1 files changed, 7295 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/35290.txt b/35290.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78b40c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/35290.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,7295 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mattie:--A Stray (Vol 1 of 3), by
+Frederick William Robinson
+
+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: Mattie:--A Stray (Vol 1 of 3)
+
+Author: Frederick William Robinson
+
+Release Date: February 15, 2011 [EBook #35290]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATTIE:--A STRAY (VOL 1 OF 3) ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Davies, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           MATTIE:--A STRAY.
+
+                           BY F. W. ROBINSON
+
+   THE AUTHOR OF "HIGH CHURCH," "NO CHURCH," "OWEN:-A WAIF," &c., &c.
+
+     "By bestowing blessings upon others, we entail them on ourselves."
+        HORACE SMITH.
+
+    IN THREE VOLUMES
+
+    VOL. I.
+
+    LONDON:
+    HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
+    SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
+    18, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
+    1864.
+
+    _The right of Translation is reserved._
+
+    LONDON:
+    PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE,
+    BLENHEIM STREET, OXFORD STREET.
+
+
+              INSCRIBED
+                 TO
+         ALFRED EAMES, ESQ.,
+    ROYAL NAVAL SCHOOL, NEW CROSS,
+                 BY
+     HIS OLD AND ATTACHED FRIEND
+             THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
+
+
+BOOK I. FIGURES IN OUTLINE.
+
+I. LIFE IN GREAT SUFFOLK STREET
+
+II. MATTIE
+
+III. LODGERS
+
+IV. MR. HINCHFORD'S EXPERIMENT
+
+V. SET UP IN BUSINESS
+
+VI. THE END OF THE PROLOGUE
+
+
+BOOK II. THE NEW ESTATE.
+
+I. HOME FOR GOOD
+
+II. A GIRL'S ROMANCE
+
+III. OUR CHARACTERS
+
+IV. A NEW ADMIRER
+
+V. PERSEVERANCE
+
+VI. "IN THE FULNESS OF THE HEART," ETC.
+
+VII. CONFIDENCE
+
+VIII. SIDNEY STATES HIS INTENTIONS
+
+
+BOOK III. UNDER SUSPICION.
+
+I. AN OLD FRIEND
+
+II. STRANGE VISITORS TO GREAT SUFFOLK STREET
+
+III. SIDNEY'S SUGGESTION
+
+IV. PERPLEXITY
+
+V. MR. WESDEN TURNS ECCENTRIC
+
+VI. A BURST OF CONFIDENCE
+
+VII. THE PLAN FRUSTRATED
+
+VIII. A SUDDEN JOURNEY
+
+
+
+
+MATTIE: A STRAY.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+FIGURES IN OUTLINE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+LIFE IN GREAT SUFFOLK STREET.
+
+
+It was not an evening party of the first water, or given by people of
+first-rate position in society, or held in a quarter whither the
+fashionable classes most do congregate. It was a small party--ostensibly
+a juvenile party--held on the first floor of a stationer's shop in Great
+Suffolk Street, Southwark.
+
+Not even a first-rate stationers', had the shutters been down and the
+fog less dense to allow us to inspect Mr. Wesden's wares; but an
+emporium, which did business in no end of things--cigars, tobacco-pipes,
+children's toys, glass beads by the skein or ounce, fancy work, cottons
+and tapes. These, the off-shoots from the stationery business, the
+news-vending, the circulating of novels in four, five, and six volumes
+at one penny per volume, if not detained more than three days; a
+stationery business which report said had not turned out badly for old
+Wesden, thanks to old Wesden's patience, industry and care, say
+we--thanks to his screwing and his close-fistedness that would not have
+trusted his own mother, had she lived, said the good people--for there
+are good people everywhere--in Great Suffolk Street. Certainly, there
+were but small signs of "close-fistedness" about the premises on that
+particular evening; the shop had been closed at an earlier hour than
+business men would have considered suitable. They were wasting the gas
+in Mr. Wesden's drawing-room; feasting and revelry held dominion there.
+There had been three separate knocks given at the door from three
+separate Ganymedes--No. 1, with oranges; No. 2, with tarts from the
+pastry-cook; No. 3, with beer, which last was left in a tin can of
+colossal proportions, supper not being ready, and beer being liable to
+flatness in jugs--especially the beer from the Crown.
+
+We watch all this from the outside, in the thick fog which made things
+unpleasant in Great Suffolk Street. There is more life, and life that
+appertains to this chapter of our history, outside here than in that
+first floor front, where the sons and daughters of Mr. Wesden's
+neighbours are playing at forfeits, romping, jumping, and laughing, and
+thoroughly enjoying themselves. They are not thinking of the fog, the
+up-stairs folk shut away from the rawness of that January night; it
+would have troubled Mr. Wesden had his shop been open, and led him to
+maintain a stricter watch over the goods, and upon those customers whose
+faces might be strange to him; but he had forgotten the weather at that
+juncture, and sat in the corner of the drawing-room, smoking his pipe,
+and keeping his daughter--a bright-faced, golden-haired girl of
+twelve--within his range of vision. The fog and the cold troubled no one
+at Mr. Wesden's--only "outsiders" objected, and remarked upon them to
+friends when they met, coughing over one, and shivering through the
+other, as lungs and scanty clothes necessitated. The establishment of
+Mr. Wesden, stationer, troubled or attracted, an outsider though, who
+had passed and repassed it three or four times between the hours of
+eight and nine, p.m., and at half-past nine had backed into the recess
+of Mr. Wesden's doorway. A small outsider, of uncertain age--a boy, a
+nondescript, an anything, judging by the pinched white face and unkempt
+hair; a girl, by the rag of a frock that hung upon her, and from which
+her legs and feet protruded.
+
+Subject matter of great interest was there for this small
+watcher--huddled in the doorway, clutching her elbows with her bony
+fingers, and listening at the keyhole, or varying proceedings now and
+then by stepping on to the clammy pavement, and looking up, through the
+fog, at the lighted blinds, once or twice indulging in a flat-footed
+kind of jig, to keep her feet warm. She was one of few loiterers in
+Great Suffolk Street that uncomfortable night--men, women, and boys
+hurried rapidly past, and thinned in number as the night stole on--only
+a policeman slouched by occasionally, and dismayed her somewhat, judging
+by her closer proximity to Mr. Wesden's street door, whenever his heavy
+tread jarred upon her nerves.
+
+When the majority of the shops was closed, when the fog grew denser as
+the lights went out, and the few stragglers became more phantom-like and
+grey, quite a regiment of policemen marched down Great Suffolk Street,
+changing places at certain corners with those officials who had done
+day-duty, and glad to have done, for that day at least.
