PART III. CHAPTER VIII. YOUNG POWYS. why did you send a policeman to my mother? That is not the way to inquire about a man if you mean to trust him. I dont say you have any call to trust me "A policeman!" said Mr. Brownlow, in consternation. MR. BROWNLOW took his new clerk into his employment next morning. It is true that this was done to fill up a legitimate vacancy, but yet "Well, sir, the fellows there," cried the enit took everybody in the office a little by sur-ergetic young savage, pointing behind him, prise. The junior clerk had generally been a "call him Inspector. I don't mean to say you very junior, taken in rather by way of training were to take me on my own word; any inquithan for any positive use. The last one, indeed, ries you like to make we were ready to answer; whom this new-comer had been taken to replace, but a policeman—and to my mother! was an overgrown boy in jackets, very different, indeed, from the tall, well-developed Canadian whose appearance filled all Mr. Brownlow's clerks with amazement. All sorts of conjectures about him filled the minds of these young gentlemen. They all spied some unknown motive underneath, and their guesses at it were ludicrously far from the real case. The conveyancing clerk suggested that the young fellow was somebody's son "that old Brownlow has ruined, you know, in the way of business." Other suppositions fixed on the fact that he was the son of a widow by whom, perhaps, the governor might have been bewitched, an idea which was speedily adopted as the favourite and most probable explanation, and caused unbounded amusement in the office. They made so merry over it that once or twice awkward consequences had nearly ensued; for the new clerk had quick ears, and was by no means destitute of intelligence, and decidedly more than a match, physically, for the most of his fellows. As for the circumstances of engagement, they were on this wise. Mr. Brownlow laughed, but yet this explosion gave him a certain uneasiness. "Compose yourself," he said, "the man is not a policeman, but he is a confidenţial agent, whom when I can't see about anything myselfbut I hope he did not say anything or ask anything that annoyed Mrs. -your mother," Mr. Brownlow added, hurriedly; and if the jocular youths in the office had seen something like a shade of additional colour rise on his elderly cheek, their amusement and their suspicions would have been equally confirmed. At the hour which Mr. Brownlow had appointed to see him again, young Powys presented himself punctually in the outer office, where he was made to wait a little, and heard some "chaffing" about the governor's singular proceedings on the previous day and his interviews with Inspector Pollaky, which probably conveyed a certain amount of information to the young man. When he was ushered into Mr. Brownlow's room, there was, notwithstand ing his frank and open countenance, a certain cloud on his brow. He stood stiffly before his future employer, and heard with only a halfsatisfied look that the lawyer, having made in quiries, was disposed to take advantage of his services. To this the young backwoodsman assented in a stilted way, very different from his previous frankness; and when all was concluded, he still stood doubtful, with the look upon his face of having something to say. "I don't know what more there is to settle, except the time when you enter upon your duties," said Mr. Brownlow, a little surprised, "You need not begin to-day. Mr. Wrinkell, the head-clerk, will give you all the necessary information about hours, and show you all you will have to do, Is there anything more you would like to say?" "Well, no," said young Powys, the compunction gaining ground; I beg your pardon, sir; you are very kind. I am sure you must think me ungrateful-but "Nonsense!" said Mr. Brownlow; "it is quite right you should stand up for your mother. The man is not a policeman, and I never-intended him -to trouble er," he added, with hesitation. make inquiry, and these sort of people take their own way; but he did not annoy her I hope?" your moth"He went to 'Oh, no!" said the youth, recovering his temper altogether. "She took it up as being some inquiry about my father, and she was a little excited, thinking perhaps that his friends - but never mind. I told her it was best we should depend only on ourselves, and I am sure I am right. Thank you; I shall have good news to tell her to-day.' "Stop a little," said Mr. Brownlow, feeling a reaction upon himself of the compunction which had passed over his young companion. "She thought it was something about your father? Is there anything mysterious, then, about your father? I told you there was a Lady Powys who had lived here." -- I don't think there is anything mysterious about him," said the young man. "I scarcely remember him, though I am the eldest. He died quite young and my poor mother has always thought that his friends But I never encouraged her in that idea, for my part." "That his friends could do something for you?" said Mr. Brownlow. "Yes, that is what she thought. I don't think myself there is any foundation for it; and seeing they have never found us out all these years-five-and-twenty years" Five-and-twenty years!" Mr. Brownlow repeated, with a start-not that the coincidence was anything, but only that the mere was. sound of the words startled him, excited as he get on; and if you have any papers or anything that may give a clue to your father's fam"Yes, I am as old as that," said young Po-ily," he continued, as he took up his pen, wys, with a smile, and then he recollected himself. "I beg