XXXIX. The Disadvantages of Greatness XXVI. A Picture Sale XxxI. Rejected XXXIII. News from China XXXIV. Brother and Sister'. XXXV. Two Sketches. XXXVI. An Object in Life XXXVII. On Canvass XXXVIII. An Hon. Member' XL. A Friend in Need Cui Bono? or, The Story of Chloe Tenterden. By JEFFREY GRAHAM. Ann. Duel in Herne Wood, The. By WILKIE COLLINS Fairy Man and the Lady of the Rock, The. By Cuthbert Bede Fatal Curiosity, The; or, A Hundred Years Hence. By JAMES PAYN. Ann. Animal Architects, Some. By DR. ANDREW WILSON 304 59 94 Living in Dread and Terror. By RICHARD A. PROCTOR 288 My Coal-Black Beard. By PERCY FITZGERALD. Annual. Peter Stott's Dream. By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. Annual. . PAGE Return of the Native, The. By THOMAS HARDY : Bk. I. Chap. I. A Face upon which Time makes but little Impression 257 with Trouble III. The Custom of the Country IV. An Innocent Person greatly wronged by Accidents. VI. Old Chords are effectively touched. Snow-Stains. By A. PERCEVAL Graves Some Superstitions of the Turks. By F. E. A. Song of the Ship' Argo,' The. By B. MONTGOMERIE RANKING Thanksgiving, A. By CLEMENT W. SCOTT That Night. By RICHARD DOWLING Theodore Hook. By H. BARTON BAKER Watching and Praying 266 283 481 491 BELGRAVIA NOVEMBER 1877. By Proxy. BY JAMES PAYN. CHAPTER XXV. THE IRON MELTS. NOME people are so clever that they find it easy to discover other men's motives; but Raymond Pennicuick was not of this clever sort, and it is therefore not surprising that he failed to account to himself for his father's behaviour as respected the wife and daughter of his dead friend. His disinclination-nay, his downright refusal to visit them, on pretence of engagements in town, shocked Raymond's sense of propriety; no matter how painful might have been the interview, it seemed to him downright cowardice to shirk so obvious a duty. On the other hand, there was his father's offer to benefit them pecuniarily, which, if not handsome, might be deemed sufficient, in any person not bound to them by ties of blood, and which he felt to be liberal when taken into consideration with his father's views about money matters. Under any other circumstance he would not even to himself have admitted so much to his parent's detriment; had the persons concerned been indifferent to him, he would have made excuses, and, so far as his conscience permitted, even taken the other side; but when our feelings are excited both for and against, we are liable to have the operation which by oculists is called 'couching' performed on us. Here, then, was a man by nature loth to part with his money, making a liberal provision for individuals who had no legal claim on him, but at the same time so wanting in proper feeling as not to see the necessity of telling them with his own lips of how it had fared with their nearest and dearest in his last hours. Nor could his son honestly find an apology for him on the score of extreme sensibility. That the subject of Conway's death VOL. XXXIV. NO. CXXXIII. B should be distasteful to his father was natural enough; but that he should have ignored it, as he had done, throughout their late interview, was inexplicable to Raymond. To him, at least, the details might have been confided; and at all events some hint might have been given of Conway's state of mind and behaviour; above all, those last fond words should have been repeated to him, which, however feeble in themselves, have so intense a significance for those who love and survive us. It was incredible that a man like Conway, tender-hearted and passionately attached to at least one of the members of his little family, could have left the world without a word of farewell. Raymond's duty, however, was plain enough: he must go down to Richmond; make out the best case for his father that was possible, and, above all, endeavour to persuade the widow and her daughter to receive assistance from his hand. One cause of embarrassment was upon this occasion spared to him; his errand was such that no allusion to his love for Nelly need be apprehended from him; for though the subject was forbidden, it was in his thoughts, and could be read by her, he fancied (and not without reason), in his tell-tale face and tone. The house at Richmond bore externally the same appearance as usual; he was pleased to see that the tiny plot of ground that lay between it and the road was as full of flowers and kept as neatly as before, though he little knew that this was the work of Nelly's own hands, and not of those of the odd man,' who had heretofore performed the duties of gardener. But, within, the signs of the altered circumstances of its inmates were at once apparent. The door was answered' to him no longer by the trim housemaid, but by a little maid-of-all-work of tender years, who held it half open in her hand, after the manner of her kind, as doubtful whether the visitor was to be admitted, or left standing on the steps outside, till his errand should be made known to missis.' The presentation of his card seemed only to add to her difficulties; she turned it over and over as if it was a cryptogram which she could not decipher (for, indeed, the art of reading was unknown to her), and then running to the foot of the stairs, exclaimed, 'Oh, please, Miss Conway, here is a young man as wants you.' It was quite true, but under the circumstances a little embarrassing, and doubtless accounted for Nelly's heightened colour when she presented herself. She greeted him with a sad smile and a grasp of the hand, which, though eloquent of friendship, somehow seemed to speak of love's divorce; and led the way into the parlour. 'You have seen your father, Raymond,' were her first words. |