CHAPTER XI.

MORE OF THE TADCASTERS' HOUSEHOLD.

We have already said that no one knew anything of the history of the Yorks prior to their occupation of the jeweller's firstfloor. They were Londoners, and had lived in London all their lives, was quite evident from many circumstances. Indeed, Mrs. York had admitted as much to Mrs. Tadcaster; but beyond this and a few such simple facts, as will become current in every household, their history was a blank.

Her

They had taken the Tadcasters' lodgings late one Saturday evening, had paid a week's rent in advance, and said they were leaving their then abode on account of railway improvements that would necessitate their house being pulled down. They then gave their address in a distant street in the Borough, and became Mrs. Tadcaster's lodgers that same night at a very late hour. Many worldly possessions did not encumber them ; a very small box, a few books, and a roll of music, constituting such moveable riches as came with them in a cab. suspicions raised by these signs of povertyfor Mrs. Tadcaster had the usual landlady's eye to the amount and character of her lodgers' effects-she repaired early on the following Monday to the address given, and found that the Yorks had really lodged there a few weeks, and had always paid their rent. This was all that could be learned; and with this amount of information she had to be content. But one week following another from this date, and her rent being paid, though irregularly and often with apparent difficulty, Mrs. Tadcaster ceased to trouble herself about her first-floor lodgers' antecedents, and gossipped or quarrelled with Mrs. York by turns. On one point Mrs. Tadcaster had no misgivings, and this made the impenetrable mystery of their foregone lives the more passable-she felt sure that the Yorks were married-for they were at incessant warfare; he morose, dogged, or contemptuous, as his humour prompted; and she, always jealous, flippant, and captious. Mrs. Tadcaster reasoned from a very good,

* Continued from page 269. VOL. VIII. N. S.

common-sense point of view, when, in moments of confidential gossip, she gave it as her opinion that such a man would certainly leave such a woman if he could; whilst to this assertion she added the information that Mr. York was afraid of his wife, and that, childlike in appearance, and ignorant and weak, and tantalizing and jealous-tempered as she was, she yet possessed some hidden source of mastery over him, and could, at any moment, check him with the reins she held.

From whence this hidden source of power had sprung was amongst the other antecedents of their lives-a hidden thing; at least it was habitually exercised, and often with an obstinate malignity that baffles all description.

As for the man, he was both educated and intellectual. If the former did not reach the high standard he ostentatiously asserted, it was at least far beyond the common average; he knew something both of mathematics and the classics, was not only well read in his own language, but wrote it with ease and refined judgment. He had toiled through many philosophical treatises, was conversant with the better class literature of the day, but past erudition and present knowledge tended but to one result- -a malignant disbelief in good, human and divine; a proneness to bitter judgment of all men and all things; a hatred of prosperity, success, and industry when seen in others; and, worse than all, a keen observer might detect, though sought to be concealed, signs that a sardonic sort of pleasure was taken in the corruption of good principles or good faith. The usual effect of education,

so far as this man's had gone, is to enlarge capacity, create humility, widen the bounds of charity, kindliness, and esteem for others -raise, in fact, the tone of a man's whole moral and intellectual nature. But here was a strange exception; and natural viciousness was only confirmed, and its evil power increased, by the intellectual advantages it possessed.

On first settling at the Tadcasters, Mr. York had gone forth regularly each morning on some mission of tutorship, returning from this duty usually in the afternoon. He then expected his dinner to be ready. This par

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taken, he passed the rest of the day in lying on the sofa, smoking and reading till long past midnight, when he retired to rest. As might be expected from a man of such habits, he was loath to rise of a morning; and it was not till his little, red-faced, dirtylooking wife had carried in his breakfast, quarrelled with him, and used a threat or two that he condescended to rise. When at last he did, he would be in the worst possible humour, and after upsetting everything that came in his way, saying the bitterest things that even a man of sardonic temper could, and dressing with a negligent haste, very unfitted for one holding the office of tutor, he would hurry away half an hoursometimes an hour-beyond his appointed time. With whomsoever employed him this state of things was not very likely long to pass current. Accordingly, about six weeks after Mr. York's advent at the Tadcasters, he returned home one day at an hour much earlier than usual with some books under his arm, and with looks more than usually morose and sarcastic. As was evident, to this place he never returned; and then followed a month or two in which Mrs. Tadcaster's patience concerning her rent was put to the utmost stretch, and Mr. York's shelf of books grew daily less. Then, after many letters had passed to and fro, another tutorship seemed to be procured, and dealt with eventually as the other had been-was lost still more speedily. Then followed a longer period of misery and want till work of some other kind was gained; this " appertaining to the press,' as Mrs. York pompously informed the Tadcasters. So Mr. York now sat at home for days together, writing a little, smoking a great deal, and quarrelling two-thirds of each day with his little, senseless, cunning, and peevish wife. It was at this time that the Normans came to lodge in the same house.