your pardon, sir; I am taking up your time, and I hope you don't think I am ungrateful. Getting this situation so soon is everything in the world to us.' "I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Brownlow; and yet he could not but ask himself whether his young visitor laid an emphasis upon this situation. What was this situation more than another? "But the salary is not very large, you know - do you mean to take your mother and her family on your shoulders with sixty pounds a-year?" "It is my family," said the young man, growing red. "I have no interest separate from theirs." Then he paused for a moment, feeling affronted; but he could not bear malice. Next minute he relapsed into the frank and confidential tone that was natural to him. "There are only five of us after all," he said "five altogether, and the little sisters don't cost much; and we have a little money-I think we shall do very well." "I hope so," said Mr. Brownlow; and somehow, notwithstanding that he intended in his heart to do this young fellow a deadly injury, a certain affectionate interest in the lad sprang up within him. He was so honest and open, and had such an innocent confidence in the interest of others. None of his ordinary clerks were thus garrulous to Mr. Brownlow. It never would have occurred to them to confide in the "guv'nor." He knew them as they came and went, and had a certain knowledge of their belongings which it was that would have old Robinson's money, and which that had given his father so much uneasiness; but that was very different from a young fellow that would look into your face and make a confidant of you as to his way of spending his sixty pounds a-year. John Brownlow had posessed a heart ever since he was aware of his own individuality. It was that that made him raise his eyes always, years and years ago, when Bessie Fennel went past his windows. Perhaps it would have been just as well had he not been thus moved; and yet sometimes, when he was all by himself and looked up suddenly and saw any passing figure, the remembrance of those moments when Bessie passed would be as clear upon him as if he were young again. Influenced by this same organ, which had no particular business in the breast of a man of his profession at his years, Mr. Brownlow looked with eyes that were almost tender upon the young man whom he had just taken into his employnotwithstanding that, to tell the truth, he meant badly by him, and in one particular at least was far from intending to be his friend. ment "I hope so," he said; "and if you are steady and suit us, there may be means found of increasing a little. I don't pledge myself to anything, you know; but we shall see how you "bring them to me some day and I'll look over them. That's all in the way of business to us. We might satisfy your mother after all, and perhaps be of some use to you." This he said with an almost paternal smile, dismissing his new clerk, who went away in an enthusiasm of gratitude and satisfaction. It is so pleasant to be very kindly used, especially to young people who know no better. It throws a glow of comfort through the internal consciousness. It is so very, very good of your patron, and, in a smaller way, it is good of you too, who are patronised. You are understood, you are appreciated, you are liked. This was the feeling young Powys had. To think that Mr. Brownlow would have been as good to anybody would not have been half so satisfactory, and he went off with ringing hasty steps, which in themselves were beating a measure of exhilaration, to tell his mother, who, though ready on the spot to worship Mr. Brownlow, would naturally set this wonderful success down to the score of her boy's excellences. As for the lawyer himself, he took his pen in his hand and wrote a few words of the letter which lay unfinished before him while the young man was going out, as if anxious to make up for the time lost in this interview; but as soon as the door was closed John Brownlow laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair. What was it he had done? taken in a viper to his bosom that would sting him or received a generous, open, confiding youth, in order to blind and hoodwink and rob him? These were strong nay, rude and harsh words, and he did not say them even to himself; but a kind of shadow of them rolled through his mind, and gave him a momentary panic. Was this what he was about to do? With a pretence of kindness, even generosity, to take this open-hearted young fellow into his employment, in order to keep him in the dark, and prevent him from finding out that the fortune was his upon which Brownlows and all its grandeur was founded? Was this what he was doing? It seemed to John Brownlow for the moment as if the air of his room was suffocating, or rather as if there was no air at all to breathe, and he plucked at-his cravat in the horror of the sensation. But then he came to himself. Perhaps, on the other hand, just as likely, he was taking into his house a secret enemy, who, once posted there, would search and find out. everything. Quite likely, very likely; for what did he mean by the emphasis with which he said this situation, and all that about his father, which was throwing dust into Mr. Brownlow's cautious eyes? Perhaps his mind was a little biassed by his profession-perhaps he was moved by something of the curious legal uncertainty which teaches a man to plead never indebted " in the same breath with "already paid; " for amid the hurry and tumult of these thoughts came another which was of a more comforting tendency. After all, he had no evidence that