Laura Talbot; or, the Realities of Life

Chapter I

It was a lovely morning in the spring of the year 18 — , that a lady mounted the staircase of au old dismal-looking house, situated in one of the leading thoroughfares, at the Avest-end of London. The house, like many others in the same locality, had suffered from the changes of fashion, the consequences of which Avere perceptible, from the fact of its being the residence of a boot-maker, though its lofty drawing-rooms and spacious halls, brought back to the mind's eye the Evelinas and Cecilias of ano ther age; doubtless many a high-heeled dame, with powdered head and hoop to match, in all the lustre of youth and beauty, had stepped out fulldressed to her carriage, to brighten with her presence the _r B LAUEA TALBOT. Ranelagh of old ; but, as it now appeared, except to a very poetic fancy, its ancient grandeur would have been but little understood, as even the term boot-maker might, with greater honesty, have been rendered cobbler,«and afforded a strange contrast to the fair delicate appearance, and perfect beauty of the lady in question.

The lady might have numbered forty summers, though the brilliant complexion and clear hazel eye, and the almost girlish symmetry of her form, seemed to have defied the hand of time ; and none who had watched the quick step Avith which she mounted the old staircase, could haA'e guessed how much of sorrow and disappointment had been her lot. The house, like most others of the same class in London, was let out in flats or single rooms; and the door at which the lady paused ere she entered, had the inconvenience of being next to a laundress, a fact which made itself most painfully conspicuous from the quantity of wet linen, visible through the halfopened door. " Well, Laura, my dear," said the lady, in a sad, sorrowful tone, to a pale, delicate-looking girl, who looked up from the frame she was busily working at when the door opened; "well Laura, it seems impossible for us to go on much longer, for I have not taken a single shilling this whole morning, and our resources are nearly worn out."

The girl sighed heavily, for she dearly loved that fair and lovely mother ; and the terrible thought crossed her mind for a moment, that they might have to part and seek their bread alone in the home of the stranger; perhaps this thought gave her courage, for she said very earnestly, " You kno\\r, mamma, I am willing to do anything that lies in my power to earn a living ; I do not care how hard I work, or Avhat privations I endure, so long as I have you, dearest mother, and little Louisa with me." She paused, and something very like a tear dimmed the brightness of her eyes, then suddenly she rejoined : " Is there nothing you can think of, mamma, that might be possible for us to do ? I am sure I do not care where I go, or what I do, so long as I can but earn a living." " I know nothing, my dear child," said her mother, in reply, " but to go to Broughton ; there, Avhere your father's family spent thousands, it wdl be hard if something is not done for us.

At any rate, I can suggest no better plan at present — that is, if you think, Laura, you have sufficient firmness to encounter the many disappointments and vexa tions that may await you, for on your strength of mind must depend all our hopes of success. You must be the Alpha and Omega of our plans; on you must both poor little Louisa aud I depend, and b2 LAUKA TALBOT. it must be on your industry, your talents, aided by the blessing of God, that we must rely for our future subsistence." Mrs. Talbot paused, but presently resumed her discourse, " Mr. Milford, your poor father's best and dearest friend, can introduce me to Lady Darlington, our member's wife, and it is through her influence that you must push your way, if not to fortune at least to an honourable living ; he will be in town to-morrow, and I will no longer hesitate to confide to him my situation.

" And then, my dear child, let us hope that the paintings you are now wasting your eyes upon, and for which you obtain so small a sum, may, when properly disposed of, be not only the means of present life, but of future good, for who can be insensible to the merits of my dear Laura." " Ah, mamma !" said the young girl, raising her soft blue eyes from the frame upon which, until now, they had been busily resting, "ah, mamma! if I could believe you, how happy I should be ; but Broughton, consider the expense ; how are we to go without money, without friends and without resources ?" Laura stopped, and then softly uttered, "and, mamma, how would you like to go back poor ?" " Stop, Laura," said her mother, " poverty is no disgrace, and even if it were, I do not think that any one at Broughton would put us to the proof.

