A Crooked Path. Mrs. Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ glasses together with a nervous movement. "I am out of sorts, for I have had a great disappointment. The Family Friend has refused my three-volume novel, and I really have not the heart to try it anywhere else after such repeated rejections. At the same time Skinner & Palm write to say they cannot use my short story, 'On the Rack,' for five or six months, as they have such a quantity of already accepted manuscripts."

      "How provoking!" cried Katherine. "But come away; the drawing-room is cooler; let us go there and talk things over."

      Mrs. Liddell accepted the suggestion, and sank into an arm-chair, while her daughter let down the blinds, and then placed herself on a low ottoman opposite her.

      There was a short silence; then Mrs. Liddell sighed and began: "I counted so much on that short story for ready money! Skinner always pays directly he has published. Now I do not know what to do. If I take it back I may fail to dispose of it, yet I cannot wait. But the novel—that is the worst disappointment of all. I suppose it was foolish, but I felt sure about that."

      "Of course you did," cried Katherine, eagerly. "It is an excellent story."

      "It is not worse than many Santley brings out," resumed Mrs. Liddell; "but one is no judge of one's own work. It was with reluctance I offered it to The Family Friend, and you see—" her voice faltered, and she stopped abruptly.

      Katherine knew the tears were in her eyes and swelling her heart. She restrained the impulse to throw her arms round her; she feared to agitate her mother; rather she would help her self-control.

      "Well, dear, I am no great judge, but I am quite sure that such a story as yours must succeed sooner or later. So we will be patient."

      "Ah! but, Katie, the landlord and the butcher will not wait, and, my child, I have only about five pounds. I made too sure of success for I did so well last year. Then Madame de Corset will soon be sending in her bill for that famous dress of Ada's, and she will want the money she lent me."

      "Then Madame de Corset must wait," said Katherine, firmly. "Ada is really your debtor. Where could she live at so small a cost as with you? Where could she be so free to run about without a thought for the children? What has become of her? Couldn't she stay with Cecil on his birthday?"

      "She is gone to luncheon with the Burnetts. It is as well to keep up with them; their influence might be useful to the boys hereafter; but I do wish I could pay her."

      "I wish you could, for it would make you happier; but she really owes you ten pounds and more."

      "What shall I do about that novel? If I could get two hundred—even one hundred—pounds for it, I should do well. I began to hope I might make both ends meet with my pen. Oh, Katie dear, I am ashamed of myself, but for the first time in my life I feel beaten. I feel as if I could not come up to time again. It has been such a long, weary battle!" She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.

      "I wish I could give you rest, darling mother!" said Katherine, taking her hand and fondling it. "I fear I have been too useless—too thoughtless."

      "You have done all you could, my child; one cannot expect much from nineteen. But I wish—I wish I could think of any means of deliverance from my present difficulty. A small sum would suffice. Where to find it is the question. I counted too much on those unlucky manuscripts, and now I do not know where to turn; I see a vista of debt." A sudden fit of coughing interrupted her.

      "You have taken cold, mother," cried Katherine. "I heard you coughing this morning. I was sure you would suffer for sitting near the open window in the study last night."

      "It was so hot!" murmured Mrs. Liddell, lying back exhausted.

      "Yes, but it was also frightfully damp. Tell me, mother, is there anything we can sell?—anything—"

      Mrs. Liddell interrupted her. "Nothing, dear. The few jewels I had preserved went when I was trying to furnish this house. I fancied we should do well in a house of our own, and I was so anxious to make a home for my poor boy's widow!"

      "When do you expect any more money?"

      "Not for nearly two months, and then another quarter's rent will be due."

      "Mother," said Katherine, after a moment's silence, "would not my father's brother, of whom I heard you speak, help you? It is dreadful to ask, but he is so near a kinsman, and childless."

      "It is useless to think of it. He and your father quarrelled about money, and he is implacable. His only child, a son, opposed him, and he drove him away. Poor fellow! he was killed in Australia."

      "Why have hard-hearted wretches heaps of money, while kind, generous souls like you never have a farthing?"

      "That is a mystery of long standing," said Mrs. Liddell, with a faint smile. "Katie, I cannot think or talk any more. I will go and lie down in my own room. There neither Ada nor the children can disturb me. Oh, my darling, how can I ever die in peace if I leave you to do battle with the bitter, bitter world unprovided for?" Her voice quivered, and the hand she laid on her daughter's trembled.

      "Do not fear for me, mother. I am tougher and more selfish than you are. It is time I worked for you. How feverish you are! Come up to your own room. You will see things differently when you have had a little sleep. If the worst comes, I will tell Ada that we must give up the house and go back to lodgings. We never had difficulties before we came here."

      "No, for we never had debts. Now I have, and I have this house for nearly three years longer. It is not so easy to shake off engagements as you would a cloak that had grown too heavy."

      So saying, Mrs. Liddell rose and ascended to the room she shared with her daughter, whom she allowed to take off her dress and put on her wrapper, to arrange her pillows, to bathe her brow in eau-de-cologne and water, and soothe her with those loving touches, those tender cares, that the heart alone can prompt, till in spite of the cloud and thick darkness that hid her future, Mrs. Liddell was calmed by the delicious sense of her daughter's love and sympathy.

      "I will make a list of editors," said Katherine—"I mean those whom you have not tried—and go round to them myself. Perhaps I may bring you luck."

      "Yes; your young life is more likely to have fortune on its side: the fickle jade has forsaken me."

      Katherine made no reply beyond a gentle kiss. She sat silently by her mother's side, till feeling the hand that held hers relax its hold, she slowly and softly withdrew her own, comforted to perceive that balmy sleep had stolen upon the weary woman.

      Still she sat there thinking with all the force of her young brain, partly remembering, partly anticipating.

      Of her father she had scarce any knowledge. She was but four years old when he died, and her only brother was nearly fourteen. The eldest and youngest of Mrs. Liddell's children were the survivors of several.

      Katherine's memory of her childish days presented the dim picture of a quaint foreign town; of blue skies, bright sunshine, and abundant vegetation; of large rooms and a smiling black-eyed attendant in a peculiar head-dress; of some one lying back in a large chair, near whom she must never make a noise. Then came a change; mother always in black, with a white cap, and often weeping, and of colder winters, snow and skating—a happy time, for she was always with mother both in lesson and play time, whilst Fred used to go away early to school. Next, clear and distinct, was the recollection of her first visit to London, and from this time СКАЧАТЬ