+
+The new policeman who crawled upon Mr. Wesden's side of the way, was a
+sharper man than he who had left off crawling, and gone home at a gallop
+to his wife and thirteen children; for the new-comer was not deceived by
+the deep-doorway and the dense fog, but reached forth a hand and touched
+the figure cowering in the shadows.
+
+A red-faced young man, with a bull neck, was this Suffolk Street
+official--an abrupt young man, who shook people rather violently by the
+shoulder, and hurt them.
+
+"Oh!--stash that, please," ejaculated the child, at last; "you hurts!"
+
+"What do you want here?"
+
+"Nothin' partickler. If the young gal inside knows I'm here, she'll send
+out somethin' prime. That's all. Last thing, afore she goes to bed, she
+comes and looks, mostly. She's a good 'un."
+
+"Ah! you'd better go home."
+
+"Can't manage to make it up tuppence--and square the last penny with
+Mother Watts. You know Mother Watts?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Well, she's down upon me, Watts is--so I can't go home."
+
+"You must go somewhere--you can't stop here."
+
+"Lor bless you, this is the comfortablest doorway in the street, if you
+don't mind, p'leesman. I often turn in here for the night, and some of
+you fine fellers lets a gal bide, and ain't so down upon her as you are.
+You're new to this beat."
+
+"Am I, really?" was the ironical rejoinder.
+
+"You used to do Kent Street and stir up Mother Watts. You locked up
+Mother Watts once--don't you remember?"
+
+"Yes--I remember. Are you going?"
+
+"If you won't let a gal stay, o' course I am. They've got a jolly
+kick-up here--that gal with the blue frock's birthday--old Wesden's gal,
+as I just told you about--I wish I was her! Did you ever see her of a
+Sunday?"
+
+"Not that I know on."
+
+"Just like the little gals at the play--spruce as carrots--and gloves
+on, and such boots! Fust rate, I can tell you."
+
+"I wouldn't jaw any more, but go home," suggested the policeman.
+
+"All right, master. I say, don't you twig how the fog has got on my
+chest?"
+
+"Well, you _are_ hoarse-ish."
+
+"Spilt my woice yesterday, and made it wus by tryin' it on in Union
+Street to-day. Gave it up, and bought a haporth of lucifers, and got the
+boxes in my pocket now. Hard lines to-night, mate."
+
+Familiarity breeds contempt and engenders rebuke--the loquacity of the
+child offended the official, who drew her from the doorway with a jerk,
+totally unexpected upon her side, and placed her in the roadway.
+
+"Now be off from here--I've had enough of _you_."
+
+"Werry well--why didn't you say so afore?"
+
+And, without waiting for a reply to her query, the child went down Great
+Suffolk Street towards the Borough, sullenly and slowly. The policeman
+watched her vanish in the fog, and resumed his way; he had done his duty
+to society, and "moved on" one who had insulted it by her helplessness
+and squalor; there was a woman shrieking denunciations on the pot-man of
+the public house at the corner--a man who had turned her unceremoniously
+into the street--let him proceed to business in a new direction.
+
+Twenty steps on his way, and the ill-clad, sharp-visaged girl, stealing
+back in the fog to the welcome doorway whence he had abruptly expelled
+her.
+
+"He's not everybody," she ejaculated, screwing herself comfortably into
+her old quarters, "though he thinks he is. I wonder what they're up to
+now? Don't I wish it was my buff-day, and somebody had somethink to give
+me, that's all. Don't I--oh! gemini."
+
+"Hillo!--I beg pardon--I didn't know anyone was hiding here--have I hurt
+you?" inquired a youth, who, running down Great Suffolk Street at a
+smart pace, had turned into this doorway, and nearly jammed its occupant
+to death with the sudden concussion.
+
+"You've done for my lights, young un," was the grave assertion.
+
+"Your--your what?"
+
+"My congreve lights--there's a kiver gone--I heered it scrunch. S'pose
+you'll pay like a--like a man?"
+
+"I--I'm very sorry, but really I'm rather scarce of pocket-money just
+now--in fact, I've spent it all," stammered the lad. "You see, it was
+your fault, hiding here, and playing about here at this time of night,
+and I was in a hurry, being late."
+
+"There isn't anyone inside who'd stand a ha-penny, is there?" whined the
+girl; "I'm the gal that's allus about here, you know--I've had nuffin'
+to eat to-day, and ain't no money for a night's lodging. I'm hard
+up--wery hard up, upon my soul. I don't remember being so druv since
+mother died o' the fever--never. And I'm not well--got a sore throat,
+which the fog touches up--awful."
+
+"I'll--I'll ask my pa'; but I don't think there is anything to give
+away."
+
+The youth knocked at the door, and presently rushed by the servant who
+opened it, paying no heed to the remark of--
+
+"Well, you are late, Master Sidney, I must say!"
+
+The door closed again, and Master Sidney--a tall lad of fourteen, with
+long brown hair, brown eyes, and a white face--tore up the stairs two
+steps at a time, and dashed with but little ceremony into the
+dining-room, where the supper was laid by that time, and the juveniles
+were ranged round the table, large-eyed and hungry.
+
+A shout from the boys assembled there--"Here's Sidney Hinchford;" a
+reproof from a stiff-backed, white-haired old gentleman in the
+corner--"Where _have_ you been, boy?" a light-haired fairy in white
+muslin and blue sash darting towards him, crying, "Sidney, Sidney, I
+thought you were lost!"
+
+"So I have been--lost in the fog--such a mull of it! I'll tell you
+presently when I've spoken to pa' for a moment. And, oh! Harriet,
+here's--here's a little brooch I've bought, and with many happy, happy
+returns of the day from a tiresome playfellow, and--and--_stolen, by
+Jingo_!"
+
+The hand withdrew itself from the side pocket of his jacket, and was
+passed over the forehead, the lower jaw dropped, the brown eyes glared
+round the room, across at the opposite wall, and up at the gas branch--a
+two-burner of a bronze finger-post pattern,--and then Master Sidney
+doubled up suddenly and collapsed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MATTIE.
+
+
+Mrs. Sarah Jane Watts, better known to society and society's guardians
+by the cognomen of Mother Watts, kept a lodging-house in Kent Street.
+They who know where Kent Street, Borough is, and what Kent Street is
+like by night and day, can readily imagine that the establishment of
+Mrs. Watts was not a large one, or the prices likely to be high. Mrs.
+Watts' house, in fact, belonged not to Kent Street proper, but formed
+No. 2 of a cut-throat-looking court, crossing Kent Street at right
+angles. Here beds, or shares of beds, or shelves arranged horizontally
+under beds, were let out at twopence per head, or three-halfpence
+without the blankets, which were marked, "Stop Thief!"
