Which shall it be? [By A. French Hector.] A new edition

Chapter I

" Pull down that blind, Miss Foster ! Don't you see the light comes right across my eyes ? but, indeed, if I did not attend to my own wants and comforts, I might want long enough !" " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Redman; I was so occupied with the paper I did not perceive it ;" and Miss Foster rose eagerly to perform the old lady's behest. The time was somewhere about 11 a.m. ; the scene a small dining room in one of those genteel modern houses which abound in the new district where pohte Brompton melts into aristocratic South Ken sington. Among the neat tenements and accurate front gardens of Abingdon ViUas few equaUed, none surpassed, No. 13, tbe abode of dignified and soUd respectabUity incarnate, in the person of Mrs. Redman, rehet of the late John Redman, of Corbet Court, City, and Bayham HUl, Camden Town, a substantial man who, after scraping together a good jointure for his wife, a fair portion for his elder daughter (the one who had married to please him), and a tolerable business for his only son, departed this hfe — having toUed much and enjoyed little — leaving, however, a name and reputation calculated to encourage others to tread in the same thorny road ; and now the widow found Camden Town too low a place to spend her money in, so migrated to Brompton and the neighbourhood of her married daughter.

There had been another daughter, but her name was never heard, or at least heard only in the lowest whisper. This fine sunny morning then Mrs. Redman sat near her dining room window ; she was a large woman, but not a fleshy one — no, she gave the idea of much bone ; she wore a dull, thick, black satin dress, made high and plain, the folds of a delicate white net handkerchief showing above it round the neck ; she also wore a huge cap, the area ? of which was covered with a variety of quUUngs and plaitings, and bows of ribbon, tUl it became an edifice of formidable aspect and dimensions, yet not a whit too big for the head it covered ; beneath it was a broad, cold, pale face, with a large jaw, thin Ups, and eyes of no particular shape, hue, or expression at any time ; but especially undecipherable at present, for her glasses were on her nose, slanting slightly to one side, as though to give her the advantage of double and single vision.

On a small table lay some netting, but her hands were crossed and quiet — small hands for her size, and wrinkled, as was natural at her age ; but having a somewhat cruel look, from the muscular develop ment and claw-like fingers. Miss Foster, who was drawing down the blind, was -a human of a very different type ; a thin wafery creature, in some drab nondescript of a morning dress, and a black silk apron, with a kincUy, weakly face that must once have had much beauty ; now it was faded, the lines of care and trouble unsparingly drawn, the once bright eyes sunk, the nose risen into sharp prominence, the dark luxuriant curls reduced to a sausage-like roU at each side of the face, and — greatest change of aU, — tbe radiant smUe of happy girlhood dimmed, tiU scarce a ghost of it is to be found in the nervously ready smile of a much enduringcompanion, Oh ! relentless and mysterious law, whieh bhndly and helplessly we obey, whence comes the eurse which hangs on weakness, however innocent, and good, and tender ?

Here, on the threshold of another's history — in which Miss Foster, now drawing down Mrs. Redman's blind, has but httle to do — would I fain turn aside to note the simple annals of her life, and trace the course of one of those everyday unre cognized teagedies — those almost hourly crushings-out of Use's Use, youth, joy, and hope, in the deadly combat between heart and cir cumstance. The blind duly drawn down, Miss Foster returned to her task of reading aloud the pohce reports to her mistress, as Mrs. Redman emphatically was, mueh more than of the smart pink-ribboned house maid, or the independent cook ; and for some minutes Mrs. Redman listened with tranquiUity ; soon however she interrupted the lecture. " Look to the right," she said ; " there, to your right ; just in the upper pane ; there's a sht in my new muslin curtains, and this is only their second season.

