blue. You are rather pretty, but 
 at your age I was very beautiful. Why should 
 I not be proud of that now ? It is the truth, 
 Maud." 
 
 " How long have you been ill ?" 
 
 " Four or five months. Is that not cruel ?" 
 
 " Cruel of whom— of God ?" 
 
 The mother shut her eyes and shivered. After 
 a while the jewelled hands went up to her head, 
 and she said half peevishly, 
 
 " I do not mean that ; but you were always 
 quickand sharp and disagreeable with those ideas, 
 which, I believe, began with that dreadful Bray- 
 ling Sunday-school teaching. I do not know 
 who gave you first those serious notions, Maud, 
 but they did not improve you, and they made 
 you — what shall I say ? " 
 
 " What I am," answered Maud ; " and that is 
 not very serious, after all. Sometimes I have a 
 sense of duty, as he calls it — duty was always 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 his favourite word — and he has mentioned it 
 more than once or twice to-day." 
 
 " You hate him still," said Mrs. Lawson. " I 
 know the old ring of the voice, the old scornful 
 looks, too well." 
 
 " I do not respect him yet," said Maud, be- 
 tween her compressed lips, " but I will not say 
 I hate him, mamma. I did try, with all my 
 heart and soul, to respect him once, at your bid- 
 ding. Did you not even make me take his 
 name?" 
 
 " And you failed to like him ?" 
 
 " How the past clings to you and me !" said 
 Maud impatiently ; " and I said to-night that I 
 would not breathe a word concerning it, but 
 that this should be a peaceful meeting. Let it 
 be so — let it live for ever as a tender memory 
 between us two, canceUing all that went be- 
 fore it." 
 
 " If it could," said the mother — *' oh, if it 
 could ! Maud, I thought that I should never 
 live to say the words, ' Come back to me ;' but 
 I ask now, forgetting everything that set you
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 259 
 
 and me apart. I should be happier with you ; 
 I should look to you for strength — for our old 
 family strength of mind and purpose — now that 
 I have given way. Come back to me." 
 
 Maud put her arms round her mother's neck 
 again, and kissed her many times before reply- 
 ing. When she answered her, her eyes were 
 full of tears. 
 
 " Xo, not back to you, until 1 can render you 
 content with me, which is not yet, and may not 
 be ever. But," she added quickly, as this strange 
 mother appeared to shrink from her, " I will not 
 hide from you again, but be ready to steal to 
 yoxu" side should trouble or affliction press too 
 closely. Standing a little way apart, in that 
 ' fair distance which lends enchantment to the 
 view'," — she could not repress this satire even 
 in her grief and affection, — "I shall be more 
 the daughter ; and in the distance I shall be al- 
 ways at your command, until the time comes 
 — which it may, which 1 think now it will — 
 when you and I are together thus for good." 
 
 She must have been of a loving and affection- 
 
 S2
 
 260 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 ate nature, and had borne much before she left 
 home ; for the arms stole round the mother's 
 neck again, and only dropped away when the 
 embrace was not returned. 
 
 *' Ah I you will have your own way, Maud," 
 said the mother ; " and oh ! the strange way 
 that it is ! I am very tired ; I am not used to 
 excitement. Shall we say good night now ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Maud, rising. 
 
 She had changed colour for an instant, as 
 though the " old terrible temper" with which 
 everyone reproached her was about to assert 
 itself once more ; but if so, her self-restraint was 
 marvellous that night. She stooped over her, 
 and bade God bless her in a troubled voice. 
 
 " What a time ago since you said that !" mur- 
 mured Mrs. Lawson. 
 
 " No ; it was only last night." 
 
 Maud was at the door, when Mrs. Lawson 
 said feebly, 
 
 " When shall I see you again ?" 
 
 " Before I leave Hastings. I am sketching 
 out a new life for myself with a new friend, who
 
 THE SICK MOTHER. 261 
 
 I think loves me a little ; and when the colours 
 are filled in, I will come to you." 
 
 "Engaged?" asked the mother eagerly. 
 
 " Oh ! no, that will never be again," was the 
 quick reply. " This is a girl friend — a child, 
 whom I can train to something, I am sure." 
 
 " This is another folly, Maud, I know already." 
 
 " If it be a folly, I will come back when it 
 ends." 
 
 She went away with another " good night," 
 and no one met her on the stairs, or between 
 that room and the road, which ran on by the 
 side of the sea. She closed the door upon her- 
 self, and was grateful to Mr. Lawson for keep- 
 ing his word to her ; less grateftil than she 
 might have been had she seen him step quickly 
 from an ante-room, which opened into the 
 drawing-room she had quitted, and shake 
 his fist in thB face of the woman lying there, 
 and who looked at him steadily for all his 
 threatening attitude. 
 
 " You did not say enough — you did not play 
 your part well, I tell you."
 
 2Q2 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 " I did not play any part," she answered. 
 
 " You did not beg her to come as you should 
 have done. Your accursed pride, which she 
 inherits from you, I suppose, rose up at every 
 turn and spoiled all." 
 
 " I did my best. Don't shout at me, Law- 
 son ; I am not quite — strong — enough to bear 
 it." 
 
 Then Mrs. Lawson, who had married this man 
 for love, fainted away ; and whilst she lay there 
 like a dead woman, the daughter went on her 
 way full of thought, and yet with a heart that 
 was lighter than she had known it for years. 
 One trouble had been softened, perhaps re- 
 moved ; and of the shadow of another that was 
 to fall upon her from that night she was not 
 yet aware.
 
 2G3 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 mss chkistopherson's escort. 
 
 A FINE small rain was descending when 
 ■^ Maud Christopherson stepped from her 
 mother's lodgings into the street. She hesi- 
 tated for an instant, as if to return, and then 
 after one glance at the dark sky, she set forth 
 upon her homeward walk. To return would 
 be to meet Mr. Lawson, possibly to have his 
 escort home under a silk umbrella, to listen to 
 his orations, to be annoyed by his pomposity or 
 by his grave protestations that everything in 
 his hfe had been done for the best, however it 
 might have influenced her career for much that 
 was worse. She had told her mother that she 
 did not hate the man, but she shuddered when 
 she thought of him. She was a woman who
 
 264 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 • 
 
 believed that she had seen farther into his cha- 
 racter than most people had — who guessed 
 what kind of man Alfred Lawson was, even 
 when the mother was foolish enough to believe 
 that he had loved her for herself. The mother 
 understood Alfred Lawson's character by this 
 time ; and it was not a happy knowledge, 
 though she had not complamed to the prodigal 
 daughter who had found her way to her side. 
 
 Maud was satisfied with the result of her 
 visit ; she had proved that it was not want of 
 love for the mother that had kept her away ; 
 and the mother had turned to her, and had 
 shown more affection towards her than she had 
 ever evinced since the man in the scarlet 
 hunting-coat had died in the great drawing- 
 room at The Woodlands. And the daugh- 
 ter had asserted her independence, thought 
 Maud, without turning the mother from her ; 
 the position w^as clearly established, and each 
 would know the other better from that night. 
 Her mother had never done her justice, Maud 
 was assured ; she had taken the colouring
 
 MISS CHRISTOPHERSOX S ESCORT. 265 
 
 of her character from the husband ; and Maud 
 had resented the interference and rebelled 
 against them both. She had been sure that 
 there was no love for her in the house of her 
 dead father ; that everybody had been jealous 
 of her command of riches at an early age, and 
 had done their best to foil her in their pos- 
 session, to get power over them and her, to 
 crush her spirit and subdue her will. x\nd she 
 had resented this, and left them at last after a 
 bitter quarrel. She had sorrowed at the part- 
 ing more than the mother had done, she was 
 certain, and she was glad to be friends with this 
 strange mother again. She had often wondered 
 how Mrs. Lawson had got on in the world 
 without her ; who had been the slave to many 
 whims and little vanities to which she had 
 closed her eyes ? — who had seen the mother at 
 her worst, and been silent as to her failings 
 after she had gone? Ah, perhaps some one 
 better-tempered than herself, if less discreet, 
 and with whom Mrs. Lawson had agreed very 
 well ! No one had ever agreed with her, and
 
 2(36 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Maud was assured, morbidly assured, that no 
 one ever would. As she became known to 
 those who had at first appeared to like her, so 
 she became feared a little and disliked a great 
 deal; for she was hasty, and betrayed herself. 
 She was slow to praise any one and quick to 
 blame, and altogether objectionable. Perhaps 
 she should grow out of it ; she only wanted 
 some one to understand her as she fancied she 
 had a right to be understood ; some one to dove 
 her for herself, and not for the money which 
 her father had left her. Then Jenny Spans- 
 wdck had evinced a sudden and warm affection, 
 as though the child had seen farther into her 
 heart than all the grown up people by whom 
 she had been surrounded ; and that had set her 
 thinking deeply. And an old woman had 
 spoken of a grandson who had watched her 
 with a long and patient interest from his seat 
 in church, and had Hked her for her looks ; and 
 that was a pleasant reminiscence also, though 
 the boy had been reading novels too early, and
 
 267 
 
 had deserved flogging for his undevotional ex- 
 ercises, and his shocking precocity. 
 
