I know what Mrs. Stevens is at; she comes
up to town much oftener now, and has got her husband's nephew into
the office, and is trying to get everything for him; and that's the
reason she wants to keep up the old feud, and send this poor
Lawrence off to the ends of the earth.'
'Can't you do anything for him?' asked Emily. 'I thought Mr. Frith
did attend to you.'
Clarence laughed. 'I know that Mrs. Stevens hates me like poison;
but that is the only reason I have for supposing I might have any
influence.'
'And can't you speak to Mr. Castleford?'
'Set him to interfere about old Frith's relations! He would know
better! Besides, the fellow is too old to get into any other line--
four-and-twenty he says, though he does not look it; and he is as
innocent as a baby, indifferent just now to what becomes of him, or
whither he goes; it is all the same to him, he says; there is no one
to care for him anywhere, and I think he is best pleased to go where
it is all new. And there, you see, the poor lad will be left to
drift to destruction--mother's darling that he has been--just for
want of some human being to care about him, and hinder his getting
heartless and reckless!'
Clarence's voice trembled, and Emily had tears in her eyes as she
asked if absolutely nothing could be done for him. Clarence meant
to write to Mr. Castleford, who would no doubt beg the chaplain at
the station to show the young man some kindness; also, perhaps, to
the resident partner, whom Clarence had looked at once over his
desk, but in his rawest and most depressed days.
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