Читать книгу A Pit-brow Lassie - John Monk Foster - Страница 13

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On hearing from Kate Leigh that her mother wanted a lodger, and after bidding the pit-brow girl good morning, Arthur Willesden had at once made his way to the end cottage in Bannister's-row. His knock was answered by Mrs. Leigh herself.

"You are Mrs. Leigh, l suppose?" Willesden queried in his most amiable manner.

"Yes," was the reply.

"I have been informed that you have apartments to let, and if so I shall be much obliged if you will permit me to see them."

Mrs. Leigh intimated that the gentleman had been rightly informed, and that she would be pleased to show him the rooms if he would step inside. Arthur followed her without further ado, for he had already decided to take the apartments, no matter how incommodious and uncomfortable they might be. He had asked to see them merely to give Mrs. Leigh the idea that it was the most ordinary thing for him to take rooms and to see them first. He did not desire her to know that he had already resolved upon taking them.

Leading him first into the small parlor, which was plainly but comfortably furnished, with a pleasant outlook upon the strip of green garden, Mrs. Leigh explained that he was the first person who had come to see her rooms; that it was only during the last week or two that she had decided to let them instead of going out charing, as had been her custom, and hoped that the place might please him.

Arthur expressed himself satisfied with the appearance of the sitting-room, and was then shown to the sleeping apartment. Here again everything was plain but comfortable, the room being sweet and clean, the window draperies and bed linen white as snow.

"I am very well pleased with the rooms, Mrs. Leigh," Arthur remarked as they returned to the parlor, "and if you will permit me I will engage them for three months. If you will let me know your terms I will pay you a month in advance."

Mrs. Leigh named a modest sum per week and immediately received a month's payment. This put him on the best of terms with his landlady, as he quite expected it would, and he at once settled down in the house as a regular inmate.

"My name, Mrs. Leigh, is Willesden—Arthur Willesden—and my business is of a literary nature—you understand, I'm a writer for the newspapers and story journals."

"An author?" Mrs. Leigh asked, deeply interested in her lodger now, for she still read the journals of her youth.

"Yes, an author in a small way, Mrs. Leigh. I have written a short story or two for Bow Bells and the London Journal. I have come to Ashford mainly to learn something of the habits and so forth of the people who work in and about the mines."

"You intend to write about them, perhaps?"

"I must admit that you have guessed my intention, Mrs. Leigh," he exclaimed pleasantly. "But do not, I implore you, spread the intelligence, or I shall have all the miners and pit-brow girls posing when I am near, and I wish to draw them from life—just as they are, you know."

"Certainly Mr. Willesden, I won't tell anybody."

"Thank you. And now, Mrs. Leigh, may I trouble you to get me a little dinner ready? I breakfasted early this morning, and am hungry as a horse—anything you can get ready quickest will do."

In a little while Mrs. Leigh had prepared an appetising meal for her guest, and as she laid it before him he remarked—

"Pardon me, Mrs. Leigh, but I quite forgot to ask you before now about your husband and family. Your husband is a miner, I daresay; and how many of a family may you possess?"

"My husband was a miner," Mrs. Leigh answered, somewhat sadly, "and I have only one child living, a girl of twenty, who lives with me and works at that colliery you can see over there."

"And what is Mr. Leigh now?" Arthur asked as he vigorously attacked his dinner.

There was no reply to the diner's last question, and a moment's silence. Arthur glanced towards his landlady to perceive that she was nervously playing with the corner of her apron and that her eyes were brimful of unshed tears.

"Pardon my blundering curiosity, Mrs. Leigh," Arthur exclaimed contritely as he divined the cause of his hostess's emotion. "I never dreamt that your husband was dead or I would not have pained you with my foolish questions."

He half rose from his seat, evidently distressed by the sight of her suffering, and so touched was she by the sympathy displayed in his words and actions that she blurted out the whole story of her eventful married life.

In a maze of gratification and surprise Arthur Willesden listened to her recital. She spoke of her only brother Richard going to Australia and leaving her in lodgings in George-street, Hulme; of her marriage to Jonathan Leigh and removal to Pendleton; of their migration to Ashford and her husband's disappearance, and of her and her child's subsequent wanderings.

Then Mrs. Leigh hurried away, half ashamed of the outburst of feeling which had prompted her to tell her history to a stranger, and Arthur Willesden was left to reflect upon what he had heard.

It was as he had faintly suspected on hearing the handsome pit-girl mention her mother's name. Mrs. Leigh was Margaret Hampton, in search of whom he had come to Ashford. There could be no doubt of it, for the woman's story, to which he had just listened, corresponded in every way with Richard Hampton's letter and the particulars he had himself gleaned.

His quest had ended much more quickly than ever he had hoped it would. How delighted his uncle would be on learning that his nephew had already discovered the sister of his old friend, and how much more delighted still would Mrs. Leigh and her bonnie daughter be to hear that the relative they believed dead was living still, wealthy and unmarried, and eager to make their acquaintance.

These and other thoughts flitted through Arthur Willesden's mind as, his dinner disposed of and comfortably seated in the easiest chair beside the old-fashioned lattice, he smoked a cigar, and watching the grey smoke wreaths, gave rein to his imagination.

Suddenly, from one of the vagrant fancies created by the curling smoke, there came an idea clear and tangible—a scheme that immediately commended itself to the young worldling.

It was a daring plan, that would require all his cunning and patience to bring it to a consummation, but he was prepared to use any artifice, and wait any reasonable period, so that he was successful in the end.

The nature of Arthur Willesden's plans in regard to Kate Leigh had completely changed with the last hour or two. At first his intention had been of the most disgraceful kind. He had intended to entice the handsome lass into an amour with him by any kind of means, and when he had effected his base purpose and tired of her to cast her away—just as he had done others—and go his way, if not rejoicingly, quite unconcerned.

And now instead of making her his mistress he had resolved to marry her.

This great change was due not to any twinges of conscience, nor to any pure affection for the pit-brow girl that had suddenly grown up in Arthur Willesden's breast, but to the most mercenary motives.

The wealthy Australian, Richard Hampton, was an old man, a bachelor, and, according to his own statement, never meant to marry. The pit-brow girl and her mother were his only relatives, and in the natural order of things his fortune would one day come into the possession of his niece.

The likelihood of this contingency becoming a fact had induced Arthur to determine upon marrying the girl whom he had just previously resolved to dishonor, and his altered purpose filled his breast with a virtuous glow.

He did not anticipate much trouble in the path he purposed following. His first and paramount duty would be that of holding his tongue. His uncle must not know yet awhile that he had found Margaret Hampton; and, on the other hand, he must refrain from telling Mrs. Leigh and her daughter of their rich relative's existence until it suited his schemes to do so.

The task of wooing Kate Leigh would be rather a pleasant one, he thought. There might be a rival or two in the field, but the work of ousting them would be quite easy. What rude, hard-fisted pit-man or white-faced factory operative would be able to stand against one of his attainments, personal attractions, and social position?

How well he would be able to play the role he had marked out for himself; a new edition of the Prince and Cophetua. At the right time and in the proper place he would drop a neat little love story into pretty Katie's ears; how he had fallen in love with her at first sight, and instantly resolved that no false notions of social barriers should keep him from her; how he was prepared to sacrifice everything for her and love's sake—the esteem of his relatives and the fellowship of his friends, who would assuredly cut him for daring to marry a pit-brow girl.

There with the smoke curling about him Arthur Willesden enacted it all beforehand, with a serene consciousness that the odds were all on his side.