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diff --git a/21135-h/21135-h.htm b/21135-h/21135-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68fac00 --- /dev/null +++ b/21135-h/21135-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3648 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html lang="eng" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang= +"eng"> +<head> +<title>Nearly Lost but Dearly Won, by Rev Theodore P +Wilson</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<meta name="Author" content="Rev Theodore P Wilson" /> +<meta name="Description" content="Nearly Lost but Dearly Won" /> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ +BODY { +font-family : "Verdana", sans-serif; +color : #000000; +background : #ffffff; +} +H1, H2, H3, H4, H5, H6 { +font-family : Verdana, sans-serif; +text-align : center; +} +P { +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +text-align : justify; +} +CITE { +text-decoration : underline; +font-style : normal; +} +PRE, TT, CODE, KBD, SAMP { +font-family : "Courier New", Courier, monospace; +} +HR { +color : #990033; +margin-left : 3em; +margin-right : 3em; +background : #ffffff; +} +A:link { +color : #0000ff; +background : #ffffff; +text-decoration : underline; +} +A:active { +color : #ff0000; +background : #ffffff; +text-decoration : underline; +} +A:visited { +color : #990099; +background : #ffffff; +text-decoration : underline; +} +A.offsite:link { +color : green; +background : #ffffff; +text-decoration : underline; +} +DL, OL, UL { +text-align : justify; +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +line-height : 120%; +} +DL DD { +font-size : small; +} +OL LI { +list-style-type : decimal; +} +OL OL LI { +list-style-type : lower-alpha; +} +OL OL OL LI { +list-style-type : lower-roman; +} +DIV.dochead { +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +text-align : center; +} +DIV.docinfo P { +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +text-align : center; +} +DIV.dateline P { +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +text-align : right; +line-height : 120%; +} +DIV.bodytext H1, H2, H3, H4, H5, H6, TABLE { +text-align : center; +line-height : 120%; +} +DIV.bodytext DD { +font-size : small; +} +DIV.footnote P { +font-size : small; +text-align : left; +text-indent : 0; +} +DIV.navigation { +margin-left : 1em; +margin-right : 1em; +font-size : small; +text-align : center; +text-indent : 0; +} +DIV.navigation P { +font-size : small; +text-align : center; +text-indent : 0; +} +DIV.navigation TABLE { +font-size : small; +text-align : center; +text-indent : 0; +margin-left : 0; +margin-right : 0; +} +DIV.toc P { +margin-left : 0; +margin-right : 0; +text-align : left; +font-size : x-small; +} +DIV.toc TABLE { +margin-left : 0; +margin-right : 0; +text-align : center; +font-size : x-small; +} +DIV.toc A:link { +color : #ff0000; +text-decoration : none; +} +DIV.toc A:active { +color : #808080; +text-decoration : none; +} +DIV.toc A:visited { +color : #008000; +text-decoration : none; +} +DIV.toc A.offsite:link { +color : green; +text-decoration : none; +} +DIV.docinfo, ADDRESS { +font-family : Verdana, sans-serif; +font-size : small; +color : gray; +background : #ffffff; +text-align : left; +} +.left { +float : left; +} +.right { +float : right; +} +.center { +text-align : center; +} +.clear { +clear : both; +} +.author { +font-weight : normal; +font-size : large; +} +.title { +font-weight : normal; +font-size : large; +font-style : normal; +} +.abstract { +font-style : italic; +margin-left : 2em; +} +.precis { +font-variant : small-caps; +margin-left : 2em; +} +.preface { +font-style : normal; +} +.introduction { +font-style : normal; +} +.chapter { +font-style : normal; +} +.section { +font-style : normal; +} +.quote { +font-style : normal; +} +.note { +font-size : small; +text-align : left; +text-indent : 0; +margin-left : 1em; +} +.footnote { +font-family : Verdana, sans-serif; +font-size : small; +text-align : left; +text-indent : 0; +} +.speaker { +font-weight : bold; +font-variant : small-caps; +} +.speech { +margin-left : 1em; +} +.stage { +font-style : italic; +} +.verse { +font-family : "Verdana", sans-serif; +} +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Nearly Lost but Dearly Won, by Theodore P. Wilson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nearly Lost but Dearly Won + +Author: Theodore P. Wilson + +Illustrator: M. D. H. + +Release Date: April 18, 2007 [EBook #21135] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEARLY LOST BUT DEARLY WON *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="dochead"> +<h2 class="author">Rev Theodore P Wilson</h2> +<h2 class="title">"Nearly Lost but Dearly Won"</h2> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap01" id="chap01"></a> +<h3>Chapter One.</h3> +<h4>Esau Tankardew.</h4> +<p>Certainly, Mr Tankardew was not a pattern of cleanliness, +either in his house or his person. Someone had said of him +sarcastically, “that there was nothing clean in his house +but his <i>towels</i>;” and there was a great deal of truth +in the remark. He seemed to dwell in an element of cobwebs; the +atmosphere in which he lived, rather than breathed, was +apparently a mixture of fog and dust. Everything he had on was +faded—everything that he had about him was faded—the +only dew that seemed to visit the jaded-looking shrubs in the +approach to his dwelling was <i>mil</i>dew. Dilapidation and +dinginess went hand-in-hand everywhere: the railings round the +house were dilapidated—some had lost there points, others +came to an abrupt conclusion a few inches above the stone-work +from which they sprang; the steps were dilapidated—one of +them rocked as you set your foot upon it, and the others sloped +inwards so as to hold treacherous puddles in wet weather to +entrap unwary visitors; the entrance hall was dilapidated; if +ever there had been a pattern to the paper, it had now retired +out of sight and given place to irregular stains, which looked +something like a vast map of a desolate country, all moors and +swamps; the doors were dilapidated, fitting so badly, that when +the front door opened a sympathetic clatter of all the lesser +ones rang through the house; the floors were dilapidated, and +afforded ample convenience for easy egress and ingress to the +flourishing colonies of rats and mice which had established +themselves on the premises; and above all, Mr Tankardew himself +was dilapidated in his dress, and in his whole appearance and +habits—his very voice was dilapidated, and his words +slipshod and slovenly.</p> +<p>And yet Mr Tankardew was a man of education and a gentleman, +and you knew it before you had been five minutes in his company. +He was the owner of the house he lived in, on the outskirts of +the small town of Hopeworth, and also of considerable property in +the neighbourhood. Amongst other possessions, he was the landlord +of two houses of some pretensions, a little out in the country, +which were prettily situated in the midst of shrubberies and +orchards. In one of these houses lived a Mr Rothwell, a gentleman +of independent means; in the other a Mrs Franklin, the widow of +an officer, with her daughter Mary, now about fifteen years of +age.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew had settled in his present residence some ten +years since. <i>Why</i> he bought it nobody knew, nor was likely +to know; all that people were sure of was that he <i>had</i> +bought it, and pretty cheap too, for it was not a house likely to +attract any one who appreciated comfort or liveliness; moreover, +current report said that it was haunted. Still, it was for sale, +and it passed somehow or other into Mr Tankardew’s hands, +and Mr Tankardew’s hands and whole person passed into +<i>it</i>; and here he was now with his one old servant, Molly +Gilders, a shade more dingy and dilapidated than himself. Several +persons put questions to Molly about her master, but found it a +very discouraging business, so they gave up the attempt as +hopeless, and it remained an unexplained mystery why Mr Tankardew +came to Hopeworth, and where he came from. As for questioning the +old gentleman himself, no one had the hardihood to undertake it; +and indeed he gave them little opportunity, as he very rarely +showed his face out of his own door; so rumour had to say what it +pleased, and among other things, rumour said that the old +dressing-gown in which he was ordinarily seen was never off duty, +either day or night.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew employed no agent, but collected his own rents; +which he required to be paid to himself half-yearly, in the +beginning of January and July, at his own residence.</p> +<p>It was on one crisp, frosty, cheery January morning that Mr +Rothwell, and his son Mark, a young lad of eighteen, were ushered +into Mr Tankardew’s sitting-room; if that could be properly +called a sitting-room, in which nobody seemed ever to sit, to +judge by the deep unruffled coating of dust which reposed on +every article, the chairs included. Respect for their own +garments caused father and son to stand while they waited for +their landlord; but, before he made his appearance, two more +visitors were introduced, or rather let into the room by old +Molly, who, considering her duty done when she had given them an +entrance into the apartment, never troubled herself as to their +further comfort and accommodation.</p> +<p>A strange contrast were these visitors to the old room and its +furniture. Mr Rothwell was a tall and rather portly man with a +pleasant countenance, a little flushed, indicating a somewhat +free indulgence in what is certainly miscalled “good +living.” The cast of his features was that of a person +easy-going, good-tempered, and happy; but a line or two of care +here and there, and an occasional wrinkling up of the forehead +showed that the surface was not to be trusted. Mark, his son, was +like him, and the very picture of good humour and +light-heartedness; so buoyant, indeed, that at times he seemed +indebted to spirits something more than “animal.” But +the brightness had not yet had any of the gilding rubbed +off—everyone liked him, no one could be dull where he was. +Mrs Franklin, how sweet and lovable her gentle face! You could +tell that, whatever she might have lost, she had gained +grace—a glow from the Better Land gave her a heavenly +cheerfulness. And Mary—she had all her mother’s +sweetness without the shadow from past sorrows, and her laugh was +as bright and joyous as the sunlit ripple on a lake in summer +time.</p> +<p>The Rothwells and Franklins, as old friends, exchanged a +hearty but whispered greeting.</p> +<p>“I daren’t speak out loud,” said Mark to +Mary, “for fear of raising the dust, for that’ll set +me sneezing, and then good-bye to one another; for the first +sneeze ’ll raise such a cloud that we shall never see each +other till we get out of doors again.”</p> +<p>“O Mark, don’t be foolish! You’ll make me +laugh, and we shall offend poor Mr Tankardew; but it is very odd. +I never was here before, but mamma wished me to come with her, as +a sort of protection, for she’s half afraid of the old +gentleman.”</p> +<p>“Your first visit to our landlord, I think?” said +Mr Rothwell.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Mrs Franklin. “I sent my last +half-year’s rent by Thomas, but as there are some little +alterations I want doing at the house, and Mr Tankardew, +I’m told, will never listen to anything on this subject +second-hand, I have come myself and brought Mary with +me.”</p> +<p>“Just exactly my own case,” said Mr Rothwell; +“and Mark has given me his company, just for the sake of +the walk. I think you have never met our landlord?”</p> +<p>“No, never!—and I must confess that I feel +considerably relieved that our interview will be less private +than I had anticipated.”</p> +<p>Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mr +Tankardew himself. He was tall and very grey, with +strongly-marked features, and deeply-furrowed cheeks and +forehead. His eyes were piercing and restless, but there was a +strange gentleness of expression about the mouth, which might +lead one, when viewing his countenance as a whole, to gather that +he was one who, though often deceived, <i>must</i> still trust +and love. He had on slippers and worsted stockings, but neither +of them were pairs. He wore an old black handkerchief with the +tie half-way towards the back of his neck, while a very long and +discoloured dressing-gown happily shrouded from view a +considerable portion of his lower raiment.</p> +<p>The room in which he met his tenants was thoroughly in keeping +with its owner: old and dignified, panelled in dark wood, with a +curiously-carved chimneypiece, and a ceiling apparently adorned +with some historical or allegorical painting, if you could only +have seen it.</p> +<p>How Mr Tankardew got into the room on the present occasion was +by no means clear, for nobody saw him enter.</p> +<p>Mark suggested to Mary, in a whisper, that he had come up +through a trap door. At any rate he was there, and greeted his +visitors without embarrassment.</p> +<p>“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he muttered, +“sorry to see you standing. Ah! Dusty, I see;” and +with the long tail of his dressing-gown he proceeded to raise a +cloud of dust from four massive oak chairs, much to the +disturbance of Mark’s equanimity, who succeeded with some +difficulty in maintaining his gravity. “Sorry,” added +Mr Tankardew, “to appear in this <i>dishabille</i>, must +excuse and take me as I am.”</p> +<p>“Pray don’t mention it,” replied both his +tenants, and then proceeded to business.</p> +<p>The rent had been paid and receipts duly given, when the old +man raised his eyes and fixed them on Mary’s face. She had +been sitting back in the deep recess of a window, terribly afraid +of a mirthful explosion from Mark, and therefore drawing herself +as far out of sight as possible; but now a bright ray of sunshine +cast itself full on her sweet, loving features, and as Mr +Tankardew caught their expression he uttered a sudden +exclamation, and stood for a moment as if transfixed to the spot. +Mary felt and looked half-confused, half-frightened, but the next +moment Mr Tankardew turned away, muttered something to himself, +and then entered into the subject of requested alterations. His +visitors had anticipated some probable difficulties, if not a +refusal, on the part of their landlord; but to their surprise and +satisfaction he promised at once to do all that they required: +indeed he hardly seemed to take the matter in thoroughly, but to +have his mind occupied with something quite foreign to the +subject in hand. At last he said,—</p> +<p>“Well, well, get it all done—get it all done, Mr +Rothwell, Mrs Franklin—get it all done, and send in the +bills to me—there, there.”</p> +<p>Again he fixed his eyes earnestly on Mary’s face, then +slowly withdrew <img src="images/nlost015.jpg" alt="" /> them, +and striding up to the fireplace opened a panel above it, and +disclosed an exquisite portrait of a young girl about +Mary’s age. Nothing could be more striking than the +contrast between the gloomy, dingy hue of the apartment, and the +vivid colouring of the picture, which beamed out upon them like a +rainbow spanning a storm-cloud. Then he closed the panel +abruptly, and turned towards the company with a deep sigh.</p> +<p>“Ah! Well, well,” he said, half aloud; +“well, good-morning, good-morning; when shall we meet +again?”</p> +<p>These last words were addressed to Mrs Franklin and her +daughter.</p> +<p>“Really,” replied the former, hardly knowing what +to say, “I’m sure, I—”</p> +<p>Mr Rothwell came to the rescue.</p> +<p>“My dear sir, I’m sure I shall be very glad to see +you at my house; you don’t go into society much; +it’ll do you good to come out a little; you’ll get +rid of a few of the cobwebs—from your mind”—he +added hastily, becoming painfully conscious that he was treading +on rather tender ground when he was talking about cobwebs.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t Mr Tankardew like to come to our +juvenile party on Twelfth Night?” asked Mark with a little +dash of mischief in his voice, and a demure look at Mary.</p> +<p>Mrs Franklin bit her lips, and Mr Rothwell frowned.</p> +<p>“A juvenile party at your house?” asked Mr +Tankardew, very gravely.</p> +<p>“Only my son’s nonsense, you must pardon +him,” said Mr Rothwell; “we always have a young +people’s party that night, of course you would be heartily +welcome, only—”</p> +<p>“A juvenile party?” asked Mr Tankardew again, very +slowly.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Mark, for the sake of saying +something, and feeling a little bit of a culprit; “twelfth +cake, crackers, negus, lots of fun, something like a breaking-up +at school. Miss Franklin will be there, and plenty more young +people too.”</p> +<p>“Something like a breaking-up,” muttered the old +man, “more like a breaking-<i>down</i>, I should +think—I’ll come.”</p> +<p>The effect of this announcement was perfectly overwhelming. Mr +Rothwell expressed his gratification with as much self-possession +as he could command, and named the hour. Mrs Franklin checked an +exclamation of astonishment with some difficulty. Poor Mary +coughed her suppressed laughter into her handkerchief; but as for +Mark, he was forced to beat a hasty retreat, and dashed down the +stairs like a whirlwind.</p> +<p>The way home lay first down a narrow lane, into which they +entered about a hundred yards from Mr Tankardew’s house. +Here the rest of the party found Mark behaving himself rather +like a recently-escaped lunatic: he was jumping up and down, then +tossing his cap into the air, then leaning back on the bank, +holding his sides, and every now and then crying out while the +tears rolled over his cheeks.</p> +<p>“Oh dear! Oh dear! What <i>shall</i> I do? Old +Tanky’s coming to our juvenile party.”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap02" id="chap02"></a> +<h3>Chapter Two.</h3> +<h4>The Juvenile Party.</h4> +<p>Let us look into two very different houses on the morning of +January 6th.</p> +<p>Mr Rothwell’s place is called “The Firs,” +from a belt of those trees which shelter the premises on the +north.</p> +<p>All is activity at “The Firs” on Twelfth-day +morning.</p> +<p>It is just noon, and Mrs Rothwell and her daughters are +assembled in the drawing-room making elaborate preparations for +the evening with holly, and artificial flowers and mottoes, and +various cunning and beautiful devices. On a little table by the +grand piano stands a tray with a decanter of sherry, a glass jug +filled (and likely to remain so) with water, and a few biscuits. +Mrs Rothwell is lying back in an elegant easy-chair, looking +flushed and languid. Her three daughters, Jane, Florence, and +Alice, are standing near her, all looking rather weary.</p> +<p>“What a bore these parties are!” exclaimed the +eldest. “I’m sick to death of them. I shall be tired +out before the evening begins.”</p> +<p>“So shall I,” chimes in her sister Florence. +“I hate having to be civil to those odious little frights, +the Graysons, and their cousins. Why can’t they stay at +home and knock one another’s heads about in the +nursery?”</p> +<p>“Very aimiable of you I must say, my dears,” +drawls out Mrs Rothwell. “Come, you must exert yourselves, +you know it only comes once a year.”</p> +<p>“Ay, once too often, mamma!”</p> +<p>“I’m sure,” cries little Alice, “I +shall enjoy the party very much: it’ll be jolly, as Mark +says, only I wish I wasn’t so tired just now: ah! Dear +me!”</p> +<p>“Oh! Child, don’t yawn!” says her mother; +“you’ll make me more fatigued than I am, and +I’m quite sinking now. Jane, do just pour me out another +glass of sherry. Thank you, I can sip a little as I want it. Take +some yourself, my dear, it’ll do you good.”</p> +<p>“And me too, mamma,” cries Alice, stretching out +her hand.</p> +<p>“Really, Alice, you’re too young; you +mustn’t be getting into wanting wine so early in the day, +it’ll spoil your digestion.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Nonsense, mamma! Everybody takes it now; +it’ll do me good, you’ll see. Mark often gives me +wine; he’s a dear good brother is Mark.”</p> +<p>Mrs Rothwell sighs, and takes a sip of sherry: she is +beginning to brighten up.</p> +<p>“What in the world did your father mean by asking old Mr +Tankardew to the party to-night?” she exclaims, turning to +her elder daughters.</p> +<p>“Mean! Mamma—you may well ask that: the old +scarecrow! They say he looks like a bag of dust and +rags.”</p> +<p>“Mark says,” cries her sister, “that +he’s just the image of a stuffed Guy Fawkes, which the boys +used to carry about London on a chair.”</p> +<p>“Well, my dears, we must make the best of matters, we +can’t help it now.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I daresay it’ll be capital fun,” +exclaims Alice; “I shall like to see Mark doing the polite +to ‘Old Tanky,’ as he calls him.”</p> +<p>“Come, Miss Pert, you must mind your behaviour,” +says Florence; “remember, Mr Tankardew is a gentleman and +an old man.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, Miss Gravity, but I’m not going to learn +manners of you; mamma pays Miss Craven to teach me that, so +good-bye;” and the child, with a mocking courtesy towards +her sister, runs out of the room laughing.</p> +<p>And now let us look into the breakfast-room of “The +Shrubbery,” as Mrs Franklin’s house is called.</p> +<p>Mary and her mother are sitting together, the former adding +some little adornments to her evening dress, and the latter +knitting.</p> +<p>“Don’t you like Mark Rothwell, mamma?”