 Maud Christopherson thought of all these 
 things as she -went towards home in the soft- 
 falling rain — thought of everything charitably, 
 and wondered why they all came uppermost, 
 and were born of the meeting with the mother. 
 Everything appeared to be brightening around 
 her, and she who had been a cheerful girl under 
 difficulties, and had been determined all her 
 life to keep her disappointments to herself, now 
 found herself cheerful in earnest. The mother 
 would soon be well again, and she would see 
 the daughter very frequently. 
 
 " I am afraid, Miss Christopherson, that you 
 will get wet," said a voice close to her ear ; and 
 the instant afterwards an umbrella was raised 
 politely over her head, and she found Mr. Mar- 
 maduke Spanswick walking on by her side. 
 On any other occasion she would have resented 
 this gentleman's obtrusiveness, and forgotten 
 that he was Jenny's first cousin ; but she was in
 
 268 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 good spirits to-night, and the motive for keep- 
 ing everybody at arm's length was apparent no 
 longer. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Spanswick," she repHed; 
 " I did not look for rain, and so went to my 
 mother's house unpro^aded for the contin- 
 gency." 
 
 " May I have the pleasure — the inexpressible 
 pleasure — of shielding you from the elen;ients as 
 far as Warrior Square f he asked, with one of 
 his best bows. 
 
 Miss Christophers on smiled at his politeness, 
 and remembered the bland face which had 
 bowed towards her so oppressively through his 
 little trap in Junction Street. 
 
 " Thank you," she said again. 
 
 She could not gracefully decline his escort ; 
 and as there was a something amusing in Mr. 
 Spanswick's attention, a something inconsist- 
 ent and provoking in his presence at Hast- 
 ings, and as she remembered suddenly two or 
 three questions which she would like to put 
 to him, she consented to the infliction of his
 
 269 
 
 company. Yes, she must have been in one of 
 her best tempers that night to take the arm 
 which he suddenly offered to her in an angular 
 fashion. 
 
 " Been to your mother's, eh. Miss Christopher- 
 son ?" he said in so very careless a manner, that 
 Maud looked up at him on the instant. " Ah, 
 there's nothing like being dootiful, is there? 
 I didn't know your mother lived in Hastings — 
 you never told me that." 
 
 " No, I never told you that," said Maud drily. 
 
 " Hadn't time, p'raps," he said ; " but when 
 we get better friends, p'raps you will. And 
 about that young Lord Evesby, too ; it's fiinny 
 you should know him." 
 
 " It is funny," replied Maud ; '* I have often 
 laughed at it myself." 
 
 " I hope you're too sensible a girl — upon my 
 soul, I'm sure you are — to have your head 
 turned by a lord. Miss Christopherson ; and he's 
 no great shakes for a lord, you know. Lots of 
 bills out after him, and you can buy up his 
 paper cheap enough. He's a good fellow in his
 
 270 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 way, they say, but always on the wrong side, 
 and always — * wanted.' " 
 
 Maud became very stern for an instant, and 
 the contraction over the eyes to which Uncle 
 William had objected was suddenly visible in 
 full force, and would have surprised Marmaduke 
 had h^ been studying her countenance just then. 
 But he was looking straight ahead of him ; and 
 Maud, at first indignant at his advice and fa- 
 miliarity, was quick to seize the absurdity of the 
 position, and to allow one of her rare musical 
 laughs to escape her. When Marmaduke looked 
 down at her, he thought that he had never seen 
 such a pretty and amiable face in his life. 
 
 " It's hard to laugh at him, us two," he' said ; 
 " but he is a poor fellow. I'd lay a good wager 
 that with my Emporium in Junction Street, and 
 with what I've saved besides, I'm half a dozen 
 times a better man." 
 
 "Y6ry likely. 1 do not suppose Lord Evesby 
 has put much money by." 
 
 "He's put a blessed lot of other people's 
 money by," said Marmaduke, energetically. " By
 
 MESS CHRISTOPHERSON'S ESCORT. 271 
 
 altogether, I mean. You know what I mean," 
 he added, with a Httle jerk of his arm on which 
 her hand was placed ; " for you are as sharp as 
 most girls. That's why I liked you at first, 
 Miss Christopherson. I saw how sharp you were." 
 
 " Possibly, I am not quite a fool," Maud an- 
 swered. 
 
 *' Do you remember asking me what * S. G.' 
 meant at Spitalfields? I thought that was 
 sharp, you know ;" and Mr. Marmaduke Spans- 
 wick suddenly roared with laughter, and 
 frightened a wet policeman, whom he was pass- 
 ing, into the roadway, " deuced sharp." 
 
 " How do you like Hastings, Mr. Spanswick?" 
 asked Maud. 
 
 " It's a nice place — a styHsh place in its way, 
 but wants life. Not but what I could get on 
 very comfortably here with people to my fancy ;" 
 and he looked at Miss Christopherson, and al- 
 most sighed. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, and with people to whom you 
 would be a fancy too," said Maud ; *^ but then 
 appreciative people are scarce."
 
 272 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 *' By Jove ! tliej are indeed ! I've only- 
 met " 
 
 " What does your father think of Hastings ?" 
 
 " Eh ? AVho ?" said Marmaduke. 
 
 " Your father. You have a father, I believe ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I've got a father," replied Marma- 
 duke, gazing ahead of him in an unconcerned 
 way, but somewhat damaging the effect by try- 
 ing to take in his fair charge with the corners 
 of his eyes. 
 
 "And how does he like Hastings?" 
 
 Marmaduke did not answer immediately. 
 Miss Christopherson was about to repeat the 
 question for the third time, when he shouted 
 with laughter again. 
 
 " Didn't I say just now that you were a sharp 
 one ? I like a sharp young woman. If there's 
 anything in all the world calculated to arouse 
 my admiration, it's a woman with her wits about 
 her," he cried. " There's heaps of silly, pretty, 
 vacant, woolly-headed gu-ls in every street, but 
 I admire one of your shi-ewdness. It's a novelty 
 — it's refreshing."
 
 MISS CHRISTOPHERSOX'S ESCORT. 273 
 
 "I wish that you would not flatter me so 
 much, Mr. Spanswick ; it is very embarrassing." 
 
 " I don't flatter. If I speak " 
 
 " And he likes Hastings — the air agrees with 
 
 him r 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; he heard from Jenny, and came 
 down at once. He's awfully fond of Jenny. I 
 call her his craze, myself; and I gave him a few 
 days' holiday, and here he is sure enough. How^ 
 did you know he was here ?" 
 
 " I saw you and him together last night, at 
 the corner of the square." 
 
 "Did you, though? The dev — how very 
 singular I Yes, I w^as showing him w^here Jenny 
 lodged with you. I hope he may be allowed to 
 see her f 
 
 " Yes, he may come," said Maud Christopher- 
 son. " And how did you discover my address 
 so quickly, Mr. Spanswick ? The Visitors' List 
 w^as not published till this morning." 
 
 " Well, I was anxious to pay my respects ; 
 and I came down to St. Leonards, and made a 
 few inquiries of the railway guards and the fly- 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 men. I did not like to lose sight of you, you 
 see." 
 
 He jerked his right arm again, and again Miss 
 Christopherson frowned at the familiarity. 
 
 " Where is William Spanswick now ?" asked 
 she. 
 
 *' Asleep, I should say. I don't know for cer- 
 tain ; he is not lodging with me." 
 
 " He is not at my house, I hope ?" said Maud. 
 " I have given no consent yet, and if he desires 
 to see Jenny, he must ask my permission in the 
 first place." 
 
 " Of course. That's right ; that's the rules of 
 propriety." 
 
 They had reached the corner of Warrior 
 Square, and Maud drew her hand from the arm 
 of her escort. 
 
 " Not a-going yet ? I must insist on seeing 
 you to the door — I really must now," said Mar- 
 maduke Spanswick. 
 