LAVRA TALBOT. Your father, Laura, has left his children an imper ishable inheritance, an unimpeachable name, not only for honesty, but for every kindly virtue; in youth and in age his hand and his heart Avas open to all, and the remembrance of it in your native place, will bring a blessing on your efforts, cast a halo round your path, and shield you from the sneers and jeers of a cold and unfeeling world." " Well, mamma," said Laura, and her eyes glit tered as if with some inward triumph as she spoke, "if you do not mind going back, that point is settled ; I am sure Louisa and I Avill be only too thankful to go anywhere away from this gloomy, dismal place ; but you have not said yet how we are to find the means." "Why I am in hopes my application to the Duchess of will be successful ; I wonder by the bye what detains Louisa, she has been gone above an hour, and it was only to call for an answer ; if the Duchess recognizes my claim, and she must be sadly altered if she does not, we shall have enough and to spare to take us to Broughton, and when once there, we must trust to the goodness of God to increase our oil and meal."

"There's Louisa, at any rate," said Laura, whose quick ear detected a light step upon the stairs, " and if laughing is a good sign, Louisa certainly has got a favourable answer." Mrs. Talbot rose from her seat aud opened the door ; she was rather of an impatient turn, and the sight of Louisa, seated at the head of the stairs, with the house baby in her arms, two fat chubby girls of the same stock at her feet, and the letter in question on the window-ledge, did not serve to increase her patience. She called her daughter in an angry tone, and Louisa, who nearly upset the unfortunate baby in her fright, gave it into its mother's arms, who was luckily passing at the time, and catching up the expectant letter was soon in the room with her mother and sister. Mrs. Talbot seized the letter on which so much depended, and giving Miss Louisa a good scolding for indulging her fondness for babies at such unrea sonable times, broke the seal, and the desired, the earnestly expected remittance fell upon the floor.

"Thank God," said Laura, her gentle eyes filling with tears, " thank God, we can now make a change. I do not care how soon we go ; anything to leave these melancholy rooms." " What are you thanking God so piously for ?" said Louisa, Avith an arch smile, " and where has your solemn-looking ladyship, and my lady mother decided upon going to. I am sure I shall be uncommon glad to go anyAvhere, for sake of variety." " We are going to Broughton," said Laura, in an under tone, " the money the Duchess has been so generous as to give mamma will furnish us with the means, and I am to try with my drawings and paintings to earn a living." " Going to Broughton ! going back to Broughton to earn a living," gasped the beautiful Louisa, the rich bloom on her cheek receding back to her heart, " going back to Broughton, to be the laughing stock of all who once knew us.

Oh ! Laura," and her tears almost choked her utterance, " oh ! Laura, cannot we go anywhere else but to Broughton ?" Tears now fairly got the mastery over Louisa, and she sat down and covered her face with her hands. Laura drew near the half-sobbing girl, and putting her arm gently round her, whispered one or two soothing words ; Louisa listened, her head still upon Laura's shoulder, presently she resumed : " But Laura, you know there will be the May nards, and the Howards, and the Watsons, and scores of people we used to know when Ave were children, and rich, and well off. And I used quite to look down upon them, and no doubt they will pay us off." And Louisa felt a vague suspicion that her old playfellows might not have forgotten the many pinches, and boxes, and tiny airs, with which she had favoured them in her childish days.

For she Avas but in the first bloom of early girl hood now, and despite of poverty and the many disappointments of her short life, you might haA'e searched far aud near, for a brighter spirit, a lovelier bloom, or a more bewitching girl, than Louisa Talbot, in her seventeenth year. It Avas true, she was ardent, hot, and somewhat impetuous in her disposition and temperament, and inherited with her father's beauty and almost angelic smile, all the pride of his race. Not that her mother lacked pride, some said that it was her only failing; but Mrs. Talbot's pride was the pride of an in dependent spirit, one that had never turned its back upon trouble, but had met it half-way, and by that means, while others only sat down and lamented their misfortunes, her noble and honest pride carried her through every difficulty.