+
+Whether Mrs. Watts did badly with her business, or whether business
+prospered with her, it was difficult to determine by the landlady's
+external appearance, Mrs. W. being ever in rags, ever full of complaints
+and--drink. "Times" were always hard with her--the police were hard with
+her--her Kent Street contemporaries were hard with her--didn't treat her
+fair, undersold her, put more in a bed and charged less--"split upon her
+when things weren't on the square. Kent Street wasn't what it was when
+she was a gal!"
+
+People constantly breathing the same atmosphere may notice a change in
+the "surroundings," but to common observers, or prying people paying
+occasional visits to this place, Kent Street seems ever the same--an
+eye-sore to public gaze, a satire on parish cleanliness and care, a
+disgrace to parish authorities in general, and landlords and ground
+landlords in particular.
+
+Ever to common eyes the same appearances in Kent Street. The bustle of a
+cheap trade in its shops; the knots of thieves and loose-livers at every
+narrow turning; the murmurs of unseen disputants, in the true London
+vernacular, welling from dark entries and up-stairs rooms; the shoals of
+children, hatless, shoeless, almost garmentless--all a medley of sights
+and sounds, increasing towards night-fall, when Kent Street is full of
+horror, and lives and purses are not safe there.
+
+It is eleven in the evening of the same day, in which our story opens,
+and Mrs. Sarah Jane Watts, baggy as regards costume, and unsteady as
+regards her legs, was standing in the doorway of her domicile,
+inspecting, by the light of the candle in her hand, a trinket of some
+kind, which had been proffered her by a smaller mortal, infinitely more
+ragged than herself.
+
+"You got it honestly--I takes your word for it--you allers was a gal who
+spoke the truth, I will say that for you--it's a sham affair, and brassy
+as a knocker--say eightpence?"
+
+"It's really gold, Mrs. Watts--it's worth a heap of money."
+
+"It's the brassiest thing that ever I clapped eyes on--say eightpence
+and a bit of supper?"
+
+"What sort o' supper?"
+
+"Hot supper--tripe and inguns--as much as you can pad with."
+
+"It's worth a sight more, if it's gold."
+
+"I'll ask Simes--go up-stairs and wait a minit'--Simes'll tell us if
+it's gold, and praps stand more for it. I don't want the thing--I don't
+think it's safe to keep, myself; and if you've prigged it, Mattie, why,
+you'd better let it go."
+
+"Very well."
+
+Mattie--the girl whom we have watched in the dark entry of Mr. Wesden's
+door, wearied out with Mrs. Watts' loquacity, or overpowered by her
+arguments, went up-stairs into a room on the first floor. A long,
+low-ceilinged room, containing three beds, and each bed containing four
+women and a few supplementary children, one affected with a
+whooping-cough that was evidently fast racking it to death. This was the
+feminine dormitory of Mrs. Watts--a place well known to London women in
+search of a night's rest, Southwark way--a place for the ballad singer
+who had twopence to spend, or a soul above the workhouse; for the
+beggar-women who had whined about the streets all day; for the tramps
+passing from Surrey to Essex, and taking London _en route_; for women of
+all callings, who were deplorably poor, idle or vicious--it mattered
+not, so that they paid Mrs. Watts her claim upon them.
+
+Mattie sat down by the fire, and began shivering with more violence than
+had characterized her in the cold and fog. The disturbed shadow, flung
+by the fire-light--the only light there--on the wall, shivered and
+danced grotesquely in the rear. No one took notice of the
+new-comer--although more than one woman lay awake in the background. A
+wrinkled hag, reposing with her basket of stay-laces under her head for
+security's sake, winked and blinked at her for a while, and then went
+off into a disjointed snore--the young mother with the sick child, sat
+up in her share of the bed, and rocked the coughing infant backwards and
+forwards, till her neighbour, with an oath, swore at her for letting the
+cold in; then all was as Mattie had found it upon entering.
+
+Presently Mrs. Watts returned, candle in hand, smelling more
+aromatically of something hot and strong than ever.
+
+"Simes says it's brass, and worth eightpence, and here's the money.
+Strike me dead, if he said more than eightpence, there!--strike him
+blind, if he'll get a farden out of it!"
+
+"Where's the money?"
+
+"Here's fippence--tuppence for to-night, and a penny you owe me, that
+makes eightpence; and as for supper, why, I'll keep my word--no one can
+ever say of Mother Watts that she didn't keep her word in anythink she
+undertooked."
+
+"I--I don't care so much about supper as I did--ain't I just husky? No
+singing to-morrow, mother."
+
+"Only singing small," was the rejoinder with a grunt at her own wit;
+"you'd do better picking up brooches--you was allers clever with your
+fingers, mind you. I only wish I'd been 'arf as sharp when I was young."
+
+"I--I only wish I hadn't--found the thing," commented the girl,
+sorrowfully.
+
+"Well, I'm blest!"
+
+Mrs. Watts was taking off the lid of her saucepan, and probing the
+contents with a fork.
+
+"Fippence isn't a fortun, and the young chap gave me a ha-penny once
+when I was singing in Suffolk Street--I didn't mean it, somehow--I said
+I never would again! Don't you remember when mother died here, how she
+went on just at the last as to what was to become o' me; and didn't I
+say I'd grow up good, and stick to singing and begging, and all that
+_fun_--or go to the workus--or anythink?"
+
+"Ah! your mother was a fine 'un to go on sometimes."
+
+"And then I----"
+
+"Now, I don't want to hear anythink about your goings on--I don't know
+where you found that brassy brooch--I don't want to know--Simes don't
+want to know! We takes your word for it, that it was come by proper, and
+the less you say about it, the better; and the sooner you turns into
+bed, if you don't want no supper, the better too."
+
+"I don't see a good twopen'orth over there," commented Mattie; "they're
+as full as ever they can stick."
+
+"Take the rug, gal, and have it all to yourself, here by the fire."
+
+"Well, it's not so bad. I say--you know old Wesden?"
+
+"What, in Suffolk Street?--well."
+
+"He's got a party to-night--I have been a listening to the
+music--they've been dancing and all manner. And laughing--my eye! they
+just have been a-laughing, Mother Watts--I've been laughing myself to
+hear 'em."
+
+"Um," was the unsympathetic response.
+
+"It's a buff-day--Wesden's gal's buff-day. You know Wesden's gal--proud
+of herself rather, and holds her head up in furst-rate style, as well
+she may with such a shop as her father's got in Suffolk Street, and good
+and pretty as she is, Lor bless her! I s'pose old Wesden's worth pounds
+and pounds now?"
