The Lottery Ticket.
Pubd. May 1, 1831, by J. Harris, St. Pauls Church Yard.
PART VI.
PAUL AND CLEMENT.
"This is a sad melancholy letter, from our poor mother," said Paul, looking mournfully on his brother. "It is indeed, Clement; and our dear Fanny—" "Is doomed to be unfortunate, like all the rest of us."—"Do not say so: it is ungrateful to say that, brother. My mother has a decent competency."—"Call it rather a bare competency," interposed Clement. "And you and I, Clement; are we not very fortunate, in holding situations that keep us in honest independence?" Clement laughed, shrugged up his shoulders, and, somewhat saucily, repeated the words, "Honest independence!"—"Nay," persisted Paul, "I am right; it is, as I assert: whilst we do our duty, we are sure to retain our places; and the pay, thus honourably earned, secures our subsistence."—"You are an excellent fellow, Paul; and I wish I were half as good," said Clement; "but, really, when I every day see so many richer than we are—" "You think of how many are poorer," slyly exclaimed Paul.—"Not exactly that—not exactly that—brother," said Clement, laughing; "but you are a capital hand for ingenious inferences and conclusions; and 'faith you shall have it all your own way. For this I know, your mode of talking,—I beg pardon, of reasoning,—keeps my mind more quiet,—I might say, more cheerful,—than any plan of my own; and so your servant, brother Paul."
During this speech, Paul had again taken up the letter, and his brother begged him to read aloud the passage relating to their sister; which he did in these words.
"You will be sorry to hear, my dear boys, that Fanny's marriage is again delayed. Indeed, I begin now to fear, it will never take place. Your friend, Pelham, is an excellent young man, and every way deserving of her; but, disappointed in his prospects of an establishment, he knows not what to do. Certainly, he would never wish, nor could I ever consent to their union, until some rational prospect of subsistence were adopted. My small pension barely supplies our passing wants: it dies with me,—I have nothing to give—nothing to leave, but my blessing; and there is little Kitty also to be thought of; so, I fear, Fanny must give up all hopes of marriage,—at least, for many years."