</p> +<p>“No, my child.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Mamma! What a cruelly direct answer!”</p> +<p>“Shouldn’t I speak the direct truth, +Mary?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Yes, certainly the truth, only you might have +softened it off a little, because I think you must like some +things in him.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he is cheerful and good-tempered.”</p> +<p>“And obliging, mamma?”</p> +<p>“I’m not so sure of that, Mary; self-indulgent +people are commonly selfish people, and selfish people are seldom +obliging: a really obliging person is one who will cross his own +inclination to gratify yours, without having any selfish end in +view.”</p> +<p>“And you don’t think Mark would do this, +mamma?”</p> +<p>“I almost think not. I like to see a person obliging +from principle, and not merely from impulse: not merely when his +being obliging is only another form of +self-gratification.”</p> +<p>“But why should not Mark Rothwell be obliging on +principle?”</p> +<p>“Well, Mary, you know my views. I can trust a person as +truly obliging who acts on Christian principle, who follows the +rule, ‘Look not everyone on his own things, but everyone +also on the things of others,’ because he loves Christ. I +am afraid poor Mark has never learned to love Christ.”</p> +<p>Mary sighs, and her mother looks anxiously at her.</p> +<p>“My dearest child,” she says, earnestly, “I +don’t want you to get too intimate with the young +Rothwells. I am sure they are not such companions as your own +heart would approve of.”</p> +<p>“Why, no, mamma, I can’t say I admire the way in +which they have been brought up.”</p> +<p>“Admire it! Oh! Mary, this is one of the crying sins of +the day. I mean the utter selfishness and self-indulgence in +which so many young people are educated; they must eat, they must +drink, they must talk just like their elders; they acknowledge no +betters, they spurn all authority; the holy rule, +‘Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is +right,’ is quite out of date with too many of them +now.”</p> +<p>“I fear it is so, mamma. I don’t like the girls +much at ‘The Firs,’ but I cannot help liking Mark; I +mean,” she added, colouring, “as a light-hearted, +generous, pleasant boy.” A silence of a few moments, and +then she looks up and says, timidly and lovingly, “If you +think it better, dearest mamma, I won’t go to the party +to-night.”</p> +<p>“No, Mary, I would not advise that; <i>I</i> shall be +with you, and I should like you to see and judge for yourself. I +have every confidence in you. I do believe that you love your +Saviour, and loving Him, I feel sure that you will not knowingly +enter into any very intimate acquaintance with any one who has +not the same hope; without which hope, my precious child, there +may be much amiability and attractiveness, but can be no solid +and abiding happiness or peace.”</p> +<p>Mary’s reply is a child’s earnest embrace and a +whispered assurance of unchanging love to her mother, and trust +in her judgment.</p> +<p>Six o’clock.—Both drawing-rooms at “The +Firs” were thrown into one, and brilliantly lighted up. +Mysterious sounds in the dining-room below told of preparations +for that part of the evening’s proceedings, by no means the +least gratifying to the members of a juvenile party. Friends +began to assemble: young boys and girls in shoals, the former +dazzling in neckties and pins, the latter in brooches and +earrings: with a sprinkling of seniors. The host, hostess, and +her daughters were all smiles; the last-named especially, unable, +indeed, to give expression to their satisfaction at having the +happiness of receiving their dear young friends. Mark was there, +of course, full of fun, and really enjoying himself, the life and +soul of everything.</p> +<p>And now, when Mrs Franklin and Mary had just taken their seats +and had begun to look around them, the door was thrown widely +open, and the servant announced in a loud voice, “Mr Esau +Tankardew!”</p> +<p>Every sound was instantly hushed, every head bent forward, +every mouth parted in breathless expectation. Mark crept close up +to Mary and squeezed his white gloves into ropes; the next moment +Mr Tankardew entered.</p> +<p>Marvellous transformation! The faded garments had entirely +disappeared. Was this the man of dilapidation? Yes, it was Mr +Tankardew. He was habited in a suit of black, which, though not +new, had evidently not seen much service; his trousers ceased at +the knee, leaving his silk stockings and shoes conspicuous. No +reproach could be cast on the purity of his white neckcloth, nor +on the general cleanliness of his person. His greeting of the +host and hostess, though a little old-fashioned, was thoroughly +easy and courteous, after which he begged them to leave him to +himself, and to give their undivided attention to the young, +whose special evening it was. Curiosity once gratified, the +suspended buzz of eager talk broke out again, and allowed Mr +Tankardew to make his way to Mrs Franklin and her daughter. These +he saluted very heartily, and added, “Let an old man sit by +you awhile, and watch the proceedings of the young people, and +realise if he possibly can that he was once young +himself—ah yes! Once young,” and he sighed +deeply.</p> +<p>Fun and frolic were soon at their height. Merry music struck +up, and the larger of the two drawing-rooms was cleared for a +dance. Mark hurried up to Mary. “Come, Mary,” he +cried, “I want you for a partner; we shall have capital +fun; come along.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she replied; “I prefer to watch +the others—at present, at any rate.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Nonsense! You <i>must</i> come, there’ll be +no fun without you; it’s very hot though, but +there’ll be lots of negus presently.”</p> +<p>“Mary will do her part by trying to amuse some of the +very little ones,” said her mother; “I think that +will be more to her taste.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Yes, dear mamma, that it will. Thank you, Mark, all +the same.”</p> +<p>“Good, very good, very good,” cried Mr Tankardew, +in a low voice, and beating one hand gently on the other; +“keep to that, my child, keep to that.”</p> +<p>Mark retired with a very bad grace, and Mary, slipping away +from her mother’s side, gathered a company around her of +the tinier sort, with glowing cheeks and very wide eyes, who were +rather scared by the more boisterous proceedings of those +somewhat older; she amused them in a quiet way, raising many a +little happy laugh, and fairly winning their hearts.</p> +<p>“God bless her,” muttered Mr Tankardew, when he +had watched her for some time very attentively; “very good, +that will do, very good indeed; keep her to it, Mrs Franklin, +keep her to it.”</p> +<p>“She’s a dear, good child,” said her +mother.</p> +<p>“Very true, madam; yes, dear and good; some are dear and +bad—dear at any price. I see some now.”</p> +<p>Wine and negus were soon handed round; the tray was presented +to Mary. Mr Tankardew lent forward and bent a piercing look at +her. She declined, not at all knowing that he was watching +her.</p> +<p>“Good again; very good, good girl, wise girl, prudent +girl,” he murmured to himself.</p> +<p>The tray now came to Mrs Franklin. She took a glass of sherry. +Mr Tankardew’s brow clouded. “Ah!” he +exclaimed, and moved restlessly on his chair. The servant then +approached him and offered the contents of the tray, but he waved +it off with an imperious gesture of his hand, and did not +vouchsafe a word.</p> +<p>The more boisterous party in the other room now became +conscious of the presence of the wine and negus, and rushed in, +surrounding the maid who was bringing in a fresh supply. Mark was +at the head of them, and tossed down two glasses in rapid +succession. The rest clamoured for the strong drink with eager +hands and outstretched arms. “Give me some, give me +some,” was uttered on all sides. Self reigned +paramount.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew’s tall form rose high above the edge of the +struggling crowd, which he had approached.</p> +<p>“Poor things, poor things, poor things!” he said +gloomily.</p> +<p>“A pleasant sight, these little ones enjoying +themselves,” said Mr Rothwell, coming up.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew seemed scarcely to hear him, and returned to his +place by Mrs Franklin.</p> +<p>“Enjoying themselves!” he exclaimed, in an +undertone, “call it pampering the flesh, killing the soul, +and courting the devil.”</p> +<p>“Rather hard upon the poor dear children,” +laughingly remarked a lady, who overheard him: “why, surely +you wouldn’t deny <i>them</i>, their share of the enjoyment +of God’s good creatures?”</p> +<p>“God’s good creatures, madam! Are the wine and +negus God’s good creatures?”</p> +<p>“Certainly they are,” was the reply: “God +has permitted man to manufacture them out of the fruits of the +earth, and to make them the means of pleasurable excitement, and +therefore surely we may take them and give them as His good +creatures.”</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew made no answer, but striding up to Mary, where +she sat with a circle of little interesting faces round her, +eagerly intent on some simple story she was telling them, he +said, “Miss Franklin, will you favour me by bringing me a +few of your young friends here. There, now, my dear,” +(speaking to one of the little girls), “just hand me that +empty negus glass.” The child did so, and Mr Tankardew, +producing from his coat pocket a considerable sized bottle, +turned to the lady who had addressed him, and said:</p> +<p>“Madam, will you help me to dispense some of the +contents of this bottle to these little children?”</p> +<p>“Gladly,” she replied. “I suppose it is +something very good, such as little folks like.”</p> +<p>“It is one of God’s good creatures, madam:” +saying which, he turned <img src="images/nlost029.jpg" alt="" /> +towards the other’s astonished gaze the broad label on +which was printed in great black letters, +“Laudanum—Poison.”</p> +<p>“My dear sir, what do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean, madam, that the liquid in this bottle is made +from the poppy, which is one of the fruits of the earth; +therefore it is one of God’s good creatures, just as the +wine and negus are. It produces very pleasurable sensations, too, +if you take it, just as <i>they</i> do; therefore it is right to +indulge in it, and give it to others, just as it is right for the +same reasons to indulge in wine and negus and spirits, and to +give them to others.”</p> +<p>“I really don’t understand you, sir.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you, madam? I think you won’t be able +to pick a hole in my argument.”</p> +<p>“Ah! But this liquid is poison!”</p> +<p>“So is alcohol, madam, only it is not labelled so: +more’s the pity, for it has killed thousands and tens of +thousands, where laudanum has only killed units. There, my +child,” he added, turning to Mary, and taking an elegant +little packet from his pocket, “give these <i>bonbons</i> +to the little ones. I didn’t mean to disappoint +them.”</p> +<p>While this dialogue was going on, the rest of the party was +too full of noisy mirth to notice what was passing. Mark’s +voice was getting very wild and conspicuous; and now he made his +way with flushed face and sparkling eyes to Mary, who was sitting +quietly between her mother and Mr Tankardew. He carried a jug in +one hand, and a glass in the other, and, without noticing the +elder people, exclaimed, “It is an hour yet to supper time, +and you’ll be dead with thirst; I am sure I am. You must +take some of this, it is capital stuff; our butler made it: I +have just had a tumbler—it is punch. Come, Mary, you +must,” and he thrust the glass into her hand: “you +must, I say; you shall; never mind old Tanky,” he added, in +what he meant to be a whisper. Then he raised the jug with +unsteady fingers, but, before a drop could reach the tumbler, Mr +Tankardew had risen, and with one sweep of his hand dashed it out +of Mary’s grasp on the ground. Few heard the crash, amidst +the din of the general merriment, and those who noticed it +supposed it to be an accident. “Nearly lost!” +whispered Mr Tankardew in Mary’s ear; then he said, in a +louder voice, “Faugh! The atmosphere of this place does not +suit me. I must retire. Mrs Franklin, pray make an old +man’s excuses to our host and hostess.”</p> +<p>He was <i>gone</i>!</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap03" id="chap03"></a> +<h3>Chapter Three.</h3> +<h4>The Swollen Stream.</h4> +<p>It is the morning after the juvenile party at “The +Firs.” A clear, bright frost still: everything +<i>outside</i> the house fresh and vigorous: half-a-dozen +labourers’ little children running to school with faces +like peonies; jumping, racing, sliding, puffing out clouds of +steaming breath as they shout out again and again for very excess +of health and spirits.</p> +<p>Everything <i>inside</i> the house limp, languid, and +lugubrious; the fires are sulky and won’t burn; the maids +are sulkier still. Mr Rothwell breakfasts alone, feeling warm in +nothing but his temper: the grate sends forth little white jets +of smoke from a wall of black coal, instead of presenting a +cheery surface of glowing heat: the toast is black at the corners +and white in the middle: the eggs look so truly new laid that +they seem to have come at once from the henhouse to the table, +without passing through the saucepan: the coffee is feeble and +the milk smoked: the news in the daily papers is flat, and the +state of affairs in country and county peculiarly depressing. +Upstairs, Mrs Rothwell tosses about with a sick headache, unable +to rest and unwilling to rise. The young ladies are dawdling in +dressing-gowns over a bedroom breakfast, and exchanging mutual +sarcasms and recriminations, blended with gall and bitterness +flung back on last night’s party. Poor Mark has the worst +of it, nausea and splitting headache, with a shameful sense of +having made both a fool and a beast of himself. So much for the +delights of “lots of negus, wine, and punch!” He has +also a humbling remembrance of having been rude to Mr Tankardew. +A knock at his door. “Come in.”</p> +<p>“Please, sir, there’s a hamper come for +you,” says the butler; “shall I bring it +in?”</p> +<p>“Yes, if you like.”</p> +<p>The hamper is brought in and opened; it is only a small one. +In the midst of a deep bed of straw lies a hard substance; it is +taken out and the paper wrapped round it unfolded; only a glass +tumbler! There is a paper in it on which is written, “To Mr +Mark Rothwell, from Mr Esau Tankardew, to replace what he broke +last night: keep it empty, my boy; keep it empty.”</p> +<p>Nine o’clock at “The Shrubbery.” Mary and +her mother are seated at breakfast, both a little dull and +disinclined to speak. At last Mary breaks the silence by a +profound sigh. Mrs Franklin smiles, and says:</p> +<p>“You seem rather burdened with care, my +child.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know, dear mamma; I don’t +think it is exactly care, but I’m dissatisfied or +disappointed that I don’t feel happier for last +night’s party.”</p> +<p>“You don’t think there was much real enjoyment in +it?”</p> +<p>“Not to <i>me</i>, mamma; and I don’t imagine very +much to anybody—except, perhaps, to some of the very little +ones. There was a hollowness and emptiness about the whole thing; +plenty of excitement and a great deal of selfishness, but nothing +to make me feel really brighter and happier.”</p> +<p>“No, my child; I quite agree with you: and I was +specially sorry for old Mr Tankardew. I can’t quite +understand what induced him to come: his conduct was very +strange, and yet there is something very amiable about him in the +midst of his eccentricities.”</p> +<p>“What a horror he seems to have of wine and negus and +suchlike things, mamma.”</p> +<p>“Yes; and I’m sure what he saw last night would +not make him any fonder of them. Poor Mark Rothwell quite forgot +himself. I was truly glad to get away early.”</p> +<p>“Oh! So was I, mamma; it was terrible. I wish he +wouldn’t touch such things; I’m sure he’ll do +himself harm if he does.”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed, Mary; harm in body, and character, and +soul. Those are fearful words, ‘No drunkard shall inherit +the kingdom of God.’”</p> +<p>“I wish I was like Mr Tankardew,” says Mary, after +a pause; “did you see, mamma, how he refused the negus? I +never saw such a frown.”</p> +<p>“Well, Mary, I’m not certain that total abstinence +would suit either of us, but it is better to be on the safe side. +I am sure, in these days of special self-indulgence, it would be +worth a little sacrifice if our example might do good; but +I’ll think about it.”</p> +<p>It was a lovely morning in the September after the juvenile +party, one of those mornings which combine the glow of summer +with the richness of autumn. A picnic had been arranged to a +celebrated hill about ten miles distant from Hopeworth. The +Rothwells had been the originators, and had pressed Mary Franklin +to join the party. Mrs Franklin had at first declined for her +daughter. She increasingly dreaded any intimacy between her and +Mark, whose habits she feared were getting more and more +self-indulgent; and Mary herself was by no means anxious to go, +but Mark’s father had been particularly pressing on the +subject, more so than Mrs Franklin could exactly understand, so +she yielded to the joint importunity of father and son, though +with much reluctance. Mary had seen Mark occasionally since the +night of the 6th of January, and still liked him, without a +thought of going beyond this; but she was grieved to see how +strongly her mother felt against him, and was inclined to think +her a little hard. True, he had been betrayed into an excess on +Twelfth night; but, then, he was no drunkard. So she argued to +herself, and so too many argue; but how strange it is that people +should argue so differently about the sin of drunkenness from +what they argue about other sins! If a man lies to us <i>now and +then</i>, do we call him <i>habitually</i> truthful? If a man +steals <i>now and then</i>, do we call him <i>habitually</i> +honest? Surely not; yet if a man is <i>only now and then</i> +drunken, his fault is winked at; he is considered by many as +<i>habitually</i> a sober man; and yet, assuredly, if there be +one sin more than another which from the guilt and misery that it +causes deserves little indulgence, it is the sin of drunkenness. +Mary took the common view, and could not think of Mark as being +otherwise than habitually sober, because he was only now and then +the worse for strong drink.</p> +<p>It was, as we have said, a lovely September morning, and all +the members of the picnic party were in high spirits. An omnibus +had been hired expressly for the occasion. Mark sat by the +driver, and acted as presiding genius. The common meeting-place +was an old oak, above a mile out of the town, and thither by ten +o’clock all the providers and their provisions had made +their way. No one could look more bright than Mark Rothwell, no +one more peacefully lovely than Mary Franklin. All being seated, +off they started at an uproarious signal from Mark. Away they +went, along level road, through pebbly lane, its banks gorgeous +with foxgloves and fragrant with honeysuckles, over wild heath, +and then up grassy slopes. There were fourteen in the party: Mr +Rothwell, Mark and his three sisters, and a lady neighbour; Mrs +Franklin and her daughter, with a female friend; and five young +gentlemen who were or seemed to be cousins, more or less, to +everybody. Five miles were soon passed, and then the road was +crossed by a little stream. Cautiously the lumbering vehicle made +its way down the shelving gravel, plunged into the sparkling +water, fouling it with thick eddies of liquid mud, and then, with +some slight prancings on the part of the willing horses, gained +the opposite bank. The other five miles were soon accomplished, +all feeling the exhilarating effect of drinking in copious +draughts of mountain air—God’s pure and unadulterated +stimulant to strengthen the nerves, string up the muscles, and +clear the brain, free from every drop of spirit except the +glowing spirit of health. And now the omnibus was abandoned by a +little roadside inn to the care of a hostler, who took the horses +(poor dumb brutes!) to feast on corn and water, God’s truly +“good creatures,” unspoilt by the perverse hand of +self-indulgent man!</p> +<p>The driver, with the rest of the party, toiled up the +hill-side, and all, on gaining the summit, gazed with admiration +across one of those lovely scenes which may well make us feel +that the stamp of God’s hand is there, however much man may +have marred what his Creator has made: wood and lane, cornfields +red-ripe, turnip fields in squares of dazzling green, were spread +out before them in rich embroidery with belts of silver stream +flashing like diamonds on the robe of beauty with which Almighty +love had clothed the earth. Oh! To think that sin should defile +so fair a prospect! Yet sin was there, though unseen by those +delighted gazers. Ay, and thickly sown among those sweet hills +and dales were drunkards’ houses, where hearts were +withering, and beings made for immortality were destroying body +and soul by a lingering suicide.