 " Thank you, but I think the rain has ceased." 
 
 " It's coming down as 'ard as ever," replied 
 Mr. Spanswick.
 
 mss christopherson's escort. 275 
 
 " I will wish you good night," said Maud, 
 turning from him. 
 
 " One moment, Miss Christopherson," Marma- 
 duke said hastily. "This has been a happy 
 walk, and a happy opportunity to speak to 
 you, but I haven't made the most of it. I've 
 something to say to you about Jenny and the 
 old man — something particular — and I may as 
 well out with it." 
 
 "What have you to say?" replied Maud, 
 stopping at this appeal. 
 
 "Would you mind walking on a bit?" he 
 asked, persuasively. 
 
 " Very much. What is it, Mr. Spanswick ?" 
 
 He did not like her looks quite so well as he 
 had done in the course of the evening, but he 
 faced them with his charming frankness. 
 
 " The old man and I have been talking about 
 Jenny a great deal ; she's fourteen, and quite a 
 big girl for school, in fact ; and as I'm in a posi- 
 tion to give her a situation in the Emporium, 
 it's been thought a good time to write to the 
 
 t2
 
 276 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Asylum, offering to take our relation off the 
 hands of the authorities." 
 
 " Indeed I Has the letter been sent 1" 
 
 "Yes, I think it has." 
 
 "The Council would object to Jane being 
 placed in a shop in Spitalfields. The orphans 
 are provided with situations in private estab- 
 lishments. At times they are assisted to emi- 
 grate. And as a rule — and a wise rule — they 
 are not allowed to enter any service until they 
 have reached the age of sixteen years." 
 
 "But as a relation, with a good business — *' 
 
 " I should protest against it," said Maud. 
 
 " I don't see that anybody has a right to keep 
 her against her inclination," said Marmaduke ; 
 " the Asylum ain't a prison, and you can't help 
 a girl having a will of her own." 
 
 " Does she wish to leave the institution V 
 
 " Yes, she does." 
 
 " It is not true !" said Maud, stamping one 
 little foot upon the pavement ; " how dare you 
 tell me a falsehood with this unblushing effron- 
 tery?"
 
 mss christopherson's escort. 277 
 
 *' Upon my word — upon my word and hon- 
 our, Miss Christopherson, that's hard upon a 
 fellow," said Marmaduke. " I'd not deceive 
 you ; I'd do anything in the world to help you. 
 If you ever want a friend, you've only to come 
 to the Spitalfields Emporium, and ask for its 
 proprietor ; and when Jenny's with us, I hope 
 you will come, and make a friend of her, and 
 me, and all of us." 
 
 " I make no fiiends." 
 
 *' I hope you do not look U230n us as enemies," 
 said Marmaduke slowly, " or think of doing us 
 any harm ?" 
 
 " What harm can I do you f 
 
 "Nothing; I am speaking, as I may say, 
 figuratively. But a doubt of honest people 
 does harm, in its way. And if you have a 
 doubt, miss, I'd rather that you spoke it out 
 downright, and let me or him answer it to your 
 face. I'm frank and open." 
 
 " I will tell your father my doubts the first 
 time that I meet him," said Maud ; " I am wait- 
 ing for him now."
 
 278 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " But- 
 
 " Do not follow me ; I will not have it. You 
 forget your place !" cfied Maud, now fairly 
 roused. 
 
 " But — " be began again. 
 
 *' Go back ! I suspect you ; I suspect her 
 father — the man who calls himself her uncle." 
 
 " By George, I thought you did !" he cried ; 
 "but it can be explained — and what cannot be 
 explained can be squared. You are a woman 
 of the world ; sharp as a needle, I see that," he 
 added, with his admiration undisguised, and as 
 frank and open as his character ; " and we can 
 talk of terms, you and I together, like sensible 
 people. Don't go just yet ; one moment longer. 
 You're a governess with a wretched salary, and 
 I can offer you a situation worth double the 
 money. There, I'll turn out old Kayley for 
 you; he's not fit for work now, and you'll be an 
 ornament to the Emporium. Don't do nothing 
 in a hurry, there's a dear good girl ; it won't be 
 the worse for you," he went on with increasing 
 excitement, and flourishing his umbrella wildly
 
 mss christopherson's escort. 279 
 
 above his head ; " and you may be mistaken, for 
 I only say, give us time. You won't be thought 
 any the better of at the institution for making 
 a fuss about nothing — or next to nothing — as 
 you will do. They may put you in flash lodg- 
 ings, and allow you money for carriages and 
 pairs ; but it's a corporation, and comes out of 
 the expenses. I can do better than that. Give 
 the place up, and have fifty pounds a-year as 
 book-keeper at my crib. There, will you, now ? 
 say done !" 
 
 He held his hand towards her, and Maud 
 Christopherson saw by the light of the gas lamps 
 that he had turned very pale. She did not 
 comprehend in what way her discovery affect- 
 ed him in any degree, and was surprised 
 at his vehemence and at his clumsy efforts at 
 negotiation ; but it did not concern her, save 
 that his manner annoyed her very much. She 
 turned upon him finally. 
 
 '' Mr. Spans wick, you are a miserable wretch!" 
 she said. 
 
 She walked hastily from him towards the
 
 280 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 house, and he shut up his umbrella, crossed 
 the road, and sat himself down on the wet bench 
 facing the sea, which leaped towards him, and 
 roared at his discomfiture. 
 
 " Good Lord, it's all up !" he said. 
 
 He put his hands before his face, and tried 
 to think of what would happen to him and the 
 Emporium if all were known — if everything 
 came to the front to dismay him, as he was 
 sure it would do. He screwed himself half 
 round upon the bench, and looked towards the 
 house in the square long and anxiously. 
 
 "I'll wait for the old fool, and hear what's 
 the end of it all. I could have married that 
 woman — and she's the very devil, I'm sure." 
 
 A sudden paroxysm of sneezing reminded 
 him of his indiscretion ; and like a man careful 
 of his health, he raised his umbrella over his 
 head, and got up from his damp seat. But he 
 wandered to and fro restlessly along the Parade, 
 keeping always in sight the house wherein 
 Maud Christopherson held watch and ward 
 over Jenny Spanswick.
 
 281 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 
 
 rpHE governess of the City Clerks' Orphan 
 ^ Asylum — we may still designate her thus, 
 as her letter of resignation had not been for- 
 warded to the Council — went home in a disturb- 
 ed state of mind. A little had always affected 
 her ; and here had arisen upon her journey 
 home a great deal to unsettle her. One of the 
 two men who had watched her house last night 
 had indirectly attempted to bribe her into si- 
 lence, had told her that it was Jenny Spans- 
 wick's wish to leave the institution, and enter 
 service at a tally-shop in Spitalfields. And the 
 other man, she felt assured, was in her house 
 arranging this matter with Jane, and taking 
 her not for an instant into consideration — save
 
 282 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 into that consideration which could dupe her 
 most completely. 
 
 " Has anyone called during my absence ?" 
 she asked of the servant who admitted her. 
 
 " Yes ; the old gent who has asked for you 
 two or three times to-day, my lady." 
 
 Mary dropped a deep curtsey ; she had heard 
 the [story of the hundred and fifty thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 "Mr. Spanswick?" 
 
 "It was some sich outlandish name," said 
 Mary ; " he said that he had your permission to 
 see her, and — " 
 
 " How long has he been here ?" 
 
 " He came the very instant after you had 
 gone, my lady." 
 
 "Don't call me 'my lady,' girl; you should 
 know better." 
 
 After this reproof, which cut Mary to the 
 quick, Miss Christophers on went upstairs, and 
 entered the drawing-room. 
 
 They were sitting on the couch where Jenny 
 had slept the preceding night, talking very ear-
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 283 
 
 nestly together. The girl had been crying, for 
 her eyes were red vnth. weeping, and there was 
 altogether on her face an expression of suffering 
 and of anguish that ^laud Christopherson was 
 not sorry to see. For here, at least, had been a 
 struggle not to deceive her — a battle, possibly, 
 between the old love for the father and the new 
 love for her. 
 
 William Spanswick rose to his feet at the first 
 glimpse of the new-comer, and bowed obsequi- 
 ously towards her. He had been unprepared 
 for her appearance. She had seen that in his 
 first start of surprise ; but he had quickly re- 
 covered himself, and was completely on his 
 guard. He hastened to explain his presence 
 before any questions were put to him ; for her 
 old look, which he did not like — which had 
 set him against her from the first moment of 
 his acquaintance with her — was very manifest 
 that night. 
 