this boy was that woman's son. No evidence whatever-not a shadow. And it was not his duty to go out and hunt for her or her son over all the world. Nobody could expect it of him. He had done it once, but to do it over again would be simply absurd. Let them come and make their claim. Thus the matter was decided, and there could be no doubt that it was with a thrill of very strange and mingled interest that Mr. Brownlow watched young Powys enter apon his duties. He had thought this would be a trouble to Hima constant shadow upon him,- a kind of silent threat of misery to come; but the fact was that it did not turn out so. The young fellow was so frank and honest, so far at least as physiognomy went-his very step was so cheerful and active, and rang so lightly on the stones he was so ready to do anything, so quick and cordial and workmanlike about his work came in with such a bright face, spoke with such a pleasant respectful confidence, as knowing that some special link existed between his employer and himself; Mr. Brownlow grew absolutely attached to the new clerk, for whom he had so little use, to whom he was so kind and fatherly, and against whom -good heavens! was it possible? he was harbouring such dark designs. As for young Jack, when he came back to the office after a few days on the ice, there being nothing very important in the way of business going on just then, the sight of this new figure took him very much by surprise. He was not very friendly with his father's clerks on the whole-perhaps because they were too near himself to be looked upon with charitable eyes; too near, and yet as far off, he thought to himself, as if he had been a duke. Not that Jack had those attributes which distinguished the great family of snobs. When he was among educated men he was as unassuming as it is in the nature of a young man to be, and never dreamed of asking what their pedigree was, or what their balance at their bankers. But the clerks were different-they were natural enemies-fellows that might set themselves up for being as good as he, and yet were not as good as he, however you chose to look at the question. In short, they were cads. This was the all-expressive word in which Jack developed his sentiments. Any addition to the cads was irksome to him; and then he, the young prince, knew nothing about it, which was more irksome still. "Oh, I see, a piece of perfection," said Jack, with, it must be confessed, a slight sneer. "But I don't see that he was wanted. Brown was quite able for all the work. I should like to know where you picked that fellow up. It's very odd that something always happens when I am absent for a single day." "The frost has lasted for ten days," said Mr. Wrinkell, with serious but mild reproof —“ not that I think there is anything in that. We are only young once in this life; and there is nothing particular doing. I am very glad you took advantage of it, Mr. John." Now it was one of Jack's weak points that he hated being called Mr. John, and could not bear to be approved of two peculiarities of which Mr. Wrinkell was very thoroughly aware. But the vizier had many privileges. He was serious and substantial, and not a man who could be called a cad, as Jack called his own contemporaries in the office. However tiresome or aggravating he might be, he had to be borne with; and he knew his advantages, and was not always generous in the use he made of them. When the young man went off into his own little private room, Mr. Wrinkell was tempted to give a little inward chuckle. He was a dissenter, and he rather liked to put the young autocrat down. "He has too much of his own way -too much of his own way," he said to himself, and went against Jack on principle, and for his good, which is a kind of conduct not always appreciated by those for whose good it is kept up. And from that moment a kind of opposition, not to say enmity, crept up between Jack and the new clerk - a sort of feeling that they were rather too like each other, and were not practicable in the same hemisphere. Jack tried, but found it did not answer, to call the new-comer a cad. He did not, like the others, follow Jack's own ways at a woeful distance, and copy those things for which Jack rather despised himself, as all cads have a way of doing; but had his own way, and was himself, Powys, not the least like the Browns and Robinsons. The very first evening, as they were driving home together, Jack, having spent the day in a close examination of the new-comer, thought it as well to let his father know his opinion on the subject, which he did as they flew along in their dogcart, with the wicked mare which Jack could scarce "Who is that tall fellow?" he said to Mr. Wrinkell who was his father's vizier. "What is he doing here? You don't mean to say he's en permanence? Who is he, and what is he doingly hold in, and the sharp wind whizzing past there! "That's Mr. Powys, Mr. John," said Mr. Wrinkell, calmly, and with a complacent little nod. The vizier rather liked to snub the heirapparent when he could, and somehow the Canadian had crept into his good graces too. By Jove! and who the deuce is Mr. Powys?" their ears, that were icy cold with speed. "I see you have got a new fellow in the of fice," said Jack. I hope it's not my idleness that made it necessary. I should have gone back on Monday; but I thought you said "I am glad you didn't come,' said Mr. Brownlow, quietly. "I should have told you had there been any occasion. No, it was not for that. You know he came in young Jones's place." "He's not very much like young Jones," said Jack-"as old as I am, I