</p> +<p>An hour passed quickly by, and there came a summons to +luncheon. Under a tall rock, affording an unbroken view of the +magnificent landscape outspread below, the tablecloth was laid +and secured at the corners by large stones. Pies both savoury and +sweet were abundant, bread sufficient, salt scanty, and water +absent altogether. Bottles were plentiful—bottles of ale, +of porter, of wines heavy and light. Corks popped, champagne +fizzed, ale sparkled. Mark surrendered the eatables into other +hands, and threw his whole energies into the joint consumption +and distribution of strong drink. He seemed in this matter, at +least, to act upon the rule that “Example is better than +precept”: if he pressed others to drink, he led the way by +taking copious draughts himself. The driver, too, was not +forgotten; the poor man was getting a chance of rising a little +above his daily plodding as he looked out on the lovely scenery +before him: but he was not to be left to God’s teachings; +ale, porter, champagne, he must taste them all. Mark insisted on +it; so the unfortunate man drank and drank, and then threw +himself down among some heath to sleep off, if he could, the +fumes of alcohol that were clouding his brains.</p> +<p>And what of Mrs Franklin and Mary? Both had declined all the +stimulants, and had asked for water.</p> +<p>“Nonsense,” cried Mark; “water! I’ve +taken very good care that there shall be no water drunk to-day; +you must take some wine or ale, you must indeed.”</p> +<p>“We will manage without it, if you please,” said +Mrs Franklin quietly.</p> +<p>Mark pressed the intoxicants upon them even to rudeness, but +without effect. Mr Rothwell was evidently annoyed at his +son’s pertinacity, and tried to check him; but all in vain, +for Mark had taken so much as just to make him obstinate and +unmanageable. But, finding that he could not prevail, the young +man hurried away in anger, and plied the other members of the +company with redoubled vigour.</p> +<p>So engrossing had been the luncheon that few of the party had +noticed a sudden lull in the atmosphere, and an oppressive calm +which had succeeded to the brisk and cheery breeze. But now, as +Mary rose from her seat on the grass, she said to her mother:</p> +<p>“Oh, mamma, how close it has become! And look there in +the distance: what a threatening bank of clouds! I fear we are +going to have a storm.”</p> +<p>“I fear so indeed, Mary; we must give our friends +warning, and seek out a shelter.”</p> +<p>All had now become conscious of the change. A stagnant heat +brooded over everything; not a breath of wind; huge banks of +magnificent storm-cloud came marching up majestically from the +horizon, throwing out little jets of lightning, with solemn +murmurs of thunder. Drop, drop, drop, tinkled on the gathered +leaves, now quicker, now quicker, and thicker. Under a huge roof +of overhanging rock the party cowered together. At last, down +came the storm with a blast like a hurricane, and deluges of +rain. On, on it poured relentlessly, with blinding lightning and +deafening peals of thunder. Hour after hour! Would it never +cease? At last a lull between four and five o’clock, and, +as the tempest rolled murmuring away, the dispirited friends +began their preparations for returning. Six o’clock before +all had reached the inn. Where were the driver and Mark? Another +tedious hour before they appeared, and each manifestly the worse +for liquor. Past seven by the time they had fairly started. And +now the clouds began to gather again. On they went, furiously at +first, and then in unsteady jerks, the omnibus swaying strangely. +It was getting dark, and the lowering clouds made it darker +still. Not a word was spoken by the passengers, but each was +secretly dreading the crossing of the stream. At last the bank +was gained—but what a change! The little brook had become a +torrent deep and strong.</p> +<p>“Oh! For goodness’ sake, stop! Stop! Let us get +out,” screamed the Misses Rothwell.</p> +<p>“In with it! In with it!” roared Mark to the +driver; “dash through like a trump.”</p> +<p>“Tchuck, tchuck,” was the half-drunken +driver’s reply, as he lashed his horses and urged them into +the stream.</p> +<p>Down they went: splash! Dash! Plunge! The water foaming +against the <img src="images/nlost041.jpg" alt="" /> wheels like +a millstream. Screams burst from all the terrified ladies except +Mary and her mother, who held each other’s hand tightly. +Mrs Franklin had taught her daughter presence of mind both by +example and precept. But now the water rushed into the vehicle +itself as the frightened horses struggled for the opposite bank. +Mark’s voice was now heard in curses, as he snatched the +whip from the driver and scourged the poor bewildered horses. +Another splash: the driver was gone: the poor animals pulled +nobly. Crash! Jerk! Bang! A trace had snapped: another jerk, a +fearful dashing and struggling, the omnibus was drawn half out of +the water, and lay partly over on its side: then all was still +except the wails and the shrieks of the ladies. Happily a lamp +had been lighted and still burned in the omnibus, which was now +above the full violence of the water. The door was opened and the +passengers released; but by whom?—certainly not by Mark. A +tall figure moved about in the dusk, and coming up to Mary threw +a large cloak over her shoulders, for it was now raining heavily, +and said in a voice whose tones she was sure she knew:</p> +<p>“Come with me, my child, your mother is close at hand; +there, trust to me; take my other arm, Mrs Franklin: very +fortunate I was at hand to help. The drink, the drink,” he +muttered in a low voice; “if they’d stuck to the +water at the beginning they wouldn’t have stuck <i>in</i> +the water at the end.”</p> +<p>And now a light flashed on them: it was the ruddy glow from a +forge.</p> +<p>“Come in for a moment,” said their conductor, +“till I see what is to be done. Tom Flint, lend us a +lantern, and send your Jim to show some of these good people the +way to the inn; they’ll get no strong drink there,” +he said, half to himself.</p> +<p>And now several of the unlucky company had straggled into the +smithy, which was only a <i>few</i> yards from the swollen +stream. Among these was Mark, partially sobered by the accident, +and dripping from head to foot.</p> +<p>“Here’s some capital stuff to stave off a +cold,” he said, addressing Mrs Franklin and her daughter, +whose faces were visible in the forge light: at the same time he +rilled the cover of a small flask with spirits. “Come, let +us be as jolly as we can under the circumstances.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Mrs Franklin; “perhaps a +very little mixed with water might be prudent, as Mary, I fear, +is very wet.”</p> +<p>Mark stretched out the cup towards her, but before a drop +could be taken the tall stranger had stepped forward, and +snatching it, had emptied its contents on the glowing coals. Up +there shot a brilliant dazzling flame to the smoky roof, and in +that vivid blaze Mrs Franklin and Mary both recognised in their +timely helper none other than Mr Esau Tankardew.</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap04" id="chap04"></a> +<h3>Chapter Four.</h3> +<h4>A Mysterious Stranger.</h4> +<p>“This way, this way,” said Mr Tankardew, utterly +unmoved by the expression of angry astonishment on the face of +Mark Rothwell at the sudden conversion of his cup of liquid fire +into harmless flame—“Come this way, come this way, +Mrs and Miss Franklin: Tom, give me the lantern, I’ll take +the ladies to Sam Hodges’ farm, and do you be so good as to +see this young gentleman across to the ‘Wheatsheaf’; +Jones will look well after them all, I know.”</p> +<p>So saying, he offered his arm to Mrs Franklin, and bade Mary +follow close behind.</p> +<p>“It will be all right, madam,” he added, seeing a +little hesitation on the part of his companion; “you may +trust an old man to keep you out of harm’s way: there, let +me go first with the lantern; now, two steps and you are over the +stile: the path is rather narrow, you must keep close to the +hedge: just over three fields and we shall be there.”</p> +<p>Not a word was uttered as they followed their guide. Mrs +Franklin lifted up her heart in silent praise for their +preservation, and in prayer for present direction. Backward and +forward swayed the lantern, just revealing snatches of hedge and +miry path. At last the deep barking of a dog told that they were +not far off from a dwelling: the next minute Mr Tankardew +exclaimed, “Here we are;” and the light showed them +that they were come to a little gate in a paling fence.</p> +<p>“Hollo, Sam,” shouted out their guide: the +dog’s barking was instantly changed into a joyful whine. A +door opened a few yards in front of them, and a dark figure +appeared in the midst of a square opening all ablaze with +cheerful light.</p> +<p>“Hollo, Sam,” said Mr Tankardew again, in a more +subdued voice.</p> +<p>“Is that you, mayster? All right,” cried the +other.</p> +<p>“I’ve brought you some company, Sam, rather late +though.”</p> +<p>“You’re welcome, mayster, company and all,” +was the reply. In a few moments all three had entered, and found +themselves in an enormous kitchen, nearly large enough to +accommodate a village. Huge beams crossed the low white ceiling; +great massive doors opened in different directions rather on the +slant through age, and giving a liberal allowance of space at top +and bottom for ventilation. A small colony of hams and flitches +hung in view; and a monstrous chimney, with a fire in the centre, +invited a nearer approach, and seemed fashioned for a cozy +retiring place from the world of kitchen. Everything looked warm +and comfortable, from the farmer, his wife and daughter, to the +two cats dozing on the hearth. Vessels of copper, brass, and tin +shone so brightly that it seemed a shame to use them for anything +but looking-glasses; while tables and chairs glowed with the +results of perpetual friction.</p> +<p>“Come, sit ye down, sit ye down, ladies,” said Mrs +Hodges; “there, come into the chimney nook: eh! Deary me! +Ye’re quite wet.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Betty,” said Mr Tankardew, “these +ladies joined a party to the hills, and, coming back, +they’ve been nearly upset into the brook, which is running +now like a mill stream; they came in an omnibus, and very nearly +stuck fast in the middle; it is a mercy they were not all +drowned; no thanks to the driver, though.”</p> +<p>“Poor things,” exclaimed the farmer’s wife; +“come, I must help you to some dry things, such as they +are: and you must stay here to-night; it is not fit for you to go +home, indeed it is not,” she added, as Mrs Franklin +prepared to decline.</p> +<p>“I’ll make you as comfortable as ever I can. Jane, +go and put a fire in the Red-room.”</p> +<p>“Indeed,” said Mrs Franklin, “I can’t +think of allowing you to put yourself to all this trouble; +besides, our servants will be alarmed when they find us not +returning.”</p> +<p>“Leave that to me, madam,” said Mr Tankardew; +“I shall sleep at the ‘Wheatsheaf’ to-night, +and will take care to send a trusty messenger over to ‘The +Shrubbery’ to tell them how matters stand; and Mr Hodges +will, I am sure, drive you over in his gig in the morning. Hark +how the rain comes down! You really must stop: Mrs Hodges will +make you very comfortable.”</p> +<p>With many thanks, but still with considerable reluctance, Mrs +Franklin acquiesced in this arrangement. Their hostess then +accommodated them with such garments as they needed, and all +assembled round the blazing fire. Mr Tankardew had divested +himself of a rough top coat, and, looking like the gentleman he +was, begged Mrs Hodges to give them some tea.</p> +<p>What a tea that was! Mary, though delicately brought up, +thought she had never tasted anything like it, so delicious and +reviving: such ham! Such eggs! Such bread! Such cream! Really, it +was almost worth while getting the fright and the wetting to +enjoy such a meal with so keen a relish.</p> +<p>“They’ve got a famous distillery in this +house,” remarked Mr Tankardew when they had finished their +tea.</p> +<p>“A famous what?” asked Mrs Franklin, in great +surprise.</p> +<p>“Dear me,” said Mary aghast, “I really +thought I—”</p> +<p>“Oh! You thought they were teetotalers here: well, you +should know that it is a common custom in these parts to put rum +or other spirits into the tea, especially when people have +company. Now, Hodges and his wife are not content with putting +spirits into the tea, but they put them into everything: into +their bread, and their ham, and into their eggs.”</p> +<p>Mrs Franklin looked partly dismayed and partly puzzled.</p> +<p>“Yes, it is true, madam. The fact is simply this: the +spirits which my good tenants distil are made up of four +ingredients—diligence, good temper, honesty, and total +abstinence; and that is what makes everything they have to be so +good of its kind.”</p> +<p>“I wish we had more distilleries of this kind,” +said Mrs Franklin, smiling.</p> +<p>“So do I, madam; but it is a sadly dishonest, +unfaithful, and self-indulgent age, and the drink has very much +to do with it, directly or indirectly. Here, Sam,” to the +farmer and his wife who had just re-entered the kitchen, +“do you and your mistress come and draw up your chairs, and +give us a little of your thoughts on the subject; there’s +nothing, sometimes, so good as seeing with other people’s +eyes, specially when they are the eyes of persons who look on +things from a different level of life.”</p> +<p>“Why, Mayster Tankardew,” said the farmer, +“it isn’t for the likes of me to be giving my opinion +of things afore you and these ladies; but I <i>has</i> my +opinion, nevertheless.”</p> +<p>“Of course you have. Now, tell us what you think about +the young people of our day, and their self-indulgent +habits.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Mayster! You’re got upon a sore subject; it +is time summut was done, we’re losing all the girls and +boys, there’ll be none at all thirty years +hence.”</p> +<p>“Surely you don’t mean,” said Mrs Franklin +anxiously, “that there is any unusual mortality just now +among children.”</p> +<p>“No, no, ma’am, that’s not it,” cried +the farmer, laughing: “no, I mean that we shall have +nothing but babies and men and women; we shall skip the boys and +girls altogether.”</p> +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> +<p>“Why, just this way, ma’am: as soon as young +mayster and miss gets old enough to know how things is, +they’re too old for the nursery; they won’t go in +leading strings; they must be little men and women. Plain food +won’t do for ’em; they must have just what their pas +and mas has. They’ve no notion of holding their +tongues—not they; they must talk with the biggest; and I +blames their parents for it, I do. They never think of checking +them; they’re too much like old Eli. The good old-fashioned +rod’s gone to light the fire with.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and Sam,” broke in his wife, +“what’s almost worst of all—and oh! It is a sin +and a shame—they let ’em get to the beer and the wine +and the spirits: you mustn’t say them nay. Ay, it is sad, +it is for sure, to see how these little ones is brought up to +think of nothing but themselves; and then, when they goes wrong, +their fathers and mothers can’t think how it is.”</p> +<p>“You’re right, wife; they dress their bodies as +they like, and eat and drink what they like, and don’t see +how Christ bought their bodies for Himself, and they are not +their own. Ah! There’ll be an awful reckoning one day. +Young people can’t grow up as they’re doing and not +leave a mark on our country as it’ll take a big fire of the +Almighty’s chastisements to burn it out.”</p> +<p>Mrs Franklin sighed, and Mary looked very thoughtful.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew was about to speak when a faint halloo was heard +above the noise of the storm, which was now again raging without. +All paused to listen. It was repeated again, and this time +nearer.</p> +<p>“Somebody missed his road, I should think,” said +Mr Tankardew.</p> +<p>“Maybe, sir; I’ll go out and see.”</p> +<p>So saying, Sam Hodges left the kitchen, and calling to quiet +his dog who was barking furiously, soon returned with a stranger +who was dressed in a long waterproof and felt hat, which he +doffed on seeing the ladies, disclosing a head of curling black +hair. He was rather tall, and apparently slightly made, as far as +could be judged; for the wrappings in which he was clothed from +head to foot concealed the build of his person.</p> +<p>“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, in a gentlemanly +voice. “It is a terrible night, and I’ve missed my +way. I ought to have been at Hopeworth by now, perhaps you can +kindly direct me.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said the farmer, “you mustn’t +be off again to-night: we’ll manage to take you in: +we’ll find you a bed, and you’re welcome to such as +we have to eat and drink: it is plain, but it is +wholesome.”</p> +<p>“A thousand thanks, kind friends,” replied the +other; “but I feel sure that I am intruding. These +ladies—”</p> +<p>“We are driven in here like yourself by the +storm,” said Mrs Franklin. “I’m sure I should +be the very last to wish any one to expose himself again to such +a night on our account.”</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew had not spoken since the stranger’s +entrance; he was sitting rather in shadow and the new-comer had +scarcely noticed him. But now the old man leant forward, and +looked at the new guest as though his whole soul was going out of +his eyes; it was but for a moment, and then he leant back again. +The stranger glanced from one to another, and then his eyes +rested for a moment admiringly on Mary’s face—and who +could wonder! A sweeter picture and one more full of harmonious +contrast could hardly be seen than the young girl with her hair +somewhat negligently and yet neatly turned back from her +forehead, her dress partly her own and partly the coarser +garments of her hostess’s daughter, sitting in that plain +old massive kitchen, giving refinement and gaining simplicity, +with the mingled glow of health and bashfulness lending a special +brilliancy to her fair complexion. This was no ordinary +man’s child the stranger saw, and again he expressed his +willingness to retire and make his way to the town rather than +intrude his company on those who might prefer greater +privacy.</p> +<p>“Sit ye down, man, sit ye down,” said Hodges; +“the ladies ’ll do very well, the kitchen’s a +good big un, so there’s room for ye all. Have you crossed +the brook? You’d find it no easy matter unless you came +over the foot bridge.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, my friend, to say,” was the +reply, “that I have both crossed the brook and been +<i>in</i> it. I was about to go over by a little bridge a mile or +so farther down, when I thought I saw some creature or other +struggling in the water. I stooped down, and to my surprise and +consternation found that it was a man. I plunged into the stream +and contrived to drag him to the bank, but he was evidently quite +dead. What I had taken for struggling was only the force of the +stream swaying him about against the supports of the bridge. His +dress was that of a coachman or driver of some public conveyance. +I got help from a neighbouring cottage, and we carried him in, +and I sent someone off for the nearest doctor, and then I thought +to take a short cut into the road, and I’ve been wandering +about for a long time now, and am very thankful to find any +shelter.”</p> +<p>During this account Mrs Franklin and her daughter turned +deadly pale, and then the former exclaimed:</p> +<p>“I fear it was our poor driver—I heard a splash +while our omnibus was struggling in the water. Oh! I fear, I fear +it must have been the unfortunate man; and oh! Poor man, +I’m afraid he wasn’t in a fit state to +die.”</p> +<p>“If he was like your young friend at the forge, I fear +not indeed,” said Mr Tankardew. <img src= +"images/nlost055.jpg" alt="" /> “That drink that accursed +drink,” he added, rising and approaching the stranger, who +was now divesting himself of his wet outer garments. He was tall, +as we have said, and his figure was slight and graceful; he wore +a thick black beard and moustache, and had something of a +military air; his eyes were piercing and restless, and seemed to +take in at a glance and comprehend whatever they rested on.</p> +<p>But what was there in him that seemed familiar to Mrs Franklin +and Mary? Had they seen him elsewhere? They felt sure that they +had not, and yet his voice and face both reminded them of someone +they had seen and heard before. The same thing seemed to strike +Mr Tankardew, but, as he turned towards the young stranger, the +latter started back and uttered a confused exclamation of +astonishment. The old man also was now strangely moved, he +muttered aloud:</p> +<p>“It must be—no—it cannot be: yes, it surely +must be;” then he seemed to restrain himself by a sudden +effort, he paused for a moment, and then with two rapid strides +he reached the young man, placed his left hand upon the +other’s lips, and seizing him by the right hand hurried him +out of the kitchen before another word could be spoken.</p> +<p>Poor Mrs Franklin and her daughter looked on in astonishment, +hardly knowing what to say or think of this extraordinary +proceeding, but their host reassured them at once.</p> +<p>“Never fear, ma’am, the old mayster couldn’t +hurt a fly; it’ll be all right, take my word for it; +there’s summut strange as <i>we</i> can’t make out. I +think I sees a little into it, but it is not for me to speak if +the mayster wants to keep things secret. It’ll all turn out +right in the end, you may be sure. The old mayster’s been +getting a bit of a shake of late, but it is a shake of the right +sort. He’s been coming out of some of his odd ways and +giving his mind to better things. He’s had his heart broke +once, but it seems to me as he’s been getting it mended +again.”