 " I hope you will not take it ill that I have 
 called in your absence. Miss Christopherson," he 
 said apologetically. " I have been unfortunate
 
 284 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 enough to miss you to-day several times ; and 
 hearing that Jenny had reached home, I could 
 not resist the opportunity of seeing her. You 
 are surprised to find me in Hastings." 
 
 " Not at all. It is very natural." 
 
 " Of course, I do not intend to be continu- 
 ally intruding," he said. " I have no right ; my 
 position," shrugging his shoulders, " will not 
 allow of it even, until after dark. But with the 
 remembrance of much past kindness to me and 
 her, I will ask your permission to see her now 
 and then." 
 
 Miss Christopherson listened very patiently, 
 taking off her bonnet and cloak meanwhile, and 
 looking at him as at a curious specimen of 
 humanity which had crossed her path and per- 
 plexed her. She sat down as he concluded, and 
 the gesture of her hand implied a wish that 
 William Spanswick should be seated also. When 
 he had resumed his place by Jenny's side, she 
 said very firmly, " I refuse that permission." 
 
 "Refuse! Miss Christopherson, you refuse 
 me that?"
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 285 
 
 " Yes, for the present ; perhaps for ever, or 
 until you understand me more clearly. I had 
 hoped to have been spared this interview until 
 a later date, for I am weary to-night ; but you 
 have stolen in against my knowledge, and your 
 spy outside was not quick enough to put you 
 on your guard." 
 
 " My spy !" he repeated. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Maud — " began Jenny, when the 
 governess stopped her on the instant. 
 
 " Silence, Jenny : do not interrupt me. Let 
 us three comprehend our true positions this 
 evening, as we have met together, and agree, 
 if we can, to the future. You," pointing to 
 William Spanswick, "are Jenny's father?" 
 
 " I — I — " he began, when she half rose in 
 her chair, and leaned across the table towards 
 him. 
 
 " Deny it, and I shall utterly despise you." 
 
 He gave in. His hands fell to his side ; he 
 bowed his head submissively, and said not an- 
 other word in defence. 
 
 " Jenny's ravings were born of truth, and not
 
 286 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 of fever," said she ;' '' and I thoiiglit so from the 
 first. Man, what made you act in this dishon- 
 ourable fashion f 
 
 "Stern necessity!" he answered, without 
 looking up. 
 
 " There was no necessity for so complete a 
 lie. You had better have starved with Jenny, 
 than have testified to so much that was false." 
 
 ** I was starving, and that mattered little ; but 
 she was starving, and that mattered a great 
 deal. I had been ruined by trusting in men who 
 I had thought were as honest as myself. I had 
 been dragged down by sharpers whom society 
 respects still. I had lost all but this child. If 
 she had gone to the workhouse, she would have 
 gone perhaps to her ruin, for there is no care, 
 no love, or sympathy in that place ; and when 
 my brother died in Paris I thought of Jenny, 
 and how easy it was to set down his death as 
 my own, and get her into this asylum as the 
 orphan child of an old subscriber. A grave fault. 
 Miss Christopherson, but it has been my ambi- 
 tion to repair it."
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 287 
 
 " Repair it now." 
 
 " Ah, that is not possible." 
 
 " It is. I believe it is, if you will follow my 
 advice, and trust not to that low mind outside, 
 by which you have been ruled. William Spans- 
 wick, I hope — I think — that there is some good 
 left in you." 
 
 " I hope there ls. I don't know," he said 
 helplessly. 
 
 He looked towards Jenny, who had buried 
 her face in the couch ; he looked after a while 
 at this terrible woman, his accuser. 
 
 " What is your plan of action ?" she asked. 
 
 " My — my plan," he repeated in his old way, 
 but as a method of gaining time to respond to 
 her questions, "is to wait, if you will be merciful, 
 and give me a chance, and keep my secret. No 
 one will guess it ; but the first suspicion, setting 
 the faintest inquiry in motion, will condemn me. 
 You are too young to be pitiless — you are a 
 woman — you will not break this child's heart 
 with my disgrace and punishment." 
 
 "You think only of the child?"
 
 288 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Only of her, so help me, Heaven ? " he cried 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Yon are content with any sacrifice which 
 affects you and spares her ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 *' Go to the Council, then ; face the members 
 of the committee at the next board-meeting, 
 confess the truth, and throw yourself upon their 
 mercy." 
 
 He drew a long breath, and sat back against 
 the wall, with a new horror in his looks. 
 
 " It will be madness," he faltered forth. 
 
 *' It will be justice. If you be repentant of 
 this sin, it will exonerate you in the sight of 
 God and man." 
 
 " And put me in a prison for two years," he 
 added bitterly. 
 
 " They will hear of you as an old subscriber. 
 I have influence. I hope to intercede for you 
 — to raise money to reimburse the committee 
 for the expense to which they have been put by 
 Jane's education and board. I will do all that 
 I can.''
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 289 
 
 " You are a governess," he said. 
 
 " I will be your daughter's Mend. Leave her 
 to me. A sister of my own should not have a 
 greater care or a deeper love." 
 
 "You would teach her to forget me, or to 
 think what a disgrace I was to her," he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " You shift yom- ground — the truth appals 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, Miss Christopherson," he said gloomily, 
 " the truth appals me." 
 
 " Then you are a coward." 
 
 '* I was a coward years ago. I lost all faith 
 in the world, as in men's professions," said \Yil- 
 liam Spanswick furiously. "And now to a 
 committee — my God, to a committee! — -you 
 yould have me trust my safety. I have only 
 this girl to love — only this child to regard me 
 with any semblance of affection — and you would 
 deprive me of her." 
 
 " I ask you not to fear the truth or me. t 
 ask your confidence." 
 
 " Oh ! you are a good woman," he said, with 
 
 VOL. L U
 
 290 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 a strange bitteruess iu his earnestness. " I 
 own it — I see it ; but I see also how your 
 exalted idea of what is right would sink me 
 for ever. It cannot be dqne." He shook his 
 head emphatically. 
 
 " You Avill not trust me, then ? " said Miss 
 Christopherson. 
 
 " I will trust you with all my heart," he said ; 
 " but I cannot follow your advice." 
 
 ** Then there is only the alternative of my 
 telling the truth in your place," said Maud 
 firmly. 
 
 " You will do this — you will abuse my confi- 
 dence r 
 
 " You have put no confidence in me," rephed 
 the governess ; " and the child must not stand 
 longer in the place of some poor orphan girl, 
 looking in vain for shelter from the world. I 
 will not have that," 
 
 "I will Avithdraw her. Let me take her 
 away at once," he said eagerly ; " we will be 
 heard of no more." 
 
 " And with you — a man who has committed
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 291 
 
 a crime, and affects to repent of it, a man 
 whose whole Hfe has been a deceit ! — what be- 
 comes of her? Would you drag her down to 
 your level, and render all the teaching that she 
 has had completely valueless ? No ; I am her 
 guardian until she is old enough to choose for 
 herself, and to see what is right and just. You 
 must not take her away." 
 
 " Jenny," he said, wringing his hands, "speak 
 to her ! She will have no mercy upon me." 
 
 " Not a word, Jenny !" cried Maud. 
 
 She rose and stood before William Spanswick, 
 and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. 
 
 "Have more faith, man. I am not a poor 
 woman. I say again that I will do all that I 
 can for your daughter and yourself." 
 
 "Let me go away with her, for Heaven's 
 sake !" he wailed forth. 
 
 " I am a paid servant of the institution, and 
 your daughter is in my charge,"' said Maud. 
 
 There was a long silence ; the time-piece on 
 the mantelshelf suddenly seemed to tick with 
 noisy vehemence, and the sullen roar of the sea 
 
 U 2
 
 292 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 to set in with greater distinctness. Time and 
 tide were not waiting for this man's decision, 
 though their voices asserted themselves clearly 
 against the night's stillness, and reminded him 
 of the misery of his position, and the inflexibility 
 of this avenging Fate. He looked up at last 
 with his face of a ghastly greenish hue, and with 
 great beads of perspiration dotting his forehead 
 and hanging from his shaggy eyebrows. 
 
 " I accept the responsibiUty, Miss Christo- 
 pherson." 
 
 " That is well ; I am glad." 
 
 She held both her hands towards him, and he 
 placed his own within them as he rose with 
 downcast, miserable looks. 
 
 " I do not believe in mercy — I scarcely hope 
 to find justice," he said. 
 
 " Don't give way ! Courage !" 
 