As a matter of course, the Yorks looked with great contempt upon people of the Normans' class, and upon the Normans in especial, for presuming to rent a floor immediately above theirs. Mr. York never condescended to notice one of them, with the exception of William; though Mrs. York, always curious about the lodgers' affairs, sometimes gossipped with poor Mrs. Norman, or asked Liddy questions. But Liddy rarely went into their room; Mrs. Norman, never. For though a sensualist in the fullest sense,

Liddy was too much a child-too infantile in her manners, thoughts, and feelings-to win anything more than a passing glance from Mr. York. It was some nobler, grander nature that he must subdue; some one who, though very womanly, he would wrestle with in words; for no one more than he knew better how to make speech the instrument of human woe and ruin.

Norman, from only meeting this man a time or two in the street, had formed a far from favourable impression of him. "He is better educated, and may be far higher born and bred than I have been," thought he, "but I do not like that hang-dog look of his, or the gaze that never seeks or meets yours." So, acting on a judgment thus formed, in spite of his natural inclination to think favourably of most people, Norman sternly forbid his children making acquaintance with the Yorks in any way.

For a time this did not seem likely; but going to the street-door one evening to take some letters, just as William came in from his office, Mrs. Tadcaster asked him to leave the Yorks' letters at their door. This the lad good-naturedly did; and from time to time the kindness was repeated till it grew into a custom, and he was asked in. He usually found Mr. York lying on the sofa, smoking and reading, and Mrs. York crouched on a stool by the window or the fire, either altering or making some tawdry piece of finery; that is to say, if the domestic exchequer were not absolutely bankrupt, or if that was the case, sitting moodily with her disheveled head buriedi n her hands. On the lad's entrance she would rise, run forward to inspect the superscription of the letters before her husband could take them, and then good-naturedly would ask William to partake of whatever there might be on the table-cake, or wine, or fruit, or tea-as might chance to be, for Mr. York never stinted himself of any luxury whilst he had a shilling left to procure it.

For a long time he did not condescend to notice the lad except with a brief "Thank you," but kept on smoking or reading. One night, however, when the boy had lingered for a moment to talk with Mrs. York, he took his pipe from his lips, and pushing a book towards him, asked William if he liked reading. William answered affirmatively.

"Well, I'll lend you this," said York; "it is a French novel, and very lively, too. A boy may learn a great deal of the world

from it."

"If you please, sir," replied William, "at present I know nothing of French; and if I did, father would not like me to read books of the kind. He has bought some nice books of history for me, and Liddy, and Tom, to read, and takes in Chambers's Journal and other things."

"Indeed!" said Mr. York, with his habitual sarcastic smile; "he's a Methodist, isn't he?"

No, sir," coloured William, who felt the sarcasm implied; "but he wishes that we should get good and sober ideas, and he says we cannot through reading trashy books of any kind."

Mr. York smiled still more, and raised his spectacles. "You tell father your thing, I suppose, my boy."

Mr.

"Yes, sir,” replied the lad, with straightforward manliness; "I never do anything but what I wish my father to know. Harlow, my master's chief clerk, and Mrs. Burn, are always telling me to keep this good conscience, for mine is a place of great trust."

"I suppose so. But you are safe with me; I'm a gentleman and a scholar, and only offer you a book that any boy might read. So, take it-it's a translation; and when you've done with it, you can have another volume."

William would rather not have taken the book, for he knew if he did he must hide it from his father's sight; but as it was offered with such apparent civility, he did not like to be churlish enough to refuse; so, as Mr. York pushed it towards him, he took it up. Could he have read what was expressed by those cold, slow-moving, lengthened fingers, and the look in those eyes behind the spectacles, the lad would as soon have taken up some deadly poison or reptile; but, boy-like, he did not.