"But," said Laura, resuming the conversation, these short digressions had interrupted ; "but, Louisa, you surely are not so weak, so foolish, as to indulge in any silly feelings of pride about going back to Broughton. Rouse yourself, my darling sister, surely we have suffered enough in struggling to get a living the short time we have been here, to make us glad to go anywhere to improve it." " It is all very fine, Laura," returned Louisa pettishly, "your preaching about earning a living and daily bread, and all that sort of thing, I am sure I am as willing as you are to do anything to help mamma; but I do not see why we cannot earn our living, as it must be earned, as well in a strange place as at Broughton." And Louisa's beautiful face again dimpled with smiles. " Because," said Laura steadily, " in the very reasons for which you dislike Broughton, are con stituted our only chance of success.

We are known there, and without friends, Avithout patronage, without money, I think we have bitterly learnt that there is very little to be done." Louisa did not look but half satisfied at Laura's view of the case ; but here the conversation ceased, for Mrs. Talbot, who had been revolving over in her own mind, the plan of their future operations, now entered upon the subject with Laura, with hearty good-will, and they were soon busily en gaged discussing the many knotty points that unavoidably attended upon their departure. And while they are so engaged, and Louisa — who has determined with the Avisdom of seventeen, that henceforth life is to be a desert, and Broughton in particular the spot wherein she is doomed to wear out her desolate existence — looks idly on, I will seize the opportunity of taking a short review of the circumstances which have brought my heroine — for so in future I suppose I must term Laura Talbot — her mother and sister into scenes, for which it was evident they were never intended by nature or education.

Chapter II

Laura Talbot, was the eldest daughter of Thomas Gregory Wilton Talbot, Esq., of the town of Brough ton, in the County of , by his second wife, Louisa Alberta Lonsdale. Thomas was the eldest but one of six sons, brought up according to the fashion of the day in which they lived, equally liberal, generous, and free-hearted, but lacking those two small ingredients so much wanted, and so little prized ; namely, prudence, and foresight. Though only the second son, Mr. Thomas Talbot was the favourite of both father and mother, and while two brothers were bred to the Church, and the others entered the army, he was reared up, as if by common consent, in that most dangerous, and unproductive, and of all professions, the most un profitable, that of a gentleman. His father, old Mr. Talbot, had been one of those wealthy and enlightened men of the old school, who formerly made trade honourable, by carrying into it, refined manners, upright principles, strict honesty, and an unimpaired fortune.

One of those men, who though presiding over a vast establish ment, never laid his head on his pillow with another man's money in his purse. One of those men, alas ! hoAv few have we now in the present day, whose honour was spotless, whose integrity was sacred, and whose word was their bond. One whom none knew for which virtue to respect him most, whether it was for his unbounded charity, or his munificent generosity. As the spoiled son of such a father, it was no Avonder that Mr. Thomas Talbot Avas honourable, self-willed, lavish, and thoughtless; the dupe too oft of the designing, whose arts he could not understand. Neither with such a disposition, will it be wondered at that he was the friend of all who needed it, and the idol of those who eat his dinners, borrowed his horses, drank his wines, and sunned in the genial warmth of his happy temper, as exotics expand in a winter greenhouse.

And now, while descanting ou the errors of generosity, if they may be so termed, who knows, but that in the eyes of Him who seeth all things, the man who dies poor, from inability to deny the requests of those about him, has not at heart more real virtue, does not in reality more fully carry out the precepts of our Divine Master, who strictly sayeth that he who hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother in distress, and helpeth him not, shall in no wise enter into the joy of the Lord — than those, who taking advantage of such simplicity of heart, hoard every penny, make to themselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness, and dying in the midst of their worldly schemes, bequeath to their offspring nothing but the riches of an ill-spent life. As the father of my heroine had never been denied anything in or out of reason, he did not consider he was bound to deny himself a wife, and before he attained his twenty-first year, he married much against his father's wish, a beautiful girl, of a rich, but somewhat a plebeian family.