 He released her hands, turned to Jenny again, 
 and kissed her. Then he passed from the room 
 without another word, and went slowly down 
 the carpeted stau's and into the square, where 
 the rain was falling.
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 293 
 
 He was only fifty years of age ; but he looked 
 seventy as he went on with a tottering step 
 and head bent very low. He would have gone 
 dii-ect to his lodgings, forgetful of Marmaduke 
 waiting outside for him, had not that worthy 
 individual come suddenly behind him, and 
 shaken him like a dog. 
 
 " Don't do that ! " cried Spanswick senior, 
 turning round with blazing eyes, " or, in an un- 
 lucky moment like this, it is possible that I shall 
 kill you." 
 
 " What's the matter ? Where's your senses ? 
 Where's your coolness, that you talk so much 
 about at times ? You a philosopher ! — hum- 
 bug!" 
 
 " Right, Marmaduke. It is as well to be re- 
 proved at times — I stand corrected," he said, 
 suddenly becoming cool, and grave, and rigid ; 
 " it is necessary to have our wits about us to 
 escape penal servitude." 
 
 " She knows all ?" 
 
 " She knows enough, and she will tell all that 
 she knows."
 
 294 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Then I shut up the Emporium to-morrow." 
 
 " She wishes me to confess all to the com- 
 mittee at the Asylum, and trust to her entirely." 
 
 " Yes ; that's very likely." 
 
 " Then she will take care of Jenny until she 
 is a woman ; and if Jenny is provided for, what 
 are you to me, or what am I to anyone ?" 
 
 " Dashed if I know what you are talking 
 about ! " 
 
 '' I might get off the Asylum business — I was 
 a subscriber once, and sent them fifty pounds ; 
 and she pretends to have interest enough to 
 exert on my behalf. But that insurance on the 
 life of that unfortunate cur, your uncle, eh? 
 Would the Committee of Insurance take the 
 money back as restitution f 
 
 " I ain't going to try them — I wouldn't chance 
 it, if I had the money." 
 
 " Jenny might be a lady. The marble- 
 hearted woman said to-night that she was rich, 
 and would provide for her ; and that I should 
 only drag the girl to my level if I took her 
 from her. Why, it's all true enough, but I don't
 
 A FATHER AT BAY. 295 
 
 like the woman — I can't trust her. Fancy com- 
 ing out of gaol, and finding Jenny a second 
 copy of her — cold, repellent, honibly pious, 
 damnably im charitable !" 
 
 "I would not trust her for half a minute. 
 She's a spinks." 
 
 "A stony spinks — right, my classical tally- 
 man !" said William Spanswick ; " and so that 
 deteiTed me, for one thing, and the other was, — 
 ' Honour among thieves.' " 
 
 "Ah! it's a noble maxim," cried Marmaduke 
 enthusiastically ; " and Jenny, she " 
 
 *' It's all settled. We shall be there to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 He pointed to the black sky, and the black 
 tossing sea beneath it ; and Marmaduke said, 
 
 " Where's that— France f ' 
 
 " That's the darkness into which two people 
 who love each other will disappear for ever. 
 That's the responsibility which I accept and 
 dread. But so much the better for us all — eh, 
 Marmaduke ?" 
 
 "Tes ; so much the better."
 
 296 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 
 
 JENNY SPANSWICK still sat on the couch 
 Avith her arm spread over the scrolled head- 
 work, and her face hidden from her friend. 
 When she felt Maud's hand upon her head, rest- 
 ing there lightly and tenderly, she shivered — 
 that was all. 
 
 *' What, Jenny," said a soft voice in her ears, 
 " have I to ask you to take courage also ?" 
 
 " No, no," she murmured ; " you don't know 
 how brave I am." 
 
 *'Do you blame me for all that I have said? 
 Have I been too hard and too exacting with 
 him ? Could I have said less to teach him what 
 was right and honest f 
 
 " No," the girl replied.
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 297 
 
 " Perhaps I did not say it in the kindest way 
 — mine is always a hard way — but I said it in 
 the best way that I could, in order to touch a 
 heart not naturally a bad one." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you very much for thinking so ; 
 for his has been a good heart, and his only hope 
 of happiness lies in poor me." 
 
 " We wdll make ' poor me ' worthy of the new 
 heart born with his repentance. I think that 
 they will let him off — I am almost sure they 
 will." 
 
 Jenny moaned again. 
 
 " I did not tell him, Jenny — and this is a 
 secret between you and me — but I will write to- 
 night to the Asylum people, relate to them a 
 long story, demand as a favour, which I have a 
 right to demand, mercy towards this mistaken 
 man ; confess that, in my sympathy for orphans 
 of all degrees and kinds, I have been in the 
 asylum under false pretences too ; and ask them 
 to let me pay the money which they have lost 
 by you. And afterwards — guess !" 
 
 " Guess — what ?" said Jenny, looking up.
 
 298 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Guess what is to become of you t" 
 
 " Ah, heaven help me, I don't know." 
 
 "And yet I foreshadowed to your father, 
 child, that I was rich, and would protect you — 
 very rich, Jenny." 
 
 Jenny's miserable face did not brighten at the 
 intelligence. Her conception of what was very 
 rich was limited perhaps, or there was no power 
 in Maud's picture-drawing to make her heart 
 beat hopefully. She continued to look ask- 
 ance at her with the same dull apathetic indif- 
 ference. 
 
 " I thought all this out in the afternoon, when 
 we were coming home from that long drive 
 which over-tired you, and from which you will 
 not recover till to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh ! to-morrow," cried Jenny, her face chang- 
 ing suddenly, and becoming full of pain, before 
 it was hidden away from Maud Christopherson's 
 gray eyes. 
 
 " They will not hurt him, Jenny," she said, 
 patting her back, as though she were hushing 
 off a refractory child to sleep ; " I shall be a very
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 299 
 
 Amazon in his defence ; altlioiigh I have not told 
 him all, to make his sacrifice too easy for him. 
 And now — are you listening f " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Maud," was the hoarse reply. 
 
 " He will be found — it is possible — some situ- 
 ation, clerkship, ofSce-keeper — until you are a 
 woman, and can share his home. You will be 
 with me until that womanhood is reached, and 
 I will be your sister, and, with God's help, your 
 true Mend; for, Jenny, I have taken to you. 
 "When your heart turned to me in your illness 
 mine was a dry and stony place in which no 
 love existed; I wanted someone to believe in 
 me, to trust in me ; and seeing not in all the 
 world one face that would brighten at the sight 
 of mine, knowing what enemies my bad temper 
 had created, and what false friends my money 
 would place round me, I had grown sour and 
 cold and sceptical. Perhaps I was vain enough 
 to think that 1 was very good, and that it was 
 unjust that people should think me very bad : 
 who knows ? And when you took to me" — here 
 her hand, which had risen and fallen on the girl's
 
 300 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 slioulder, rested there in all affection — "and Iwas 
 sure that it was not a fancy born of fever, I was 
 grateful." 
 
 " Oh, forgive me, forgive me always, think of 
 me always at my best, whatever happens," cried 
 Jenny, suddenly sliding from the couch to the 
 feet of her who had called herself the fnend, and 
 hiding her face in her lap, where she sobbed pas- 
 sionately and wildly, " oh, forgive me always, 
 Maud, my wickedness !" 
 
 Maud Christophers on was startled by this 
 abandonment to grief. 
 
 " Hush, child ; this is very weak of you." 
 
 " Try and forgive me; always try and forgive 
 me. For you were brave and kind, and I loved 
 you very much, though I was ungrateful to the 
 last." 
 
 " You are thinking of that secret which you 
 hid away for the father's sake — wisely hid away, 
 perhaps, until you knew me better. All for- 
 given, Jenny. There, we will say no more 
 of this ; this is sheer childishness, and you are
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 301 
 
 sitting up too late. All is forgiven, Jenny; 
 don't you hear me ?" 
 
 "All?" 
 
 *' Yes, all," repeated Maud ; " there is nothing 
 more to tell me, is there ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; nothing." 
 
 " There, go to bed hopefully and prayerfully; 
 and when I have done all my work of letter- 
 wi'iting — it must be done to-night — I will creep 
 in and see if you are sleeping." 
 
 " 1 will keep awake till you come," said Jenny 
 rising. 
 
 " If you do, I will reward you with my black- 
 est looks," said Miss Cliristopherson, " and you 
 cannot conceive how very black I can be." 
 
 " Don't write to-night." 
 
 " Yes, I will. It is imperative." 
 
 " Surely to-morrow will do. How long will 
 it take?" 
 