+
+"Hundreds."
+
+"Hundreds and hundreds of pounds," commented Mattie, coiling herself in
+the rug upon the floor; "ah! I s'pose so. I often thinks, do you know, I
+should like to be Wesden's little gal--what a lucky thing it'd be to be
+turned somehow into Wesden's little gal, just at Christmas time, when
+fairies are about."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Real fairies, on course--not the gals with the legs in the pantermines.
+If there was any real fairies on course too, but I'm too knowing to
+b'lieve that. But if there was, I'd say, please turn me into Wesden's
+little gal, and give me the big doll by the parler door, and dress me
+like a lady in a blue meriner."
+
+"Well, you are going on nicely about Wesden's gal. That was allus your
+fault, Mattie--such a gal to jaw, jaw, jaw--such a clapper, clapper,
+clapper about everythink and everybody."
+
+"I was just a-thinking that I _was_ going it rather, but I ain't a bit
+sleepy, and I thought you wouldn't mind me while you was having your
+supper, and my throat's so awful sore, and you ain't so sharp quite, as
+you are sometimes. Do you know what I'd do, if I was a boy?"
+
+"How should I know?"
+
+"Go to sea--get away from here, and grow up 'spectable. I wouldn't stop
+in Kent Street--I hate Kent Street--I'd walk into the country--oh! ever
+so far--until I came to the sea, and then I'd find a ship and turn
+sailor."
+
+"Lookee here, you young drab," cried the stay-lace woman, suddenly
+opening her eyes, and shrieking out in a shrill falsetto, "I'll turn out
+and skin you, if you can't keep that tongue still. What am I here
+for?--what did I pay tuppence for?--isn't that cussed coughing baby
+enough row at a time?"
+
+"If you've got anythink to say aginst my baby," said a husky voice in
+the next bed, "say it out to his mother, and mind your cat's head while
+you say it, you disagreeable baggage!"
+
+"Well, the likes of that!"
+
+"And the likes of you, for that matter--don't give me any more of your
+sarse, or I'll----"
+
+A tapping on the door with a stick diverted the general attention.
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"Only me, Mrs. Watts."
+
+"Oh! _only_ you," was the response; "come in, will yer? I've no need to
+lock myself in, while I hide the swag away. _Now_, what's the matter?"
+
+The door was opened, and enter a policeman, a man in private clothes,
+with a billycock hat and a walking-stick, accompanied by a pale-faced,
+long-haired youth, of fourteen years of age.
+
+"Nothing particular the matter--only something lost as usual, Mrs.
+Watts," said the man in private dress, politely. "Where's Mattie
+to-night?"
+
+"There she is. She's been in all the evening with a bad throat."
+
+"Poor girl--throats _is_ bad at this time of the year."
+
+The speaker looked at the lad at his side, after giving the first turn
+backward to the rug.
+
+"Is this the girl?"
+
+The policeman took the candle from the table, and held the light close
+to the girl's face--white, pinched, and haggard, with black eyes full of
+horror.
+
+"Don't say it's me, please," she gasped, in a low voice; "I'm the gal
+that sings in Suffolk Street on a Saturday night, and they gives wittles
+to at Wesden's. It isn't me."
+
+Mattie had intended to brave it out at first, to have remained stolid,
+sullen, and defiant, after the manners of her class; but she felt ill
+and nervous, and the shadow of the prison-house loomed before her and
+made her heart sink. Prison was a comfortable place in its way, but she
+had never taken to it--one turn at it had been enough for her. If it had
+been a policeman, or old Wesden, or anybody but this boy three years her
+senior in age, many years her junior in knowledge of the world, she
+would have been phlegmatic to the last; but this boy had been kind to
+her twice in life--once on Christmas-eve, and once on a Saturday night
+before that, and she gave way somewhat, partly from her new and
+unaccountable weakness, partly because it was not a very stern face that
+looked down into hers.
+
+"That's her, sure enough--eh, young gentleman?" remarked the police
+officer in private clothes.
+
+There was another pause--the girl's face blanched still more, and the
+look in her eyes became even more intense and eager; the boy glanced
+over his shoulder at the servants of the law.
+
+"No--this isn't the girl. Oh! no."
+
+"Are you quite certain? Stand up, Mattie."
+
+Mattie turned out of her rug and stood up, erect and motionless, with
+her hands to her side, and her sharp black eyes still on Master
+Hinchford.
+
+"Oh! no, policeman. Ever so much taller!"
+
+"Then we're on the wrong scent it seems, and you'd better go home and
+leave it to us. Good night, Mrs. Watts."
+
+"Good night," was the muttered response.
+
+Policeman, detective, and Master Hinchford went down the stairs to the
+court, out of the court into Kent Street, black and noisome--a turgid
+current, that wore only a semblance of stillness at hours more late than
+that.
+
+"We'll let you know in the morning if there's any clue," said the
+detective. "Jem," to the policeman, "see this lad out of Kent Street."
+
+"All right. I think I'd try old Simes for the brooch."
+
+"I'll drop on him presently. Good night, Jem."
+
+"Good night."
+
+The boy and policeman went to the end of Kent Street together, then the
+boy bade the policeman good night, ran across the road, recrossed in the
+fog a little lower down, and edged his way round St. George's Church
+into the old objectionable thoroughfare. A few minutes afterwards, he
+walked cautiously into the up-stairs room of Mrs. Watts, startling that
+good lady at her late tripe supper very considerably.
+
+"Hollo! young gemman, what's up now?"
+
+Mattie, who had been crouching before the fire, shrank towards it more,
+with her hands spread out to the blaze. She looked over her shoulder at
+the door, anticipating his two unwelcome companions to follow in his
+wake.
+
+"Look here, Mattie," said he, in a very cool and business-like manner,
+"fair's fair, you know. I've let you off in a handsome manner, but I'm
+not going to lose the brooch. If it had been a trumpery brooch, I
+shouldn't have cared so much."
+
+"Was it real gold?"
+
+"A real gold heart. I gave twelve and sixpence for it--I've been saving
+up for it ever since last April."
+
+"I'll get it--I'll try and get it," said Mattie; "I haven't it myself
+now--it's been passed on. Upon my soul, I'll try my hardest to get it
+back, see if I don't."
+
+"We'll all try our werry hardest, sir," remarked Mrs. Watts, blandly.
+
+"Ah! I daresay you will," said the boy, dubiously; "p'raps it had been
+better if I'd told the truth--my pa always says 'Stick to the truth,
+Sidney;' but you did look such a poor body to lock up, that I told a lie
+for once. And who would have thought that you were a regular thief,
+Mattie!"