His resolution was to take and hide the book, and return it unread in a night or two. But opening it, looking into it, attracted by the meretricious art which dressed up the most sordid, unhallowed, contaminating vice in words the most pleasant and alluring, he read on and on, imparted his secret to Liddy, got her to hide the book k; and so, the evil thus begun, was carried onward. Liddy, in her turn, peeped and read whilst her mother was lying down or otherwise engaged; and greatly attracted by

jogged her elbow, and told her to "be quiet," but to little purpose. It pleased her so to make him jealous if she could; and flattery, however fulsome, suspicious, and in this case, indiscreet, to receive from persons utterly unknown to her, gave her a rare satisfaction, she determined to enjoy both to the full. When the play was over, and they came forth, it was found to be raining; so again the strangers put themselves prominently forward, and offered the Yorks a seat in the cab they had hailed.

"We would rather walk," replied York, doggedly; "if we wished it, we could have a cab." For he had enough good sense and breeding to perceive the utter impropriety of thus making familiar acquaintanceship with perfect strangers-with men, too, whose "fast" appearance and flashy dress looked far from satisfactory.

"Well, I shall go," exclaimed Mrs. York, with much effrontery; "you can please yourself-but, certainly, I will never walk whilst I can ride." Saying this, she permitted herself to be handed into the cab, and it drove away. For a moment the husband stood looking after it, then he settled his spectacles nervously as was his habit when greatly irritated, pressed his hat over his brows, and went slowly home. This Mrs. York reached long before him-but not sooner than her polite friends had elicited all from her garrulity that for the present they wished to learn.

"At any time," said the more astutelooking stranger of the two, as the cab entered the street in which Mrs. York was to be set down, "that you would like to see a

play or concert, madam, you have but to send a line to the address on this card, and tickets shall be yours. I move in select society; and often for an actor's or a singer's sake, take tickets I have no time to use." Here the man presented her with a highly scented card, on which with some address of good account, was the name "Colonel Pilcher."

Mrs. York glanced down at the card, and reading by the light of a lamp they were passing, the word "Colonel," she was quite satisfied, and replied that some time or another, when Mr. York was engaged, she would avail herself of the kind offer, as he did not care much for plays, and always went reluctantly.

"But we shall certainly not wait any lengthened time," said the other stranger, who had already announced himself as Mr. Stapleton by name, and the nephew of a bishop, "without calling to pay our respects to a lady who has thus afforded us the happiness of conveying her home." Saying this, Stapleton and the so-called Colonel handed out Mrs. York at her own door, and when the cab was once more on its way, with a hearty laugh they congratulated themselves that they had thus set in motion a deep and long-laid scheme against the wealth of Mr. Wroxeter.

Mr. Tadcaster and his two journeymen worked in the front kitchen, whilst that at the back was devoted to the especial use of Mrs. Tadcaster, her children, her pots and pans, and two turn-up bedsteads. The former being much the smaller, was one-third filled by a large working bench; and here, throughout the day, and till it was late, sat the jeweller and his two men. It was no very healthy place, as may be imagined; for the journeyman that boarded with the Tadcasters slept as well as lived in it, and the moment it was dusk—indeed, long before it was so in the street above-three or four strong jets of gas were lighted, thus adding to the heat and closeness. As the jeweller worked for some of the first London firms, as well as for those who dealt in cheap, flimsy, imitative articles, all classes of trinkets were to be seen in his workshop, as bracelets, and rings of great price, and trashy articles not worth as many pence.

As a sitting-room, the Tadcasters occupied their back parlour; and William, having been invited in there a few times, this led to his being eventually asked down into the

workshop to see the rich things lying there. Here he saw watches, chains, rings, and seals, and, boy-like, soon began to ask questions about them. He had long wished to give Liddy a locket on one of her birthdays, and he was ambitious to possess a watch-a chain, as yet, he did not dream of; so he asked Mr. Tadcaster as to what their price would be. The jeweller told him; and, to his great delight, he found that he might soon save enough to give Liddy the pretty present.

"As for a watch," said Mr. Tadcaster, "I could get you a second-hand one for little or nothing, and you might make it complete by an imitation Albert chain-it would look as good as a real one, and very few would be a bit the wiser."

"But I don't think that the chain would do for my age or place; I am not grown up yet, and Mr. Wroxeter wishes his clerks to dress very plain; father, I know, too, likes nothing that is a pretence."

