The Bride — M.P. Shiel

He shall not see the rivers, the floods,the brooks of honey and butter--Job.They met at Krupp and Mason's, musical-instrument-makers, of LittleBritain, E.C., where Walter had been employed two years, and then cameAnnie to typewrite, and be serviceable.They began to go out together after six o'clock; and when Mrs.Evans, Annie's mamma, lost her lodger, Annie mentioned it, and Walterwent to live with them at No. 13 Culford Road, N.; by which time Annieand Walter might almost be said to have been engaged. His salary,however, was only thirty shillings a week.He was the thorough Cockney, Walter; a well-set-up person of thirty,strong-shouldered, with a square brow, a moustache, and black acne-specks in his nose and pale face.It was on the night of his arrival at No. 13, that he for the firsttime saw Rachel, Annie's younger sister. Both girls, in fact, werenamed Rachel--after a much-mourned mother of Mrs.Evans'; but Annie Rachel was called Annie, and Mary Rachel wascalled Rachel. Rachel helped Walter at the handle of his box to thetop-back room, and here, in the lamplight he was able to see that shewas a tallish girl, with hair almost black, and with a sprinkling offreckles on her very white, thin nose, on the tip of which stoodcollected, usually, some little sweats. She was thin-faced, and hertop teeth projected a little so that her lips only closed with effort,she not so pretty as pink-and-white little Annie, though one couldguess, at a glance, that she was a person more to be respected.What do you think of him? said Annie, meeting Rachel as she camedown.He seems a nice fellow, Rachel said: rather goodlooking. And strongin the back, you bet.Walter spent that evening with them in the area front-room, smoking afoul bulldog pipe, which slushed and gurgled to his suction; and atonce Mrs. Evans, a dark old lady without waist, all sighs and lack ofbreath, decided that he was a gentlemanly, decent fellow. When bed-time came he made the proposal to lead them in prayer; and to thisthey submitted, Annie having forewarned them that he was aChristian. As he climbed to his room, the devoted girl found anexcuse to slip out after him, and in the passage of the first floorthere was a little kiss.Only one, she said, with an uplifted finger.And what about his little brother, then? he chuckled--a chuckle withwhich all his jokes were accompanied: a kind of guttural chuckle,which seemed to descend or stick straining in the throat, instead ofrising to the lips.You go on, she said playfully, tapped his cheek, and ran down. SoWalter slept for the first night at Mrs. Evans'.On the whole, as time passed, he had a good deal of the society of thewomen: for the theatre was a thing abominable to him, and in theevenings he stayed in the underground parlour, sharing the bread-and-cheese supper, and growing familiar with the sighs of Mrs. Evans overher once estate in the world. Rachel, the silent, sewed; Annie, whoserelation with Walter was still unannounced, though perhaps guessed,could play hymn-tunes on the old piano, and she played.