departure. At three o’clock precisely Miss Vincent took her seat beside Mrs. Darrell in the low basket carriage.
Circumstances had conspired to favour the girl’s unnoticed departure from Hazlewood. Laura Mason had been prostrated by the intense strain upon her faculties caused by an hour’s interview with her dressmaker, and had flung herself upon the sofa in the drawing-room after sopping up half a pint of eau-de-Cologne on her flimsy handkerchief. Worn out by her exertions, and lulled by the summer heat, the young lady had fallen into a heavy slumber of two or three hours’ duration.
Launcelot Darrell had left the house almost immediately after the scene in the painting-room, striding out of the hall without leaving any intimation as to the direction in which he was going, or the probable hour of his return.
Thus it was that the little pony-carriage drove quietly away from the gates of Hazlewood, and Eleanor left the house in which she had lived for upwards of a year without any one caring to question her as to the cause of her departure.
Very few words were said by either Mrs. Darrell or her companion during the drive to Windsor. Eleanor was absorbed in gloomy thought. She did not feel any intense grief at leaving Hazlewood; but some sense of desolation, some despondency at the thought that she was a wanderer on the face of the earth, with no real claim upon any one, no actual right to rest anywhere. They drove into Windsor while she was thinking thus. They had come through the park, and they entered the town by the gateway at the bottom of the hill. They had driven up the hill and were in the principal street below the castle wall, when Mrs. Darrell uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Launcelot!” she said, “and we must pass him to get to the station. There’s no help for it.”
Eleanor looked up. Yes, before the door of one of the principal hotels stood Mr. Launcelot Darrell, with two other young men. One of these men was talking to him, but he was paying very little attention. He stood upon the edge of the curbstone, with his back turned to his companion, kicking the pebbles on the road with the toe of his boot, and staring moodily before him.
In that one moment,—in the moment in which the pony-carriage, going at full speed, passed the young man,—the thought which had flashed, so vague and indistinct, so transient and intangible, through the mind of Eleanor Vane that morning, took a new shape, and arose palpable and vivid in her brain.
This man, Launcelot Darrell, was the sulky stranger, who had stood on the Parisian Boulevard, kicking the straws upon the curbstone, and waiting to entrap her father to his ruin.
WORKING MEN’S CLUBS.
The aristocracy and gentlemen of England are no longer to hold a monopoly in that hitherto unique institution—a West End Club. For the future, the working man is to enjoy this luxury: he is to share with the nobleman, the prelate, the officer, and the professional, his own well-arranged, well-ventilated, comfortable house of call. Everywhere, throughout the kingdom, establishments are being formed, self-supporting, where the members can retire at any hour of the day to rest, to read, or to refresh the inner man. They may assume various names, such as Working Men’s Club and Institute, Working Men’s Club and Reading Rooms, Workmen’s Hall, Working Men’s Mutual Improvement and Recreation Society, or the Village Club; but they are all founded with the same object, and are animated by the same spirit.
The success which they have already met with demonstrates unmistakably how necessary and useful they are. They satisfy a want which years ago it was thought would have been supplied by the Mechanics’ Institute. They provide for the physical and intellectual requirements of the industrial classes, and, if properly conducted, extended, and developed, will contribute most materially to the moral and mental improvement of the toiling, moiling masses.
Let us watch the working of two or three. In 1858, the Saint Matthias Working Men’s Club was established at Salford. Two large cottages, well lighted, warmed, and ventilated, were thrown into one, and made to present, as far as possible, the features of home. The speedy growth of the club, however, necessitated a larger tenement; and a club-house, at a cost of 1000l., has been erected in Silk Street. This new building contains rooms for conversation, amusements, committee meetings, and school purposes, as well as a library, well stocked with works of history, travel, and popular science, a lavatory, and a news-room. The club, although founded and conducted by the clergy and congregation of Saint Matthias, is established upon the broadest basis of self-government, being open both in management and membership to all working men. One half of the committee consists of artisans. The weekly subscription is one penny. Social meetings are held on Monday evenings, when refreshments—intoxicating liquors excepted—are provided. Conversation is encouraged, whilst the exhibition of illustrated works and engravings, or chess-matches, serve to attract the attention, and gently stimulate the mental faculties of the subscribers. The subjects chosen for lectures and conversational discussion are usually of a stirring nature. Social and political questions are particularly brought forward, as tending specially to interest the members. Every one is invited to express his opinion freely.
At Southampton, no less than three Workmen’s Halls have been opened within the past year or so. Its members, we are glad to say, include not a few seafaring men. The management is in the hands of one central, and three executive committees—the latter being working men, elected half-yearly, by the members. The Halls are open on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, from six to ten o’clock in the evening, and from two to nine on Sundays. Refreshments are supplied at a low fixed rate, and smoking is allowed, though intoxicating drinks are excluded. A large number of publications, five daily