Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 440 | Page 9

positive ill
usage. It was altogether a wretched, unfortunate affair; and the
intelligence--sad in itself--which reached me about a twelvemonth after
the marriage, that the young mother had died in childbirth of her
first-born, a girl, appeared to me rather a matter of rejoicing than of
sorrow or regret. The shock to poor Dutton was, I understood,
overwhelming for a time, and fears were entertained for his intellects.
He recovered, however, and took charge of his grandchild, the father
very willingly resigning the onerous burden.
My brother-in-law left James Dutton's neighbourhood for a distant part
of the country about this period, and I saw nothing of the bereaved
father for about five years, save only at two business interviews. The
business upon which I had seen him, was the alteration of his will, by
which all he might die possessed of was bequeathed to his darling
Annie. His health, I was glad to find, was quite restored; and although
now fifty years of age, the bright light of his young days sparkled once
more in his keen glance. His youth was, he said, renewed in little Annie.
He could even bear to speak, though still with remorseful emotion, of
his own lost child. 'No fear, Sharp,' he said, 'that I make that terrible
mistake again. Annie will fall in love, please God, with no unlettered,
soulless booby! Her mind shall be elevated, beautiful, and pure, as her
person--she is the image of her mother--promises to be charming and
attractive. You must come and see her.' I promised to do so; and he
went his way. At one of these interviews--the first it must have been--I

made a chance inquiry for his son-in-law, Hamblin. As the name passed
my lips, a look of hate and rage flashed out of his burning eyes. I did
not utter another word, nor did he; and we separated in silence.
It was evening, and I was returning in a gig from a rather long journey
into the country, when I called, in redemption of my promise, upon
James Dutton. Annie was really, I found, an engaging, pretty, blue-eyed,
golden-haired child; and I was not so much surprised at her
grandfather's doting fondness--a fondness entirely reciprocated, it
seemed, by the little girl. It struck me, albeit, that it was a perilous thing
for a man of Dutton's vehement, fiery nature to stake again, as he
evidently had done, his all of life and happiness upon one frail
existence. An illustration of my thought or fear occurred just after we
had finished tea. A knock was heard at the outer-door, and presently a
man's voice, in quarrelling, drunken remonstrance with the servant who
opened it. The same deadly scowl I had seen sweep over Dutton's
countenance upon the mention of Hamblin's name, again gleamed
darkly there; and finding, after a moment or two, that the intruder
would not be denied, the master of the house gently removed Annie
from his knee, and strode out of the room.
'Follow grandpapa,' whispered Mrs Rivers, a highly respectable widow
of about forty years of age, whom Mr Dutton had engaged at a high
salary to superintend Annie's education. The child went out, and Mrs
Rivers, addressing me, said in a low voice: 'Her presence will prevent
violence; but it is a sad affair.' She then informed me that Hamblin, to
whom Mr Dutton allowed a hundred a year, having become aware of
the grandfather's extreme fondness for Annie, systematically worked
that knowledge for his own sordid ends, and preluded every fresh
attack upon Mr Dutton's purse by a threat to reclaim the child. 'It is not
the money,' remarked Mrs Rivers in conclusion, 'that Mr Dutton cares
so much for, but the thought that he holds Annie by the sufferance of
that wretched man, goads him at times almost to insanity.'
'Would not the fellow waive his claim for a settled increase of his
annuity?'
'No; that has been offered to the extent of three hundred a year; but

Hamblin refuses, partly from the pleasure of keeping such a man as Mr
Dutton in his power, partly because he knows that the last shilling
would be parted with rather than the child. It is a very unfortunate
business, and I often fear will terminate badly.' The loud but indistinct
wrangling without ceased after awhile, and I heard a key turn stiffly in
a lock. 'The usual conclusion of these scenes,' said Mrs Rivers.
'Another draft upon his strong-box will purchase Mr Dutton a respite as
long as the money lasts.' I could hardly look at James Dutton when he
re-entered the room. There was that in his countenance which I do not
like to read in the faces of my friends. He was silent for several minutes;
at last he said quickly,