From the time that Liddy had so deeply offended her father by wearing the Mademoiselles Pirouettes' old flowers, and imitating their habitual mode of speaking to their miserable, care-worn mother, she had kept aloof from them; though, with her usual tenderness of feeling, she felt sorry to appear unkind or rude. For to her at least they were always good-natured and kindly spoken. So she flitted away from them like a little caged bird, or waited a long time on the staircase till they were closed in their room, and did all she could to be obedient to the promise she had made in the little weeping prayer she had prayed at her father's knee.

One holiday afternoon, however, Mrs. Norman being better than usual, went out to make some purchases for a parcel that was going to be sent into the country in the ensuing week, and Liddy, having some little piece of needlework to enclose therein-a doll's frock, or something of that sort-she stayed at home to finish it. As it was a great delight to her to be so employed, for Liddy was never so happy as when occupied

with some innocent labour of love, she had taken her seat by the sunny window where Giddy's cage hung, and opening the little wicker door, let him come forth and hop about. This the bird did, and after examining everything upon the small table by which his little mistress sat, and after lifting up every ribbon and flounce upon the tiny garment, he perched himself upon her shoulder, and nestled his beak in her beautiful hair. As she thus sat, some one came down the staircase, and Liddy knew by the footing who it

was.

"Dear Miss Margaret," said the child, "do come in. I am quite alone, and I want you to see what a nice frock I have made for Cicy's doll out of the piece of silk you gave me."

Margaret's good kind face looked in, and then entering, she came gently towards the child, and stooping, kissed her.

"Cicy will be so pleased," said the child, "and I shall tell her in my letter who it was that gave me the silk and ribbon, and cut it out. She will know then that it was my dear Miss Margaret."

"I am glad you love me, Liddy, for I do you, more tenderly than I can well explain. And all my people up-stairs like you, Hannah and mother especially; but the last has been too poorly for some days for us to ask you up."

"I heard Mrs. Tadcaster say that she was ill; that is why I and Giddy did not come.

"It is very thoughtful of you, darling; and now as we are alone, though I can't stay above a minute, tell me how you get on at school?" Margaret, as she spoke, listened for the reply with an anxiety that was quite apparent.

"Oh! just the same," replied the child, as she stole her one arm about Margaret's neck. "Miss Brooks is good-natured, but she lets the great girls have too much their own way, and some of them are very rude and spiteful. But father is going to work in Kent, and he says if he can find a country school, he will put me there for a time. In

a year or so I can come home again, and he can then educate me in the way he wishes without offending good Miss Newbud."

"Has Miss Brooks lodgers?" again questioned Margaret.

"Yes; there are several sets of people in the house. The lodger who occupied the front parlour, went away last week, and now a person who had an upstairs room, has

"You are quite right, Liddy," said Margaret, thoughtfully, we must all be very careful, especially a young girl like you. So now this little chat is over, I must go. Be very careful, and be always quite sure that I am your friend."

"Yes, I'm sure you are, Miss Margaret; I could tell you things I could not to mother. If I were ever in trouble I am sure I should come to you."

"And no heart will sympathize with you more truly, my dear," replied Margaret, as her eyes filled with tears. So saying, she kissed Liddy tenderly, and went.

Margaret had not long returned up-stairs to her work, before the Normans' street door bell rang, and Liddy wondering who it was, ran down to see. But no one was there; vexed that she had been taken off her work, she was returning past the Pirouettes'-door, when it was pulled suddenly back, and both girls in light gauzy dresses, rushed out, pressed her in their arms, and regardless of her struggles and entreaties, brought her into the room and closed the door.

"There, ma mignonne," they said, in a breath. "You've run off from us a long time, but we've caught you to-day, Come, you must stop a bit, and let us kiss you, and see your beautiful hair. Ah! if we had such, it would be fortune." Then clapping their hands, laughing, and skipping about, they hugged the child, kissed her, twirled her round, and snatching away the net which confined her hair, let it fall about her shoulders.

"Oh! please, don't," cried Liddy, passionately, for these girls' rudeness vexed her infinitely. "I mustn't stop or be kept; father and mother will be very angry; let me go, it is so rude and cruel of you to pull down my hair."

"Forgive us, petite," said the elder, whose name was Adeline. "We do not mean to be unkind, only you are very beautiful, and we like to talk to you, as you won't talk to us."

"Let me go," cried Liddy, and she strove to gain the door.