+
+"I'm not a reg'lar--I don't like thieving--I've only thove when I've
+been werry--werry--hard druv; and I wasn't thinking of thieving, ony of
+getting warm, when you came bump aginst me in the doorway. I meant to
+have knocked and asked for a scrap to eat after awhile, when they'd all
+got good-tempered over the beer and things. I'll bring the brooch--I'll
+get it back--leave it to me, Master Hinchford."
+
+"How did you know my name?"
+
+"Oh! I know everybody about here--everybody at your place, 'specially.
+Old Wesden and his gal in the blue meriner--and you, and your father
+with the red face and the white mustache and hair--and the servant, and
+the boy who takes the papers out, and is allus dropping them out of the
+oil-skin kiver, and everybody. I'll bring the brooch, because you let me
+off. Trust me," she repeated again.
+
+"Well, I'll trust you. Fair play, mind."
+
+"And now, cut out of this--it isn't quite a safe place for you, and the
+people can't sleep if you talk, and you may catch the whooping
+cough----"
+
+"And you'll bring the brooch back? It's a bargain between us, Mattie."
+
+"It's all right."
+
+The youth re-echoed "all right," and went down-stairs, watched from the
+dark landing by the girl who had robbed him. After a while the girl
+closed the door and followed slowly down-stairs also. She was going in
+search of old Simes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+LODGERS.
+
+
+"Depend upon it, Sidney, you'll never set eyes on that brooch again."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," was the half-confident reply.
+
+"And depend upon it, you don't deserve to see it, boy--and that I for
+one shall be glad if it never turns up."
+
+"Pa!--you really can't mean it."
+
+"You told a lie about it, Sidney, and though you saved the girl from
+prison, yet it was a big, black lie all the same; and if luck follows
+it, why it's clean against the Bible."
+
+"The girl looked so pitifully at me, you see--and I did think she might
+give the brooch back, out of gratitude."
+
+"Gratitude in a young thief out of Kent Street?" laughed the father;
+"well, it's a lesson in life to you, boy, and, after all, it only cost
+twelve and sixpence."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Sidney, "it was a long pull."
+
+"You'll have learned by this that a lie never prospers--that in the long
+run it confronts you again when least expected, to make your cheek burn
+with your own baseness. I wonder now," gravely surveying his son,
+"whether you would have let that girl off, if there had been no hope of
+the brooch coming to light."
+
+The boy hesitated--then looked full at his sire.
+
+"Well--I think I should."
+
+"I think you told a lie for twelve and sixpence--the devil got a bargain
+from a Hinchford."
+
+"You're rather hard upon me, pa," complained the boy, "and it wasn't for
+twelve and sixpence, because I never got the brooch back; and if I ever
+tell another lie, may I never see twelve and sixpence of my own again.
+There!"
+
+"Bravo, Sid!--that's a promise I'm glad to have wormed out of you,
+somehow. And yet--ye gods!--what a promise!"
+
+"I'll keep it--see if I don't," said Master Sidney, with his lips
+compressed, and his cheeks a little flushed.
+
+The father shook his head slowly.
+
+"You are going into business--you will be a business man,--presently a
+City man--one who will drive hard bargains, make hard bargains, and have
+to fight his way through a hundred thousand liars. In the pursuit of
+money--above all, in the scraping together of that fugitive article, you
+must lie, or let a good chance go by to turn an honest penny. I can't
+expect you _much_ better than other men, Sid."
+
+"I wonder whether uncle lied much before----"
+
+"He lied as little as he could, I daresay," quickly interrupted the
+father, "but he became a rich man, and he rose from City trading. But I
+told you once before--I think I have told you more than once--that I
+never wish to hear that uncle's name."
+
+"Yes, but I had forgotten it for the moment--speaking of money-making,
+and City men, threw me a little off my guard."
+
+"Yes, yes, I saw that, my boy--drop the curtain over the old grievance,
+and shut the past away from you and me. I don't complain--I'm happy
+enough--a little contents me. In the future, with a son to love and be
+proud of, I see the old man's happiest days!"
+
+"We'll try our best, sir, to make them so," exclaimed the boy.
+
+"The Hinchfords are a buoyant race, and are not to be always kept down.
+I never heard of more than one of us, a poor man in the same generation;
+the Hinchfords have intelligence, perseverance, and pluck, and they make
+their way in the world. If I have been unlucky in my time, and have
+dropped down to a lodging in Great Suffolk Street, I see the next on the
+list," laying his hand lightly on his boy's shoulder, "making his way to
+the higher ground, God willing."
+
+"I haven't made much way yet," remarked the son, checking quietly the
+ambitious dreaming of the father. "I have only left school two months,
+and an office-boy in Hippen's firm is not a very great affair, after
+all."
+
+"It's a step forward--don't grumble--you'll push your way--you're a
+Hinchford."
+
+"I'll do my best--I never was afraid of work."
+
+"No--rather too fond of it, I fear. Sometimes I think there is no
+occasion to pore, pore, pore over those books of an evening, studying a
+lot of dry works, which can never be of service to a City man."
+
+"I should like to be _precious_ clever!" was the boy's exclamation.
+
+The father laughed, and added, with more satire than the boy detected--
+
+"The precious clever ones seek out-of-the-way roads to fortune, and miss
+them--die in the workhouse, occasionally. It is only respectable
+mediocrity that jogs on to independence."
+
+This strange dialogue between father and son occurred in the first-floor
+of the little stationer's shop in Great Suffolk Street. Father and son
+had lodged there eight years at least; Mrs. Hinchford, a delicate woman,
+several years her husband's junior, had died there--the place was home
+to the stiff-backed, white-haired man, who had prophesied a rise in life
+for his son. Eight or nine years ago, the three Hinchfords had walked
+into Mr. Wesden's shop, and looked at the apartments that had been
+announced to be let from the front pane of the first-floor windows; had,
+after a little whispering together, decided on the rooms, and had never
+left them since, the wife excepted, who had died with her husband's hand
+in hers, praying for her boy's future. The Hinchfords had settled as
+firmly to those rooms on the first-floor, as Mr. Wesden, stationer, had
+settled to Great Suffolk Street in ages remote. The rent was low, the
+place was handy for Mr. Hinchford, who was clerk and book-keeper to a
+large builders, Southwark Bridge Road way; the attendance was not a
+matter of trouble to the Hinchfords, and the landlord and his wife were
+unobtrusive people, and preferred the lodgers rent to their society.
