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VOL. XL ISTEAV BLOOMimSID, TtJlSSr)A.Yf AJmL 3, lfifTT. NO. 14.
T. H E T I M E S .
An Independent Family Newspaper,
18 rUBUSnEI) BVBItT TUB31UI T
R MORTIMER & CO.
Subscription Prloe. -
Within the County It 2.1
" " ' Hlx month To
Out of the County, Including postage, 1 r0
" " " alx months " 85
1'or Tha Tim.
A WIFE BY A FIRE.
THERE was once a very great banker
In London, who had a very line
house In Portland I'lnce, and a very
dirty old liouHe in the city ; and if the
latter looked the Image of business and
riches, the former looked the pletvire of
luxury and display. He himself was a
mild man, whose ostentation was of a
quiet, but not the less of an active kind.
His movements were always calm and
tranquil, and his clothes plain ; but the
former were stately, the latter were in
the best fashion, llolditch ' was his
coachmaker in those days ; Ude's first
cousin was his cook ; his servants walk
ed up stairs to announce a visitor to the
time of the Dead March in Haul, and
opened both valves of the folding doors
at once with a grace that could only be
acquired by long practice. Kvery thing
seemed to move in his house by rule,and
nothing was ever seen to go wrong. All
the lackeys wore powder, and the wo
men servants had their caps prescribed
to them. His wife was the daughter of
a country gentleman of a very old race
a woman of good manners, and a warm
heart. Though there were two carriages
always at her especial command, she
sometimes walked on her feet, even in
London, and would not sufl'er nn ac
count of her parties to find its way into
the "Morning Post." The banker and
his wife had but one child, n daughter,
and a very pretty and very sweet girl
she was as ever my eyes saw. She was
not very tall, though very beautifully
formed, and exquisitely graceful. She
was, indeed, the least affected person
that ever was seen, for, accustomed from
her very earliest days, to perfect ease in
every respect denied nothing that was
virtuous and right taught by her moth
er to estimate high qualities too much
habituated to wealth to regard it as an
object and too frequently brought in
contact with rank to estimate it above
its value she had nothing to covet, and
nothing to assume. H er face was sweet
and thoughtful, though the thoughts
were evidently cheerful ones, and her
voice was full of melody and gentleness.
Her name was Alice Herbert, and she
was boob admired of all admirer. Peo
ple looked for her nt the opera and the
park, declared her beautiful, adorable,'
divine; she became the wonder, the
ruge, the fashion ; and every body added
when they spoke about her, that she
would have a million at least. Now,
Mr. Herbert himself was not at all
anxious that his daughter should marry
auy of the ' men that first presented
themselves, because nono of them were
above the rank of a baron ; nor wus
Mrs. Herbert anxious either, because,
she did not wish to part with her daugh
ter; nor was Alice herself I do not
know well why perhaps she thought
that a part of the men who surrounded
her were fops, and as many more were
libertines, and the rest' were fools, and
Alice did not feel more Inclined to choose
out of these three classes than her father
did out of the three inferior grades of
our nobility. There was, indeed, a
young man, in the Guards, distantly
connected with her mother's ' family,
who was neither fop, libertine nor fool
agentleman,an accomplished man,and a
man of good feeliug, who was often at
Mr. Herbert's house, but father, mother
and daughter, all thought him out of the
question; the .father, because he was
not a duke ; the mother, because he was
a soldier; and the daughter, because
ho had never given het the slightest
reason to believe that he either admired
or loved her. As he had some two
thousand a year, he might have been a
good match for a clergyman's daughter,
but could not pretend to Miss Herbert.