Indeed, so far did old Mr. Talbot carry his resentment, that it was not until the birth of their first child that a general reconciliation took place, and then only through the magic influence of a royal patron, who report did say, took a tender interest in the matter ; Mrs. Thomas Talbot being quite the star of Broughton, independent of her being the daughter of one of those original wealthy families adhesive to its very soil, and whose Stirling wealth carried weight, though far, very far below, in old Mr. Talbot's eye, the merits of his darling son. Be that as it may, there is no doubt, that she decided the tastes and encouraged the love of expense which operated so fatally on the after part of Mr. Talbot's life. For from whatever source she sprung, she was a bright, an original being — original in every sense of the word, in her beauty, in her love of dress, in her matchless taste, in her wit and humour, and in her daring spirit, which completely managed and swayed the circle she pre sided over.

Here she lived, the idol of those around her, and the darling of her wealthy parents, and looking forward, with all a mother's pride, to the time, when her children should enjoy those advantages, of birth and station which it had never been her happiness to possess. But alas ! for human ambition ; in the midst of all her pleasures, all her schemes, at the height of her earthly grandeur, a cold caught from exposure to the damp, in the nymph-like costume of the day, laid the foundation of that beautiful but fatal destroyer, a rapid consumption. Mrs. Talbot had borne her husband many chil dren, but four only survived, and Avhile she gazed upon them full of health and beauty, (herself a thousand times lovelier then in her brightest days of glory) no warning voice prompted her to sow their young minds with that fear of God, that reverence to his will, that knowdedge that passeth understanding, that might have spared the misery of their after lives.

No, death stepped on her threshold, so light and so shadowless, that he had borne off his prize in the midst of her idle dreams, and vain imaginings, leaving nothing of the mother to rest on her chil dren's minds, but the remembrance of a beautiful woman, who sometimes spoilt them, but oftener corrected them, for the follies and failings, she had herself implanted in them from their very birth. To her husband the case was different, he had loved his wife with an ardour and a passion, which the opposition he met with had only served to increase. He admired her because others did. He was proud of her because he saw men of all castes, from the prince to the beggar, bow down before her shrine. But his soul was not blended with hers; he had never depended upon her judgment ; he had never turned to her for solace ; they had shared no troubles together, nor divided each other's cares.

She had not been his ministering spirit, or guardian angel, therefore her death caused no vacancy, which the world could not easily supply. Man, I believe, is a wayward being at heart. Woman is necessary to his well-being; born to be his pride, his comfort, and his joy. Without her, his life would be but a loveless path. She is the oasis of the desert, through which he is fated to pass. But, unless circumstances arise to call them forth, no deeper feeling is ever awakened. It is only in the day of trial, in the hour of need, when fortune frowns, when friends look dark, Avhen deserted by the world and its votaries, that a man turns to his wife, and finds in her active mind, her enduring spirit, her unselfish love, that never-failing ark of refuge, to which, like the dove of sacred story, he can always return.

But Mrs. Thomas Talbot had never awakened in her husband's heart any of those deeper feelings to which I have alluded ; their path had been too sunny, their way too perfect, to have called them forth ; and all that Mr. Talbot thought it Avas in cumbent for him to do was to spoil his children sufficient for both parents, and spend more money than ever. During this interval old Mr. Talbot died ; and the large concern, wanting a master, until it could be ad vantageously disposed of, Mr. Talbot, in the absence of his brothers, managed it for his mother, till such times as they should return. The eldest son, the only one settled in England, having married, much to the satisfaction of his father, the widow of a gentleman of considerable landed property in the county ; and the management of the estate, joined to the duties of the adjoining parish, of which he was Rector, precluded him from taking any share.