 " Half the night, perhaps. But, then, I am of 
 a strong constitution, and hard work, agrees Avith 
 me." 
 
 " If you would only leave it till the morning!"
 
 302 ^TERX NECESSITY. 
 
 *' Why, are you thinking more of my health 
 than of your father now," cried the governess. 
 " There, good night." 
 
 " Good night, and Grod bless you. Miss Maud !" 
 
 *' With a faithful friend — amen," wa^ the quick 
 answer, as she opened her desk briskly, and sat 
 down before it at the table. 
 
 Jenny Spanswick paused again at the door, 
 then went across and kissed her suddenly. 
 
 " With a faithful friend — yes, I say that too. 
 Forgive me ; don't mind me. I am too tired to- 
 night to know what I am saying. I am dead- 
 beat." 
 
 " That's not a nice word, Jenny ; but then you 
 have not finished your education. Good night 
 again." 
 
 Jenny went away, leaving the door ajar, which 
 Maud Christopherson, sharp gu'l though she was, 
 failed to perceive. Maud was anxious to begin 
 her task, and little matters affected her not that 
 evening. This had been a great and stirring 
 day with her, and she had risen to the occasion, 
 and had been great and stirring too. What a
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 303 
 
 day, to be sure I — what a memorable day, and 
 how full of promise ! She could not say now — 
 as she had said more than once — that riches made 
 of her life an inactivity. Here she was busy, and 
 she rejoiced in hard work, and in the necessity 
 for energy and calculation. 
 
 She wrote long into the night, as she had told 
 Jenny that she should ; and a fair picture was 
 she in the lamp-light, bending over her desk ; a 
 pretty woman, full of thoughts which ennobled 
 her, for they were thoughts for others, and not 
 one for herself. She drew a picture of the re- 
 pentant man coming back to confess, to make 
 reparation for his deceit, and she implored, as an 
 old subscriber, as the M. L. who had been a pat- 
 roness of the estabhshment, for mercy towards 
 the offender. She was a far-seeing woman, who 
 thought all protestations might be unavailing 
 without good works ; for she wound up with a 
 forcible argument — at which she smiled contemp- 
 tuously — inWilHam Spanswick's favour,and stat- 
 ed it was her intention to present another large 
 donation towards the funds of the establishment.
 
 304 st;ern necessity. 
 
 ^* I am afraid that this is bribery and corrup- 
 tion, and that I am no better than I should be," 
 she said, with a comical sigh, as she rubbed her 
 pink little ear with the holder of the pen ; " but 
 it is done, and they are not romantic folk who 
 meet at the green-baize table in that ugly board- 
 room." 
 
 She reconsidered the paragraph, and then 
 went on again, failing to perceive that the door 
 was opening cautiously, and that Jenny's white 
 face and great black eyes were directed to her 
 once more. Had she looked up and seen them 
 she might have shrieked with fear, and yet have 
 not been a coward. But she continued to write ; 
 she was absorbed in her subject, and unsus- 
 picious of evil, although everybody said what a 
 suspicious woman she was; and she did not 
 dream of a figure stealing down the stairs, with 
 hands clutchmg the balusters, lest it should 
 fall headlong to the hall. She wrote on in 
 Jenny's cause, in Jenny's father's cause, whilst 
 Jenny crept away from her ; and it was not till 
 a strange noise, as of a door closing softly below,
 
 AFRAID OF HER. 305 
 
 caused her to stop writing, and brought the first 
 doubt and the first plunge to her heart. 
 
 Then it all came to her mind, the clear, incis- 
 ive, and cruel conviction, of how unworthy all 
 these people were of her interest. She sprung 
 to her feet, and went swiftly across the room 
 towards the French windows, which she strug- 
 gled with impatience to open. It seemed a long 
 while, but it was not an instant before she was 
 on the balcony, leaning over the ironwork, and 
 peering down into the square. A figure, as of 
 a child, was running swdftly towards the main 
 road. 
 
 " Jenny I" she cried, sharply ; but the figure 
 ran on, and heeded not her wild appeal to stay. 
 
 " Gone, then," said Maud Christopherson. 
 
 She went back into the room, took up the 
 heavy table-lamp, and crossed the landing- 
 place to the room wherein she had thought 
 Jenny Spanswick was dreaming away her fears. 
 It was empty ; the bed had not been slept in 
 that night ; and all that was left of her charge 
 was one plait of dark haii', which had been 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 placed on the toilet-table. Maud Christopherson 
 frowned at it, as though it had been a snake 
 coiled at rest there, and then went back to the 
 drawing-room with the table-lamp. 
 
 " No — no one trusts me," she muttered. She 
 took up the sheets of the long epistle to the 
 committee of the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum, 
 and tore them into many pieces.
 
 BOOK II 
 
 THE OLD ROMANCE. 
 
 x2
 
 309 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 TN the bright summer-time, and on such a 
 -*- morning as we look in upon the scene, The 
 Woodlands, near Brayling, Dorset, was always 
 at its best. The trees were green and fresh 
 about the old red-brick mansion, the flowers on 
 the lawns and terraces gave life and lightness 
 to it, and the sea beyond w^as bright with golden 
 ripples. In the winter months, when all these 
 glories of nature had departed, when the sea 
 was rough and angry, and myriads of bare 
 branches shot upwards towards a cold gray sky, 
 people said what a dull, bleak, miserable place 
 it was, and wondered how its inmates amused 
 themselves, shut from the little town of Bray- 
 ling by two miles of rough cross-roads. xA.nd
 
 310 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 yet there had been many happy days spent 
 within the old walls by a family which had at 
 last appeared to die out there ; and there were 
 legends at Braylmg of the warm hearts and 
 generous hands which had appertained, almost 
 as a family trait, to the Christophersons. Things 
 had changed after the last Christopherson had 
 been thrown at the hunt, and his widow had 
 married young Lawson — who wanted her for 
 her money, everybody said, although she was 
 still a beautifal woman when she changed her 
 widow's cap for a wreath and veil one morning 
 — and Mr. Lawson, to say the least of it, was 
 not liberal. The one Christopherson left, a pale 
 pretty girl, was like her father in her ways, so 
 far as money-spending was concerned, until she 
 disappeared from the sight of the Brayling folk, 
 and it was whispered in the town that she had 
 had her father's spirit, and had found it impos- 
 sible to live with the man whom she had been 
 asked to call papa. After that there had en- 
 sued great changes in Brayling, many mar- 
 riages and much g'iving in marriage ; the Law-
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 311 
 
 sons travelling about and lea^dog the house to 
 servants ; the Christopher sons dwelling still in 
 a few^ retentive memories, but so wholly part of 
 a past in w^hich no one took much interest, that 
 the span between them and the new life in Dor- 
 setshire seemed greater than it was. 
 
 When the Lawsons came back, bringing 
 Miss Christopherson with them like a valuable 
 prize or a great prisoner captured during their 
 travels, there was not much excitement in Bray- 
 ling, which was a town famous for making 
 butter, and thus had its own business to attend 
 to. No one was very much struck with the 
 change in Mrs. Lawson ; the great families in 
 Dorset, though still on speaking terms — on 
 speaking-trumpet terms, for they kept, as a 
 rule, at a most inconvenient distance — had not 
 taken to the new husband as they had done to 
 the first, who was one of their *' set ;" and Miss 
 Christopherson herself had not been so much of 
 a favouiite that the young ladies of those fami- 
 lies should run after her eagerly when it was 
 told in the county that she had come home to
 
 312 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 nurse her mamma. There had been a little 
 visiting and a little company-keephig at Wood- 
 lands ; for Mrs. Lawson fought hard for society 
 still, and did not like lymg on the sofa all day 
 apart from life's frivolities; but Mr. Lawson 
 was objectionable and disagreeable and con- 
 ceited, and no one seemed to " hanker " after 
 him very much. 
 