+
+For three years and a half the Hinchfords and Wesdens had only exchanged
+good mornings in their meetings on the stairs--the Wesdens were humble,
+taciturn folk, and the Hinchfords proud and stand-offish. After that
+period Mrs. Hinchford fell ill, and Mrs. Wesden became of service to
+her; helped, at last, to nurse her, and keep her company during the long
+hours of her husband's absence at business, even to take care of her
+noisy boy down-stairs, when his boisterousness in the holidays made his
+presence--much as the mother loved him--unbearable. The Wesdens were
+kind to the Hinchfords, and Mr. Hinchford, a man to be touched by true
+sympathy, unbent at that time. He was a proud man, but a sensible one,
+and he never forgot a kindness proffered him. He had belonged to a
+higher estate once, and, dropping suddenly to a lower, he had brought
+his old notions with him, to render him wretched and uneasy. He had
+thought himself above those Wesdens--petty hucksters, as they
+were--until the time when Mrs. Wesden became a kind nurse to his wife,
+almost a mother to his boy; and then he felt his own inferiority to a
+something in them, or belonging to them, and was for ever after that
+intensely grateful.
+
+When Mrs. Hinchford died, and the lonely man had got over his first
+grief, he sought Mr. Wesden's company more often, smoked a friendly pipe
+with him in the back parlour now and then--begged to do so, for refuge
+from that solitary drawing-room up-stairs, filled with such sad memories
+as it was then. Hinchford and Wesden did not talk much, the latter was
+not fond of talking; and they were odd meetings enough, either in the
+parlour, or in the up-stairs room, as business necessitated.
+
+They exchanged a few words about the weather, and the latest news in the
+papers, and then subsided into their tobacco-smoke till it was time to
+say good night; but Wesden was company for Hinchford in his trouble, and
+when time rendered the trouble less acute, each had fallen into the
+habit of smoking a pipe together once or twice a week, and did not care
+to break it.
+
+In the parlour meetings, Mrs. Wesden would bring her spare form and
+pinched countenance between them, and would sit darning socks and saying
+little to relieve the monotony--unless the little girl were sitting up
+late, and her vivacity required attention or reprimand. They were quiet
+evenings with a vengeance, and Hinchford took his cue from the couple
+who managed business in Great Suffolk Street--and managed it well, for
+they minded their own, and were not disturbed by other people's.
+
+Whilst we are looking back--taking a passing glimpse over our shoulder
+at the bygones--we may as well add, that the Wesdens were naturally
+quiet people, and did not put on company-manners for Mr. Hinchford in
+particular. Thirty years ago they had married and opened shop in Great
+Suffolk Street; struggled for a living without making a fuss about it;
+lived frugally, pinched themselves in many ways which the world never
+knew anything about; surmounted the first obstacles in their way, and
+then, in the same quiet manner, saved a little money, then a little
+more, and then, as if by habit, continued saving, maintaining the same
+appearance in themselves, and the same quaint stolidity towards their
+neighbours. They had even borne their family troubles quietly, losing
+three children out of four without any great demonstration of
+grief--keeping their lamentations for after-business hours, and their
+inflexible faces for their curious neighbours, to whom they seldom
+spoke, and from whom they chose no friends. They were a couple contented
+with themselves and their position in society,--a trifle too frugal, if
+not near--staid, jogtrot, business people of week days, church-goers who
+patronized free seats for economy's sake on Sundays.
+
+Once a year the Wesdens launched out--celebrating, in the month of
+January, the natal day of the bright-faced girl in whom so much love was
+centred, for whom they were working steadily and persistently still.
+They had a juvenile party on that day always, and Harriet's school
+friends came in shoals to the feast, and Mr. Wesden presented his
+compliments to Mr. Hinchford, and begged the favour of borrowing the
+drawing-room for one night, and hoped also to have the honour of Mr.
+Hinchford's company, and Master Hinchford's company, on that
+occasion--all of which being responded to in the affirmative, affairs
+went off, as a rule, satisfactorily, until that momentous night in
+January, when Master Sidney Hinchford lost his brooch.
+
+This incident altered many things, and led to many things undreamed of
+by the characters yet but in outline in these pages; without it we
+should not have sat down to tell the history of these people--bound up
+so inextricably with that poor wanderer of the streets whom we have
+heard called Mattie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MR. HINCHFORD'S EXPERIMENT.
+
+
+The middle of March; six weeks since the robbery of Master Hinchfords'
+gold heart; a wet night in lieu of a foggy one; a cold wind sweeping
+down the street and dashing the rain all manner of ways; pattens and
+clogs clicking and shuffling about the pavement of Great Suffolk Street;
+the stationery shop open, and Mr. Wesden at seven o'clock sitting behind
+the counter waiting patiently for customers.
+
+Being a wet night, and customers likely to be scarce in consequence, Mr.
+Wesden had carefully turned out one gas burner and lowered the two
+others in the window to imperceptible glimmers of a despondent
+character, and then taken his seat behind the counter ready for any
+amount of business that might turn up between seven and half-past nine
+p.m. The gas was burning more brightly in the back parlour, through the
+closed glass door of which Mrs. Wesden was cutting out shirts, and Miss
+Wesden learning, or feigning to learn, her school lessons for the
+morrow.
+
+Mr. Wesden was devoting his mind purely to business; in his shop he
+never read a book, or looked at a newspaper, but waited for customers,
+always in one position, with his head slightly bent forwards, and his
+hands clutching his knees. In that position the largest order had not
+the power to stagger him--the smallest order could not take him off his
+guard. He bent his mind to business--he was "on duty" for the evening.
+
+Mr. Wesden was a short, spare man, with a narrow chest, a wrinkled face,
+a sharp nose, and a sandy head of hair--a man whose clothes were shabby,
+and ill fitted him, the latter not to be wondered at, Mrs. Wesden being
+the tailor, and making everything at home. This saved money, and
+satisfied Mr. Wesden, who cared not for appearances, had a soul above
+the fashion, and a faith in his wife's judgment. In the old days Mrs.
+Wesden was forced to turn tailor and trouser-maker, or see her husband
+without trousers at all; tailoring had become a habit since then, and
+agreed with her--it saved money still, and economy was ever a virtue
+with this frugal pair.
+
+Mr. Wesden in his shop-suit then--that was his shabbiest suit, and
+exceedingly shabby it was--sat and waited for customers. He waited
+patiently; to those who strayed in for sheets of note-paper, books to
+read, shirt-buttons, tapes, or beads, he was very attentive, settling
+the demands with promptitude and despatch, saying little save "a wet
+evening," and not to be led into a divergence about a hundred matters
+foreign to business, until the articles were paid for, and the money in
+his till. Then, if a few loquacious customers _would_ gossip about the
+times, he condescended to listen, regarding them from his meaningless
+grey eyes, and responding in monosyllables, when occasion or politeness
+required some kind of answer. But he was always glad to see their faces
+turned towards the door--they wearied him very much, these people, and
+it was odd they could not take away the articles they had purchased, and
+go home in quietness.
