Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/433

. 11, 1862.] to rustle the leaves overhead. The park stretched down the slope from where I lay, shadowless, until it reached the deep, dark wood which surrounded it about half-a-mile away, and the many-leaved wood itself seemed motionless in the still, summer air. The only sound that broke the silence was the murmur of a little brook which wandered round the bend of the neighbouring garden hedge. As I lay in the chequered shadow, lulled by the stillness of the scene and the musical murmur of the rippling stream, dreamy thoughts and fancies passed through my mind. How easy and smooth had the course of my life been, and how promising was the aspect of the future. When I came of age I should be in the possession of wealth. No trouble, no grief, no pain had ever crossed my path within my recollection, and my prospects were as bright and sunny as the scene around me. I was now about to pursue my favourite study, not for the sake of gain or ambition, but for the love of science alone. I longed to know more of the hidden secrets of Nature. I thirsted to drink a deep draught from that well at which I had hitherto only sipped. And yet, I thought, if I should make some great discovery,—if my name should be added to the roll of fame,—if it should be so. The murmur of the stream fell softer and softer on my senses and I fell asleep.

I was awakened by a sense of the air being perfumed, and a gentle, soft kiss was impressed upon my lips. At first I was scarcely conscious where I was; but I soon recognised the scene, and on looking round I saw Mary Maurice sitting by my side. She had taken off her hat, and her face was turned away from me, but I could see that her cheek and neck were suffused with a deep, rosy glow.

“Polly,” I said, while a peculiar choking sensation prevented me from saying anything more. There was no answer, and still the little head, with the black, clustering hair, was turned away from me.

“Cousin Polly, you kissed me!” at length I blundered out.

Now the blushing face was turned towards me, and there were bright tears glancing in her beautiful eyes.

“Oh, don’t Charlie—don’t say anything more! I thought you were asleep—I did, indeed, cousin.”

Need I go on—need I tell how in that still summer scene, our hearts told their own secrets, and we vowed that we would love one another for ever and for ever.

As we walked back slowly to the house, she gathered some forget-me-nots, and gave them to me, saying:

“Take these, Charlie; you remember you gave me some the first time that we met. I have them still; they are safely locked up in my writing-desk. Now I want to say something to you that will make you think me very silly, perhaps. Do you recollect that at our first meeting you told me that the flowers which I had gathered were poisonous?”

“Perfectly,—what about them?”

“Well, there is something in my heart,—don’t laugh at me,—that tells me now, that you must beware of poisons. Pray do not interrupt me,—I know that your studies will bring you in constant contact with poisonous substances, but it is not that,—something in my inmost heart tells me that your future, your fate will be intimately linked and associated with poisons. Forgive me if what I have said seems idle fancy; but I cannot tell you how I have longed to warn you. I seem to have been prompted to do so by a power stronger than I could control. I know you will forgive me, and promise to—to beware.”

I did promise; and I sealed the promise with a last fond kiss.

When we arrived at the house, I did not inform my uncle of what had taken place, but I am certain that he suspected something, from the change in our manner. However, I made no sign until just before leaving, when, in bidding him good-bye, I said:

“Uncle Mark, take care of Cousin Polly—take care of her for me!”

He took me by both hands, and gazed steadfastly in my face for a few seconds, and then fairly burst into tears.

“Heaven bless you, my dear boy,” he said. “I have longed for many a day to hear this news. Don’t stay long away, Charlie, but come back soon and make her your wife.”

In an hour or two afterwards I was in the railway carriage, hurrying on to London, and as the night grew darker and darker, between pauses of sleeping and waking, I fancied that ever and anon I heard Mary’s gentle voice whispering in my ear that strange warning—“Beware of poisons! Beware of poisons!”

we could hardly hope to meet with a model lodger again, like the Rev. Mr. Adolphus, who had been with us ever since we began housekeeping, it was certainly desirable—so Annie and I concluded—to have a lodger of some kind, even if it were an inferior description of the article; for my salary at that time, as junior clerk in the respectable banking firm of Lawes and Fielding, was more prospective than real; sufficient, perhaps, for a bachelor of economic tastes, but sadly out of proportion with the needs of a married man.

It being decided, therefore, that a second lodger was a necessary evil, a card notifying that Apartments for a Single Gentleman were to be let within, took its place in our window; but week after week passed away, winter faded into spring, spring lost itself in summer, and still we remained without a single applicant for our very genteel and commodious rooms.

The hot days of June were drawing to a close when, on reaching home one evening from the office, I saw by the sparkle in my wife’s eye that she had something particular to tell me, and I was scarcely seated before the news burst out.

“Tom, dear, we have got a lodger at last!”

“Did you say a lodger?” I cried, starting up. “Another poor victim come to the net—to be cheated, worried, bullied, and fleeced unmercifully! What is the wretched individual’s name?”

“Mr. James Twoshoes.”