Alice certainly liked bim . better than
'any man Bhe.had ever seen, and once
she found his eyes fixed upon her from
the other side of a ball room with an ex
pression that made her forget what her
partner was Baying to her. The color
ame up Into her cheek, too, and that
seemed to give Henry Ashton courage
to come up and ask her to dance. She
danced with him the following night, 1
too; and Mr. Herbert, who remarked
the fact, Judged that it would be tut j
right to give Henry Ashton a hint. Two
days later, as Alice's father whs just
about to go out, the young guardsman j
himself was ushered into his library ,and
the banker prepared to give his hint,
and give it plainly, too. He was saved
the trouble, however for Ashton's first
speech was, " I have come to bid fare
well, Mr. Herbert. We are ordered to
Canada to put down the evil spirit theft:.
I set out in an hour to take leave of my
mother, in Staffordshire, and then em
bark with all speed."
Mr. Herbert economized his hint, and
wished his young friend all success.
" By the way," he added, " Mrs. Her
bert may like to write a few lines by you
to her brother in Montreal. You know
he Is her only brother ; he made a sad
business of it, what with building and
planting, and farming and such things.
So I got him an appointment In Canada
just that he might retrieve. She would
like to write, I know. You will find
her up stairs. I must go out now my
self.. Good fortune attend you."
Good fortune did attend him, for he
found Alice Herbert alone in the very
liist room he entered. There was a table
before her, and she was leaning over It,
as if very busy, but when Henry Ashton
approached her, he. found that she had
been carelessly drawing wild leaves on a
scrap of poper, while her thoughts were
faraway. She colored when she saw
him, and was evidently agitated; but
she was still more so when he repeated
what he had told her futher. She turn
ed red, and she turned pule, and she sat
still and she said nothing. Henry Ash
ton became agitated himself. " I t is all
in vain," he said to himself. " It is all
in vain. I know her father too well ;"
and he rose, asking her where lie should
find her mother.
Alice answered In a faint voice, "in
the little room beyond the back drawing
room."
Henry paused a moment longer ; the
temptation was too great to bo resisted ;
he took the sweet girl's hand ; he press
ed it to his lips, and said, "Farewell,
Miss Herbert, farewell 1 I know I shall
never see any one like you again ; but,at
least, it is a blessing to have known
you though it lie but to regret that for
tune has not favored nie ftlll farther!
farewell! farewell!"
Henry Ashton sailed for Canada, and
saw some service there. He distinguish
ed himself as an officer, and his name
was in several despatches. A remnant
of the old chivalrous spirit made hiiu
often think when he was attacking a
fortified village, or charging a body, of
insurgents, "Alice Herbert will hear of
this!" but often, too, he' would ask
himself, " I wonder if she be married
yet V" and his companions used to jest
with him upon always looking" first at
the women's part of the newspaper; the
births, deaths and'marriages. t
His fears, If we' can venture to call
them such, were vain. Alice did not
marry, although about a year after
Henry Ashton had quitted England, her
father descended a little from his high
ambition, and hinted that if she thought
fit, she might listen to tho young Earl
of . Alice was not inclined to,
listen, and gave the earl plainly to un
derstand that she was not , inclined to
become his countess. The earl, however
persevered, and, Mr. Herbert now began
to add his Influence, but Alice was ob
durate, and reminded her father of. a
promise he had made, never to press her
marriage with any one. Mr. Herbert
seemed more annoyed than Alice ex
pected, walked up and down the room,
in silence, and on hearing it, shut him
self up with Mrs. Herbert for nearly
two hours. . What took place Alice did
not know, but Mrs. Herbert from that
moment looked grave and anxious Mr.
Herbert insisted that the earl should be
received at the house as a friend, though
he urged his daughter no more, and balls
and parties succeeded each other so rap
Idly, that the quieter inhabitants of Port
land Place, wished the banker and his
family were where Alice herself wished to
be, in Canada." Meantime, Alice became
alarmed for her mother, whose health
was evidently suffering from some cause;
but Mrs. Herbert would consult no phy
sician, and her husband seemed never to
' perceive the state of weakness ' and de
pression Into which she was sinking.