+
+To people in the streets who, caught by some attraction in his window,
+stopped and looked thereat, he was watchful from behind his
+counter--speculating as to whether they were probable purchasers, or had
+felonious designs. He was a suspicious man to a certain extent as well
+as a careful one, and no one lingered at his window without becoming an
+object of interest from behind the tobacco-jars and penny numbers. On
+this evening a haggard white face--whether a girl or woman's he could
+not make out for the mist on the window-panes--had appeared several
+times before the shop-window, and looked in, over the beads, and tapes,
+and through packets of paper, _at him_. Not interested at anything for
+sale, but keeping an eye on him, he felt assured.
+
+He had a bill in the window--"A BOY WANTED"--and if it had been a boy's
+face flitting about in the rain there, he should not have been so full
+of doubts as to the object with which he was watched; but there was a
+battered bonnet on the head of the watcher, and therefore no room for
+speculation concerning sex, at least.
+
+After an hour's fugitive dodging, Mattie--for it was she--came at a slow
+rate into the shop. She walked forwards very feebly, and took a firm
+grip of the counter to steady herself.
+
+Mr. Wesden critically surveyed her from his post of observation; she did
+not speak, but she kept her black eyes directed to the face in front of
+her.
+
+"Well--what do you want, Mattie?" asked Mr. Wesden, finally.
+
+"Nothin'--that is to buy."
+
+"Ah! then we've nothing to give away for you any more."
+
+"I want to speak to Master Hinchford," said Mattie; "I've come about the
+brooch."
+
+"Not brought it back!" exclaimed Mr. Wesden, roused out of his apathetic
+demeanour by this assertion.
+
+"I wish I had--no, I on'y want to see him."
+
+Mr. Wesden called to his wife, and delivered Mattie's request through
+the glass, keeping one eye on the new comer all the while. Mrs. Wesden
+sent her daughter up-stairs with the message, and presently from a side
+door opening into the shop Miss Wesden made her appearance.
+
+"If you please, will you walk up-stairs?"
+
+Harriet Wesden spoke very kindly, and edged away from Mattie as she
+advanced--Mattie was the girl who had stolen the brooch, a strange
+creature from an uncivilized world, and the stationer's little daughter
+was afraid of her old pensioner.
+
+The girl from the streets stared at Harriet Wesden in her turn, looked
+very intently at her warm dress and white pinafore, and then looked back
+at Mr. Wesden.
+
+"May I go up, sir?"
+
+"I don't see why they can't come down here," he grumbled, "but you must
+go up if they want to see you. Stop here, Harriet, and call Ann--you
+might catch something, girl."
+
+Ann was called, and presently a broad-faced, red-armed girl made her
+appearance.
+
+"Show a light to this girl up-stairs, Ann."
+
+"This girl--here?"
+
+"Yes--that girl there."
+
+"Oh! lawks--so _you've_ turned up agin."
+
+Mattie did not answer--she seemed very weak and ill, and not inclined to
+waste words foreign to her motive in appearing there. She followed the
+servant up-stairs, pausing on the first landing to take breath.
+
+"What's the matter with you--ain't you well?" asked the servant-maid.
+
+"No, I ain't--I'm just the tother thing."
+
+"Been ill?"
+
+"Scarlet fever--that's all."
+
+"Oh! lor a mussy on us!--keep further off! I can't bide fevers. We shall
+all be as red as lobsters in the morning."
+
+"It ain't catching now--Mother Watts didn't catch it--I wish she had!"
+
+"Will you go up-stairs now?"
+
+"Let's get a breath--I ain't so strong as I used to be--now then."
+
+Up the next flight, to the door of the first-floor front, where Sidney
+Hinchford, pale with suspense, was standing.
+
+"Have you got it?--have you got it, Mattie?"
+
+"No--I ain't got nothin'."
+
+"'Cept a fever, Master Sidney--tell your father to look out."
+
+A thin, large-veined hand protruded from the door, and dragged Master
+Hinchford suddenly backwards into the room; a tall, military-looking old
+gentleman, with white hair and white moustache, the instant afterwards
+occupied the place, and looked down sternly at the small intruder.
+
+"Keep where you are--I didn't know you had a fever, girl. Ann Packet,
+put the light on the bracket. That will do."
+
+Ann Packet set the chamber candlestick on a little bracket outside the
+drawing-room, drew her clothes tightly round her limbs, and keeping
+close to the wall, scuttled past the girl, whom fever had sorely
+stricken lately. Mattie dropped on to the stairs, placed her elbows on
+her knees, took her chin between her claw-like hands, and stared up at
+Mr. Hinchford.
+
+"I don't think you can catch anythin' from me, guv'nor."
+
+Governor looked down at Mattie, and reddened a little.
+
+"I'm not afraid of fever--it's only the boy I'm thinking about. Sidney,"
+he called.
+
+"Yes, pa."
+
+"You can hear, if I leave the door open. Now, girl," addressing the
+diminutive figure on the stairs, "if you haven't brought the brooch,
+what was the good of coming here?"
+
+"To let you know I tried--that's all. I thought that all you might think
+that I'd stuck to it, you see. But I did try my hardest to get it
+back--because the young gent let me off when the bobbies would have
+walked me to quod. Lor bless you, sir, I'm not a reg'lar!"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A reg'lar thief, sir. They've been trying hard to make me--Mother Watts
+and old Simes, and the rest--but it don't do. I was locked up once afore
+mother died, and mother was sorry--awful sorry, for _her_--you should
+have just heard her go on, when I come out agin. Oh! no, I'm not a
+reg'lar--I sings about the street for ha'pence, and goes to fairs, and
+begs--and so on, but I don't take things werry often. I'm a stray, sir!"
+
+"Ah!--God help you!" murmured the old gentleman.
+
+"I never had no father--and mother's dead now. I'm 'bliged to shift for
+myself. And oh! I just was hard up when I tooked the brooch."
+
+"And what became of it?"
+
+"Old Simes stuck to it, sir. I went to him on the werry night after I
+had seen Master Hinchford, and he said he'd sold it for tenpence, but
+he'd try and get it back for me, which he never did, sir--never."
+
+"No--I suppose not," was the dry response.