It was at this period that Mr. Talbot became ac qainted Avith his second wife, the mother of my heroine, and Avhom I have just described to my readers — very little altered to when, in all the pride of youth and beauty, she gave her hand to the husband of her choice. Mrs. Talbot was an orphan, and though not portionless, she was anything but rich ; her brothers, of whom she had two, idolised their beautiful sister ; but being both in the army, and at that time serving in India, though they cheerfully supported her out of their hard-earned pay, they were unable to afford her the personal protection her youth and beauty so much needed. Under these circumstances, therefore, when Mr. Talbot, with all the fervour of his impassioned nature, offered the most liberal settlement, her guardians, willing to get rid of the responsibility of protecting so lovely a girl, strongly advised her to accept such an advantageous offer ; and despite that all the world cried out, at what they termed a complete sacrifice, Mr. Talbot being sixteen years her senior, she gave her hand with her heart, and never repented of her choice.

He was of a good and ancient family; and that was enough. She loved him, and that was better. She seemed to foresee, with the prevision of a Cassandra, that the boundless Avealth with Avhich she was surrounded, might vanish without a trace, like the mist from the morning sun ; whilst a good name, like the joys of eternity, was a never-failing inheritance. At the period when my heroine first opened her blue eyes upon the light, many of Mrs. Talbot's previsions had been fulfilled. Mr. Talbot had lost his surviving parent three years before, the immense establishment had been disposed of, and when di vided among the sons, fell far short of their expec tation. In fact, five or six years had elapsed since the death of old Mr. Talbot, and his son, though the nominal master, knew little and cared less, as to whether the vast concern increased in its expen diture, or diminished in its profits.

It had been left entirely to the management of clerks and servants, and it was not until the death of his mother and disposal of the estate, that Mr. Talbot became aware of the disagreeable fact, that he had imbibed tastes he would have no means of grati fying ; and also that he Avas involved partly by his first wife's extravagance, and partly by his own, to such a frightful extent as to require the sacrifice ofthe greatest portion of his inheritance to free himself honourably from his difficulties. But Avilh all his faults, Mr. Talbot was the very soul of honour. After being legally freed from every incumbrunce, he, Avith an honesty unparalleled, satisfied his creditors to the uttermost farthing, and thus by his rectitude, lift himself hut a limited income, depending ou his life, to support his Avife, his children, and himself in credit and respectability.

It is true, the struggle Avas a hard one, aud the change, though not absolutely a reverse of fortune, still harder ; but by Mrs. Talbot's aid he surmounted every difficulty. Her urbanity of manner made the c roughest path smooth ; her sweetness of temper made the darkest home light ; while her beauty hallowed her exertions, and shed a halo over all; and her deArotion to her husband, so many years older than herself, made her, to every one who knew and respected her, the theme of universal admiration. Mrs. Talbot was now the mother of three children, two of whom I have just introduced to my readers, and a son who, alas ! Avas not spared to gladden his mother's heart, or be a protector to his sisters. As Mrs. Talbot's means Avere quite inadequate to the expense of giA'ing her daughters a first-rate education from home, she determined upon edu cating them herself.

A resolve Avhich she came to after much deliberation. "Education," thought Mrs. Talbot, "does not consist in training the feet, or teaching the fingers any peculiar art ; I do not intend my children to shine on the stage, or in the concert-room, and they might have no talents for it, if I did; therefore, Avhy waste their valuable time — time which can never be recalled, in the exercise of useless accom plishments ? No, the education I will labour to instil, shall be the every-day education of life. I will aim at nothing in their childhood, but that Avhich is to be of use in their after life." And well they repaid her efforts, though Laura Talbot never sported her tiny feet and delicate form at a public dancing school; never deafened other people's senses, nor destroyed her own, by wearing out her fingers at a useless instrument, which her mother wisely considered only calculated to encourage a love of display ; and, therefore, but a poor ex change for the blessings of a solid education.

