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The Two Lawyers: A Novel

Chapter II

Chapter II.

"John Hobart, Solicitor and Notary Public," is now written in large letters over the window of one of the offices in Frank Perryman's building, for Mr Hobart has become so intimate with Frank that he has gone as far as to let him have an office, and further, often places work in Hobart's hands, for Frank has inherited a fine practice from his father, and can easily afford to be a little generous. We will now walk in to Frank's office and see what is going on. He is sitting behind an ordinary office table, and on his left hand is Mr Hobart. It is between four and five o'clock p.m., and all the bustle of the day's business is over.

"Well, Frank, you are indeed a lucky man," says Hobart, "to have all this thrown at you, as it were. How very different from my lot. When I had passed my last examination, and was prepared for practice, I was the lawful possessor of the sum of 2s 6d, for I had expended all else, and my father was not then in a position to help me in any way. And do you know, Frank, I have never since had any luck, for as soon as I think I am fairly started, I find myself again a loser in some way, and again I am thrown back; but an old crone in Tasmania once told me that all that had happened would happen—that in the present year I should have the most complete success; so, as the past has come true, I only trust the future may."

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"I am sure I trust it may, Hobart, and I shall be only too glad if at any time I can in any way assist you. You may be sure I shall, for since I have known you, although it is certainly but a very short time, still I feel as though we had be acquainted from my childhood, so familiar do I feel with you."

"And I, Perryman, feel similarly towards you; in fact when I first saw you I was under the impression I had known you before. By the way, I see it is five o'clock. I go home now, but if you have no particular place to go to-night I wish you would give me a call. Of course you know my quarters are not at all luxurious, but if you will do us the honour, we shall be glad to see you, for there will be no one there but Clara and myself."

"I shall have much pleasure in looking in if you will not think me intruding," said Frank.

"Not at all, my boy; I know I shall not, and Clara has asked me several times why you do not come up, as she has so few acquaintances here." Frank's cheek blushed visibly at this, and it was very apparent that Hobart observed it.

"I shall then come up to-night," said Frank; "so if you are going now I will walk along with you, for, I presume, you are on your way home."

"Yes, I shall go home now, and before you arrive to-night I shall draft that lease which I have undertaken for you."

"My dear Hobart," said Frank, taking his arm, "you are foolish to bother your head about that to-night, for you can do it at your leisure, and, as you know, if you do require any pecuniary assistance, why, allow me to assist you, as I have before offered to do."

"Frank, as I said before, I am more thankful to you than I can find words to express; but also, as I told you, I will now lay a foundation, and before I use money in any way I will earn it, and then any progress I make I shall be sure of, page 18for I shall know at least that I owe nothing, and what little I do I will not be working a dead horse."

"I admire your principle, but if you look on things in that light take what I offer you as a gift, for I assure you you are only too welcome."

"Of that I am assured. Thanks all the same for your kind and generous offer, but I have made up my mind, Frank, and if in any business way you can assist me I shall deem it the greatest favour, but I will not take any loan; or, in fact, anything but what I earn."

"Your independence of spirit cannot but be admired, Hobart, and with your principles you are sure of success sooner or later. I shall deem it my duty to render you any other little assistance that lies in my power; and now as I see I am at my gate I will, unless you will come in and have dinner with me, bid you adieu until I see you this evening."

"Until this evening then let it be, and so for the present, adieu," and Hobart, waving his hand, walked on, evidently deep in thought.

When he arrived at home—where he lived or boarded, I should say, for the house and all its contents were the property of the landlord, who resided in a two-roomed place at the rear—just as Hobart was about to enter, the door was opened from the inside and he was met by Clara, his supposed sister, but of this relationship the reader will soon have a very different opinion.

"Ah, John," she exclaims, "I am so glad you have arrived, for I began to think you were never coming."

But here I will pause, and before going further will try and paint for the reader the features of the so-called Miss Hobart. She is in height rather above the usual stature of women, her figure is so perfect that it would alone be sufficiet to make almost any man fall in love with her at first sight; but if her figure page 19make one admire her, what will her features do? In some cases they may drive one to the highest pitch of joy; or again, under other circumstances, they are enough to drive one mad. But I must let my readers know more and have their own opinion. The nose is of that Grecian type one so very seldom sees; the mouth, which is not to say small, but so beautifully cut, the upper lip slightly curling at each extremity, and the centre slightly rising and forming, as it were, into ripe fruit, so beautifully red is it; the chin seems to be one taper from the forehead down, and in its centre there is the prettiest of dimple; the eyes are in themselves quite enough beauty for any one face, so wonderfully expressive are they, shining like two of the brightest orbs one ever beheld; the complexion, too, is perfection, while on each cheek is a beautiful bright colour that rivals the loveliest of pink roses; the eyelashes are long, and seem always to be drooping, and the eyebrows constitute the only fault (if fault you could call it), for they are, perhaps, too full; the hair is of a very bright auburn, in fact between what vulgar people call red and auburn; her hands are of the smallest you can imagine, with the prettiest of taper fingers.