Now, how ever could Sarah put them up without seeing it, and telling me ; but she no more cares for my property than — than anything," she added after a short mental search for a simUe. " I wonder you did not notice it, Miss Foster ; but you never see anv hing. I wonder what your eyes are for, I'm sure ?" " I am not very observant," acquiesced the companion ; " but now vou point it out, there is a large sht ; dear me, yes ! a very large slit." " Just ring the beU, wiU you," returned Mrs. Redman ; " I want to show it to Sarah, and also that side-board. I could write my name in the dust that's on it." " In London, really," observed Miss Foster, in a deprecating tone, " as soon as a thing is dusted it is covered again." "WeU, then, it should be dusted again," said Mrs. Redman, sharply. " I'U trouble you to but stop, who is that coming in at our front gate ?

Now, that gat? ought not to be left unlocked, with aU kinds of queer characters about. Look here, Miss Foster. What do you make bf those odd-looking people ? Walking up to the front door, too !" Miss Foster started forward with her usual nervous readiness, but was too late to catch more than a glimpse of a Uttle girl in a hat, before the pUlar of the portico hid the visitors from view. " Whatever can they want ?" ejaculated Mrs. Redman, with that species of indignant apprehension common to dogs and men at the approach of a reduced feUow-creature. "A man and a girl, shabby-looking, but not quite common — just the sort of people to come with a petition ; and I'm sure, paying poor rates to the amount tbat " Here a trim housemaid, in an exquisite and picturesque cap, a cotton dress rustling with starch, and a saucy apron, entered, holding a salver on which lay a card, which with an air of deference she presented to Mrs. Redman.

"Dear me, nowwhat can this mean?" began her mistress. " Stay, Sarah." To Miss Foster : " Just look at this, wiU you ?" and without ceasing to gaze on the morsel of pasteboard, she gave an impatient jerk with her elbow. The card had evidently been bent by lying in a pocket instead of in a card-case; moreover, there was the impression of a human thumb on one end of it. Nevertheless, it bore in clear and beautifully formed characters the foUowing inscription : — lit;, muxxnu jiiitosnanu, 27<e Corinthiane Theatre, Thames End. 1—2 ? " Gracious goodness 1" said Miss Foster, " who can that be ?" " I suppose they have been burnt out, or something, and are get ting up a subscription," returned Mrs. Redman. " Here, Sarah, take that card back, and say I never subscribe to anything not con nected with the parish."

Sarah departed. " But perhaps he doesn't want a subscription," timidly suggested Miss Foster. "What does he want, tben?" demanded Mrs. Redman, with much asperity ; upon which Miss Foster subsided into her usual crushed condition. Mr. Warrene Fitzwarrenne, however, was not to be so easUy disposed of. Sarah returned with the salver stUl bearing the objection able card. "Please 'm, the gentleman says he only wishes a few moments' conversation, and " " "WiU not detain you long," interrupted a deep rolling voice, which sounded as though accustomed to " hurl maledictions," or " call down blessings" of the most teUing description. And Mr. Warrene Fitzwarrenne strode into the room. He was by no means equal in dimensions to his voice, for he was somewhat below middle size, and the length of his stride was, to judge by appearance, rather inconvenient.

He was tightly but toned up in an overcoat of fashionable appearance, but terribly worn about the seams. His face, close shaved, had a blue mottled look about the chin, and though he strove hard to caU up a look of "-rave determination, it was a kindly, simple, weather-beaten face. One hand in a dark glove, showing glimpses of finger ends, held his hat, whieh had a erape on it, by a very weak rim, and the other drew after him a child of twelve or thirteen years of age, with shabby boots and coloured stockings, a dark stuff frock, a small black-and white check shawl, a battered hat with a mangy black feather and a pair of cotton gloves. Under the hat Miss Foster descried a smaU, white, pasty delicate looking face, with great eyes, red with crying, a mass of pale dull yellow hair, rough, untidy, and hopeless-looking.

She entered awk wardly, half resisting the force with which her conductor dragged her into the centre of the room, where they stood the antipodes of aU that surrounded them. The bright grate, the pohshed furniture the snowy curtains, the sweet hyacinths in their coloured glasses tbe neat servant, the indescribable atmosphere of order, care, respectabilitv contrasted with the shabby, threadbare, scrambling vagabondism. ? 5 " WiU not detain you long," said Mr. Fitzwarrenne, as he strode into the room and confronted Mrs. Redman, who, with a sort of gasp as if for breath, made an ineffectual clutch at Miss Foster's garments. "Madam," continued the intruder, letting go his charge, that he might the better gesticulate, placing himself in attitude, and sending his sentences weU home, with emphatic pointings of the forefinger.

