The morning call., 1890-10-29
A ROMANCE
IN REAL LIFE.

a RUMANCb
IN REAL LIFE.
Gin Four Acts)
ACT 1.-THE CALL.
IN. MOTHER term has passed, and Man.
SaaaAgS vers was no further advanced in his
ElSAS profession. In pure bitterness of
feeling he paced up and down his solitary
chambers, and wondered why he had ever
fancied he should ever succeed as a barris-
ter. To a prepossessing personal appear
ance, he added considerable talent, which had
hitherto lain dormant for want OF an open
field for their action. Term after term
passed slowly on, and if Manners did not
suffer absolute want, his necessities became
greater every day, and he felt lie must in
some way recruit his exhausted finances. 1t
was then that lie first thought of the use OF
his pen. And in the lighter departments OF
literature his success was beyond his most
sanguine expectations, for he earned enough
to live upon. The sight of the probably
hard-earued reward of the produce of his
own brains renders an author one OF the
proudest and happiest beings in existence.
mdllNtIS NlOlt Ou vi WIN AhNISNoSN
hope and confidence, waiting patiently for
the time when his talents at the bar should
be properly encouraged and appreciated.
One morning, when he was thus industri-
ously engaged, Mr.. Witherington, solicitor
whopraciiced in the Old Bailey, called for
the purpose of engaging Manyers' profess
sional services. The solicitor informed him
that his client had been committed to New
IA pnn oh pf foruprV s'II *
singular and eccentric being" added Nh
Witherington; Il don't pretend to say that
you owe the possession of this brief to me;
in fact, viii tell you frankly that he in
sisted upon your being employed, and, more
over, YOU must hear his case from his own
lips, which you will say is not very cOmpli-
mentary to me, an experienced Old Bailey
practitioner; so be so good as to have
speedy interview with HIM" Manners ac-
cordingly FASTENED to Newgate hoping from
his heart that it might be some intricate and
difficult case, in which he might have an op-
portunity of distinguishing himself.
On arriving at the prison, and inquirlng,
as he had been desired, for the apartment of
George Desmond, he was conducted by
turnkey to dark and dirty room, where
was seated despondngly the man who had
sent for him. He was tall, thin person, OF
about 80 years of age. He had evidently
once been handsome, but sorrow had traced
tenance, and his voice was hollow and Sc
pulchral. He started from his seat as Man.
VeTS entered and announced himself.
Are you indeed Henry Manvers?" he ex-
claimed, with appalling eagerneSs.
You sent for me, l believe" Manners
replied.
Yes. did send for you. Sit down
come closer | am about to be brought to
trial, Mr.. Manners, for serious ottense, OF
which | am wholly and truly innocent | re-
quire your assistance 10 clear me from 1t, If
it he possible
My best energies shall be given to the
case" replied the barrister. "Wlll you
state the circumstances ~
ACT 1.-THE STORY.
My story Is very painful One," said
Desmond Pray let me request your pa
tent attention. 1t viii be necessary to re-
late the history of my past life in order that
you may properly comprehend the diff
culties of my situation. | was born in lux
ury Mr.. Manners, the only son of weak. in
dulgent parents, who thought that when
they gave a liberal allowance they had pro
vided for nv happiness in life. They were
miserably and wretchedly mistaken. For
several years l led wild, unsettled life,
pluDging deeper every day into debt and
trouble. My father had cleared me from my
embarrassments several times; but now
neither his means nor his inclination would
| permit him to give me any further assistance
lOhhhpo L SAA"'L-DC ltuIUuSlS lDiuult. MI.
Manners, -ppt you must know my whole
history, and even while dwelling upon it at
this distant period so many circumS tanceS
rush upon my memory that they disturb the
regular progress Of my narrative. AT the
age of 50 l had become tired of
the dissipation in which had passed the last
ten years of my life. Every day | promised
myself that | would break with my old
| associates and lead more quiet life, and
every day added TO the difficulty OF so doing.
| | found it impossible TO snake OFF one of my
| companions, named Neville, adashing, bold,
| unp.iucipled young man, in whose follleS l
| had participated. In this uneviable state of
mind and affairs, first saw and loved Mary
-" The prisoner suddenly checked him
| self and added, No matter her name at
| the present moment-the daughter of an old
| friend of my father. She WAS lovely, kind
! hearted girl, and devoted even beyond the
| nature of womau's devotion. Her father
discouraged my addresses by every means
! in his power, and at last he went so far us
| to forbid me the house. But this did not
| separate our affections. Despairing of ever
| obtaining his consent to our union / urged
her to fly with Inc, and, Drawing all dangers,
| to unite her fate with mine, and she con-
scented. | have often cursed that moment
since, for it brought misery and early death
upon the one | loved but Of that dreamt
| not at the time.
MY wifes friends did not recognize our
marriage, and our days glided swiftly and
| quietly on. 1t was not until twelvemonth
| after our union that | began TO feel my pc
cuniary resources fail me. Neville, on
| learning my difficulties, came forward to
| assist me, as / then thought, in brotherly
friendship and kindness - how false it
| proved words cannot express. But | am an
icipating my story. His funds could not
| last long when he shared all with me. and
we were both reduced to the verge of real
| distress. My wfe's cheek grew paer and
| her spirits heavier when she looked forward
| to our prospects The birth of child in
| creased our anxiety; but she never COM
planned. No; she loved me, and me alone.
| In sorrow and in exile, when death had sep
| arated us forever, the remembrance of her
| gentle devoted love has raised me from the
| brink of utter despair and has caused me to
| Neville and | had been drinking together
| one night longer than usual, when he told
| me he had thought of plan to save US from
| impending ruin, at very slight risk. |
| eagerly inquired his meaning. Good God!
| How he led me on.
"Of what passed during the following
| three weeks have no recollection, for | was
shortly afterward arrested on the charge
| of having forged name to some bank stock,
| and brought to trial, together with Neville
| and several others. l am ignorant Of the
means they used to enable them to clear
| themselves and throw all the guilt upon me.
| | only know that was the only sufferer
| and was sentenced to twenty-one years
transportation. For several days L was too
| much stunned to reflect even on the desolate
| and helpless state of my wife and child, and
their painful and too probable fate. They
came TO me- shall never forget the night
| to bid me an agonizing farewell, and knew
| L should never see my wife again in this
world, for l saw that life was giving way,
even during our brief interview. She told
me that her father had offered TO receive
| her and her child into'hs house; and | felt
more grateful for his kindness than words
can express. But that home she said, L
can never enter again. shall not long sur
viye your departure and l will labor to
| satisfy my few wants until | shall cease to
feel cold or hunger more. My child she
continued, Il will confde to my fathers
care; and, trusting to the kind heart | have
too severely tried, can die contented.'"
Desmond paused, strongly agltated; for
some minutes lie hid his face in his hands;
and Manners, though deeply interested,
feared TO interrupt his emotions. He re-
sumed: "She threw herself on her knees
| before mp male and wasted and cnarnalv