 The Lawsons had settled down in Dorset- 
 shire, and all seemed as it had ever been to 
 Maud Christopherson before she went away. 
 She was eighteen years of age when that event 
 occurred, and at twenty she had met them in 
 Hastings, and made it up with them ; and 
 wdien her mother had had a sudden relapse — 
 this was after Maud had been to London, and 
 had had two or three interviews with the Di- 
 rectors of the Orphan Asylum, who were very 
 polite to her, and very much astonished at a 
 long story which it had been her duty to relate 
 to them — she had been sent for and reasoned 
 with a little, and alarmed a great deal, until 
 she had lowered her flag of independence and
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 313 
 
 gone back to the old life. Not quite the old life, 
 but a somethiug so much like it, that it was 
 hard not to rebel against it, and to show very 
 often those terrible tempers which they who 
 knew her had been so often shocked at. It was 
 the old life with a difference ; when family 
 matters appeared approaching a crisis, the 
 Lawsons always gave w^ay now. That par- 
 ticular intention had been mistaken ; that 
 strange idea had been farthest from the thoughts 
 of the stepfather ; it was Maud's opinion which 
 Mr. Lawson would prefer to consult on this or 
 that question ; and if Maud Chi'istopherson, 
 ever a woman on w^atch, had formed a Avrong 
 estimate of his wishes, w^hy, he w^as sorry, and 
 took every opportunity of showing for awhile 
 how cruelly he had been misjudged, and how 
 his dear Avife felt with him and suffered with 
 him. To adopt a vulgar phrase, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lawson understood their customer pretty well 
 now. They were not great judges of character, 
 and they had never attempted to analyse all the 
 strange complexities of this girl's disposition ;
 
 314 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 but they knew that there were two things to 
 be respected in her — the will of her own, which 
 was difficult to influence ; and that money of 
 her own, of which a far-seeing father had left 
 her sole possessor at an early age. 
 
 But Maud was not content at heart, though 
 the quarrel had been roade up ; she Avas resigned 
 to the old position, but she was never wholly 
 satisfied with it. It was pleasant to believe 
 that the mother trusted in her, and loved her 
 better than she had seemed to do for a while 
 after her second marriage ; but she was still a 
 mother difficult to please, a woman of many 
 whims and strange vanities, and Maud had 
 never been quite certain that Mrs. Lawson had 
 been as ill and weak as she had appeared to be 
 when the daughter's obstinacy gave way at the 
 sight of her prostration. Maud thought at 
 times of her independence, of her effi^rts to be- 
 come useful to someone or something, of her 
 fancy to be sought for herself and not for her 
 fortune, of her strange yearning for one or 
 two fi'iends whom money could not buy, or loss
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 315 
 
 of money could not set apart from her. And it 
 had aU resolved itself into the old life, or a sem- 
 blance of the old life, she thought sometimes 
 with a throbbing bosom, and a wild desire to be 
 quit of it ; and she was expected to grow ami- 
 able with an eccentric and exacting mother, and 
 with nothing but sycophants and money-wor- 
 shippers at every turn of her path. Yes ; per- 
 haps there was one not so mercenary as the 
 rest — an inoifensive gentleman, who had a title 
 and a few bare acres ; and he liked her in his 
 quiet way, and had shown that he liked her by 
 some sacrifices of late years, and by putting up 
 with her stern, assertive manners with admir- 
 able complacency ; and it was he, after all, of 
 whom she thought more charitably, — when he 
 was away from her in particular, and TVTote her 
 some admu'able letters. This was the end of 
 her ambition, she thought, with a shrug of her 
 shoulders, when the old spirit of discontent 
 came uppermost, as it would do, though she 
 was partial to taking it by the throat, and en- 
 deavouring to stifle it ; this was how it would
 
 316 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 resolve itself, in due course, if he were firm to 
 his resolutions, and came back true to a promise 
 which he had made her, without requiring, like 
 a generous man as he was, any promise in return. 
 He would ask her again to become Lady Evesby, 
 and she should take him, perhaps, poor as he 
 was. It would be a new life for her ; she should 
 love liim in time, and make him a good wife ; 
 and if the world said that she had bought a 
 title with her riches, why, she should not care a 
 great deal for the calumny, never having cared 
 a great deal for the world. 
 
 These latter thoughts had pressed themselves 
 into the foregi'ound during the present summer, 
 for Lord Evesby had written much of coming 
 home, and neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lawson had 
 any objection to urge against him ; a lord in the 
 family was something to be proud of; and Mrs. 
 Lawson had wished the match more than six 
 years ago, when her daughter Maud was only 
 eighteen years of age. Gracious ! how dread- 
 fully old the child was getting ! thought the 
 mother, whose greatest horror was that of be- 
 coming " dreadfully old " herself.
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 317 
 
 Maud Christopherson, that bright summer 
 morning, was not looking very old ; on the con- 
 trary, looking better and even younger than 
 when we knew her in service, under false 
 pretences, at the City Clerks' Orphan Asylum. 
 There was more colour in her cheeks. The 
 Camberwell air, or the Camberwell authorities, 
 or the various responsibilities attached to her 
 position, or the long nursing of one Jenny 
 Spanswick, who had ungratefully run away 
 fi'om her at a time when she was studying hard 
 to render her future fair and bright, had kept 
 her with a very pale and thoughtful counten- 
 ance ; and now there was a something younger 
 in her altogether. It was not so stern a face, 
 though she was not so much her own mistress 
 as she had desired to be, and there icas light 
 and life in it, as befitted an heiress with whom 
 a lord was in love. And it w^as a very sweet 
 and refined face when its owner was at her 
 best — meaning in her best temper — although 
 Maud Christopherson when positively angry 
 was positively handsome.
 
 318 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 Her father had always maintamed that his 
 little Maud J was not a cross child, only a high- 
 spirited one, and perhaps his humouring of her 
 in everything until his dying dayhad not tended 
 towards a flourishing crop of the amiabilities. 
 And we are inclined to believe that Maud 
 Christophers on was only high-spirited ; she had 
 no knowledge of tifis ; she did not try hard to 
 render herself a nuisance in the family circle ; 
 she did not take airs on account of the worldly 
 goods wdth which she was endowed ; but she 
 was strange in her ways, had a keen suscepti- 
 bility w^hich resented any attempt to mislead 
 her, and at a real wrong to herself or to another 
 she verged on the Pythoness. It was strange 
 that no one gave Maud Christopherson so bad 
 a character as she gave herself. She thought 
 that she was cross, sullen, and unjust ; and the 
 morbid conviction had strengthened in her 
 rather than grown weaker, that there was 
 something repellent in her nature which en- 
 gendered a distrust in the hearts of all who 
 were brought into contiguity with her. But
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 319 
 
 she had become iised to the position ; she 
 could not change her character, or feign love 
 and admiration where she felt it not; there 
 was this Lord Evesby to tell her sometimes that 
 he considered her one of the best women in 
 the world ; and if he showed that he disliked 
 her presently, it would be only the old rule 
 asserting itself, and she should not protest 
 against her fate. She was an odd woman alto- 
 gether ; she objected to being considered a reli- 
 gious person ; she scarcely thought that with her 
 " temper" she had a right to be called religious, 
 and yet she was singular enough to thmk of the 
 next world at times. There, my old friends 
 and good readers, is the heroine of this story — 
 a woman of twenty -four with a thought or two 
 about heaven — strong-minded and serious, and 
 yet not exactly the young lady who is great at 
 Dorcas meetings and tract-societies, and has ab- 
 jured the vanities of the world, and tells every 
 body so whom she encounters. Maud had not 
 abjured anything, and was fond of the world 
 after her fashion — she was at the Brayling ball
 
 320 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 last February, and enjoyed her dances, and those 
 partners who had not jumped on her toes or 
 torn her flounces too much ; and Mrs. Lawson, 
 who was there also — she luould go, though she 
 sat and shivered all the evening after tottering 
 through one set of quadrilles with Mr. Lawson — 
 had said after\yards that Maud was the queen 
 of that ball, and had as much attention paid 
 her as she had had in her time when half the 
 county was mad about her beauty. Not that 
 the time was far removed from the present ; 
 but she had aged uncomfortably fast, and her 
 knees would knock against each other when she 
 took any extra exertion. She might get over 
 it, and look better again — women of forty-five 
 very often did — for her figure was good and 
 her eyes were large ; and if she could get her 
 complexion round, she would be more like the 
 old self to which she was reluctant to say good- 
 bye. 
 
 The Lawsons were at breakfast in a hand- 
 some room, whose windows looked towards the 
 sea, and opened upon banks of rich green turf
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 321 
 
 which sloped dowTi to the terrace that stretched 
 along the garden front. Letters and news- 
 papers had arrived, and Mr. Lawson was 
 buried in his leading articles, and was sour 
 and grim-visaged over them as it was his 
 wont to be. 
 
 Mrs. Lawson had risen early and contrary to 
 her usual rule, having a new hope that early 
 rising would biing her better health, as her 
 doctor had intimated that it would ; and Maud 
 was at her side reading a letter which had 
 reached her by that morning's post. It was a 
 long letter, at which she smiled once or twice, 
 at which she might possibly have even blushed, 
 for Mrs. Lawson said languidly, 
 
 " From Lord Evesby, Maud, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Yes, from Lord Evesby," answered the 
 daughter ; " he is coming back to-day after two 
 years' absence from England. He ^\all be here 
 almost as soon as his letter." 
 