" Madam, I have a tale to unfold whieh — permit your domestic to retire." " No, I won't!" said Mrs. Redman, angry, yet frightened. " Say your business at onee, or I'll send for the police. Sarah, don't attempt to go." " As you wiU, madam," returned Mr. Fitzwarrenne. "Then, in brief, my business is this, to place under your matronly protection, your maternal care, this dear child, your orphan granddaughter, Madeline Digby;" and he drew the shrinking ghl towards the re presentation of respectability, who seemed on the point of a coUapse. " Miss Foster, why don't you turn them out, or do something ?" cried the terrified, infuriated Mrs. Redman. " How can you sit there and see me imposed upon ? I have no granddaughter of that name. I have washed my hands of Captain Digby, and aU connected with him, years ago, and I never permit his name to be mentioned before me ; he has done me Ul enough, and I do not beUeve this creature is my daughter's child — my unfortunate daughter's infant must have died fifteen years ago ; — when she did.

You'U not find it so easy to impose upon me. Leave the house, sir. How dare you come here to insult me, talking of that — that wretch who " " Hush, madam," returned Mr. Fitzwarrenne, with a touch of feeling, which lent him dignity for a moment. "My poor comrade wiU never offend in this world again ; be is gone to be judged by a different code from ours !" " Dead! Is he dead? and yet he must have been quite a young man," said Mrs. Redman, somewhat eagerly — a touch of selfish curiosity relaxed her settled wrath. " Sarah, you may go down-stairs," she added, suddenly noticing that fair functionary standing open-mouthed, eager for further reve lations ; but she was compeUed to retreat. "Yes, madam, ten days since we laid one of the truest-hearted feUows in his last resting-plaee ; and some hours before tbe final struggle, he took this little hand " (taking the girl's) " laid it mine, and said, ' Kit' — he used that friendly abbreviation — ' Kit, this is all that holds me to Use, yet she wUl be better off when I am gone.

Take ■her to her grandmother, Mrs. Redman, — she wUl not refuse food and WHICn SHALL IT BE ? 6 shelter to her chUd's ehUd.' He also gave me this packet," unbutton ing his coat rapidly, and in his hurry putting out a ragged pocket lining, as weU as a small bundle of papers, "which contains, no doubt, the verification of my tale. I there solemnly promised to place the orphan under your protection ; and to it I now consign her." He drew himself up, and made as though to retire. "Stop, stop!" cried Mrs. Redman, "do not suppose you are to have it aU your own way, and saddle me with the cost of a girl to clothe and feed. Why shoiUd that man, Digby, leave Ids child un provided for on my hands ? What right has he to suppose I woiUd do anything for her ?" " Oh, Kit! dear land Kit," cried the pale child, speaking for tbe first time through an agony of sobs, and clutching his arm, " don't leave me here ; let me stay with you and Mrs. Fitzwarrenne, and I wiU do an)-thing.

I'U wheel the perambulator, and take care of Aurora and Margaretta, I wiU ; and I can go on in the pantomimes, and earn something in that way. Oh, don't leave me with this old lady ! I'U die, Kit dear, if you do !" There was a wonderfiU pathos and sweetness in her tones, and a suppressed passion in her pleading which touched the tender heart of Miss Foster, and brought tears to her eyes. Something in her voice, too, disturbed Mrs. Redman; she fidgeted in her seat, aud looked more sour than ever. " Some one wiU be coming in," she said, angrily, " and a strange appearance it wtil have — people like you here. I'U do nothing, and promise nothing, tiU I consult with my son, Mr. John Redman. Here, leave the papers, and your address. I'U have the matter severely examined ;" and Mrs. Redman sank back, holding the yeUow packet as though she feared it.

