A House to Let Read Online Free Page A

when they would have a household of their own; of which, in whatever
service she might be in the meantime, she should be sure to form part.
Almost the last action Frank Wilson did, before setting sail, was going
with Alice to see Norah once more at her mother's house. And then he
went away.
    Alice's father-in-law grew more and more feeble as winter advanced. She
was of great use to her step-mother in nursing and amusing him; and,
although there was anxiety enough in the household, there was perhaps
more of peace than there had been for years; for Mrs. Wilson had not a
bad heart, and was softened by the visible approach of death to one whom
she loved, and touched by the lonely condition of the young creature,
expecting her first confinement in her husband's absence. To this
relenting mood Norah owed the permission to come and nurse Alice when her
baby was born, and to remain to attend on Captain Wilson.
    Before one letter had been received from Frank (who had sailed for the
East Indies and China), his father died. Alice was always glad to
remember that he had held her baby in his arms, and kissed and blessed it
before his death. After that, and the consequent examination into the
state of his affairs, it was found that he had left far less property
than people had been led by his style of living to imagine; and, what
money there was, was all settled upon his wife, and at her disposal after
her death. This did not signify much to Alice, as Frank was now first
mate of his ship, and, in another voyage or two, would be captain.
Meanwhile he had left her some hundreds (all his savings) in the bank.
    It became time for Alice to hear from her husband. One letter from the
Cape she had already received. The next was to announce his arrival in
India. As week after week passed over, and no intelligence of the ship's
arrival reached the office of the owners, and the Captain's wife was in
the same state of ignorant suspense as Alice herself, her fears grew most
oppressive. At length the day came when, in reply to her inquiry at the
Shipping Office, they told her that the owners had given up Hope of ever
hearing more of the Betsy-Jane, and had sent in their claim upon the
underwriters. Now that he was gone for ever, she first felt a yearning,
longing love for the kind cousin, the dear friend, the sympathising
protector, whom she should never see again,—first felt a passionate
desire to show him his child, whom she had hitherto rather craved to have
all to herself—her own sole possession. Her grief was, however,
noiseless, and quiet—rather to the scandal of Mrs. Wilson; who bewailed
her step-son as if he and she had always lived together in perfect
harmony, and who evidently thought it her duty to burst into fresh tears
at every strange face she saw; dwelling on his poor young widow's
desolate state, and the helplessness of the fatherless child, with an
unction, as if she liked the excitement of the sorrowful story.
    So passed away the first days of Alice's widowhood. Bye-and-bye things
subsided into their natural and tranquil course. But, as if this young
creature was always to be in some heavy trouble, her ewe-lamb began to be
ailing, pining and sickly. The child's mysterious illness turned out to
be some affection of the spine likely to affect health; but not to
shorten life—at least so the doctors said. But the long dreary
suffering of one whom a mother loves as Alice loved her only child, is
hard to look forward to. Only Norah guessed what Alice suffered; no one
but God knew.
    And so it fell out, that when Mrs. Wilson, the elder, came to her one day
in violent distress, occasioned by a very material diminution in the
value the property that her husband had left her,—a diminution which
made her income barely enough to support herself, much less Alice—the
latter could hardly understand how anything which did not touch health or
life could cause such grief; and she received the intelligence with
irritating composure. But when,