</p> +<p>For the next half hour, the farmer, his wife, and daughter +were busy about their home concerns, and their two guests were +left to their own meditations.</p> +<p>At last a distant door opened, and Mr Tankardew appeared +followed by the young stranger. By the flickering fire Mrs +Franklin thought she saw the traces of tears on both faces, and +there was a strange light in the old man’s eyes which she +had not seen there before.</p> +<p>“Let me introduce you to a young friend and an old +friend in one,” he said, addressing the ladies; “this +is Mr John Randolph, a great traveller.”</p> +<p>Mrs Franklin said some kind words expressive of her pleasure +in seeing the gratification Mr Tankardew felt in this renewal of +acquaintance.</p> +<p>“Ah! Yes,” said the old man; “you may well +say gratification. Why, I’ve known this young +gentleman’s father ever since I can remember. Sam,” +he added to the farmer, who had just come in, “I’m +going to run away with our young friend here, we shall both take +up our quarters at the inn for to-night. I see it is fairer now. +Mrs Franklin, pray make yourself quite easy. I shall despatch a +messenger at once to ‘The Shrubbery’ with full +particulars. Good-night! Good-night!”</p> +<p>And so Mary and her mother were left to their own musings and +conjectures, for the farmer and his family made no allusion +afterwards to the events of the evening.</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap05" id="chap05"></a> +<h3>Chapter Five.</h3> +<h4>The Young Musician.</h4> +<p>A Grand piano being carried into Mr Esau Tankardew’s! +What next! What <i>can</i> the old gentleman want with a grand +piano? Most likely he has taken it for a bad debt—some +tenant sold up. But say what they may, the fact is the same. And, +stranger still, a tuner pays a visit to put the instrument in +tune. What can it all mean? Marvellous reports, too, tell of a +sudden domestic revolution. The dust and cobwebs have had notice +to quit, brooms and brushes have travelled into corners and +crevices hitherto unexplored, the piano rests in a parlour which +smiles in the gaiety of a new carpet and new curtains; prints +have come to light upon the walls, chairs and tables have taken +heart, and now wear an honest gloss upon their legs and faces; +ornaments, which had hitherto been too dirty to be ornamental, +now show themselves in their real colours. Outside the house, +also, wonderful things have come to pass; the rocking doorstep is +at rest, and its fellow has been adjusted to a proper level; +<i>ever</i>-greens have taken the place of the old +<i>never</i>-greens; knocker and door handle are not ashamed to +show their native brass; the missing rails have returned to their +duty in the ranks. The whole establishment, including its master, +has emerged out of a state of foggy dilapidation. Old Molly +Gilders has retired into the interior, and given place above +stairs to a dapper damsel. As for the ghosts, they could not be +expected to remain under such <i>dispiriting</i> circumstances, +and have had the good sense to resort to some more congenial +dwelling.</p> +<p>While gossip on this unlooked-for transformation was still +flying in hot haste about Hopeworth and the neighbourhood, the +families both at “The Firs” and “The +Shrubbery” were greatly astonished one morning by an +invitation to spend an evening at Mr Tankardew’s.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr Rothwell, “I suppose it +won’t do to decline; the old gentleman means it, no doubt, +as an attention, and it would not be politic to vex +him.”</p> +<p>“I am sure, my dear,” said his wife, +“<i>I</i> can’t think of going. I shall be bored to +death; you must make my excuses and accept the invitation for the +girls. I don’t suppose Mark will care to go; the old man +seems to have a spite against him—I can’t tell +why.”</p> +<p>“I’ll go,” interposed Mark, “if it be +only to see the fun. I’ll be on my good behaviour. +I’ll call for tea and toast-and-water at regular intervals +all through the evening, and then the old gentleman will be sure +to put me down for something handsome in his will.”</p> +<p>“You’d better take some music with you,” +said his mother, turning to her eldest daughter; “Mr +Tankardew has got his new piano on purpose, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Ay, do,” cried Mark; “take something +lively, and you’ll fetch out the old spiders and +daddy-long-legs which have been sent into the corners like +naughty boys, and they’ll come out by millions and dance +for us.”</p> +<p>So it was settled that the invitation should be accepted. The +surprise at “The Shrubbery” was of a more agreeable +kind. Mrs Franklin and her daughter had learnt to love the old +man, in spite of his eccentricities; they saw the sterling +strength and consistency of his character. They had, however, +hardly expected such an invitation; but the reports of the +strange changes in progress in Mr Tankardew’s dwelling had +reached their ears, so that it was evident that he was intending, +for some unknown reasons, to break through the reserve and +retirement of years, and let a little more light and sociability +into the inner recesses of his establishment. That he had a +special object in doing this they felt assured; what that object +was they could not divine. Had Mrs Franklin known that the +Rothwells had been asked, she would have declined the invitation; +but she was unaware of this till she had agreed to go; it was +then too late to draw back.</p> +<p>All the guests were very punctual on the appointed evening, +curiosity having acted as a stimulant with the Rothwells of a +more wholesome kind than they were in the habit of imbibing. What +a change! It was now the end of October, and the evenings were +chilly, so that all were glad of the cheery fire, partly of wood +and partly of coal, which threw its brightness all abroad in +flashes of restless light. Old pictures, apparently family +portraits, adorned the walls, relieved by prints of a more modern +and lively appearance. One space was bare, where a portrait might +have been expected as a match to another on the other side of the +fireplace. The omission struck every one at once on entering. The +furniture, generally, was old-fashioned, and somewhat subdued in +its tints, as though it had long languished under the cold shade +of neglect, and had passed its best days in obscurity.</p> +<p>Not many minutes, however, were given to the guests for +observation, for Mr Tankardew soon appeared in evening costume, +accompanied by the young stranger who had taken refuge on the +night of the storm in Samuel Hodges’ farm kitchen. Mr +Tankardew introduced him to the Rothwells as Mr John Randolph, an +old-young friend. “I’ve known his father sixty years +and more,” he said; then he added, “my young friend +has travelled a good deal, and will have some curiosities to show +you by-and-by—but now let us have tea. Mrs Franklin, pray +do me the honour to preside.”</p> +<p>While tea was in progress, Mr Tankardew suddenly surprised his +guests by remarking dryly, and abruptly:</p> +<p>“You must know, ladies and gentlemen, that my mother was +a brewer.”</p> +<p>“Indeed!” exclaimed Mr Rothwell, in considerable +astonishment; and then asked, “was the business an +extensive one?”</p> +<p>“Pretty well, pretty well,” was the reply. +“She brewed every morning and night, but she’d only +one <i>dray</i> and that was a <i>tray</i>, and she’d a +famous large teapot for a vat; we never used hops nor sent our +barley to be malted, what little we used we gave to the fowls; +and we never felt the want of porter, or pale ale, or bitter +beer.”</p> +<p>“It is a pity that more people are not of your +mother’s mind,” said Mrs Franklin, laughing.</p> +<p>“So it is indeed; but I shouldn’t, perhaps, have +said anything about it, only the teapot you’ve got in your +hand now was my dear old mother’s brewery, and that set me +thinking and talking about it.”</p> +<p>It was not their host’s fault, nor Mr John +Randolph’s, who acted as joint entertainer, if their guests +did not make a hearty tea. The meal concluded, Mr Tankardew +requested his young friend to bring out some of his curiosities. +These greatly interested all the party—especially Mrs +Franklin and Mary, who were delighted with the traveller’s +liveliness and intelligence.</p> +<p>“Show our friends some of your sketches,” said the +old man. These were produced, and were principally in water +colours, evidently being the work of a master’s hand. As he +turned to a rather un-English scene, the young artist sighed and +said, “I have some very sad remembrances connected with +that sketch.”</p> +<p>“Pray let us have them,” said Mr Tankardew. Mr +Randolph complied, and proceeded: “This is an Australian +sketch: you see those curious-looking trees, they are blue and +red gums: there is the wattle, too, with its almond-scented +flowers, and the native lilac. That cottage in the foreground was +put up by an enterprising colonist, who went out from England +some fifteen years ago; you see how lovely its situation is with +its background of hills. I was out late one evening with a young +companion, and we were rather jaded with walking, when we came +upon this cottage. We stood upon no ceremony, but marched in and +craved hospitality, which no one in the bush ever dreamt of +refusing. We found the whole family at supper: the father had +died about a year before of consumption, after he had fenced in +his three acres and built his house, and planted vineyard and +peach orchard. There were sheep, too, with a black fellow for a +shepherd, and a stock yard with some fine bullocks in it; +altogether, it was a tidy little property, and a blooming family +to manage it. The widow sat at the head of the table, and her +son, a young man of two-and-twenty, next to her. There were three +younger children, two girls and a boy, all looking bright and +healthy. We had a hearty welcome, and poured out news while they +poured out tea, which with damper (an Australian cake baked on +the hearth), and mutton made an excellent meal. When tea was over +we had a good long talk, and found that the young farmer was an +excellent son, and in a fair way to establish the whole family in +prosperity. Well, the time came for parting, they pressed us to +stay the night, but we could not. <img src="images/nlost067.jpg" +alt="" /> Just as we were leaving, my companion took out a flask +of spirits, and said, ‘Come, let us drink to our next happy +meeting, and success to the farm.’ I shall never forget the +look of the poor mother, nor of the young man himself; the old +woman turned very pale, and the son very red, and said, +‘Thank you all the same, I’ve done with these things, +I’ve had too much of them.’ ‘Oh! +Nonsense,’ my friend said; ‘a little drop won’t +hurt you, perhaps we may never meet again.’ ‘Well, I +don’t know,’ said the other, in a sort of irresolute +way. I could see he was thirsting for the drink, for his eye +sparkled when the flask was produced. I whispered to my friend to +forbear, but he would not. ‘Nonsense,’ he said; +‘just a little can do them no harm, it is only friendly to +offer it.’ ‘Just a taste, then, merely a +taste,’ said our host, and produced glasses. The mother +tried to interfere, but her son frowned her into silence. So grog +was made, and the younger ones, too, must taste it, and before we +left the flask had been emptied. I took none myself, for never +has a drop of intoxicants passed my lips since I first left my +English home. I spoke strongly to my companion when we were on +our way again, but he only laughed at me, and said, +‘What’s the harm?’”</p> +<p>“And what <i>was</i> the harm?” asked Mark, in a +rather sarcastic tone.</p> +<p>“I will tell you,” replied John Randolph, quietly. +“Four years later I passed alone across the same track, and +thought I would look in on my old entertainer. I found the place, +but where were the owners? All was still as death, little of the +fence remained, the stock yard was all to pieces, the garden was +a wilderness, the cottage a wreck. I made inquiries afterward +very diligently, and heard that the young farmer had taken to +drinking, that the younger children had followed his example, the +poor mother was in her grave, and her eldest son a disreputable +vagabond; where the rest were no one knew. Oh! I resolved when I +heard it that never would I under any circumstances offer +intoxicating drinks to others, as I had previously, while myself +a total abstainer, occasionally done.”</p> +<p>“But surely,” said Mr Rothwell, “we are not +answerable for the abuse which others may make of what is lawful +and useful if taken in moderation. The other day I offered the +guard of my train a glass of ale; he took it; afterward the train +ran off the line through his neglect; it seems he was drunken, +but he appeared all right when I gave him the ale; surely I was +not answerable there? The guard ought to have stopped and refused +when he knew he had had enough.”</p> +<p>“No, not answerable for the accident, perhaps,” +said Mr Tankardew; “but your case and the case just related +by my young friend are not quite parallel, for his companion knew +that the farmer had, by his own confession, been in the habit of +exceeding; <i>you</i> didn’t know but that the guard was a +moderate man.”</p> +<p>“Exactly so,” replied the other; “I +presumed, of course, that he knew when to stop.”</p> +<p>“And yet, my dear sir,” rejoined the old man, +earnestly, “isn’t it perilous work offering a +stimulant which is so ruinous to tens of thousands, and has +emptied multitudes of homes of health, and peace, and +character?”</p> +<p>“Well, it may be so; I’m certainly beginning to +think it anything but wise getting children into the habit of +liking these things;” and he glanced anxiously at Mark, who +appeared intensely absorbed in looking at some photographs upside +down.</p> +<p>There was a few moments’ pause, and then the old man +said, “Come, let us have a little music, perhaps Miss +Rothwell will favour us.”</p> +<p>Nothing loth, the young lady led off in a brilliant sonata, +displaying in the execution more strength of muscle than purity +of taste; then came a duet by the eldest and youngest sisters, +and then a song by the second. Mr Tankardew expressed his +satisfaction emphatically at the conclusion, possibly more at +finding the performance ended than at the performance itself.</p> +<p>Mr John Randolph then seated himself at the piano, at the +host’s request, and addressed himself to his work with a +loving earnestness that showed that the soul of music dwelt +within him. The very first chords he struck riveted at once the +attention of every one, an attention which was deepened into +surprised delight, as he executed with perfect finish passages of +surpassing brilliancy growing out of the national airs of many +countries—airs which floated out from the entanglements of +the more rapid portions with an earnest pathos that held every +hearer as with a spell of enchantment.</p> +<p>“Marvellous, marvellous! Bravo!” cried both Mr +Rothwell and Mark at the conclusion.</p> +<p>“My young friend,” said Mr Tankardew, “will +be glad to give lessons in music, as an occupation. He will be +making my house his home at present.”</p> +<p>There was a slight expression of surprise on every face, and +of something like scorn or contempt on the Rothwells’. +However, both the young ladies at “The Firs” and Mrs +Franklin expressed their wish to engage Mr Randolph’s +services, and so it was arranged.</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap06" id="chap06"></a> +<h3>Chapter Six.</h3> +<h4>Heartless Work.</h4> +<p>Music certainly flourished at “The Firs” and +“The Shrubbery” under the able instructions of Mr +John Randolph. The young man’s manner was puzzling to his +pupils at both houses. With the Misses Rothwell (who gave +<i>themselves</i> airs, besides practising those which were given +them by their master), he was quietly civil and deferential, and +yet made them sensible of his superiority to them in a way which +they could not help feeling, and yet equally could not resent. +With Mary Franklin his respectful manner was mingled with an +almost tenderness, ever kept in check by a cautious +self-restraint. What did it mean? It made her feel embarrassed +and almost unhappy. She had no wish to entangle the young +musician’s affections, and indeed felt that her own were +getting entangled with Mark Rothwell. Mark contrived to throw +himself a good deal in her way at this time, far more than her +mother liked, but Mr Rothwell himself seemed bent on promoting +the intimacy, and his son laid himself out to please. There was, +moreover, rankling in Mary’s heart the impression that Mark +was being harshly judged by her mother; this helped to draw her +closer to him. He was, besides, an excellent performer on the +flute, and would sometimes come over on lesson mornings and +accompany her, much to the annoyance of her instructor.</p> +<p>On one of these occasions, a little more than a year after the +party at his house, Mr Tankardew was present, having made an +unusually early call. Mark wished him gone, and when the music +lesson was over, and Mr Randolph had retired, hoped that the old +man would take his leave; but nothing seemed farther from that +gentleman’s thoughts, so that Mark was obliged to bottle up +his wrath (the only spirit, alas! That he ever did bottle up), +and to leave Mr Tankardew in possession. When he was gone, the +old man looked keenly at mother and daughter. Mrs Franklin +coloured and sighed. Mary turned very red and then very pale, and +took an earnest passing interest in the pattern of the +hearthrug.</p> +<p>“A very musical young gentleman, Mr Mark +Rothwell,” said their visitor dryly. “I wish +he’d breathe as much harmony into his home as he breathes +melody out of his flute.” Neither mother nor daughter +spoke, but Mary’s heart beat very fast. “Hem! I +see,” continued the other, “you don’t believe +it! Only slander, malice, lies. Well, take my word for it, the +love that comes out of the brandy flask will never get into the +teapot. I wish you both a very good morning; ay, better one than +this, a great deal;” and with a sternness of manner quite +unusual, the old man took his leave.</p> +<p>“How cruel! How unjust!” exclaimed Mary, when Mr +Tankardew was gone. “Poor Mark! Every one strikes at +him.”</p> +<p>But <i>was</i> it cruel? <i>was</i> it unjust? Let us go with +Mark Rothwell himself, as he leaves his house that very night, +sneaking out at the backdoor like a felon.</p> +<p>A few hundred yards to the rear of the outbuildings stood a +neat and roomy cottage; this was occupied by John Gubbins, the +coachman, a man bound to Mark by unlimited donations of beer, and +equally bound to a gang of swindlers who had floated their way to +his pocket and privacy on the waves of strong drink. John had +been gambling with these men, and had of course lost his money to +them, and somebody else’s too: the hard-earned savings of +one of the maids who had trusted him to put them in the bank: of +course he meant to repay them, with interest; that is to say, +when the luck turned in his favour; but luck, like fortune, is +blind, and tramples on those who court her most. It was very dark +outside, as Mark groped his way along; but a muffled light showed +him where the cottage window was. Three times he gave a long, low +whistle, and then knocked four distinct raps on the door, which +was cautiously opened by a man with a profusion of hair, beard +and whiskers, which looked as though they did not belong to him, +as was probably the case, not only with his hair, but with +everything else that he wore, including some tarnished +ornaments.</p> +<p>“All right, sir, come in,” he said, and Mark +entered.