The Soldier's Wife — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SOLDIER'S WIFE the long and short of it is, that if I don’t trace “If I were certain that ycu woud really the letter or make good the fifty pound, I shall/keep my secret,” continued Fiederick,—*“ that lose the post-office and perhaps get into a worse|is to say, if when you go back to Oakleigh, you scrape still. Mummery says he doesn’t want|will carefully abstain from mentioning that to hurt me if I can only make it right with his}you saw me—I will give you the amount you brother-in-law. It seems that this brother-in- law lent Mummery the money a long time ago just wuen I first had the post-offive—and it was to repay the loan that Mummery, as he says, posted the letter with the fifty pounds. Didn’t you always think Mummery was well to do? But it seems he isn’t though. However, I have been obliged to come to Carlisle to see the brother-in-law, in the hope of getting him tc give me time to make good the money, be- cause if he’s satisfied, the authorities in London will be satisfied too. But the fellow is a brute to deal with: he never was in Oakleigh in his life, and therefore doesn’t care a fig for any of the Oakleigh people, and says he doesn’t see why he should be put out of the way for me. So you see, Fred, that I am in a deuce of a mess, and it’s a very fortunate thing that I happen to tumble in with you.” “Fortunate?” ejaculated Lonsdale. require.” Mr. Bates poured forth a perfect volley of the most emphatic assurances, and Lonsdale, bidding him wait there until his return, sallied forth from the public-house. Oh! how sad, how sad a thing it is for a man who fondly and devotedly loves his wife, and who cherishes her happiness as the only element of his own, to be compelled to go into the presence of that wife and break to her the intelligence of a new calamity! Such was Frederick’s position now. For a moment, in the deep love which he felt for Lucy, he thought of suppressing the circumstance and devising some excuse for requiring the whole amount of their little savings—or even bor- rowing the required sum from one of the nu- merous friends he had made during his resi- dence at Carlisle. But no: a second thought convinced him of the prudence of telling his “Yes—to be sure: fortunate!” repeated|wife everything. They were so completely one, the barber, emphasizing the word. “Tt's|that he felt he had no more right to keep back retty clear,” he continued, looking him hard|a grief from her knowledge, than he had to in the face, “that you are in jolly good circum-| withhold a happiness; and therefore he re- stances: and therefore I know you won't refuse |solved to deal frankly and candidly with her. an old friend the loan of a fifty pound note.” But as he entered the house and ascended to An expression of anguish swept over Lons-|their sitting-room on the first floor he expe- dale’s countenance. He was no niggard of his money, but was naturally of a most generous disposition; it was, nevertheless, most galling —most torturing, to contemplate this vile ex- toition that was sought to be practised by one who, so far from having any claim upon hin, jught, if circumstances would permit the inflic- rienced so inefiable a load of misery that he could have cried out. On opening the door he beheld Lucy bending over the cradle; and as she turned around to greet him with a joyous glance, and with a smile upon the lip that awaited the usual kiss, she was instantaneously smitten with his aspect, so altered did it seem from what it was when he went forth! Her first thought was that the individual whom he himself in the power of such au individual, and|had been to see had died of his injury; and to be compelled to give the whole of his little|this belief was strengthened by his prolonged savings to such a wretch, was indeed sufficient| absence. to call up that look of anguish to our hero’s}’ Then followed a scene that was painful in- countenance. The barber noticed it, but did|deed. Frederick strained his wife to his breast, not choose to make any observation, for he un-jand gently broke to her the whole cireum- derstood tolerably well what was passing in|stance which had occurred. Notwithstanding Frederick’s mind. the precautions he thus took in graduating the “Come, you don’t drink,” he said, refilling|development of the intelligence, it proved a sad his glass for the sixth or seventh time, while|blow to Luey: but subduing any passionate that of Lonsdale remained altogether un-|outburst of grief, she at once began to minister touched. the tenderest and most endearing consolations “I do not care about wine,” replied Frede-|to her husband, beseechfng him not to give way rick. “But let us understand each other,” he|to despair, but to summon all his fortitude to immediately continued, now determined to|his aid—for his own sake, for her’s, and for that come to the point at once, “If I give you fifty|of the beloved infant sleeping in its cradle. Oh! pounds, what guarantee have I that you will|how deeply at that moment did Frederick ap- not reward me with ingratitude ?” preciate the angel character of his wife! how “J shouldn’t do such a thing!” exclaimed |full of a sweet anodyne were the words which the barber. came from her lips in the soft music of her “Ah! but remember past circumstances,”|voice! how replete with love and devotion rejuined Lonsdale bitterly. were the looks that her beauteous blue eyes “Oh! but it’s very different now. I was so|bent upon him! Again and again did he prese poor and pinched, as you well know, that even|her to his heart; and then, laving taken from the few shillings I got frum Langley for doing|his writing-desk the whole amount of their what I did, was an object: but now, if I can|little savings, he snatched another emtrace and ouly make up this fifty pounds, it will put me|sped back to the public-house where he had all right, and I shall consider myself your|left the barber. _ debtor in every way.” Bates, having durirg his absence finished tior of such chastisement, to. be kicked out ignominiously from his presence. But to feel CONMICLOOOKKS (E(O) 3