 " And you are glad, I am sure," said Mrs. 
 Lawson, laying her hand upon her daughter's. 
 
 Maud did not answer readily, and Mrs. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 STEKN NECESSITY. 
 
 Lawson repeated her question almost anxi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Yes, I shall be glad to see him, mamma, 
 I thiak," she said somewhat thoughtfully. 
 
 " And I am sure that he will ^be glad to see 
 you," aflSrmed the mother ; *' that to-day will be 
 one of the happiest of his life." 
 
 " What a little makes some people happy !" 
 said Maud, in the same dreamy manner. 
 
 She was looking at the letter in her lap, and 
 was not aware that Mr. Lawson had become in- 
 terested in the conversation, or that his small 
 black eyes had rolled themselves mto their 
 corners, and were regarding her furtively. 
 
 " I am not, as a rule, curious concerning your 
 correspondence, Maud," said Mrs. Lawson, in a 
 tone of great indifference ; "but you are aware 
 that for years I have been interested in Lord 
 Evesby, and that his father and mine were 
 great friends. And you know what I have al- 
 ways wished?" 
 
 " Yes, I know," rephed the daughter. 
 
 " And may I see that letter, if it be not too
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 323 
 
 tender or romantic for a third person's perusal'?" 
 said Mrs. Lawson curiously. " I should like to 
 judge for myself if his lordship's tone is as 
 friendly as it should be under the cux-um- 
 stances." 
 
 " Under what cii'cumstauces, mamma f ' in- 
 quired Maud, as she passed the letter to her 
 mother. " You know that I have made no pro- 
 mise — that I am perfectly free, and that even 
 his return, a repentant prodigal, does not bind 
 me in any way to reward his new life with my 
 hand and fortune. Does it, Mr. Lawson ?" 
 
 She had caught sight of the bead-like eyes 
 glinting at her sideways in their sockets, and 
 Mr. Lawson jumped at this sudden inquiry. 
 
 " Well, no — no," he said airily, as he looked 
 ftdl at his paper again ; " there is no contract, 
 only a tacit imderstanding or agreement be- 
 tween you two young folk. He said something 
 or other before he went away, didn't he ? " 
 
 "Yes; but I said nothing — or next to nothing,'' 
 replied Maud, with a reserve. 
 
 *' Ladies can imply a great deal without say-
 
 324 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 iDg anything," said Mr. Lawson. After which 
 oracular remark he dived head first into his 
 newspaper. 
 
 Maud Christopherson thought that she did not 
 like Lord Evesby quite so well after this. She 
 did not wish to be talked into marrying a 
 nobleman, and to become Lady Evesby, because 
 her step-father desired it and her mother thought 
 that it would add to the dignity of the family. 
 She believed it possible that such a match might 
 add to her happiness by taking her into a new 
 sphere, and allying her to one who loved her 
 a little ; but neither mother nor step-father had 
 said much about her happiness. Position, 
 a title, influence in the county, had been dwelt 
 upon with more or less of eloquence; but 
 whether she should be happy was not on the 
 cards. 
 
 After breakfast she wandered about the gar- 
 den in a restless fashion that was new to her. 
 In her quiet moods she was methodical enough, 
 she believed ; and though there had been no- 
 thing to greatly disturb her, she found it diffi-
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 325 
 
 cult to set about those portions of fancy-work 
 and music-practice to which she had intended 
 to devote herself that morning. She felt that 
 she had a great deal to consider, a great deal 
 for which to prepare, and that the next few 
 hours were, for better or worse, to influence 
 her whole after-life. For a man was coming 
 back who would ask her once more to become 
 his wife ; and he was a man whom she respected, 
 and whom she fancied, when she was a girl of 
 seventeen, that she had almost learned to love. 
 She would think it all over very deeply that 
 morning, so that she should be prepared for 
 him, and all that he might say to her ; but, 
 after reading his letter very attentively, she 
 found that her mind wandered, and that a hun- 
 dred thoughts connected wdth her pensioners 
 and connected with the past, came between her 
 and her best intentions. 
 
 When Lord Evesby arrived, which he did 
 about half-past twelve that morning, she was 
 no more prepared for him than she had been be- 
 fore the receipt of his letter ; and perhaps it was
 
 326 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 as well for Lord Evesby that such wa& the case. 
 He came along the broad gravel-path which 
 skirted the lawn beyond the terrace ; and though 
 she affected not to see him, she was conscious 
 that her heart beat a little faster at his approach. 
 She had always liked him, of course ; he had 
 been always kind and considerate to her, and 
 had been only weak of purpose and extravagant 
 of purse — no very great failings in a young man 
 who had inherited " grand notions " from a 
 father who had not been careful himself of that 
 which had once been a good property. 
 
 " They told me you were here, Miss Maud," 
 he said, when he was close upon her, and she 
 had risen from the rustic garden-seat to offer 
 him a welcome back to Dorsetshire, " and I 
 thought that I would come in search of you at 
 once." 
 
 " You are very kind, my lord," Maud an- 
 swered. 
 
 Foreign travel had agreed Avith his lordship, 
 and Maud thought that she had never remem- 
 bered his looking so handsome. Lord Evesby
 
 THE WOODLAXDS. 327 
 
 was close upon thirty years of age — a few 
 months more would take him for ever from 
 those pleasant things, the " twenties " — and a 
 man always looks best at that period, if his life 
 has been honest and his liver is sound. He was 
 bronzed with the sun, his blue eyes (which 
 Jenny Spanswick had considered were washed- 
 out-looking eyes), had deepened a little in some 
 mysterious way, his long whiskers had even 
 condescended to take a darker hue, and he had 
 filled out by ever so little, and lost that slimness 
 and angularity which had taken twenty per 
 cent, off his tout-ensemble. Altogether a hand- 
 some man was Lord Evesby at this juncture ; 
 and he took his good looks becomingly, and 
 with an easy grace and modesty which did not 
 make an ass of him. Perhaps there was not a 
 great deal of expression in the nobleman, and 
 the small receding chin betrayed the weakness 
 of his character too much ; but it was a face 
 that a great many women would have liked, 
 and that a few men would have thought " not 
 so bad."
 
 328 STERX NECESSITY. 
 
 Maud did not resume her seat immediately. 
 A consciousness of danger, of her own irresolu- 
 tion, and of a new kind of determination in 
 him, led her to think that it was a better plan 
 to talk of luncheon and a return to the house. 
 
 " I do not think that they expect us in doors 
 at once," he said very politely at this hint. 
 " May I ask you to keep me company here, and 
 to bear with me a little ? I have not seen you 
 for so long — and you, I hope, are not afraid of 
 me?" 
 
 " No ; I am not afraid of you," said Maud, 
 laughing. 
 
 She resumed her seat, and Lord Evesby took 
 his seat beside her. He was very grave and 
 earnest, he was almost business-like, Maud 
 thought ; and though she had laughed pleasant- 
 ly at the idea of being afraid of her old friend, 
 she was nervous of him just a little. She had 
 always fancied that he was a timid man — a man 
 to be checked by a word, and to render any 
 amount of obedience at a given signal ; it was 
 his calmness and placidity that had been at
 
 THE WOODLANDS. 329 
 
 times unbearable, and she was a little surprised 
 at his new manner. 
 
 It was somewhat odd for Lord Evesby to 
 return after two years' absence, and to dash 
 instantly into love-matters, as though he had 
 prepared his speech, and was anxious to get 
 it off his mind, no matter what might be 
 the result of his precipitation. He was tak- 
 ing up a subject w^hich had been dwelt upon 
 the night he bade them all good-bye, and de- 
 parted maldng many promises ; but she would 
 have preferred its resumption at a more fitting 
 opportunity, when they were less like strangers, 
 when the natural reverse which two years' se- 
 paration had made had passed away beneath 
 the potent spell of old acquaintanceship. For 
 an instant it almost made her suspicious of him 
 — the man could not have had her on his mind 
 so completely as all this ; and it was not abso- 
 lutely necessary to dash at her as though he 
 were afraid that in the course of the next few 
 minutes she would make a strong effort to elude 
 him.
 
 330 STERN NECESSITY. 
 
 " Maud," he said in a low voice, " I wonder 
 if you remember everything that passed between 
 us when I went away from here last f 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLEN 
 
 1