" Dear, dear, I feel quite upset," she exclaimed, as her companion returned, after seeing the intruders safe out, " to have such a couple walking up to my front door as if they were the best in aU London, and Mrs. Nettlethorpe in her front parlour window, I'll be bounel, making all sorts of remarks, and I that have been in the highest respectability aU my life ; it's enough to give me a brain fever, it is, and you no more care nor think about it than if I was a stone. I'm sure I often wish I was. Go down to the cook, Miss Foster, do, and teU her to make me a cup of arrowroot and put a glass of port wine in it. I am^ quite exhausted. And, Miss Foster, write to Mr. John Redman immediately, and teU him he must come round this evening ; and just put on your bonnet and ask Mrs. Comerford to step this way."

And a family eouncU was held that evening at No. 13, Abing- ? 7 don Villas, not perhaps of the same lofty and historical description as many that figure in the chronicles of noble races, but to do the counciUors justice, conducted on principles as hard and selfish, as narrow as if the worldly success of some aristocratic family, or the interests of some struggling nation, depended upon it. Mrs. Comerford arrived in time for tea and sallylun, and was met in the hall by Miss Foster, who came forth timidly from the dining room, carefully shutting the door after her. Mrs. Comerford was good-natured in a condescending patronising surface way to her mother's companion. She was always afraid the old lady would leave her money from Mrs. Comerford' s darling chUd ren, and so was invariably studying mother's ways, and her mother's cat's ways, and ever doing the civti to the insignificant companion — a line of conduct which brought much snubbing on her devoted head.

" Dear, dear," said Miss Foster, " I am so glad you are come, Mrs. Comerford. Would you not Uke to step up to your mamma's room, just to straighten your hah, and put on your cap. I'm sure dear Mrs. Redman has been in that state ever since the shocking upset she got this morning, that I scarcely know what to do with her. She can't bear you to clear your throat, or step across the room, and she didn't eat two bits at dinner. It's true she had two large cupfuls of arrowroot and port wine, and three Abernethy biscuits before, but what's that ?" " What indeed !" echoed Mrs. Comerford with true pathos. " Isn't it awful ?" resumed the sympathetic Miss Foster. "Inever had such a turn, at least of late years, as when that man — oh, sueh a desperate looking man, Mrs. Comerford — walked into the room." [Poor Warrene Fitzwarrenne would have been highly flattered could he have heard this tribute to his dramatic powers.]

" And the girl, my dear ?" asked Mrs. Comerford somewhat anxiously, " what did dear grandmamma seem to think of her ?" " WeU I hardly know. She didn't seem to mind her at aU; and she was not a very nice looking chUd. She had a lot of rough wild whitish hair, and big dark eyes ; but I must say I never hear d a sweeter voice." " Dear me, had she," said Mrs. Comerford uneasily, "why tbat is like her mother, if — I mean — she is my sister's child." " Hadn't we Wetter go down ?" said Miss Foster nervously. " Your dear mamma may fancy — — , eh ?" "Yes, certainly," returned Mrs. Comerford uneasily, fuUy com prehending the unspoken fear. " I thought you were coming down," said Mrs. Redman testily, as ? her daughter and Miss Foster entered, aUowing the former to take her straight cold hand (kissing was considered humbug by Mrs. Redman).

" I wonder you didn't come over earher when you knew what a shock I had received ; but I don't know what woiUd put you out of your way. Some people think of self first, but it's of no con sequence." "My dear mother," exclaimed Mrs. Comerford eagerly, "Bobby had a queer sort of a rash out all over his neek and arms, so I sent for Dr. Fenton, and he never came tiU about an hour ago. He says it is only a nettle rash, so he sent a bottle, a third part to be taken every four hours, and I just waited to give him the first dose. I'll be home for the second. It smeUs a little Uke vinegar, and honey, and camphor, and rhubarb, not at aU nice, and we had such a business to make the dear boy take it — he is wonderfully sensible — or I would have been here an hour ago, I'm sure." "WeU, weU, nevermind," returned the mother.