Alice resolved to call the matter to her
father's notice, and as he now went out
every morning at an early hour, she rose
one day sooner than usual, and knocked
at the door of his dressing room. There
was no answer, and, unclosing the door,
she looked in to see if he were already
gone. The curtains were still drawn,
but through them some of the morning
beams found their way ; and by the dim
sickly light, Alice beheld an object that
made her clasp her hands and tremble
violently. Her father's chair before the
dressing table was vacant ; but beside It
lay upon the floor, something like the
figure of a man asleep.
Alice approached, with her heart beat
ing so violently that she could hear It;
and there was no other -sound in the
room. She knelt down beside him; it
was her father. She could not hear him
breathe, and slid drew back the curtains.
He was as pale as marble, and his eyes
were open, but fixed. She uttered not a
sound, but with wild eyes gazed round
the room, thinking of what she should
do. Her mother was In the chamber at
the side of the dressing room ; but Alice,
thoughtful, even in the deepest agita
tion, feared to call her, and rang the bell
for her father's valet. The man came
and raised his master, but Mr. Herbert
had evidently been dead some hours.
Poor Alice wept terribly, but still she
thought of her mother, and she made
no noise, and the valet was silent too,
for, in lifting the dead body to the sofa,
he hud found a small vial, and wus gaz
ing on It Intently.
" I had better put this away, Miss
Herbert," he said at length, in a low
voice; " I had better put this away be
fore any one else comes."
. Alice gazed at the vial with her tear
ful eyes. It was marked " Prusslcacid !
poison ! poison !"
This was but the commencement of
many sorrows. Though the coroner's
jury had pronounced that Mr. Herbert
had died a natural death, yet every one
declared that he had poisoned himself,
especially when it was found that he
had died utterly insolvent. That all his
lust great speculation had failed, anil
that the news of bis absolute beggary
had reached him on the night preceding
his deceuse. Then came all the horrors
of such circumstances to poor Alice and
her mother the funeral the examina
tion of the papers ; the sale of the house
and furniture ; the tiger's claws of the
law rending open the house in all its
dearest associations ; tho commlseru
tion of friends ; the taunts and scoffs of
those who envied and hated in silence.
Then to poor Alice herself, came the
worst blow, the sickness and death bed
of a mother sickness .and death in pov
erty. ' The last scene was just over, the
earth was just laid upon the coffin of
of Mrs. Herbert ; and Alice sat with her
tears dropping fust, thinking of the sad
" What next V" when a letter was given
to her, and she saw the hand writing of
her uncle in Canada. She - had written
to him of her father's death, and now he
answered full of tenderness aud affec
tion, begging his sister and nieeo in
stantly to join hlni in the new land
which he had made his country. All
the topics of consolation which phi
losophy ever discovered or devised to
soothe man under the manifold sorrows
and cares of life are not worth a blade of
rye grass la comparison with 'one word
of true affection.' It was the only balm
that Alice Herbert's heart could have
received, and though at did not heal the
wound; it tranquiiized its aching.' -
Mrs. Herbert, : though not rich, had
not been altogether portionless, and her
small fortune vyas all that Allcenow con
descended to call her own. . There had
been. Indeed, a considerable jointure,
but tuat Alice renounced from ' feelings
that you will understand. Economy,
however, was now a necessity, and after
taking a passage in one of the cheapest
vessels she could find bound for (Juebee,
a vessel that all the world has heard of,
named the St. Lawrence, she set out
for tho good city of Bristol, where she
arrived in safety on the 10th duy of May,
183-.' '
I must now, however; turn to the his
tory of Ashton. .' ... .
' It was just after the business in Can
ada was settled, that he entered the
room In Quebec, where several of the
officers of his regiment were assembled
in various occupations one writing a
letter to go by the packet; which was
just about to sail, two looking out of the
window at the nothing which was doing
in the streets, and one reading the news
paper. There were three or four other
Journals on the table, and Ashton took
up one of them. As usual, he turned to
the record of three great things In life,
and read, first the marriages then the
deaths ; and, as he did so, he saw "Sud
denly, at his house In Portland Place,
William Anthony Herbert, Esquire."