</p> +<p>What a scene for a young man brought up as he had been! Could +he really find any satisfaction in it? Yes, birds that love +carrion flock together, and there was plenty of moral carrion +here. A long deal table occupied the middle of the room, a +smaller round one stood under the window and supported a tray +loaded with glasses and pipes, with a tall black bottle in the +midst of them. The glasses were turned upside down for the +present, a pity it should not have been for the future too; they +looked with the bottle in the centre like a little congregation +surrounding a preacher. Oh! What a sermon of woe that bottle +might have preached to them! But it didn’t speak; it was to +set on fire the tongues of other speakers. There was a coloured +print over the mantelpiece of Moses smiting the rock. What a +solemn contrast to the streams of fire-water soon about to flow! +John Gubbins sat at the top of the table, looking fat and +anxious, half shy and half foolish; the man with the false hair +and ornaments placed himself next to him. Three other strangers +were present, a mixture of sham gentility and swagger, of whom it +would be difficult to say which had descended into the lowest +depths of blackguardism. And now business was begun; the glasses +were transferred to the larger table, the bottle uncorked, lemons +and sugar produced, and the poor kettle, made for better things, +forced to defile its healthful contents by mixture with liquid +madness, in the shape of whisky; then out came cards and dice. +But what sound was that? Three very faint trembling whistles, +followed by four equally feeble taps at the door? Another madman, +who was he? Could it really be Jim Forbes, the footman, that +respectable, steady-looking young man, who waited daily at the +dining tables? Alas! It was indeed. Jim was the son of a poor +widow, whose husband, a small farmer, had died of fever, leaving +behind him a large family, a small cottage, smaller savings, and +a good character; Jim was the eldest sort, and next to him was a +poor crippled sister, whose patient hands added a little to the +common stock by sewing; Jim, however, had been his widowed +mother’s mainstay since his father’s death, and a +willing, loving helper he was: ay, he <i>had</i> been, but was he +still? Jim had got a place at “The Firs”; first of +all as a general helper, then as a footman, in which latter +capacity he enjoyed the very questionable privilege of waiting at +table, and hearing what was said at meals by Mr and Mrs Rothwell, +their children, and guests. What Jim learnt on these occasions +was this, that money and strong drink were the chief things worth +living for. He didn’t believe it at first, for he saw in +his mother’s cottage real happiness where there was little +money and less alcohol; he saw, too, on his suffering +sister’s brow a gilding of heaven’s sunshine more +lovely than burnished gold, and a smile on her thin pale lips, +which grace and love made sweeter than the most sparkling laugh +of unsanctified beauty. Still, what he heard so constantly on the +lips of those better educated than himself left its mark; he +began to long for things out of his reach, and to pilfer a little +and then a little more of what <i>was</i> in his reach, not +money, but drink. Indeed he heard so much about betting and +gambling, his master’s guests seemed to find the cards and +the dice box so convenient a way of slipping a few pounds out of +a friend’s pocket into their own without the trouble of +giving an equivalent, that poor Jim got confused. True, he had +learnt in the eighth commandment, when a boy, the words, +“Thou shalt not steal”; but these better-informed +guests at Mr Rothwell’s seemed able to take a flying leap +over this scriptural barrier without any trouble, so he swallowed +his scruples and his master’s wine at the same time, and +thought he should like to have an opportunity of turning a snug +little legacy of a hundred pounds, left him by an uncle, into +something handsomer by a lucky venture or two. Conscience was not +satisfied at first, but he silenced it by telling himself that he +was going to enrich his poor mother, and make a lady of his +crippled sister. Somehow or other there is a strange attraction +that draws together kindred spirits in evil. Mark Rothwell found +out what was going on in Jim’s mind, and determined to make +use of him; only, of course, so as to get himself out of a little +difficulty. Oh! No! He meant the poor lad no harm; nay, he +intended to put him in the way of making his fortune. So one day +after dinner Mark and the young man were closeted together for an +hour in the butler’s pantry; wine flowed freely, and Jim +was given to understand that his young master was quite willing +to admit his humble companion into a choice little society of +friends who were to meet at the coachman’s cottage on +certain evenings, and play games of chance, in which, after due +instruction from Mark, a person of Jim’s intelligence would +be sure to win a golden harvest without the tedious process of +tilling and sowing. The instructions commenced there and then in +the pantry; several games were played, nearly all of which Jim +won to his great delight. They only played “for love” +this time, Mark said, but it was difficult to see where the +“love” was, except for the drink, and there was +plenty of that. One little favour, however, was required by the +young master, for initiating Jim into the mysteries and miseries +of gambling, and that was that he should lend his instructor what +money he could spare, as Mark happened to be rather short just at +this time. So Jim drew out a part of his legacy from the bank, +and deposited half in Mark’s hands; the other half he took +with him to the coachman’s cottage. Oh! It was a grand +thing to be allowed to sit with such company, and to hear the +wonderful stories of the gentlemen who condescended to come and +place their stores of gold and silver within a poor +footman’s reach. What with the tales, and the songs, and +the whisky punch, Jim thought himself the happiest fellow alive +the first night he joined the party, especially when he found +himself the winner of three or four bright sovereigns, which had +become his own for the mere throwing down of a few cards, and a +rattle or two of the dice box. But all was not so pleasant the +next morning. Jim awoke with a sick headache and a sore heart. +And what should he do with his winnings? He would take them to +his mother: nay, the very thought stung him like a serpent. His +mother would want to know how he got the gold; or, when he threw +it into her lap, she would say, “The Lord bless you, Jimmy, +and give it you back a hundredfold”; and his sister would +clasp her wasted hands in thankfulness, and he could not bear to +think of a mother’s blessing and a sister’s prayers +over gains that were tainted with the leprosy of sin. So he kept +the money, and the next night of meeting he lost it, and more +besides; and then another night he was a gainer; and the +gambler’s thirst grew strong in him. But loss soon followed +loss. His legacy was slipping surely down into the pockets of his +new friends. Cruel! Cruel! Heartless Mark! And oh! The cursed +drink! What meanness is there to which it will not lead its +slaves?</p> +<p>And now the night came we have before referred to. John +Gubbins sat at the top of the table; Jim Forbes took his place +near him. The spirits went round; the cards and dice were busy. +John Gubbins lost, and Mark won. Jim Forbes lost; and his cheeks +flushed, and his eyes glittered with excitement, and he ground +his teeth together. The strangers affected to be surprised at his +ill luck; really they couldn’t understand it, they said; +they were quite sorry for him; but, “nothing venture, +nothing win”; <i>his</i> turn would come next. But it did +not come that night. Jim had now drawn the whole of his legacy +from the bank. The last sovereign was staked; it was lost. He +sprang to his feet, seized the uncut pack of cards, and hurled it +to the further end of the room; then he shook his fist at his new +companions, calling them cheats and villains. Up darted the man +with the exuberant hair, and up rose Mark and Gubbins. But what +was <i>that</i>? A strange noise outside. The dog in the kennel +muttered a low growl, and then began to bark furiously; then the +approach of footsteps was plain; a deathlike stillness fell on +the whole party; the strangers caught up the cards and dice, and +looked this way and that, pale and aghast. And now there came a +loud and peremptory knocking at the door, as of men who were +determined to find entrance.</p> +<p>“Who’s there?” asked Gubbins, in quivering +tones.</p> +<p>“Open the door,” was the reply from a deep, loud +voice.</p> +<p>“I can’t, by no means, do nothing of the sort, at +this unseasonable hour,” said the coachman, a little more +boldly.</p> +<p>“Open the door, or I’ll force it,” said the +same voice.</p> +<p>Poor Mark! And poor, wretched Jim! How utterly guilty and +crestfallen they looked! As for the gamblers, they cowered +together, in abject terror, not daring to attempt a retreat by +the back, lest the enemy should be lurking for them there.</p> +<p>“Will you open the door, or will you not?”</p> +<p>No answer from within.</p> +<img src="images/nlost079.jpg" alt="" /> +<p>Then came a tremendous blow; then a foot was seen forcing its +way over the doorsill, another moment, and the barrier to the +entrance of the invaders gave way with a rattling crash.</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap07" id="chap07"></a> +<h3>Chapter Seven.</h3> +<h4>Bitter Fruit.</h4> +<p>No sooner was the door burst open, than in rushed several +stout men, who proceeded to seize and handcuff the four +strangers, who made but the faintest show of resistance. John +Gubbins shook with abject terror, as he tried in vain to double +up his fat person into a small compass in a corner. Jim Forbes +stood speechless for a moment, and then darted out through the +open doorway. As for Mark Rothwell, what with shame and dismay, +and semi-intoxication from whisky punch, his position and +appearance were anything but enviable. He recovered himself, +however, in a few minutes, and turned fiercely on the +intruders.</p> +<p>“By what right, and by whose authority,” he cried, +“do you dare to break into my coachman’s house, and +to lay violent hands on these gentlemen?”</p> +<p>“By this warrant, young sir,” said the chief of +the invading party, producing a parchment. “I’m a +detective; I’ve been looking after these <i>gentlemen</i> a +long time; they are part of a regular gang of pickpockets and +swindlers, and we’ve a case or two against ’em as +’ll keep ’em at home, under lock and key, for a bit. +I’m sorry we’ve been so rough, but I was afraid of +losing ’em. I didn’t think to find ’em in such +company, and I hope, young gent, if you’ll let me give you +a word of advice, that you’ll keep clear of such as these +for the future for your own sake.”</p> +<p>Alas! Poor Mark! Crestfallen and wretched, he slunk away +home.</p> +<p>And what had become of Jim Forbes? Nobody knew at “The +Firs.” He was missing that night and the next day. Mr +Rothwell asked for him at breakfast, and was told that he had not +slept in the house the night before, and was nowhere to be found. +The day passed away, but Jim did not make his appearance.</p> +<p>It was a dark November evening: a dim light twinkled through +the casement of Mrs Forbes’ cottage: the wind was whistling +and sighing mournfully, sometimes lulling for a while, and then +rising and rushing through crack and crevice with a wild +complaining moan. Inside that little dwelling were weeping eyes +and aching hearts. Upstairs all was peace; four little children +lay fast asleep in the inner chamber, twined in each +other’s ruddy arms, their regular breathing contrasting, in +its deep peace, with the fitful sighings of the wind; yet on the +long eyelashes of one of the little sleepers there stood a +glistening tear, and from the parted lips there came, now and +again, the words, “Brother Jim.”</p> +<p>But ah! No blessed sleep stilled the throbbing hearts of those +who cowered over the scanty fire in the kitchen below; +Jim’s mother and crippled sister. Was it poverty that made +them sad? No. Poverty was there, but it was very neat and cleanly +poverty. No, it was not poverty that wrung the bitter tears from +the eyes of those heart-sick watchers; they were rich in faith; +they could trust God; they could afford to wait. It wasn’t +<i>that</i>. Jim! Poor Jim! Poor erring Jim! How changed he had +been of late; none of his old brightness; none of his old love. +It wasn’t so much that he brought his mother no welcome +help now; it was hard to miss it, but she could battle on +without. It wasn’t that crippled Sally’s cheek grew +paler because she was forced to do without the little comforts +supplied so long by a brother’s thoughtful love, though it +was harder still to miss these. No, but it was that mother and +daughter both saw, too plainly, that Jim was going down-hill, and +that too with quickening steps. They saw that he was getting the +slave of the drink, and they feared that there was worse behind; +and, of course, there was: for when did ever the drink-fiend get +an immortal being into his grasp without bringing a companion +demon along with him? And now, this very day, Jim was reported to +them as being missing from “The Firs,” and dark +suspicions and terrible rumours were afloat, and John +Gubbins’ name and the young master’s name were mixed +up with them. Mother and daughter sat there together by the dying +embers, and shuddered closer to one another at each moaning of +the blast.</p> +<p>“Oh, mother! I’m heartbroke,” at last burst +out from the poor girl’s lips: “to think of our Jim, +so kind, so good, ’ticed away by that miserable drink, and +gone nobody knows where.”</p> +<p>“Hush! Hush! Child, ye mustn’t fret; I’ve +faith to believe as the Lord ’ll not forsake us: +He’ll bring our Jim back again: He’ll hear a +mother’s prayer: He’ll—”</p> +<p>But here a sudden sound of uneven footsteps made the poor +widow start to <img src="images/nlost087.jpg" alt="" /> her feet, +and Sally to cry out. The next moment the door was rudely shaken, +and then Jim staggered into the room, haggard, blear-eyed, +muttering to himself savagely. The sight of his mother and sister +seemed partially to sober him, for the spirit within him bowed +instinctively before the beauty of holiness, which neither +poverty nor terror could obliterate from the face of those whom +he used to love so dearly. But the spell was soon broken.</p> +<p>“I say,” he exclaimed, “what’s to do +here? I want my supper; I haven’t scarce tasted to-day, and +nobody cares for me no more nor a dog. I say, mother, stir +yourself, and get me my supper.” He flung himself into a +chair, with an oath, as he almost lost his balance.</p> +<p>Oh! Misery! Misery! Every word was a separate stab, but Mrs +Forbes restrained herself.</p> +<p>“Jim, dear,” she said, soothingly, +“we’ve nothing in the house for supper: we +didn’t expect you: we hoped you’d gone back to your +master’s.”</p> +<p>“Ah! There it is! Didn’t expect me! No supper! +This is all I’m to get after spending all my wages on them +as don’t care to give me a mouthful of meat and a drop of +drink when I want ’em!”</p> +<p>“Jim! Jim! Don’t,” exclaimed his poor +sister, “oh! Don’t! For the Lord’s sake! +You’ll repent it bitterly by-and-by! Oh! It can’t be +our dear, kind Jim, as God sent to help and comfort us! +We’d give you meat and drink, if we had them, but the last +crumb’s gone, and mother’s never bitten +to-day!”</p> +<p>“Nonsense! Don’t tell <i>me</i>! None of your +humbug and cant with me! If I can’t get supper where I +ought, I’ll get it where I can! I’ll not darken this +door again as sure as my name’s Jim Forbes!”</p> +<p>With a scowl, and a curse, and a slam of the door that +startled the little ones from their sleep, the miserable son +flung himself out of his home. The next day he enlisted; the day +following he was gone altogether.</p> +<p>Weep! Weep! Ye holy angels! Howl with savage glee, ye mocking +fiends! See what the drink can do! And yet, O wondrous strange! +There are thinking men, loving men, Christian men, who tell us we +are wrong, we are mad in trying to pluck the intoxicating cup +away from men and women, and to keep it wholly out of the hands +of little children and upgrowing boys and girls. Mad are we? Be +it so; but there’s method, there’s holy love, +there’s heavenly wisdom in our madness.</p> +<p>A month had passed away, but no tidings of Jim Forbes; no +letter telling of penitence or love. Oh! If he would only write: +only just a word: only to say, “Mother, sister, I love you +still.” But no; hearts must wither, hearts must break, as +the idol car of intemperance holds on its way, crushing out life +temporal and eternal from thousands and tens of thousands who +throw themselves madly under its wheels. But must it be so for +ever?—No! It cannot, it shall not be, God helping us; for +their rises up a cry to heaven against the unholy traffic in +strong drink; a cry that <i>must</i> be heard.</p> +<p>The snow was falling fast, but not faster nor more softly than +the tears of the widowed mother and the crippled daughter, as +they bowed themselves down before the cold bars, which ought to +have enclosed a mass of glowing coals on that pitiless December +day; but only a dull red spark or two, amid a heap of dust, just +twinkled in the grate, and seemed to mock their wretchedness. +Cold! Cold! Everything was cold there but faith and love. Food +there was none! But on the little table lay the open Bible; and +just beneath those weary, swollen <i>eyes</i>, were the words, +“They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, +neither shall the sun light on them nor any heat; for the Lamb +which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and lead +them to living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all +tears from their eyes.” But what were those voices? Were +they the voices of angels? Poor, shivering, weary watchers! They +might almost seem so to you. Anyhow, they were very gentle, +loving voices; and now they ask admittance. Mrs Franklin and Mary +entered; and, though not angels, they were come to do +angels’ work, as messengers of love and mercy. Tea, and +bread and butter, and eggs, and divers other comforts came +suddenly to light from under the wide folds of the ladies’ +cloaks, and then the visitors sat down, and stopped the outburst +of tearful thanks by bright loving words of pity and +interest.</p> +<p>“Oh, ma’am! It is true, but I never knowed afore +how true it was that God will never forsake His own. I’d +well nigh given up all for lost.”</p> +<p>“Nay, mother,” said Sally; “it wasn’t +you, it was me; <i>your</i> faith held out still.”</p> +<p>“I was very, very sorry to hear of your troubles,” +said Mrs Franklin after a pause; “but you mustn’t +despair; God will bring your poor son back again.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I believe it, ma’am, but it is hard not to +doubt when one’s cold and hunger-bitten; he was such a good +lad to us afore he took to that miserable drink.”</p> +<p>“Well, we must pray for him, and I daresay Mr and Mrs +Rothwell will stand your friends.”</p> +<p>“Friends! Ma’am,” cried the poor woman; +“oh! You don’t know, ma’am; look, ma’am, +at yon empty cupboard; there ought to be meat and drink there, +ma’am, and earned by honest labour. It is not an hour, +ma’am, since I was up at ‘The Firs,’ taking +back some work as my poor Sally did for the young ladies +(she’s a beautiful sewer, is our Sally, there’s none +to match her in all Hopeworth), and I’d a fortnight’s +charing as I was owed for. I’d left the little ones with a +kind neighbour, so I went up to the house and asked to see the +missus: she couldn’t see me, but I begged hard; and they +showed me up into the drawing-room. Mrs Rothwell was lying on a +‘sofy,’ and there was wine on a table close by, and +the young ladies was all crowding round the fire, contradicting +their mother, and quarrelling with one another. ‘Oh! For +goodness’ sake don’t interrupt us,’ says one of +the young ladies, and their mamma bids me sit down; and there I +sat for a long time, till Miss Jane had finished a fairy tale; +something about a young lady as was shut up in a castle to be +eaten by a giant; and how a young gentleman fell in love with +her, and got a fairy to turn her into a bird, and get her out of +the castle: and they all cried over the story as if their hearts +would break, and when it was over they all had some wine; and Mrs +Rothwell, who had been crying very much too, asked me what I +wanted. So I told her as I’d come to my last penny, and I +should be very thankful if she’d be so good as to pay me +for my work, and for what our Sally had been doing for the young +ladies. Then she fired up at once, and told me she thought it +very impertinent in me coming and teasing her in that way, as she +meant to pay me as soon as it was convenient; and oh! +Ma’am! Then she asked me what I wanted for Sally’s +work; and when I told her, she said I charged too much, though I +didn’t ask above half as they’d ask for it in +Hopeworth; and then she nearly cut my heart in two by saying (Oh, +ma’am! I can’t scarce bear to repeat it), that I +shouldn’t have come to pester her if it hadn’t been +for my idle vagabond of a son (them was the very words she used, +ma’am), as had run away and left his place. Oh, Mrs +Franklin! You’re a mother; you know how I must feel for my +poor wanderer, for he’s my own flesh and blood still. I +dursn’t speak; I couldn’t stay; and I’ve come +back penniless as I went: but the Lord has sent you to help me, +and I’ll never doubt Him again.”</p> +<p>“Never do,” said her visitor; “I’ll +find you and Sally work for the present, and try and think +charitably of Mrs Rothwell; she may mean more kindly than she has +spoken.”</p> +<p>“Mean kindly! Oh! Dear Mrs Franklin! The drink has +washed out all kindness: there’s ruin hanging over that +house, not as I wishes it to them, but it is so. The +children’s been brought up to think of just nothing but +themselves; their eating and drinking, and dressing, and playing: +there’s sipping in the parlour all day long; drinking in +the dining-room; swilling in the kitchen. Our poor Jim’s +seen his betters there living as if men, women, and children had +nothing to do in this world but to drown the thoughts of the next +in drink and pleasure, and he’s learnt his lesson too well; +but I trust the Lord ’ll take the book out of his hand, and +teach him the better way again.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid what you say is too true,” +remarked Mrs Franklin, sadly; “if our young people continue +to be brought up in such self-indulgent habits, we may well +expect to hear God crying aloud by His judgments, ‘Woe to +the drunkards of England,’ as He once cried, ‘Woe to +the drunkards of Ephraim.’”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap08" id="chap08"></a> +<h3>Chapter Eight.</h3> +<h4>A Double Peril.</h4> +<p>“I’ll tell you what it is, Mark, I <i>must</i> +have a stop put to this: my patience is quite worn out. Do you +think I’m made of money? Do you think I can coin money as +fast as you choose to spend it? You’ll ruin me with your +thoughtless, selfish extravagance, and break your mother’s +heart and mine by your drunkenness and folly, that you +will.”