"And so you missed me for once then, Clara; well, I am both glad and sorry—glad you missed me, and sorry I kept you waiting, but I could not help it, as I stayed talking to that young fool, Frank Perryman; but you know he may, in fact shall be, so useful to me that I must tolerate him at least for the present, but when he has served my purpose he may go to—"

"Stay, John," she said, "be like me and all else."

"No, Clara, not you, for apart from all my motives of self-aggrandisement, I love you, though I know I am often too cruel, but the die is cast—I am powerless to prevent the issue of events."

"But, John, when will this cease; will it go on for ever, or will there be an end to it before death parts us? You know you page 20have now promised me on each occasion that a similar affair has happened that it is the last one, but what do I find? I find you again take to the old evil, and all my hopes of returning home are gone, and you are again a beggar—for I can call it by no other name."

"Clara, do not upbraid me now, for I promise you most solemnly that this time I have success before me, and with your aid I will grasp it. Stay," he continued, as she was about to speak, "Frank Perryman will visit us to-night, and already he is in love with you I know — I am sure of it. You must encourage him, aye make him believe you return his love, and then ere long I shall be one of the most respectable firm of Perryman and Hobart—for you know his father has earned for him a name which he, fool that he is, will not long keep."

"Oh, John, have I again to lure on perhaps to some evil this poor young fellow who is, from what you have told me, the very hope of both his aged mother and young sister. Oh, God, why am I not spared this new sin?"

"Clara, it must be done, or —"

"Stay, John, for mercy sake say not that again, for you have said it often enough within the last two years—you might have some mercy."

"Then why do you drive me to it, am I not all kindness but when you provoke me?" And as John Hobart said this he looked a perfect fiend, his eyes seemed to glare almost out of his head. He now walks from the room into the back part of the house, and Clara stands like one in a dream.

"Father, dear father," she exclaims, "how much have I suffered for you now, and still how much more am I to suffer? It would indeed be merciful were one or both of us to die; but, alas, we never die when we would most like to do so. And yet sometimes I feel I love life and this man, whom I should hate page 21as woman never hated man yet. For has he not been to me my greatest enemy, and have I any room to hope he will be anything else to the end of time; and yet how nice he can be when it pleases him; so much so that no one could help liking, if not loving him. But he comes. I must not let him see I am dreaming, as he terms it, or there will be another display of temper."

"Ah, Clara, am I not a boar sometimes to you? Yes I know I am, but it will soon be over now, and then you shall see much of real happiness. Kiss, dearest, and be friends," and as he stoops and kisses the sweet face, which it seems pollution for him to touch, there seems to be a return of the kiss, which is only given when there exists some love.

"I will not again vex you, John, if I can help it; so if you are ready we will now have dinner, as I wish to dress before Mr Perryman arrives."

While they are partaking of their dinner we will accompany Frank home. He enters the house by the front or hall door never expecting to meet either his sister or mother, as they have both been away in Dunedin. But just as he is going to his own room a light step creeps up behind him and throwing her arms around his neck kisses him before he knows who it is or where she comes from. He turns, and to his joy sees his sister Maud.

"Why, Maud, when and how did you get home? I never expected to see you to-night."

"Well, Frank, we all three came home in the steamboat which is now lying in the roadstead. We called at your office but found you were gone, and just at the moment Mr Tumman's buggy came up with himself driving, and he offered to drive us up, which offer we gladly accepted, and here we are."

"Well, I am glad you are home again, for truth to tell I have missed you much; but I am sorry to say I have made an ap-page 22pointment out to-night, so I shall not be able to stay at home with you."

"Oh, never mind that, Frank, you will not be out late I know, so I shall stay up and have a chat after your return. Ma," said Maud, a moment after, "Frank is home, but he has an appointment out after dinner, so we shall not see much of him to-night."

"Is he well now?" asked Louisa, who had also been with them on their trip.

"Yes, Loo, he appears to be well, thanks; and, in fact, as you know, in this respect he is very fortunate, for he enjoys the best health." They now all adjourn to dinner, for Frank has joined them, and I must leave them and ask the reader to go back with me to another and very different scene.