The paper did not drop from tils hand,
although ho was much moved and sur
prised; but his sensations were very
mixed, and although, be it said truly, he
gave his first thoughts, and they were
sorrowful, to the dead, the second were
given to ' Alice Herbert, and he asked
himself, " Is it possible that she can
ever be mine ? She was certainly much
agitated when I left her !"
"Here's a bad business!" cried the
man Who was reading the other news
paper. " The Herberts are all gone to
smash, and I bad six hundred pounds
there. You are in for it too, Ashton.
Look there! They talk of three shil
lings in the pound."
Henry Ashton took the paper and
read the account of all that occurred in
London, and then he took his hat, and
walked to headquarters. What he said
or did there is nobody's business but his
own; but certain It is, that by the be
ginning of the very next week, he was
in the gulf of St. Lawrence. Fair winds
wafted him soon to England, but in St.
George's Channel ail went contrary ,and
the ship was knocked about for three
days without making much way. A fit
of impatience had come upon Henry
Ashton, and when he thought of Alice
Herbert, and all she must have suffered,
his heart beat strangely. One of those
little Incidents occurred alut this time
that make or mar men's destinies. A
coasting boat from Swansea to Wiston
came within hail, and Ashton, tired of
the other vessel, put a portmanteau, a
servant, and himself, into the little
skimmer of the seas, and was in a few
hours landed safely at the pleasant
waterlng-pluce of Wiston super mure.
It wanted yet an hour or two of night,
aud therefore a post-chui.se was soon
rolling the young officer, his servant,
and his portmanteau towards Bristol, on
their way to London. He arrived at a
reasonable hour, but yet, some one of
the many things that fills inns, had hap
pened In Bristol that day, and Henry
drove to the Bush, to the Falcon, and
the Fountain, and scveaal others, before
he could get a place of rest. At length,
he found two comfortable rooms in a
small hotel near the port, aud sat dbwri
to his supper by a warm fire, when an
Irish sailor put his head into the room
and asked If he were the lady that was
to go down to the St. Iawrenee the
next duy V Henry informed him that
he was ndt a lady, and that, as bo had
just come from the St. Lawrence, he was
not going buck again, upon which the
man withdrew to seek further. .
' Ten',' eleveu,twelve O'clock struck, and
Henry Ashton pulled off his boots, and
went to bed. At two o'clock he awoke,
feeling heated and feverish; and to
cool himself, he began to think of Alice
Herbert. He found it by no means a
good plan, for he felt warmer than be
fore, and soon a suffocating feel came
over him, and he thought he smelt a
strong smell of burning wood. If is bed
room was one of those unfortunate inn
bed-roonis that are placed under the Im
mediate care and protection of a sittlng
rdom, which, like a Spanish Duenna,
will let nobody in who does not pass by
their door. He put on his dressing
gown, therefore, and issued out Into the
Bitting-room, and there the smeM wan
much stronger; there was a considerable
crackling and roaring, which had some
thing alarming in it, aud he consequent
ly opened the outer door. All he could
now see, was a thick smoke filling the
corridor; through which came a red
glare from the direction of the staircase,
but he heard those sounds of burning
wood, which are not to be mistaken, and
in a minute after, loud knocking at
doors, ringing of bells, and shouts of
" Fire! fire !" showed that the calamity
had become apparent to the people iu
the street. He saw all the rushing forth
of naked men and women, which gener
ally follows suuh a catastrophe, and the
opening all the dodts of the bouse, as If
for the express' purpose of blowing fire
into a flame. There were halloolngs and
shoutings, there were tjereftmlugH and
tears, nnd what between tho rushing
sound of the ilevourlngelement,and the
voice of human suffering or fear, the
noise was enough to wake the dead.