</p> +<p>These words, uttered in a tone of passionate bitterness, were +spoken by Mr Rothwell to his son in the hall at “The +Firs,” as the young man was urging his father to grant him +a considerable sum to pay some pressing debts. At the same moment +Mr John Randolph came out of the drawing-room, and could not help +overhearing what was being said.</p> +<p>Mr Rothwell turned fiercely upon him:</p> +<p>“What right have <i>you</i>, sir, to be intruding on my +privacy?” he cried, nettled at his rebuke having been +overheard by a stranger.</p> +<p>“I am not conscious of being guilty of any +intrusion,” said the other quietly.</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> intruding,” cried Mark, glad to +vent his exasperation at his father’s reproaches on +somebody, and specially glad of an opportunity of doing so on the +music-master.</p> +<p>“You shall not need to make the complaint again +then,” said Mr Randolph, calmly, “my lessons to your +sisters will cease from to-day;” and with a stiff bow he +closed the door behind him.</p> +<p>Rather more than two years had elapsed since Jim Forbes’ +enlistment when the scene just described took place. Mark had +been sinking deeper and deeper in the mire; he was scarcely ever +sober except when visiting the Franklins, on which occasions he +was always on his guard, though his excited manner, and the +eagerness with which he tossed down the few glasses of wine to +which he, evidently with difficulty, restricted himself, made a +most painful impression not only <i>on</i> Mrs Franklin, but also +on her daughter.</p> +<p>Mary was now nineteen, and shone with the brightness which the +gentle light of holiness casts on every word and feature. She was +full of innocent cheerfulness, and was the joy of all who knew +her. Mark loved her as much as he could love anything that was +not himself, and tried to make himself acceptable to her. Mary +<i>hoped</i> the best about him, but that hope had begun to droop +for some time past. He had never yet ventured to declare his +affection to her; somehow or other he could not. A little spark +of nobleness still remained in him unquenched by the drink, and +it lighted him to see that to bind Mary to himself for life would +be to tie her to a living firebrand that would scorch and shrivel +up beauty, health and peace. He dared not speak: before her +unsullied loveliness his drink-envenomed lips were closed: he +could rattle on in wild exuberance of spirits, but he could not +yet venture to ask her to be his. And she? She pitied him deeply, +and her heart’s affections hovered over him; would they +settle there? If so, lost! Lost! All peace would be lost: how +great her peril!</p> +<p>Another visit from Mr Tankardew: the old man had been a +frequent caller, and was ever welcome. That he cherished a +fatherly love for Mary was evident; indeed his heart seemed +divided between herself and the young musician, Mr John Randolph, +who, though he had ceased to give lessons at “The +Firs,” was most scrupulously punctual in his attendance at +“The Shrubbery.”</p> +<p>It was a bright summer’s morning as the old man sat in +the drawing-room where Mary and her mother were engaged in the +mysteries of the needle.</p> +<p>“Let me hear your last piece, my child,” he said; +“John tells me that he will soon have nothing more to teach +you.”</p> +<p>Mary sat down and played with loving grace, till the old man +bowed his head upon his hands and wept.</p> +<p>“‘Home, sweet home!’” he murmured. +“Ay; you have played that lovely air with variations as if +you felt it: you know what a sweet home is, Mary; I knew it once. +‘Home, sweet home!’” he added again, with a +sigh.</p> +<p>There was a pause: then he went on: “There are plenty of +homes that aren’t sweet; homes with variations enough and +to spare in them; but they’re variations of misery. I hope +you’ll never have one of those homes, my child.”</p> +<p>Mary coloured deeply, and her mother’s eyes filled with +tears. Mr Tankardew looked earnestly at them both.</p> +<p>“No danger of any but sweet variations +<i>here</i>,” he said; “but all new homes are not +sweet homes—there’s no sweetness that will last where +the barrel, the bottle, and the spirit-flask play a trio of +discords: they’ll drown all the harmonies of harp and +piano. Promise me two things, my child;” he added, +abruptly.</p> +<p>“What are they?” asked Mary, timidly and +tearfully.</p> +<p>“Just these: promise me to become a pledged abstainer; +and promise me that you’ll never marry a man that loves the +drink.”</p> +<p>Poor Mary burst into tears, but her mother came to her aid, +and said:</p> +<p>“I don’t quite see what good Mary’s signing +the pledge will do. She has taken neither beer nor wine for some +time past, so that she does all that is needed in the way of +example.”</p> +<p>“No, she does not, madam, if you’ll excuse my +being so blunt. She just does not do what will make her example +<i>tell</i>. Power for good comes through combination; the devil +knows it well enough, and he gets drunkards to band together in +clubs; and worldly people band together in clubs, and back one +another up and concentrate their forces. All who see the curse +and misery of the drink should sign, and not stand apart as +solitary abstainers; they won’t do the same good; it is by +uniting together that the great work is done by God’s +blessing. A body of Christian abstainers united in the same work, +and bound by the same pledge, attract others, and give them +something to lean on and cling to: and that is one reason why we +want children to combine in Bands of Hope. Why, I’ve seen a +man light a fire with a piece of glass, but how did he do it? Not +by putting the fuel under one ray of the sun; not by carrying it +about from place to place in the sunshine; but by gathering, with +the help of the glass, all the little rays together into one hot +bright focus. And so we want to gather together the power and +influence of total abstainers in Total Abstinence Societies and +Bands of Hope, by their union through the pledge as a common +bond. We want to set hearts on fire with a holy love that shall +make them burn to rescue poor slaves of the drink from their +misery and ruin. Won’t you help? Can you hold back? Are not +souls perishing by millions through the drink, and is any +sacrifice too dear to make, any cross too heavy to take up in +such a cause?”</p> +<p>The old man had risen, and was walking up and down the room +with great swinging strides. Then he stopped abruptly and waited +for an answer.</p> +<p>“I’m sure,” said Mrs Franklin, “we +would both sign if it could do any real good.”</p> +<p>“It <i>will</i> do good, it <i>must</i> do good: sign +now;” he produced a pledge-book: “no time like the +present.”</p> +<p>The signatures were made, and then Mr Tankardew, clasping his +thin hands together, and lifting up his eyes to heaven, offered a +short emphatic prayer that God would bless and strengthen these +His servants, and enable them by His grace to be a blessing to +others as pledged abstainers. And then he turned again to Mary, +and said:</p> +<p>“You have given me the one promise; will you give me the +other? Will you promise me that you will never knowingly marry a +man who loves the drink?”</p> +<p>Mary buried her face in her hands. A few moments, and no one +spoke.</p> +<p>“Hear me, my child,” cried the old man, again +beginning to pace the room with measured strides; “you are +dear to me, very dear, for you’re the image of one lost to +me years ago, long weary years ago. I cannot bear to see you +offered as another victim on the altar of the Drink-Moloch: he +has had victims enough: too many, too many. Do you wish to wither +into a premature grave? Do you wish to see the light die out of +your mother’s smile? Then marry a drink-worshipper. Do you +wish to tremble every time you hear the footstep of the man who +has turned ‘sweet home’ into a shuddering prison? +then marry a drink-worshipper. Do you wish to see little children +hide the terror of their eyes in your lap and tremble at the name +of father? Then marry a drink-worshipper. Stay, stay, I’m +an old fool to break out in this way, and scare you out of your +wits;” for Mary and her mother were both sobbing bitterly: +“forgive me, but don’t forget me; there, let us +change the subject.”</p> +<p>But Mary had checked her sobs, and, rising up calm and +beautiful in her tears, she laid her hand lovingly on the old +man’s arm, and said, gently but firmly:</p> +<p>“Dear old friend, thank you for what you have said. I +promise you that never will I knowingly marry one who loves +intoxicating drinks.”</p> +<p>“God bless you, my child. You have taken a load off the +old man’s heart, and off your mother’s too, I +know.”</p> +<p>Would Mary keep her word? She was soon to be put to the test. +Though Mark hesitated to propose to Mary Franklin, his mother had +no scruples on the subject. He had now come to man’s +estate, and she wished him to marry; specially she wished him to +marry Mrs Franklin’s daughter, as Mary would enjoy a nice +little income when she came of age, and Mark’s prospects +were cloudy enough as far as anything from his father was +concerned. Besides, she hoped that marrying Mary would steady her +son—a favourite scheme with mothers of drunkards. As for +Mary’s own peace or happiness, she never gave them a +thought. The experiment would be something like caging a tiger +and a lamb together for the purpose of subduing the tiger’s +ferocity; pleasant enough for the tiger, but simply destruction +to the lamb. However, Mrs Rothwell pressed Mark to propose, so he +yielded after a faint resistance, and now watched for his +opportunity.</p> +<p>It was a sweet July evening: the sun was near his setting, and +was casting long shadows across the lawn at the back of +“The Shrubbery.” Mrs Franklin was sitting on a garden +seat reading, her attention divided between her book and the +glowing tints of a bed of flowers all ablaze with variegated +beauty. A little shaded walk turned off near this seat into the +kitchen garden, which was separated from the flower garden in +this quarter by a deep ravine, at the bottom of which ran a trout +stream. The ravine was crossed by a rustic bridge. Mr John +Randolph had been calling at the house with some music, and, +being now looked upon more in the light of a friend than an +instructor, had the privilege of making a short cut to the +turnpike road over this foot bridge and through the kitchen +garden. Mark Rothwell also usually availed himself of this more +direct approach to the house. On the present occasion the two +young men met in the kitchen garden, and passed each other by +without recognition, Mark hurrying forward to make his proposal, +his already intense excitement inflamed by strong drink, which he +had taken with less caution than on his ordinary visits to +“The Shrubbery”; John Randolph lingering on his way +in a somewhat discontented mood, which was not improved by the +sight of Mark. Suddenly the stillness was broken by a loud scream +and cry for help: it was Mary Franklin’s voice. Both the +young men rushed towards the bridge, and beheld a sight which +filled them with dismay. Mary had strolled from her +mother’s side to the little foot bridge, and, filled with +sorrowful thoughts, leant against the rustic parapet. The +woodwork, which was inwardly decayed, gave way beneath her +weight; she tried to recover herself but in vain, and fell over +the side of the bridge, still, however, managing to keep herself +from plunging into the stream by clinging to a creaking fragment +of the broken rails. Her dress also helped to stay her up, having +become entangled with the woodwork. Mark reached the bridge +first, but was so confused by drink and excitement that he +scarcely knew what he was doing, when he felt himself flung aside +by the strong arm of John Randolph, who sprang forward, and +stooping down endeavoured to raise the poor terrified girl, but +for a few moments without success: indeed his own strength began +to fail, and it seemed as if both must be precipitated into the +stream, if assistance had not come from another quarter. +<img src="images/nlost103.jpg" alt="" /> The gardener hearing the +cries hurried up, and, lending his powerful help, Mary was +delivered from her peril, and was carried, fainting and bruised, +into the house by her two rescuers, before Mark Rothwell had +fairly recovered himself from the fall which John Randolph had +given him in his haste. But now, boiling with wrath and vexation, +Mark made his way to the front door, and disregarding in the +blindness of his passion the sight of Mary just recovering +consciousness, and of Mrs Franklin who was bending over her in +mingled grief and thankfulness, he turned furiously upon John, +who was just retiring, and shaking his fist in his face, cried +out:</p> +<p>“How dare you interfere with me, sir? I’ll not put +up with this insolence from my sisters’ discarded +music-master.”</p> +<p>The face of the other flushed crimson for a moment, then with +unruffled voice he replied:</p> +<p>“Better, Mr Mark, to be a master of music and of +one’s self, than a slave of the drink. I wish you good +evening.”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap09" id="chap09"></a> +<h3>Chapter Nine.</h3> +<h4>The Crisis.</h4> +<p>Several weeks had passed by after the accident and timely +rescue, weeks of anxious watching and tender nursing, before Mary +Franklin was sufficiently recovered from the shock and injuries +she had received to appear again among her friends. Many had been +the inquiries made by Mark and Mr Tankardew, and once or twice by +John Randolph.</p> +<p>It was on a calm Sabbath morning that mother and daughter +first walked beyond their own grounds, and made their way to the +little village church. Public thanks were offered that day for +Mary’s wonderful preservation, and many a loving eye looked +through tears at the pale, serene face of her who had been so +mercifully rescued. Was Mark Rothwell there?—no; but there +was one who could not help gazing for a few moments, with a +deeper sentiment than admiring pity, at the fair young girl, as +the words of holy praise “for the late mercies vouchsafed +unto her” were uttered by the minister: it was John +Randolph. They met after service at the gate of the churchyard, +and the young man having expressed his heartfelt congratulations, +after a moment’s hesitation offered Mary his arm, which she +gently declined. A slight shade of mingled shame, sadness, and +annoyance clouded his face for a moment, and as quickly passed +away. Mary was struggling to say something to him expressive of +her gratitude, but before she could put it into shape he was +gone.</p> +<p>The next day brought Mr Tankardew to “The +Shrubbery.” The old man drew Mary to him in the fulness of +his heart, and blessed her, calling her his child. “Well, +what have the doctors made of you?” he asked, rather +abruptly.</p> +<p>“Made of me?” asked Mary, laughing.</p> +<p>“Yes, made of you, they never could make anything +<i>of</i> me or <i>by</i> me; but what have they made of +<i>you</i>?”</p> +<p>“You puzzle me,” replied the other.</p> +<p>“Did they put labels on all their physic +bottles?”</p> +<p>“My dear sir,” interposed Mrs Franklin, +“I’m thankful to say that our doctor has prescribed +little else than rest and tonics.”</p> +<p>“And were the tonics labelled?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I understand you now. Mary has not broken her +pledge, she would take no wine.”</p> +<p>“Excellent girl! Of course she was ordered +wine?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Yes; and ale or porter too. The doctor almost +insisted on it.”</p> +<p>“Of course he did; they always do. Ah! Well! Brave girl! +You said no.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I felt convinced that I should do as well without +beer or wine, and I have had no cause to regret that I did not +take them.”</p> +<p>“Bravo! You’ll <i>never</i> regret it. You must +help us to fight the doctors: they mean well, some of them; but +most of them are building up the palace of intemperance faster +than we can pull it down. ‘The doctor ordered it;’ +that’s an excuse with thousands to drown their souls in +drink. I wonder if they’d swallow a shovelful of red hot +coals if the doctor ordered it?”</p> +<p>Summer had now given place to autumn; it was a bright +September day when the above conversation took place. When Mr +Tankardew rose to go, Mrs Franklin and Mary volunteered to +accompany him a little way. So they went forth, and a sweet and +pleasant sight it was, the hale, grey-haired veteran still full +of fire, yet checking his steps to keep pace with the young +girl’s feebler tread: she, all gentleness and sober +gladness, and her mother happy in the abiding trust of a +believing heart.</p> +<p>They passed out of the grounds across a lane thickly shaded by +trees, whose foliage was beginning to change its summer hue for +the gorgeous varieties of autumnal colouring. Then they followed +a winding path that skirted a wide sea of wheat, which rose and +fell in rustling waves, disclosing now and again bright dazzling +gleams of the scarlet poppy. At the end of this field was a stile +leading into the highroad to Hopeworth. Here they paused, and +were just about to part, when the sound of a horse’s feet +in rapid but very irregular motion arrested their attention. The +animal and his rider soon came into view, the latter evidently +keeping his seat with difficulty. There was plainly a struggle of +some kind going on between the brute and the <i>rational</i> +being who was mounted on him, and while drawing the reins tight +with one hand, was belabouring the poor creature about the head +most unmercifully with a heavy hunting whip. The horse not +appreciating the advantages of this treatment at the hands of its +<i>intellectual</i> owner, was resisting by a shuffling, +remonstrating sort of gallop; while his rider, who was evidently +a practised horseman, seemed to stick to his saddle by a kind of +instinct, having little else to guide him, for his hat was +completely shaken down over his eyes.</p> +<p>Mr Tankardew’s indignation was kindled in a moment.</p> +<p>“The wretch! The drunken beast!” he cried; +“serve him right if his horse pitches him head foremost +into the first ditch with any dirty water in it.”</p> +<p>On came the contending pair, the man swaying from side to +side, but nevertheless marvellously retaining his seat. At the +sight of the <img src="images/nlost109.jpg" alt="" /> ladies, or +at a sudden movement forward of Mr Tankardew, the animal swerved +and almost unseated his tormentor, who, however, recovered +himself, but in doing so lost his hat, as the poor beast again +plunged forward with his almost unconscious burden. The horseman +took no notice of his loss, nor did he see who were the +spectators of his sinful degradation, but to them he was fully +revealed: it was Mark Rothwell. Another minute and he was out of +sight.</p> +<p>Mary sank, with a bitter cry, into her mother’s arms, +while Mr Tankardew sprang forward to support them both. In a +moment or two, however, the ladies had recovered themselves, and +turned homewards. The old man saw that they would prefer to be +alone, so, with a kind and courteous farewell, he made his way +with slow strides towards the town.</p> +<p>“Humph!” he muttered to himself; +“‘Good entertainment for man and beast,’ +that’s what they put over some of these alcohol shops. +I’d like to know which was the beast just now. +Entertainment! Ay, very entertaining, such a sight to the devil +and his angels. O miserable drink! Haven’t you drowned +souls enough yet?”</p> +<p>Two days after this disgraceful exposure of himself, Mark +Rothwell made an early call at “The Shrubbery.” He +was utterly ignorant of his having been seen in his drunkenness +by Mrs Franklin and her daughter, and was scrupulously sober on +the present occasion, and full of good resolutions, as habitual +drunkards very commonly are after an outbreak of more than usual +violence. He was quite convinced—at least he was enjoying a +good deal of cheerful self-congratulation on the supposed +conviction—that he never would exceed again; so in the +strength of this conviction, he entered the room where Mary and +her mother were sitting, with a confident step, though he could +not quite keep down every feeling of misgiving. Still, it never +occurred to him that Mary could possibly refuse him. He had too +high an opinion of himself: he was such a general favourite and +so popular, that he felt sure any young lady of his acquaintance +would esteem herself honoured by the offer of his hand. He was +well aware, it is true, that Mary had a horror of drunkenness; +but he flattered himself, first, that he could persuade her that +he meant to be sober for the future, and a total abstainer too if +she required it; and then, that he had got a sufficient hold upon +her heart, or at any rate regard, to make her willing to accept +him without any stipulations rather than lose him. Strong in +these impressions, he had now come over to make a formal +proposal. The manner, however, of mother and daughter disturbed +him; something he saw was amiss; there was a sadness and +constraint in the words of both which distressed and embarrassed +him. After a brief conversation on commonplace topics Mary rose +hastily and left the room. Mark hesitated, but feeling that he +must seize the opportunity, he at once asked Mrs Franklin’s +permission to avow his attachment to her daughter.</p> +<p>A long and painful pause: broken, at last, by Mrs +Franklin’s reply, that she could not advise her daughter to +encourage his addresses.