should think. How she pulls, to be sure! One would think, to see her go, she hadn't been out for a week.' "Older than you are," said Mr. Brownlow "five-and-twenty; and he gave an unconscious sigh-for it was dark, and the wind was sharp, and the mare very fresh; and under such circumstances a man may relieve his mind, at least to the extent of a sigh, without being obliged to render a reason. So at least Mr. Brownlow thought. But Jack heard it, somehow, notwithstanding the ring of the mare's hoofs and the rush of the wind, and was confounded -as much confounded as he durst venture on being with such a slippery animal to deal with. "Beg your pardon, sir," said the groom, "keep her steady, sir; this here is the gate she's always a-shying at." "Oh, confound her!" said Jackor perhaps it was "confound you"-which would have been more natural; but the little waltz performed by Mrs. Bess at that moment, and the sharp crack of the whip, and the wind that whistled through all, made his adjuration less distinct than it might have been. When, however, the dangerous gate was past, and they were going on again with great speed and moderate steadiness, he resumed "I thought you did not mean to have another in young Jones's place. I should have said Brown could do all the work. When these fellows have too little to do they get into all sorts of mischief." "Most fellows do," said Mr. Brownlow, calmly. "I may as well tell you, Jack, that I wanted young Powys-I know his people; that is to say," he added hastily, "I don't know his people. Don't take it into your head that I do but still I've heard something about them - in a kind of a way; and it's my special desire to have him there." that Mrs. Swayne had been impertinent to him. Not that he cared in the least for Mrs Swayne; but naturally he took a little interest in thechild - he supposed she was only a child — a little light thing that felt like a feather when he carried her in out of the snow. He had carried her in, and he "took an interest" in her; and why he should be met with impertinence when he asked how the little creature was, was more than Jack could understand. The very morning of the day on which he saw young Powys first, he had been answered by Mrs. Swayne standing in front of her door, and pulling it close behind her, as if she was afraid of thieves, or something. "She's a-going on as nicely as could be, and there ain't no cause for anxiety, sir," Mrs. Swayne said, which was not a very impertinent speech after all. Oh, I did not suppose there was," said Jack. "It was only a sprain, I suppose; but she looked such a delicate little thing. That old woman with her was her mother, eh? What did she mean travelling with a fragile little creature like that in the carrier's cart?" "I don't know about no old woman," said Mrs. Swayne; "the good lady as has my front parlour is the only female as is here, and they've come for quiet, Mr. John, not meaning no offence; and when you're a bit nervish, as I knows myself by experience, it goes to your heart every time as there comes a knock at the door." "You can't have many knocks at the door here," said Jack; "as for me, I only wanted to know how the little thing was." "Miss is a-doing nicely, sir," Mrs. Swayne answered, with solemnity; and this was what Jack considered a very impertinent reception of his kind inquiries. He was amused by it, and yet it put him a little out of temper too. "As if I could possibly mean the child any harm," he said to himself, with a laugh; rather, indeed, insisting on the point that she was a child in all his thoughts on the subject; and then, as has been seen, the sudden introduction of young Powys and Mr. Brownlow's calm "I said nothing against it, sir," said Jack adoption of the sentiment that it was his busidispleased. "You are the head, to do whatev-ness to decide who was to be in the office, came er you like. I only asked, you know." "Yes, I know you only asked," said Mr. Brownlow, with quiet decision. "That is my business; but I'd rather you were civil to him, if it is the same to you." a little hard upon Jack, who, after all, notwithstanding his philosophical indifference as to his sister's heiress-ship, liked to be consulted about matters of business, and did not approve of being put back into a secondary place. "By Jove, I believe she'll break our necks Thus it was with a sense of having done her some day," said Jack, in his irritation, though duty by her new lodgers, that Mrs. Swayne the mare was doing nothing particular. "Go-paid her periodical visit in the afternoon to the ing as quiet as a lamb," the groom said afterwards in amazement, "when he let out at her enough to make a saint contrairy." And contrairy "she was up to the very door of the house, which perhaps, under the circumstances, was just as well. CHAPTER IX. NEW NEIGHBOURS. PERHAPS one of the reasons why Jack was out of temper at this particular moment was inmates of the parlour, where the object of Jack Brownlow's inquiries lay very much covered up on the little horsehair sofa. She was still suffering from her sprain, and was lying asleep on the narrow and uneasy couch, wrapped in all the shawls her mother possessed, and with her own pretty red cloak thrown over the heap. It was rather a grim little apartment, with darkgreen painted walls, and coarse white curtains drawn over the single window. But the inmates probably were used to no better, and cer "And yet you have but this one left," said Mrs. Swayne. "Dear, dear!