The Black-Sealed Letter | Page 7

have to shorten my visit."
"Well, Fred, consider the matter judiciously, and you will not think me unreasonable in my accusations," replied Clara.
"Pooh, pooh," retorted Fred, "never allow your imagination to soar higher than your reason; curb down the irritable nerves of your temper; turn the dark side of life's picture towards the past, and keep always the bright side uppermost."
"It is easier said than done," she replied. "Had you rendered me the assistance in reality instead of broken promises, I might have been looking to-day upon the bright side of life."
"For goodness sake, Clara, do not tantalize me so unmercifully. I tell you that I have decided upon going to Canada, and I shall go. That country offers advantages unknown to England. Better hazard an adventure than remain forever riveted to hard labor here, and then die at last in the harness. Were I to marry you now I have no home but my father's to which I could remove you; better then to remain where you are, unmarried, than otherwise, for, I feel certain that Collins would turn you out as soon as he had discovered that I had both married and left you. But let me tell you but once and forever that I intend to become a husband to you as soon as I can find it convenient to procure a comfortable home."
"The old story again," ejaculated Clara, "and let me tell you, Fred, that if you go to Canada you will never make your circumstances convenient to fulfil your promise--no, never, never, Fred."
"I don't want to hear any more of such botheration," retorted Fred, irritably; and springing up from his seat, made his exit abruptly, leaving Clara to sigh out alone the sorrows of her heart in the solitude of her own reflections.
Mr. Collins, as I said before was a man possessed of a degraded nature, being much addicted to intemperance. Widow Hazledon had married him after a brief acquaintance. She had felt the necessity of a fatherly assistance and protection in the rearing of her young family; but in Collins she discovered when too late that she had mistaken his character. She, however, continued to make the best of a bad bargain. He was a carver by trade, and commanded good wages; but every Saturday night, he got drunk. His Sabbaths were generally devoted to the worship of Bacchus. Sometimes he would continue drinking for several days, until every penny was exhausted. Then he would make demands at home for more money, which if refused, he was sure to abuse his wife and family. He was not only a drunkard; he was a scoffer at religion, and considered it a mark of honor to take the name of God in vain.
On the following day after Frederick's interview with Clara, Collins came home partly intoxicated, and demanded more money to help him, as he said, to finish off a spree with an old comrade whom he had not seen for several years. Mrs. Collins expostulated with him, but to no purpose. He became, at length, exasperated, and threatened to turn them all out upon the street, and burn the house down. Clara attempted to pacify him, which only made him the more outrageous. He swore every oath imaginable at her, insolently ordering her to be off with her child, and find lodgings with the villain to whom she had prostituted herself, or else he would soon pitch her and her little bratling into the Thames.
"Here, Tom, take this, 'tis the last shilling I have in the house. Now, dear Tom, like a good husband, keep quiet, and don't abuse Clara and me so much as you do," said Mrs. Collins with a pitiable sort of tone, the tears trickling down her grief furrowed cheeks.
"Well, Annie, but you're a good sort of wife after all," replied Collins, in a somewhat subdued tone. "As for Clara, I like her well enough! but I have resolved that I shall not labor any longer to support the child of that blackguard of a fellow, who, as I have been informed, has absconded to Canada. I hate him, and I detest his child--the dirty, yelping thing that it is. If it is not instantly removed from here, I shall make short work of it to-night on my return. Mark my words, Clara," he emphatically added, and putting the shilling into his pocket he departed, leaving them to consider seriously over the matter.
As soon as he had gone Clara and her mother began talking over the affair, premeditating what they should do with the child. They felt suspicious of the threats made by Collins, who, it appears, for several weeks past, had used somewhat coarse language to Clara, especially since he had discovered that there was no immediate prospect of her removal.
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