Lost Lenore Part 69

BROWN OF BIRMINGHAM.

On my way to Liverpool, I took the route by Birmingham--with the intention of breaking my journey in the latter city.

I had two reasons for this. I wanted to see the great city of iron foundries; and, still more, my old mate--Brown, the convict--who had worked along with me on the diggings of Avoca.

The morning after reaching Birmingham, I went in search of the place, where Brown had told me to enquire for him.

Just before his departure from the diggings, he had seen a man fresh from Birmingham; and had learnt from him, that a young fellow--with whom he had once been acquainted--was then keeping a public-house formerly much frequented by his father.

The old convict had said, that from this tavern keeper he should be able to learn all about his family; and had directed me, in case of my ever coming to Birmingham, to inquire for himself at the same address.

I found the tavern without much trouble. It was what might be called, either in Birmingham or Glasgow, a "third cla.s.s" public-house; but would not have been licensed for such a purpose in any other city.

I saw the landlord; and requested him to give me the address of "Richard Brown." After some hesitation, my request was complied with.

On proceeding to the place, I had the good fortune to find my old mate at home.

I had no occasion to regret paying him this visit: for the happiness it seemed to cause him, was worth making a long journey to confer.

"You are the only one," said he, "to whom I told my story in the colonies. You remember with what little hope I returned home; and I know you are just the man to be pleased at what I have to tell you."

"I am certainly pleased," said I, "at what I already see. I find you living in a quiet, comfortable home; and, to all appearance, contented."

"Yes," joyfully answered Brown, "and I am all that I appear, even more happy than you can imagine. But I must tell you all about it. On my return, I found my mother still living, and in a workhouse. My brother was married; and had a large family--fighting, as he and I used to do, against death from starvation. I did not go to my mother in the workhouse. I did not wish to meet her there, in presence of people who could not have understood my feelings. After learning that she was there, I took this house; and furnished it on the same day. My brother then went to the workhouse, took our mother out of it, brought her here, and told her it was her own home, and that everything she saw belonged to her. He then explained the puzzle--by bringing us together. The poor old lady was nearly mad with joy; and I believe that I was at that moment the happiest man in England. I am not certain, but that I am so yet. The pleasure I have had in placing my mother beyond the reach of want, and in aiding my brother--who only required the use of a few pounds, to enable him to make a comfortable living--has far more than repaid me, for all the hardships and sorrows of the past."

Before I parted from him, Brown opened a door, and called to his mother, requesting her to come in.

When she entered the room, I was introduced to her, as a friend who had known her son in Australia. She was a respectable-looking woman, about sixty-eight years of age; and her features bore an expression of cheerfulness and contentment that was pleasant to behold.

"I am greatly pleased to see thee," said she, addressing herself to me, "for thy presence here tells me, that my son had friends amongst respectable people when far away."

I took this as a compliment; and was as polite to her, as I knew how to be.

Brown informed me, that he was then engaged in the hay and corn business; and was making a little money--enough, he said, to prevent the gold-dust he had brought home with him from getting scattered.

Notwithstanding what he had done for his mother and brother, he expected to find himself at the end of the year worth as much money, and a little more, than when he landed in England.

I know not what others may think of the incident here described; but I felt upon parting from Brown, that it had been worth all the trouble I had taken to call upon him; and I will, at any time, again undergo the same trouble to be present at a similar spectacle.

Under the guidance of my old mining partner, I visited many of the great manufacturing establishments of Birmingham; and, after seeing much to cause me both wonder and admiration, I proceeded on my journey to Liverpool.

Volume Three, Chapter x.x.x.

IN SEARCH OF LENORE.

From having resided so long in Captain Hyland's family, I was familiar, as already stated, with the names of many of their acquaintances.

Amongst others, I remembered a Mrs Lanson, who had been on very intimate terms with Mrs Hyland and Lenore.

I knew her address; and from her, would be sure to obtain the information I desired. After arriving in Liverpool, I proceeded almost direct to her residence. At Captain Hylands house, I had often met Mrs Lanson; and on presenting myself, had no trouble in getting recognised.

I was received with courtesy--even cordiality.

"I am very anxious," said I, "too see my old friends--Mrs Hyland and her daughter. Having been so long abroad, I have lost all knowledge of them. I knew that you could inform me, where they are to be found; and it is for that purpose I have taken the liberty of calling upon you."