-when it's decline, it comes kind of natural, and you get used to it like. An aunt o' mine had nine, all took one after the other, and she got that used to it, she'd tell you how it would be as soon as e'er a one o' them began to droop; but when it's them sort of masterful sicknesses as you can't do nothing for - Deary me! all strong in their chests, and you to have had so many and but this one left." Ay," said the mother, wringing her thin hands with a momentary yet habitual action, "It's hard when you've reared them so far; but you said it was good air here?" tainly were quite content with their quarters. The girl lay asleep with a flush upon her cheeks, which the long eyelashes seemed to over-shadow, and her soft rings of dark hair pushed back in pretty disorder off her soft, full, childlike forehead. She was sleeping that grateful sleep of convalescence, in which life itself seems to come back -a sleep deep and sound and dreamless, and quite undisturbed by the little murmur of voices which went on over the fire. Her mother was a tall meagre woman, older than the mother of such a girl ought to have been. Save that subtle, indefinable resemblance which is called family likeness, the two did not resemble each other. The elder woman now sitting in the horsehair easy-chair "Beautiful air, that's what it is," said Mrs. over the fire, was very tall, with long features, Swayne, enthusiastically; "and when she gets and grey cheeks which had never known any a bit stronger, and the weather gets milder, and roses. She had keen black passionate eyes, he mends of his rheumatics, Swayne shall looking as young and full of life as if she had drive her out in his spring-cart. It's a fine been sixteen instead of nearly sixty; and her way of seeing the country -a deal finer, I hair was still as black as it had been in her think, than the gentry in their carriages with a youth. But somehow the dead darkness of the coachman on his box perched up afore them. hair made the grey face underneath look older I ain't one as holds by much doctoring. Docthan if it had been softened by the silvery tones tors and parsons, they're all alike; and I don't of white that belong to the aged. She was care if I never saw one o' them more." dressed as poor women, who have ceased to "Isn't there a nice clergyman?" said the care about their appearance, and have no natu- lodger-"it's a nice church, for we saw it, ral instinct that way, so often dress, in every-passing in the cart, and the child took a fancy thing most suited to increase her personal de- to it. In the country like this, it's nice to have ficiencies. She had a little black lace cap over a nice clergyman that's to say, if you're her black hair, and a black gown with a rim of Church folks." greyish white round the neck, badly made, and which took away any shape that might ever have been in her tall figure. Her hands were hard, and red, and thin, with no sort of softening between them and the harsh black sleeve which clasped her wrists. She was not a lady, that was evident; and yet you would not have said she was a common woman after you had looked into her eyes. "There was nothing but Church folks heard tell of where I came from," said Mrs. Swayne, with a little heat. "Them as says I wasn't born and bred and confirmed in the Church don't know what they're talking of; but since we come here, you know, along of Swayne being a Dissenter, and the Rector a man as has no sympathy, I've give up. It's the same with the doctors. There ain't one as I haven't tried, It was very cold, though the thaw had set in, exceptin' the homoepathetic; and I was turning and the snow was gone raw and damp with a it over in my mind as soon as Swayne had penetrating chill, which is as bad as frost, or another bad turn to send for him." worse, some people think. And the new-comer sat over the fire, leaning forward in the highbacked horsehair chair, and spreading out her hands to the warmth. She had given Mrs. Swayne a general invitation to come in for a chat in the afternoon, not knowing as yet how serious a business that was; and was now making the best of it, interposing a few words now and then, and yet not altogether without comfort in the companionship, the very hum of human speech having something consolatory in it. "If it's been a fever, that's a thing as will mend," said Mrs. Swayne, " and well over too; and a thing as you don't have more nor once. When it's here, and there's decline in the family -" she added, putting her hand significantly to her breast. "There's no decline in my family," said the lodger, quickly. "It was downright sickness always. No, she's quite strong in her chest. I've always said it was a great blessing that they were all strong in their chest " "I hope we shan't want any more doctors," said the mother, once more softly wringing her hands. "But for Pamela's sake" "Is that her name?" said Mrs. Swayne; "I never knew no one of that name afore; but folks is all for new-fashioned names nowadays. The Pollys and the Betsys as used to be in my young days, I never hear tell of them now; but the girls ain't no nicer nor no better behaved as I can see. It's along o' the storybooks and things. There's Miss Sairah as is always a-lending books". Is Miss Sairah the young lady in the great house?" asked the stranger, looking up. Mrs. Swayne assented with a little reluctance. "Oh! yes, sure enough but they ain't the real old Squires. Not as the old Squires was much to brag of; they was awful poor, and there never was nothing to be made out of them, neither by honest trades-folks nor cottagers, nor nobody; but him as has it now is nothing but a lawyer out of Masterton. He's made it all, I should'nt wonder, by cheating poor folks out |