Mrs. Talbot knew, from experience, how little music and dancing constitute the happiness of a woman's life. She knew, too, that even were her worst previsions realised, and her daughters have to earn a living, hoAV little is gained by either accom plishment, unless a very splendid proficiency crowned their efforts. So she contented herself by bestowing on her daughters a practical, and not a shoAvy education ; and at fifteen it Avould have been difficult to have found any girl Avho had read more, and gone out less, than Laura Talbot ; not that Mrs. Talbot despised accomplishments, she only disliked spending time upon them, that might be more valuably employed. Therefore, though Laura did not dance like Cerito, or play like Dulcken, she yet knew enough to make herself an agreeable compauion.

Though she could not sing, she was a good artist ; wrote and com posed Avith facility, was an excellent linguist, understood the history of nations by theory ; and, what Avas better, the history of her oaati heart by practice; was, in a word, a useful, well-informed, c sensible girl, who made her duties her pleasures; and, therefore, was well able to ensure the pleasures of others. Perhaps Mrs. Talbot would not have been able to have worked out her scheme of education so per fectly, but for the unbounded influence she possessed over her children's hearts and minds. She was by nature beautiful, which always is a strong tie upon children's sympathy, for children are dear lovers of the beautiful, and to boot, blest Avith manners the most enchanting, and affections the most fervent, while her voice was so persuasive, that few could resist its influence ; added to which, she had that quick perception, that clear judgment, which is so rarely deceived.

This her children knew, and from Frank, who she prepared for college, down to little Louisa, the darling and plaything of the whole family, there was not one who did not feel its influence, and own her power.

Chapter III

In this way, my heroine and her sister reached the age of ten and six, Avithout any change in their fortunes remarkable enough for me to mention ; but then a dreadful accident occurred, which entirely al tered the aspect of the family affairs, and may be dated as the first real sorroAV that befel Laura Talbot, Louisa being much too young to feel grief very acutely. Frank Talbot, the delight of his father, and the idol of his mother, met a watery graA'e ; met it too under such melancholy circumstances, that it seemed a bereaA'ement too heavy to bear. Mr. Talbot never recovered the shock, and within three years sank into a premature grave, while yet in the prime of life, leaving his widow and her two orphan girls, as well provided for as his circumstances would allow. But alas ! for human foresight.

Mr. Talbot in his early life had lent a near relation the sum of ten thousand pounds, bearing the usual interest of fiA'e per cent. As Mr. Whiteeross, to whom the money was lent, was to inherit at the death of his father a splendid fortune, and had, moreover, married a niece of Mr. Talbot's, it never entered his unsuspicious head to suppose that there would be any difficulty in regain ing the money. But in this he was mistaken ; Mr. Whiteeross never inherited the estate, as he met a violent death abroad, whither his embarrassments drove him ; and, as he had many creditors, his affairs Avere speedily thrown into chancery. It is true the bond increased in value, and at the time Mr. Talbot bequeathed it to his wife, would if paid, have supported her and her children in credit and respectability ; indeed, he died in the full pursuasion that the money would be paid ere the year was out, having made, had he lived, the neces sary arrangements for receiving it.

But it was not to be ; circumstances which will develop themselves hereafter stepped between, and deprived the widow and the orphans of their lawful inheritance. However, the loss was not so severely felt as might have been expected, for Mrs. Talbot's two brothers had both risen high in their profession, and when called upon to assist their sister, in her hour of need, finding how matters stood, and that the dear sister of their youth needed their support still more than in her girlish days, they proposed taking her and her children back Avith them to their own home, and settling her in a small cottage, near both, until her affairs Avere better arranged. General Lonsdale, the eldest brother, avIio had been many years in the service, was residing in one ofthe most fashionable cities in the AA'est of England, upon half pay, while the other brother was stationed by Government in the same district.