" Is the tea made, Miss Foster ? I'm just wearying for a cup. I've not been able to take a mouthfiU since — since tbat visitation. Only think, after rest ing for fifteen years (it's near fifteen years, isn't it, since I sent that man twenty pounds ?) in peace, to be attacked in this way. I'm sure no one can say I've not sacrificed myself to my chUdren. You know I offered to provide for Mary if she would leave that man — a poor wretch that dragged her into misery. I'm sure I wish your brother would come." It was remarkable that when Mrs. Redman was in one of those peculiar conditions called by the initiated " upset," she had no rela tive of any land; it was "your brother," not "my son;" "your children," not " my grandchildren." However, the wished-for indi vidual made his appearance before the meal was quite finished. .

Mr. John Redman was a person of great importance in his own estimation, and that of his famtiy. He was a portly man, with a rather handsome aquiUne face and thick dark brown hair, accurately parted to one side, and brought in a graceful wave over to the other. He was a weU-shaven, weU-dressed man, with exquisitely got up linen, neat boots, and a diamond ring— a sort of cross between the Club and the City man— who piqued himself upon his knowledge of hfe. He was greatly respected by his mother, and was, perhaps, the only thing she loved, probably because he was the only thing she dared not snub. Mr. John Redman flattered himself he was quite the gentleman ; nevertheless, there was no one who more humiliated poor Miss Foster than this strong, rich, successful man. He was never quite sure of her name, or that she was in the room, or that he had spoken to her.

Yet this was aU unintentional. And what business had a poor thing, only a companion, who gave so much for what she got, hours of reading aloud, all her personal liberty, a Ufetime of patient endurance, for thirty pounds and her keep, to look for recognition ? How much more independent, and rich, and dignified was Mary the cook on twenty pounds and aU found, with Christmas gifts, and the disposal of the kitchen stuff! Mr. John Redman entered with his usual sedate composure ; hoped his mother was weU, with the poUteness whieh rather awed that venerable matron ; said, "How do, Susan?" to his sister; then sitting down, suddenly remembered Miss Foster, and exclaimed, " Oh, and how'r you ?" evidently not expecting a reply. " Have some tea, John?" said Mrs. Redman. " WeU, not if it has gone the rounds," he rephed, drawing out a perfumed handkerchief, and wiping his brow.

" Make some fresh tea, Miss Foster," ordered his mother. That done, and Miss Foster rewarded by the measured remark, " Not bad," as the great man sipped it, Mr. John Redman looked at his watch. " Ah ! I've not more than half-an-hour to give you, mother. I am to dine with Sorimager, of Grimes & Co., at 7.30, so perhaps Miss — a — a — wtil just — just " " Tell Sarah to take away tea," said Mrs. Redman; "and you needn't come back, Miss Foster." " Very weU," returned that lady, simpering. " Can I settle your cushion, and give you your netting before I go ?" she added playfully, for a ghost of old coquetry always rose up when Mr. John Redman was present, and a word or two of civil notice from him would make her girlish for a fortnight. " No, no; I don't want nothing," said her amiable patroness, crowding her negatives in her hurry, and the famUy conclave was left to its discussion.

Mr. Comerford — or papa, as Mrs. Comerford caUed hhn— was not admitted : indeed, his was not a prominent position, and perhaps in calling him "papa" Mrs. Comerford hit his most distinguishing characteristic. " This is an awkward business for you, ma'am," began Mr. John, turning himself on his chair, and throwing his arm over the back of it ; " let me hear it fairly, for your note told little." Whereupon Mrs. Redman recapitulated the event with which our story opens, interrupted by ejaculations from Mrs. Comerford. " WeU, the first point to be ascertained," said the man of business, " is this— are we sure the ghl is the bond fide ehUdof my unfortunate ? sister. Let me see these papers ;" and he turned over the contents of the packet left by Fitzwarrenne with Mrs. Redman. "Hum! ' Certificate of baptism, Liverpool.