</p> +<p>Mark was thunderstruck! For several minutes surprise and +mortification kept him silent. At last he exclaimed:</p> +<p>“But what does Mary wish herself? We’ve known each +other so long; she knows I love her, she must know it. I’m +sure she would not refuse me; may I not see her? May I not have +‘yes,’ or ‘no,’ from her own +lips?”</p> +<p>“I will ask her,” was the reply; and poor Mark was +left for half an hour to his own not very agreeable reflections. +At the end of that time Mrs Franklin returned, with a sealed +letter in her hand.</p> +<p>“Mary does not feel equal to seeing you now,” she +said, “and indeed I could not recommend her doing so at +present. She sends you this letter instead; do not read it +now,” for Mark was tearing it open, “but wait till +you can give it your calm and full attention.”</p> +<p>Mark would have remonstrated, but Mrs Franklin’s quiet +decision restrained him; he flung himself out of the house, and +on reaching the highway, burst open the envelope and read as +follows:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“Dear Mark,—We have always been friends, and I +hope shall remain so; but we can never be anything more to one +another. I have solemnly resolved in God’s sight that I +will never marry a drunkard, and I never will. I was witness to +your ill-usage of your poor horse the other day, when you were +intoxicated; I cannot forget it; my mind is made up, I cannot +alter it, and my dear mother entirely approves of my decision. I +thank you for your offer, and pray that you may have grace given +you to forsake the sin which has made it impossible that there +can ever be more than a feeling of sincere interest and +kindliness towards yourself, from yours truly,—</p> +<p>“Mary Franklin.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mark Rothwell tore the letter, when he had glanced through it, +into bits, dashed them on the ground, and, with loud +imprecations, stamped on them. There was a fire in his heart, a +mad desire for revenge; he was, what drunkards must be, +essentially selfish. Wounded vanity, disappointed affection, +bitter jealousy, were the fuel to that fire. He had no thought +now of remonstrance with Mary: he had no <i>wish</i> to +remonstrate: his one great burning desire was to be revenged. He +rushed home, but found little to cheer him there. For months past +a cloud had hung over “The Firs,” which had become +denser and darker every day. And now it was come abroad that Mr +Rothwell was bankrupt. It was too true: the reckless expenditure +of Mark, and the incautious good nature of Mr Rothwell, which had +led him, under the influence of free living, to engage in +disastrous speculations, had brought ruin on the miserable +family. A few more weeks and “The Firs” was +untenanted.</p> +<p>But, in the midst of all this darkness, there shone forth a +ray of heavenly light.</p> +<p>It was near midnight of the day when the sale of Mr +Rothwell’s effects had taken place at “The +Firs.” A candle twinkled still in the cottage of Mrs +Forbes, for there was work to be sent home early on the morrow, +and neither lateness nor weariness might suspend their anxious +toil. Lame Sally and her mother had been talking over, what was +in everyone’s mouth and thoughts, the sad downfall of the +Rothwells. They saw God’s hand in it, but they did not +rejoice; they had found their Saviour true to His word, and +enjoyed a peace in casting their care on Him which they knew all +the wealth of the world could not have given them. Only one thing +they still prayed for which the Lord had not yet granted: Jim, +poor Jim! But what was that? A footstep: how their hearts beat! +Could it be the old familiar tread? Yes; Jim, but no longer +drunken, gambling, prodigal Jim, was next moment at his +mother’s feet, and a minute after with his arms round his +sister’s neck. And there was weeping, but not for sorrow, +in that cottage, and there was joy before the angels of heaven +over a repentant sinner. Jim was come back. A mother’s and +sister’s prayers had reached him and drawn him home. He was +sober now: he was a pledged abstainer: he had brought his pay in +his hand and love in his heart; and that night, while the shadows +lay thick around the deserted mansion of “The Firs,” +and not even the wail of sorrow broke the stillness, there was +light and music and peace in that humble cottage; the light of +love, the music of thanksgiving, and “the peace of God +which passeth understanding.”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap10" id="chap10"></a> +<h3>Chapter Ten.</h3> +<h4>Desperate Doings.</h4> +<p>It is not to be supposed that Mary Franklin could mourn very +deeply the departure of Mark Rothwell. Recent events had worn out +the old impressions of tenderness. All that was bright and +attractive in Mark had melted away before the scorching, +withering flame of alcohol. She had heard his cruel taunts to her +preserver on the evening of her rescue; she had seen him +shamefully intoxicated when ill-using his poor horse. Could she +cherish love or tenderness for such a being as this? Impossible! +She was thankful to forget him. O misery! Why do so many of the +good and noble frown upon those who would keep the intoxicating +cup altogether out of the hands of the young? What do the young +lose by never tasting it? Not health, not cheerfulness, not +self-respect, not self-control. No! And what do they gain by +tasting? Too often, habits of ruinous self-indulgence; too often +a thirst which grows with years; too often a withered manhood or +womanhood, and a decrepit and dishonoured old age.</p> +<p>October was drawing to its close: nothing had been heard of +the Rothwells, and their old dwelling was now occupied by another +tenant. John Randolph’s visits to “The +Shrubbery” began to be more frequent, and were certainly +not unacceptable. Gratitude to him for her rescue forbade +Mary’s repelling him; and, indeed, the more she and her +mother came to know him, the more they learnt to value his manly +and Christian character. They began likewise to perceive that he +was more than he seemed to be. Mr Tankardew had given them to +understand latterly that he was their equal both in birth and +fortune. A mystery there was about him, it was true; but the veil +was now getting so thin that they could both see pretty +distinctly through it, but were content to wait for the proper +time of its withdrawal. And so it was felt by all that, in time, +John Randolph and Mary Franklin would be drawn together by a +closer bond than that of esteem and respect, but no one as yet +gave outspoken expression to this conviction.</p> +<p>Things were thus hanging in no unpleasing suspense, when, in +the twilight of an October evening, two men of rather suspicious +appearance might have been seen climbing the paling <i>fence</i> +at the back of “The Shrubbery.” Scarcely had one of +them reached the top, when a third person approached, at first +hastily; then he suddenly checked himself, and cautiously crept +along, so as to keep himself out of the sight of the two others +who were climbing into the grounds. This third person was John +Randolph, who had lately left “The Shrubbery,” and +had come round by the road at the back, to call, by Mrs +Franklin’s request, on a poor sick cottager in the village. +The road in this part was lonely, and the trespassers evidently +imagined themselves unobserved. The first who scaled the palings +was a stoutish, middle-aged man: but who was the other? +Randolph’s heart beat violently with a terrible suspicion. +Did he know this second figure? He could not be quite sure, for +he was afraid to approach too near; but he was almost convinced +that he had seen him before. When fairly over the fence, both men +crept along as quietly as possible under the shelter of a large +bank of evergreens. He who had climbed over last led the way, and +was plainly well acquainted with the grounds; he was a much +younger man than his companion, and seemed scarcely sober, yet +without having lost self-possession and the knowledge of what he +was doing. John waited till they were fairly out of hearing, and +then himself rapidly and noiselessly followed them towards the +house under cover of the laurels. It was now getting very dusk, +but he could manage to track them till they had reached some +outhouses, along the wall of which they crawled, crouching down. +And now they had arrived at the rear of the house, and stood in +shadow opposite a back passage window. Randolph crept silently up +and squeezed himself behind a huge water-butt, where he was +perfectly concealed, and could overhear part of the conversation +now hurriedly held between the two burglars, if such they +were.</p> +<p>“You’re sure the man does not sleep in the +house?” asked the elder man.</p> +<p>“Sure,” replied the second, in a husky whisper. +John Randolph felt pretty certain that he knew the voice, but he +hardly dared think it.</p> +<p>“Where’s the plate chest?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know: most likely in the pantry.”</p> +<p>John was now confident that he knew the speaker.</p> +<p>“Hush!” whispered the elder man, fiercely, +“this passage window ’ll do: it won’t take much +to prise it open: you’ll look after the women.”</p> +<p>“Trust <i>me</i> for that,” muttered the other; +and Randolph thought he heard a click, as of the cocking of a +pistol.</p> +<p>“Hush, you fool!” growled the older burglar, with +an oath: then there was a few moments’ silence, and the two +crept back. They sat down under the shelter of some large shrubs, +with their backs to John, who could only just make them out from +his hiding-place, for it was now getting quite dark. A little +while, and they rose, and passed very near their unsuspected +watcher, who could just catch the words “Two +o’clock,” as they made their way back to the fence. A +few moments more, and they were clear of the grounds.</p> +<p>John Randolph’s mind was made up in a moment what to do. +Having cautiously followed the two men into the road, and +ascertained that they were not lurking anywhere about “The +Shrubbery,” he hurried off at once to Hopeworth, and +communicated what he had seen and heard to the police. He was +very anxious that no unnecessary alarm should be given to Mrs +Franklin or Mary, and that they should be kept, if possible, in +ignorance of the whole matter till the danger was over; so he +resolved to accompany the constables, who, with the +superintendent, were preparing to encounter the housebreakers. It +was presumed, from what he had overheard, that an attempt was to +be made on “The Shrubbery” that very night, and that +the two men seen by John Randolph were only part of a larger +gang. Help was therefore procured, and about one o’clock a +party of a dozen, including John, all disguised in +labourers’ clothes, had noiselessly scaled the fence in +different parts by two and two, and, recognising one another by a +password previously agreed upon, were soon clustered together +under some dense shrubs not far from the passage window before +mentioned. It was a tranquil morning, but very cloudy. All was +deep stillness in the house. Little did Mrs Franklin and her +daughter think, as they read together before parting for the +night those comforting words, “The angel of the Lord +encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth +them,” that such foes and such protectors were so close at +hand. But they laid them down in perfect peace, and their +heavenly Father’s loving power was as a wall of fire about +them. Patiently did the watchers listen from their hiding-place +to every sound. Two o’clock, at last, rang out clear from +the great timepiece on the stairs; they could hear it distinctly +outside. What was that sound? Only the distant barking of a fox. +But now there are other sounds. One, two, three, at length six +men in all have crept to the part of the yard opposite the back +door. All paused and looked carefully round: everything seemed +safe.</p> +<p>“Well,” said one who appeared to be a leader, +“it does not seem as if we need be over particular: +there’s neither dog nor man about, and the women +won’t <i>do</i> much. Where’s the crowbar?”</p> +<p>“Here.”</p> +<p>Just at this moment a bright ray of light flashed out along +the passage, and a female figure could be seen crossing the +landing. The housebreakers shrunk back.</p> +<p>“It will not do,” said the leader, half aloud; +“they’ve got scent of us somehow: pr’aps +they’ve some men inside to help them, we’d better be +off.”</p> +<p>“Fools! Cowards!” exclaimed a younger man, in a +fierce whisper, as the others began to slink away; “are you +afraid of a parcel of women? But I’ll not be baffled: +she’s there:” and he raised a pistol, and pointed it +towards the figure which had descended close to the passage +window with the light in her hand, and was trying to peer into +the darkness outside. His companion pulled down his arm with a +savage imprecation. All was still for a few minutes, and the +female retired to the landing and then disappeared. The burglars +hesitated, when, just at the moment of their indecision, one of +the police imitated the low growling of a dog close at hand. +Instantly the whole gang took to their heels, closely followed by +the constables. No shout had been raised, no word had been +spoken, for John Randolph had been most anxious that the thieves +should be captured without alarming the ladies. And now in the +darkness, pursuers and pursued were scattered in different +directions. John sprang after the young man who had raised the +pistol, and succeeded in grappling with him before he could mount +the fence. The clouds were now dispersed, and there was light +enough for one to recognise another. Randolph could not doubt; +the intended murderer was Mark Rothwell. Fiercely did the two +young men strive together, and at last both fell, Mark undermost; +and, relaxing <img src="images/nlost123.jpg" alt="" /> his hold, +John was rising to his feet, when the other drew a pistol, but +before he could fire his adversary had turned it aside; it went +off, wounding the unhappy young man who held it. Randolph drew +back in dismay, hearing the injured man’s involuntary +groan, but in another instant Mark had drawn a second pistol and +fired. The ball grazed the other’s forehead, and he +staggered back stupefied. When he recovered himself Mark had +disappeared, and never from that night was heard of or seen in +Hopeworth or its neighbourhood. Near the part of the fence where +the scuffle took place were afterwards found marks of a +horse’s hoofs, and traces of blood. The miserable young man +contrived to get clear away: the rest of the gang were all +captured by the police.</p> +<p>The day after this adventure old Mr Tankardew and John +Randolph paid a visit together to “The Shrubbery.” Of +course the wildest tales were in circulation, the central point +in most being the murder of Mrs Franklin and her daughter. +“I trust,” said the old man to Mary and her mother, +“that you have suffered nothing but a little fright. +All’s well that ends well, and I’m thankful that my +young friend here was able to be of some service; you see, God +can take care of His own.”</p> +<p>“It has been so, indeed,” replied Mrs Franklin; +“Mary could not sleep, she cannot tell why; she felt +restless and uneasy, and just about two o’clock she was +crossing to my room, when she thought she heard some unusual +sounds in the yard. She looked out of the passage window, but +could see nothing; then she heard a sort of scuffle, and, after +that, all was still; and, though we were rather alarmed, we heard +nothing more. But this morning has brought us strange tidings, +and I find that we are again indebted to our kind young friend +here for help in time of need, and that, too, I fear, at his own +imminent risk.”</p> +<p>“Don’t mention this,” said the young man; +“it has been a privilege to me to have been able to render +this assistance. I am only too thankful that I was put in the way +of discovering what might have otherwise been a very serious +business. But we must see that you are better protected for the +future.”</p> +<p>“True, true, John,” interrupted Mr Tankardew, +smiling; “I see I must put in a word. My dear child, Miss +Franklin seems more willing than able to speak just now. Yes; let +me make a clean breast of it. Let me introduce our young friend +in a new character, John Randolph Tankardew, my only son, my only +surviving child.” His voice trembled, and then he added, +“He has twice been the protector of my dear adopted +daughter, let me join their hands together as a pledge that he +may shortly obtain a better title to be her protector while life +shall last.”</p> +<p>And so, placing the half-shrinking hand of Mary in the young +man’s stronger grasp, he held them together with a fervent +blessing.</p> +<p>“And now,” he added, as they sat in a loving +group, too full of tearful peace to wish to break the charmed +silence by hasty words, “now let me tell my story, and +unravel the little tangle which has made me a mystery to my +neighbours, and a burden to my friends. But all that is past; +there are brighter days before us now.”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap11" id="chap11"></a> +<h3>Chapter Eleven.</h3> +<h4>Mr Tankardew’s Story Begun.</h4> +<p>“You must know, dear friends,” began the old man +sadly, “that I’m a wiser man now than I was once. Not +that there’s much wisdom to boast of now; only I have +learnt by experience, and he is a sharp schoolmaster.</p> +<p>“I was born to trust others; it was misery to me to live +in distrust and suspicion; I couldn’t do it. People told me +I was a fool; it was true, I knew it, but I went on trusting. +David said in his haste, ‘all men are liars.’ I said +in my haste, or rather my folly, ‘all men are true.’ +They might lie to others, but I thought they couldn’t, or +wouldn’t, or didn’t lie to me. At any rate I’d +trust them; it was so sad to think that a being made in +God’s image could go about wilfully deceiving others. +I’d take a brighter view of my fellow-men and women. I +never could abide your shrewd, knowing people, who seemed to be +always living with a wink in their eyes, and a grin on their +lips, as if they believed in nobody and nothing but their own +sharpness. I loathed them, and I loathe them still. But I +wasn’t wise. I had to smart for it. I had plenty of money +when I came of age, and I had plenty of friends, or rather +acquaintances, who knew it. But I was shy, and not over fond of +many companions; my weakness wasn’t in that direction. I +had sense enough to see through your common gold-hunters. I was +never over fond of sugar-candy; coarse flattery made me sick, and +I had no taste for patching up the holes in the purses of +profligates and spendthrifts. I never was a worshipper of money, +but I knew its value, and wasn’t disposed to make ducks and +drakes of it, nor partridges and pheasants either. So the summer +flies, after buzzing about me a little, flew off to sunnier +spots; all except one. He puzzled me a bit at first, but I blamed +myself for having a shadow of suspicion of him. All seemed so +open about him, open hands, open eyes, open brow; he wound +himself round my heart before I knew where I was. Mine was a fair +estate (it will be yours one day, Mary, my child, I trust; +John’s and yours together). I’d lived away from home +many years before I came into it, for both my parents died while +I was young, and when I came of age, my nearest relations were +only distant. I never had brother nor sister. When I came to +reside on my property the neighbours called, and I returned their +calls, and it didn’t go much beyond that. They thought me +cold and unfeeling, but they were mistaken. But I must go back +and take up my dropped thread. I said there was one man who got +hold of my heart. I had a good stout fence of prejudices, and an +inner paling of reserve about that heart of mine, but he +contrived to climb over both, and get inside. I could have done +anything for him, but he did not seem to want anything but my +affection; so I thought. He had a sister: well, what shall I say? +I’m a poor, weak, old fool; it is all past and gone now. I +must go straight on; but it is like ploughing up my heart into a +thousand deep furrows with my own hand. But; well, he had a +sister; I’ll not tell you her name, nor his either: at +least not now. He brought her with him to call on me one day. She +had never been in the neighbourhood before, for her brother was +only a recent settler in the place. I was charmed with her; the +more so because she was so like her brother, so bright and so +open; so thoroughly transparent. She beamed upon me like a flood +of sunshine, and gilded my cloudy reserve with her own radiance, +so that I shone out myself in her company; so they told me, and I +believed it. I was young then, you’ll remember. I +wasn’t the wrinkled old pilgrim that I am now. We got +attached to one another, it would seem, at once; others may +<i>fall</i> in love; <i>we leapt</i> into it; I never thought to +ask myself whether she loved God. I was content to know that she +loved <i>me</i>. I was aware that I had a heart, but at that time +I hadn’t learnt that I had a soul. Well, my friend (shall I +drop the ‘r,’ and call him ‘fiend’? +’Twould be truer); he did all he could to hasten on our +marriage. He did it very quietly, so openly, too. He was so +radiant with joy at the thoughts of my coming happiness. +‘She was such a sister,’ he said, ‘she would be +such a wife to me.’ I never had any misgivings but once, +and then the shadow was but as the passing of a white cloud +before summer’s noonday sunshine. I was going from home for +a week, but unexpected business detained me for another day. I +walked over to my future brother-in-law’s in the afternoon. +It was summer time. I went in, as was my habit, by the garden +door, and was crossing the lawn, when I heard sounds of wild +laughter proceeding from a little summer-house; they were sounds +of boisterous and almost idiotic mirth. There was a duet of +merriment, in which a male and female each took a part. I hardly +knew what I was doing, or whether to go back or advance. As I +hesitated, all was hushed. I saw a female figure dart like +lightning into the house, and then my friend (I must call him so +for want of a better title) came forward, and holding out both +his hands to me, said ‘Welcome, welcome, this is an +unexpected pleasure. I thought you were far away on your journey +before now; my sister and I have been almost dying with laughter +over a book lent to us by a friend. I do think I never read +anything so irresistibly ludicrous in all my life.’ I +hardly knew what to say in reply, I was so completely taken +aback. I was turning, however, towards the summer-house in which +I just caught a glance of a table with a bottle and glasses on +it, when my companion, catching my arm in his, hurried me away to +another part of the garden, where, he said, he was going to make +some improvements, about which he must have my judgment and +suggestions. As we afterwards went into the house, we again +passed the summer-house, but the glasses and bottle were gone. We +entered into one of the sitting-rooms, and the servant came to +tell us that her mistress had just been sent for to see a poor +sick cottager, who wanted her immediately. This led her brother +to break out into raptures about his sister’s benevolence, +self-denial, and charity! Indeed, I never heard him so eloquent +on any subject before. I left, however, in a little while, for he +seemed unnaturally restless and excited during my stay, and a +cloud lowered upon me all the way home, but it had melted away by +the next morning. But I must hasten on. We were married soon +after this, and I settled a handsome allowance on my wife for her +own private use. She had no parents living, but had kept house +for another brother before she came to reside in our +neighbourhood. I wished to suppose myself happy as a married man, +but, somehow or other, I was not. My wife made large professions +of affection, but, spite of myself, I mistrusted them. Her +brother, too, seldom came now to see me, unless he had some +private business with his sister; and they were often closeted +together alone for an hour or more. Then she would come out to +me, radiant with smiles, and full of excitement; and her brother +would rattle on, hurrying from one topic to another, so as to +leave me no power to collect my thoughts, or shape any questions +which I was anxious to ask him. I am given to trust, as I have +told you, and ever shall be, if I live to be a dozen centuries +old. Still, I couldn’t help having my doubts, my grievous +doubts. Well, one morning, my brother-in-law called; he seemed +agitated, and in much distress, saying that he must give up his +house and join his brother, with whom he was in partnership; as +he found his presence was required for the investigation, and, he +feared it might be, the winding-up of their affairs. I pitied +him, and offered him help. He refused it almost with indignation, +but I pressed it, and he accepted a loan, merely as a loan, he +said, of a thousand pounds, for which I gave him a cheque on the +spot. With tears in his eyes, and a warm pressure of the hand, he +was gone. I never saw him again. A <i>few</i> mornings after +this; it was about six months after we were married; my wife and +I were sitting at breakfast when she threw a paper to me across +the table, saying, ‘I suppose you’ll see to +that.’ It was a bill for a considerable amount, contracted +by herself before our marriage, and for articles which were +certainly no part of a lady’s toilet or wardrobe, nor could +be of any possible use to one of her sex. I was astonished; but +she treated the matter very coolly, or appeared to do so. When I +asked for an explanation, she avoided my eye, and turned the +matter off; and when I pressed her on the subject, she said, +‘Well, it is no use my entering into explanations now; +you’ll find it all right.’ I was greatly disturbed, +for there was something in her manner that showed me she was ill +at ease, though she endeavoured to wear a nonchalant air. There +was a wild light, too, in her eyes, which distressed and almost +alarmed me, and a suspicion came over me which almost made me +faint. She left the breakfast table abruptly, and I saw no more +of her till luncheon time; but when I went to my library, I found +a packet on my table which I had not noticed there before. I +opened it; it was full of unpaid bills, all made out to my wife +in her maiden name, and most, indeed nearly all of them, for +articles unsuited for female use. A horrible suspicion flashed +across my mind. Could it possibly be that these were her +brother’s debts: that he had got these articles in her +name, and had had the bills sent in to her? And could it be that +brother and sister had been in league together, and that he with +all his assumption of openness and candour and large-heartedness, +had entrapped me into this marriage that I might liquidate the +debts of an abandoned and reckless profligate? And could it be, +farther, (madden ing thought!) that the <i>whole</i> extravagance +was not his, and that numerous unpaid accounts for wine and +spirits were, partly, for what she had taken as well as her +brother? Then I thought of the scene in the garden, of the wild +laughter, of her sudden disappearance, of the signs of drinking +in the summer-house. Oh! My heart turned sick; was I tricked, +deceived, ruined in my peace for ever? I paced up and down my +library, more like a lunatic than a sane man. Luncheon time came: +we met: she threw herself into my arms, and wept and laughed and +implored; but I felt that a drunkard was embracing me, and I +flung her from me, and rushed out of the house. O misery! Whither +should I go, what should I do? It was all too true: her brother +was the basest of men: she did love <i>him</i>, I believe, it was +the only unselfish thing about her. Well, I had to go back home; +<i>home</i>! Vilest of names to me then! ‘home, +<i>bitter</i> home!’ And yet I loved that poor guilty, +fallen creature. There was a terrible light in her eyes as we sat +opposite one another at dinner. We had to play a part before the +footman. Oh! What a dreadful meal that was! I seemed to be +feeding on ashes, and drinking wormwood. I felt as if every +morsel would choke me. We spoke to one another in measured terms. +Would the miserable farce of a dinner never be over? It came to +an end at last. And then she came to me trembling and penitent, +and, laying her head on my shoulder, wept till tears would fall +no longer. She was sober then; she had taken nothing but water at +dinner. She unburdened her heart to me (so I thought), and +confessed all. She told me how she and her brother had been +brought up, as children, in habits of self-indulgence, especially +in having free access to the wine and spirits. She told me that +she and her unworthy brother had been all in all to one another, +that gambling and drink had brought him into difficulties, and +that she had allowed him to run up accounts in her name. She +declared that he really loved and valued me, and that the thought +of hurrying on our marriage for any selfish object, was quite a +recent idea, suggested by distress under pecuniary embarrassment. +She asserted passionately that she truly loved me; she implored +me to overlook the past, and promised, with solemn appeal to +Heaven, that she would renounce the drink from that hour, and +give me no more uneasiness. Ay, she promised; a drunkard’s +promise! Lighter than the lightest gossamer; brittle as the ice +of an April morning. I believed her: did she believe herself? I +fear not. But the worst was to come, the shadows were deepening, +the storm was gathering. A year had passed over our wedded life, +when a little girl was given to us. Every cord of my heart that +had been untwined or slackened of late wound itself fast round +that blessed little one.”</p> +<hr /></div> +<div class="bodytext"><a name="chap12" id="chap12"></a> +<h3>Chapter Twelve.</h3> +<h4>Mr Tankardew’s Story Finished.</h4> +<p>“All was joy for a time. We called our little one Mary; +it was a name I loved. I had not lived as a total abstainer; +though, as I told you once, my mother, whom I can only recollect +as a widow, had banished all intoxicants from our table. But I +was young when she died, and I became, and continued for many +years a moderate drinker. But now when our little girl was born, +I had swept the house clear of all alcoholic drinks; we +hadn’t a drop in the place from cellar to attics, so I +thought. And my wife agreed with me that our little one should +never know the taste of the strong drink. We had not many +friends, for I was shy and reserved still, and my home was my +world and society; at least I wished it to be so. Sometimes I +thought my wife strangely excited, it looked very like the old +misery, but she solemnly declared that she never tasted anything +intoxicating. I hoped she spoke the truth, even against the +evidence of my senses. After a while she persuaded me that I +wanted change, that I was rusting out in my loneliness. She would +have me accept an invitation to a friend’s house now and +then: it would do me good. <i>She</i> was happy in her home, she +said, only she should be happier still if she could see me +gaining spirits by occasional intercourse with like-minded +friends. Not that she wished me to leave her; it was for my own +good she said it, and she should be delighting in the thoughts of +the good it would do me, and should find abundance to cheer her +in my absence, in the care of our darling child. She said all +this so openly, so artlessly, that I believed her. I thought she +might be right; so I went now and then from home for a few days, +and, by degrees, more and more frequently. And my wife encouraged +it. She said it did me so much good, and the benefit I reaped in +improved health, spirits, and intelligence quite reconciled her +to the separation. We went on so till our Mary was five years +old; I could not say that my wife was ever manifestly +intemperate, but painful suspicions hung like a black cloud over +me. At last one summer’s day, one miserable day: I can +never forget it: I set out to pay a week’s visit to a +friend, who lived some ten miles distant from my home. I drove +myself in a light, open carriage; my horse was young and rather +shy. I was just going round a bend in the road, when a boy jumped +suddenly over a hedge, right in front of us. Away went my horse +at the top of his speed, and soon landed me in a ditch, and broke +away, leaving the carriage with a fractured shaft behind him. I +was not hurt myself, so I got assistance from the nearest +cottage; and, having caught my horse, and found someone to whom I +could trust the repairing of my vehicle, I walked home. It was +afternoon when I arrived. I walked straight in through the back +of the premises, and entered the dining-room; there was no one +there. I was going to ring for one of the servants, when the door +opened, and little Mary toddled (I ought rather to say tottered) +up to me. Her mother was close behind her, but, at the sight of +me, she uttered a wild cry, shut the door violently, and rushed +upstairs. I had seen enough in her face: too much, too much! And +the little child, our darling little Mary, what was amiss with +her? Could it be? Had that cruel woman dared to do such a thing? +Yes: it was so indeed: the little child was under the influence +of strong drink; I drew the horrible truth from her by degrees. +The mother had taught that little babe to like the exciting cup; +she had sweetened and made it specially palatable. She had done +this to make the child a willing partaker in her sin, to bribe +her to secrecy, and to use her as a tool for the gratifying of +her own vile appetite. Thus was she deliberately poisoning the +body and soul of her child, and training her in deceit, that she +might league that little one, as she grew up, with herself in +procuring the forbidden stimulant, and in deceiving her own +father. O accursed drink, which can thus turn a mother into the +tempter and destroyer of her own guileless and unsuspecting +child! I rushed out of the room, and was about to hurry upstairs, +but I shrank back shivering and heart-sick. Then I went up slowly +and heavily: my bedroom door was bolted; so was the door of my +wife’s dressing-room; I came downstairs again, and, taking +Mary by the hand, went into my library. There the storm of +trouble did its work, for it drove me down upon my knees. I +poured out my heart in strong crying to God; I owned that I had +lived without Him, and that I had not loved nor sought Him. I +prayed for pardon and a new heart, and that He would have mercy +on my poor wife and child. As I knelt in my agony of supplication +I felt two little hands placed on my own, then mine were gently +pulled from me, and my precious little child, looking up in my +face with streaming eyes, said, ‘Papa, don’t cry; +dear papa, don’t cry. I <i>will</i> be a good girl.’ +I pressed her to my heart, and blessed God that it was not yet +too late. Before nightfall I had driven away with that dear +child, and had placed her with a valued friend whom I could +trust, one of the few who had ever visited at our house, a total +abstainer, and, better still, a devoted Christian. My child had +always loved her, and I felt that I could leave her in such hands +with the utmost confidence. But I had a home still, in name at +least, for all the sunshine had gone out of the word +‘home’ for me. I returned the next day to our +childless house: where was the mother? She lay on the floor of +her dressing-room, crushed in spirit to the dust. I raised her +up; she would not look at me, but hid her face in her hands; her +eyes were dry, she had wept away all her tears. I could not bear +her grief, and I tried to comfort her; all might yet be well. +Again she confessed all, her deceit, her heartlessness; but she +laid it to the drink. True, she was in this a self-deceiver, but +how terrible must be the power for evil in a stimulant which can +so utterly degrade the soul, cloud the intellect, and benumb the +conscience! Well, she poured forth a torrent of vows, promises, +and resolutions for the future. I bade her turn them into +prayers, but she did not understand me. However, there was peace +for awhile: our Mary came home again, and I watched her with an +unwearying carefulness. Another year brought us a son: he sits +among us now: John Randolph we call him. There was a sort of +truce till John was ten years old. I knew that my poor unhappy +wife still continued to obtain strong drink, but she did not take +it to excess to my knowledge, and it was never placed upon our +table. I was myself, at this time, practically a total abstainer, +but I had signed no pledge. I didn’t see the use of it +then, so I had not got my children to sign. My poor wife +<i>professed</i> to take no alcoholic stimulants, yet I could not +but know that she was deceiving herself. She was, alas! Too +self-confident. She seemed to think that all danger of +<i>excess</i> was now over, and that a white lie about taking +none was no real harm, so long as it satisfied <i>me</i>; but it +neither deceived nor satisfied me. At last, one winter’s +day, she proposed that John should drive her in her pony-carriage +to the neighbouring village, where there was an old servant of +ours who was ill, whom she wanted to see. The pony was a quiet +one, and was used to John’s driving, so I did not object, +as I was very busy at the time, and could not therefore drive +myself. It was very late before she came back; she had kept the +poor boy at the cottage door nearly two hours, and when she +returned to the carriage was so excited that he was in fear and +trembling all the way home. That night his miserable mother lay +hopelessly intoxicated on a sofa when I retired to my +resting-<i>place</i>, for to rest I certainly did not retire. +From that day she utterly broke down, and became lost to all +shame; one appetite, one passion alone, possessed her; a mad +thirst for the drink. We separated by mutual consent, and I made +her an allowance sufficient to supply all her lawful wants. Alas! +Alas! The sad end hurries on. She wrote to me for a larger +allowance; I knew what she wanted it for, and I refused. She +wrote again and I did not reply. Then she wrote to Mary with the +same object. Of course, I need hardly tell you that the children +remained with me. Poor dear Mary loved her mother dearly, and +sent her all her own pocket money. I found it out, and forbade it +for the future. Two more years passed by. From time to time I +heard of my miserable wife; she was sinking lower and lower. At +last, in the twilight of an autumn evening, as Mary was returning +home alone, a wild-looking, ragged woman crept towards her with a +strange, undecided step: it was her mother. She flung herself at +her child’s feet, imploring her, if she still had any love +for her, to find her the means of gratifying her insatiable +thirst. She must die, she said, if she refused her. Poor Mary, +poor Mary! Terror-stricken, heart-broken, she spoke words of +love, of entreaty, to that miserable creature; she urged her to +break off her sin; she pointed her to Jesus for strength; she +told her that she dared not supply her regularly with money, as +she had promised me that she would not, and it would do her no +good. The wretched woman slunk away without another word. Next +day her body was found floating on the river; she had destroyed +herself. Poor, dear Mary never looked up after that. She +connected her mother’s awful end with her own refusal to +give her money for the drink, though there could be no blame to +her: and so she faded away, my lovely child, and left me, ere +another spring came round, for the land of eternal summers. I was +heart-sick, hopeless; life seemed objectless; I gave way to +despondency, and forgot my duty as a man and a Christian. I felt +that I was no proper guide nor companion for poor John; so I sent +him first to France, where he gained his skill as an artist and +musician; and since then he has, by his own desire, been a +traveller in distant lands. I let my house, and came over to +Hopeworth, to be out of the way of everything and everybody that +could remind me of the past. Yet, I could not forget. You noticed +the vacant space in my sitting-room, where a picture should have +been; that empty space reminded me of what might have been, had +my wife, whose portrait should have been there, been a different +wife to me. But light came at last. When I saw <i>you</i>, Mary +my child, for the first time, I scarce knew what to say or think. +You were, and are, the very image of my own loved and lost one, +my Mary my beloved child; the portrait behind the panel is hers. +I longed to have you for my own. I determined, however, to see +what you were; I went to the juvenile party merely for that end. +And then, when John came home unexpectedly, I resolved in my +heart that, if I could bring it about, you <i>should</i> be my +own dear child. So John and I talked it over; and John, who is a +true branch from the old tree, a little crotchety or so, was +resolved to win you in his own fashion; and, having learnt a +little colonial independence, he wished to look at you a bit +behind the scenes; so he would come before you, not as the heir +of an eccentric old gentleman, with a good estate and plenty of +money to speak for him, but as the travelled artist and +music-master. And now, I think I’ve pretty well unravelled +the greater part of the tangle; the rest you can easily smooth +out for yourselves.</p> +<p>“So you see it has been ‘nearly lost, but dearly +won.’ My child, Mary, you nearly lost old Esau’s +heart, when you seemed bent on throwing your own away; but +you’ve won it, and won it dearly, like a dear good child. +You nearly lost your peace to one who would soon have drowned it +out of home, but you won it dearly and bravely, I know, at no +little sacrifice. And John, my son, I once thought you’d +nearly lost the noblest and best of wives; but you’ve won +her, and dearly, too, but she’s worth the price of a little +stooping, ay, and of a great deal too. And old Esau Tankardew +nearly lost his peace and his self-respect, in selfish +unsanctified sorrow, but he has won something better than +respect, though it cost him a hard struggle; he has won a +daughter who hates that drink which blotted out light and joy +from the old man’s home and heart; and he has won, through +grace, a peace that passeth understanding, and can say, +‘Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our +Lord Jesus Christ.’”</p> +<h4>The End.</h4> +<hr /></div> +<div class="navigation">| <a href="#chap01">Chapter 1</a> | | +<a href="#chap02">Chapter 2</a> | | <a href="#chap03">Chapter +3</a> | | <a href="#chap04">Chapter 4</a> | | <a href= +"#chap05">Chapter 5</a> | | <a href="#chap06">Chapter 6</a> | | +<a href="#chap07">Chapter 7</a> | | <a href="#chap08">Chapter +8</a> | | <a href="#chap09">Chapter 9</a> | | <a href= +"#chap10">Chapter 10</a> | | <a href="#chap11">Chapter 11</a> | | +<a href="#chap12">Chapter 12</a> | +<hr /></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Nearly Lost but Dearly Won, by Theodore P. 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