"No liberty at all, Mr Stone," said the lady; "on the contrary, I'm very glad to see you. Of course, you've heard of the change that has taken place in Mrs Hyland's family; and that they are now living in London?" I answered in the affirmative. "The address is Number --, Denbigh Street, Pimlico. That is Captain Nowell's residence. Please remember me to them!"

Not many more words pa.s.sed between Mrs Lanson, and myself. I know not whether she noticed my confusion, as I stammered out some common-place, leave-taking speech. I was too much excited to know what I did; or whether my behaviour was remarked upon.

It was not necessary for me to make a memorandum of the address thus given me. I had one already in my possession--which I had been carrying in my pocket for weeks. More than that, I had called at the house itself--on that occasion, when Captain Nowell accompanied me to the Bank.

I know not why this discovery should have given my mind such a painful shock. Why should the thought, that Lenore had married a man with whom I was acquainted, cause me a more bitter pain than any I had yet experienced?

Captain Nowell was a person, for whom I felt a sincere respect-- amounting almost to regard. Why then was I so disagreeably surprised, to discover that he was the man who had found the happiness, I had myself lost? I knew not; and I only sought an answer to this mental interrogatory--in the hope, that, by finding it, I might be able to correct some fault that existed in my own mind. I had accomplished the object of my journey; and yet I returned to London with a heart aching from disappointment. I had learnt where Lenore could be seen; and had gone all the way to Liverpool to obtain that information, which might have been mine at an earlier period--had I but hearkened to the request of Captain Nowell to visit him at his house.

My reasons for keeping away from Denbigh Street were now ten times stronger than ever. I no longer felt a desire to see Lenore; and never wished to see Captain Nowell again.

My desire to depart from London was greatly strengthened by the discovery I had made; and, much as I disliked Liverpool, I resolved to return to it--for the purpose of taking pa.s.sage thence to Melbourne: as I had learnt that there were several Melbourne ships soon to sail from that port.

On conferring with my brother William, he expressed his determination to remain in London. He had bought shares in a brewery; and had every prospect of doing well. He endeavoured to persuade me against returning to the colonies--urging me to go into some business in London, get anch.o.r.ed to a wife, and live happily like himself! Little did William suspect how impossible it would have been for me to follow his counsels.

The arguments he used, only increased my desire to be gone; and I determined to start next day for Liverpool.

Common politeness would not allow me to leave, without writing Captain Nowell a note. It was necessary I should let him know, that I had changed my mind about returning to the colonies in his ship.

On the morning after this last duty had been fulfilled--before I had taken my departure for the train--Captain Nowell was announced; and I could not well avoid seeing him.

"I have come after you," said he, as soon as he entered the room. "I'm sent to take you prisoner; and bring you before two ladies, whom you should have called upon long ago. You cannot escape--so come along immediately!"

"It is impossible for me to go with you, Captain Nowell," protested I, "I start for Liverpool by the next train; and I shall have scant time to get to the station."

"I tell you," said the Captain, "that I can take no refusal. Why--do you know what I have just learnt? My wife, and her daughter, are old acquaintances of yours. Don't you remember Mrs Hyland, and little Lenore? I happened to mention the name of Rowland Stone this morning-- on reading your note of last night--and there was a row in the house instantly. My wife sent me off to bring you, as fast as a cab can carry us. Unless you go with me, we shall have a fight. I daren't go back, without you."

"Stop a minute!" I cried, or rather stammered out the words. "Let me ask you one question! What did you say about your wife?"

"I said that my wife, and her daughter, were old acquaintances of yours.

I married the widow of Captain Hyland."

"Great heaven!" I exclaimed, "did you not marry his daughter?"

"No. What the devil makes you ask that? Marry Lenore Hyland! Why, Stone, I'm old enough to be the young lady's father; and I am that: since I married her mother."

"Come on!" I exclaimed, rushing towards the door. "Come on! I must see her immediately."

I hurried bare-headed into the street--followed by Captain Nowell, who brought my hat in his hand, and placed it on my head.

We hailed a cab; and ordered the driver to take us to Number --, Denbigh Street, Pimlico.

I thought that a horse had never moved so slow. I said everything I could, to induce cabby to drive faster. I did more than talk to him: I bribed him. I threatened, and cursed him--though the man seemed to make every endeavour to satisfy my impatience. The horse appeared to crawl.

I thought of jumping out of the cab--in the belief that I could go faster afoot; but my companion prevented me.