The Golden Dream | Page 6

and you may depend upon it that the generous
way in which you have left me to make my own choice will influence
me against going abroad more than anything else."
Ned sighed as he rose to quit the room, for he felt that his hopes at that
moment were sinking.
"And before you take a step in the matter, my boy," said old Mr.
Shirley, "go to your room and ask counsel of Him who alone has the
power to direct your steps in this life."
Ned replied briefly, "I will, uncle," and hastily left the room. Mr.
Shirley poked the fire, put on his spectacles, smoothed out the wrinkles

on his bald forehead with his hand, took up the Times, and settled
himself down in his easy-chair to read; but his nephew's prospects
could not be banished from his mind. He went over the whole argument
again, mentally, with copious additions, ere he became aware of the
fact, that for three-quarters of an hour he had been, (apparently),
reading the newspaper upside down.
Chapter III.
Hopes and Fears--Mr. Shirley receives a Visit and a Wild Proposal.
When Edward Sinton left his chamber, an hour after the conversation
related in the last chapter, his brow was unruffled and his step light. He
had made up his mind that, come what might, he would not resist the
wishes of his only near relative and his best friend.
There was a day in the period of early boyhood that remained as fresh
on the memory of young Sinton as if it had been yesterday--the day on
which his mother died. The desolation of his early home on that day
was like the rising of a dark thunder-cloud on a bright sky. His young
heart was crushed, his mind stunned, and the first ray of light that broke
upon him--the first gush of relief--was when his uncle arrived and took
him on his knee, and, seated beside the bed where that cold, still form
lay, wept upon the child's neck as if his heart would break. Mr. Shirley
buried the sister whom he had been too late to see alive. Then he and
his little nephew left the quiet country village and went to dwell in the
great city of London. From that time forward Mr. Shirley was a father
to Ned, who loved him more than any one else on earth, and through
his influence he was early led to love and reverence his heavenly Father
and his blessed Redeemer.
The subject of going abroad was the first in regard to which Ned and
his uncle had seriously disagreed, and the effect on the feelings of both
was very strong.
Ned's mind wandered as he put on his hat, and buttoned his great-coat
up to the chin, and drew on his gloves slowly. He was not vain of his
personal appearance; neither was he reckless of it. He always struck

you as being a particularly well-dressed man, and he had naturally a
dashing look about him. Poor fellow! he felt anything but dashing or
reckless as he hurried through the crowded streets in the direction of
the city that day.
Moxton's door was a green one, with a brass knocker and a brass plate,
both of which ornaments, owing to verdigris, were anything but
ornamental. The plate was almost useless, being nearly illegible, but
the knocker was still fit for duty. The street was narrow--as Ned
observed with a feeling of deep depression--and the house to which the
green door belonged, besides being dirty, retreated a little, as if it were
ashamed of itself.
On the knocker being applied, the green door was opened by a
disagreeable-looking old woman, who answered to the question, "Is Mr.
Moxton in?" with a short "Yes," and, without farther remark, ushered
our hero into a very dingy and particularly small office, which, owing
to the insufficient quantity of daylight that struggled through the dirty
little windows, required to be lighted with gas. Ned felt, so to speak,
like a thermometer which was falling rapidly.
"Can I see Mr. Moxton?" he inquired of a small dishevelled clerk, who
sat on a tall stool behind a high desk, engaged in writing his name in
every imaginable form on a sheet of note paper.
The dishevelled clerk pointed to a door which opened into an inner
apartment, and resumed his occupation.
Ned tapped at the door indicated.
"Come in," cried a stern voice.
Ned, (as a thermometer), fell considerably lower. On entering, he
beheld a tall, gaunt man, with a sour cast of countenance, standing with
his back to the fire.
Ned advanced with a cheerful expression of face. Thermometrically
speaking, he fell to the freezing-point.

"You are young Sinton, I suppose. You've come later than I expected."
Ned apologised, and