Henry Ashton thought of his pprt
manteau,' and wondered , where his
servant was; but seeing, by a number
of people driven back from the great
staircase by flames, that there was no
time to be lost, he made his way down
by a smaller one, and in a minute or
two reached the street. The engines by
tills time had arrived; an immense
crowd was gathering together, the
terrified tenants of theinn were rushing
forth, aud in the midst Henry Ashton
remarked one young woman wring her
hands, and exclaiming, "Oh, my poor
young mistress ! my poor young lady !'r
"Where Is she, my good girl?" de
manded the young soldier. '
"In number eleven," cried tho girl,
"in number eleven. Her bedroom i
within the setting-room, and slie will
never hear the noise."
"There she is," cried one of the by
standers who overheard; "there slie is,
I dare say."
Ashton looked up towards the? house,
through the lower windows of which
the flames were pouring forth ; and
across the casement which seemed next '
to the very room he himself hud occu
pied, he Baw the figure of a woman, in
her night dress pass rapidly.
" A ladder," he cried, "a ladder, for
God's sake ! There is" some one there,
whoever it be !"
No ladder could be got, aiul Henry
Ashton looked round in vain.
" The back staircase is of stone," he
cried ; "she may be saved that way t"
" Ay, but the corridor Is 011 fire," said
one of the waiters; "you had. better not
try, sir; it caiinot tie done."
Henry A sh ton darted away. ; into the ' '
inn ; up thestairease; but the corridor
was on fire, as the man had, said, and
the flames rushed up to the very door of
the rooms he had lately tenanted. He
rushed on, however, recollecting that he
had seen a side door out of his own
sitting room. He dashed incaught the
handle of the lock of tho side door, and
shock it violently, for it was fastened. t?
"I will open it," cried a voice from
within, that sounded stranegly familiar t
to his ear.
The lock turned the door opened
and Henry Ashton and Alice. Herbert
stood face to face.
"God of Heaven !." lie exclaimed,
catching her in his arms. BuX h gave
no time for explanation, and hurried
back with her towards the door of his
own room. The corridor, however, was
impassable.
"You will lie lost ! you will be lost ! he
exclaimed, holding her tohis-heart.
"And you. have thrown away your
own life to save mine !" said Alice.
"I will die with you, at least!" re
plied Henry Ashton ; "that is some
consolation. But, no ! thank Cod they
have.got a ladder they are raising it up
dear girl, you are saved r" .
He had felt Alice lie heavy on his
bosom; and when ha- looked down,
whether it was fear, or the effect of the
stifling heat, or hearing sut'h words
from his lips, he found thttt she had
fainted.
"It Is as well," he said ; UH is an well !
and, as soon as the ladder was raised, he
bore her out,, molding her firmly yet ten
derly in his bosom.. There- was a death
like stillness below. The ladder shook
under his feet; the flames came forth
and 'licked the rounds on which his steps
were placed ; but stwadily, firmly, calm
ly, the young soldier pursued his way.
1 le bore all that he valued on earth in
; bis arms, and it was no moment to give
, one thought to fear.
When bis last footstep touched the
ground, an universal shout burst forth
from the crowd, amlj even reached the
ear of Alice herself ; but, ere slie eouldj
recover completely, she was in the com
fortable draw ing- room of a .good met.
chant's house, some way further down,
the same street.
The St. Ijawrenee sailed on the follow
ing day for Quebec, and, as you well
know, went down in the terrible
hurricane which swept the AtlantU) in
the summer of that year, bearing with
her to the depths of ocean, every living
thing that she had carried out from
England. But on the day that she
weighed anchor, Alice sat in the drawing
room of the merchant's house, with her
hand clasped in that of Henry Ashton ;
and, ere mauy months were over, the
tears for those dear beings she had lost,
were chased by happier drops, as she
gave her hand to the man she loved
with all the depth of first affection, but
whom she would never never seen agnju
hod it not been for Tub Ywis,