Madeline Digby, child— Arthur Digby,' Mary his wife, &c, &c.' So far, so good." " They might all be forged, you know," said Mrs. Redman. " Or this ghl might be the chUd of some other woman than our unfortunate sister," observed Mrs. Comerford. "Yes! it would be a pretty business if I was to clothe, and feed, and educate the chUdof some vUe woman," added Mrs. Redman. "The story must be carefully inquired into; but should the girl prove to be my sister's chUd, ma'am, you must not let her come upon the parish." "I'm sure I never knew such a thing, never," observed Mrs. Redman, in piteous accents. "Nor I, never," echoed Mrs. Comerford. " And what would you have me do ?" asked the mother. "Oh! having ascertained the genuineness of those documents, educate and clothe her ; give her the chance of earning her own bread.

That she has a right to expect. If she doesn't choose to do so afterwards, then you may wash your hands of her." " Dear, dear, but what a lot of money it will cost !" " The first expense is the whole, perhaps," remarked Mr. Redman, " and may save some loss of character." "WeU, it is hard," said his mother, bitterly, "to have to spend my money for that Digby's child ; what we never had to do for you, John — or your children, Susan." " No, indeed !" ejaculated the latter. " It is hard," acquiesced the son, heartily ; " but I don't see how it can be helped ; but" — rising and pacing the room, his hands in his pockets, and an evident inward struggle going on — " I'U teU you what I'U do. I'U contribute twenty pounds per annum for the next two years, and we'U see what comes of it ; she may not be the person she is represented to be.

You have seen the chUd. What do you think, yourself, ma'am ?" " Well, I'm sure, John, your offer is handsome, and I'm obliged to you. It woiUd be hard on me if aU was to eome out of my pocket." "WeU, she has no claim on me," said Mr. John, rather hastily, " but what is she like ?" "WeU, she has a lot of Ughthair, something hke your poor sister's, and her voice startled me a Uttle, but then she has sort of black eyes, and does not look over twelve or thirteen, and accordingto that cir tificate she must be fifteen." ? 11 " Nevertheless, I am inclined to think she is your grandchild. However, we must be prudent. So I'U just put the matter in the hands of Harridge anel Blyth ; they are first-rate men, and close as the grave. I fancy they have some curious secrets in their keeping, and in a day or two it wiU be cleared up, one way or other."

" Then woidd you have me take her home to Uve here in this house ?" said Mrs. Redman, querulously looking round on her exquisitely neat apartment as though it was about to be desecrated by the ingress of a young Bohemian hke her possible grandchild. "No," returned her son, soothingly; "couldn't you put her to some school, and fit her to go out as a teacher ? You needn't have her before you always." "No, I couldn't, you know," said the old lady, in her sharpest key. "Whatever would Mrs. Nettlethorp, and Miss Wilkins, and Mrs. Parkins say, they that have no notion that I ever had another daughter except Susan, or if I had, that she died young. Why if a granddaughter appeared here, they'd think things even worse than they are." "Oh, she need never come here," interposed Mrs. Comerford; "for a trifle more pay any school would keep her through the holidays. ' ' " I do hate to hear you run on so, Susan," said her mother, with the utmost contempt.

" You're sure to talk nonsense. Where is the trifle more of pay to come from I'd like to know ! I'm sure I'll be stripped of everything," " Don't begin to quarrel before you know if you have any cause," remonstrated Mr. Redman , calmly superior ; ' ' the chUd may be an impostor, and until this point is cleared up any arrangement is pre mature. Now my time is up, I must say good evening."

Chapter II

The result of inquhies was so far satisfactory that Mr. Redman, his. mother, and Mrs. Comerford, who, for certain reasons, was mueh the most difficult to be convinced, aU agreed that it would be mueh better to sUence aU gossip and possible slander by taking the orphan of the sinning and defunct ex-captain under their respectable protection, and placing her at a school. " Not that I expect much to come of it," grumbled Mrs. Redman ; "her poor mother was so weak and fanciful, I'm sure she was not like a chUd of mine ; nor was it hke one of us to be caught by the smooth tongue of that scamp Digby, with his airs about being a cavalry officer, and a man of famUy ; so the child wul ? 12 be a poor thing, I expect. I shaU never forget his impudence, com ing to ask Mr. Redman's consent, and tben his coaxing my daughter to run away ; and, dear, dear, the worry and grief I went through ! and after, when they got from bad to worse, I was always steady to my principles, and never would see her."