+
+"And the next day I caught the fever, and got in the workus, somehow;
+and when I came back to Kent Street, last week that was, old Simes had
+seen nothin' more of the brooch, and Mother Watts had forgot all about
+it--so she said!" was the disparaging comment.
+
+"And you came hither to tell us all this?"
+
+"Yes--I thought you'd like to know I _did_ try, and that they were too
+deep for me. My eye! they just are deep, those two!"
+
+"Why didn't you stay in the workhouse?"
+
+"Can't bide the workus, sir--they drop upon you too much. It's the wust
+place going, sir, and no one takes to it."
+
+"You're an odd girl."
+
+Mr. Hinchford leaned his back against the door-post, and surveyed the
+ragged and forlorn girl on the lower stair. He was perplexed with this
+child, and her wistful eyes--keen and glittering as steel--made him feel
+uncomfortable. Here was a mystery--a something unaccountable, and he
+could not probe to its depths, or tell which was false and which was
+genuine in the character of this motherless girl before him. He had
+prided himself all his life in being a judge of character--a man of
+observation, who saw the flaw in the diamond--the real face behind the
+paint, varnish, and pasteboard. He had judged his own brother in times
+past--he had mixed much with the world, and gleaned much from hard
+experience thereof, and yet a child like this disturbed him. He fancied
+that he could read a struggle for something better and more pure in
+Mattie's life, and that Fate was against her and drawing her back to the
+shadows from which she, as if by a noble instinct, was endeavouring to
+emerge.
+
+He felt curious concerning her.
+
+"What do you intend to do now?"
+
+"Lor, sir, I don't know. It depends upon what turns up."
+
+"You will not thieve any more?"
+
+"Not if I can help it--but if I can't help it, sir, I must go to school
+at Simes's. He teaches lots of gals to get a living!"
+
+Mr. Hinchford shuddered. There was a pause, during which the head of
+Master Hinchford peered through the door to note how affairs were
+progressing. The father detected the movement, and when the head was
+hastily withdrawn, he drew the door still closer, and retained a grip of
+the handle for precaution's sake.
+
+"You don't know what your next step will be? You'll try to live
+honestly, you say?"
+
+"I'll try the ingun dodge. You get's through a heap of inguns at a
+ha'penny a lot, if the perlice will ony let you be."
+
+"And your stock in trade?"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"How will you begin? Where are the onions to come from?"
+
+"I shall sing for them to-morrow--my woice is comin' round a bit, Mother
+Watts says."
+
+Mr. Hinchford pulled at his long white moustache--the girl's confidence
+and coolness induced him to linger there--something in his own heart led
+him to continue the conversation. He was a philosopher, a student of
+human nature, and this was a singular specimen before him.
+
+"What could you live and keep honest upon?"
+
+"Tuppence a day in summer--fourpence in winter. Summer a gal can sleep
+anywhere--there's some prime places in the Borough Market, and lots o'
+railway arches, Dockhead way; but it nips you awful hard when the
+frost's on."
+
+"Well--here's sixpence to set up in business with, Mattie--and as long
+as you can show me an honest front, and can come here every Saturday
+night and say, 'I've been honest all the week,' why, I'll stand the same
+amount."
+
+Mattie's eyes sparkled at this rise in life.
+
+"I'll borrow a basket, and buy some inguns to-morrow. P'raps _you_ buy
+inguns sometimes, and old--Mr. Wesden down-stairs, too. Yes, sir, it's
+the connexion that budges one up!" she said, with the gravity of an old
+woman.
+
+"I see. I'll speak to Mr. Wesden about his custom, Mattie. You can go
+now."
+
+"Thankee, sir."
+
+She rose to her feet, went a few steps down-stairs, paused, and looked
+back.
+
+"What is it, Mattie?"
+
+"I hope the young gen'leman isn't a fretting much about his _broach_."
+
+"Here, young gentleman," called the father, "do you hear that?"
+
+Master Hinchford laughed from within.
+
+"Oh, no!--I don't fret."
+
+"P'raps some day I shall have saved up enuf to pay him back. That's a
+_rum_ idea, isn't it, sir?"
+
+"Not a bad one, Mattie. Think it over."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Mattie departed, and Mr. Hinchford returned to the sitting-room. Master
+Hinchford, buried in books, was sitting at the centre table.
+
+"Are you going at figures to-night?"
+
+"Just for a little while, I think."
+
+"You'll ruin your eyes--I've said so fifty times."
+
+"Better have weak eyes than weak brains, sir."
+
+"Not the general idea, lad."
+
+After a while, and when Master Hinchford was scratching away with his
+pen, the father said--
+
+"You don't say anything about Mattie."
+
+"I think it was very kind of you," said the youth; "and I
+think--somehow--that Mattie will be grateful."
+
+"Pooh! pooh!" remarked the father, "you'll never make a first-rate city
+man, if you believe in gratitude. Look at the world sternly, boy. Put
+not your trust in anything turning out the real and genuine
+article--work everything by figures."
+
+Master Hinchford looked at his sire, as though he scarcely understood
+him.
+
+"I must bring you up to understand human nature, Sid--what a bad article
+it is--plated with a material that soon wears off, if rubbed smartly.
+Human nature is everywhere the same, and if you be only on your guard,
+you may take advantage of it, instead of letting it take advantage of
+you. Now, this girl is a specimen, which, at my own expense, we will
+experimentalize upon. In that stray, my boy, you shall see the natural
+baseness of mankind--or girl-kind."
+
+"Don't you think that she'll come again?"
+
+"For the sixpence, to be sure! Every Saturday night, with a long story
+of how honest she has been all the week. Here we shall see a girl, who,
+by her own statement, and with a struggle, can keep honest now--note the
+effect of indiscriminate alms-giving."
+
+"Of rewarding a girl for stealing my brooch, pa."
+
+"Ah!--exactly. Some people who didn't understand me, would set me down
+for a weak-minded old fool. In studying human nature, one must act oddly
+with odd specimens. And this girl--who came to tell us she had not
+brought the brooch back--I am just a little--curious--concerning!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SET UP IN BUSINESS.
+
+
+I am afraid that the reader will be very much disgusted with us as
+story-tellers, when we inform him that all these details are but
+preliminary to our story proper--a kind of prologue in six chapters to
+the comedy, melodrama or tragedy--which?--that the curtain will rise
+upon in our next book. Still they are details, without which our
+characters, and their true positions on our stage, would not have been
+clearly defined; and in the uphill struggles of our stray, perhaps some
+student of human nature, like Mr. Hinchford, may take some little
+interest.
+
+For they were real uphill struggles to better herself, and, therefore,
+worthy of notice. Remarking them, and knowing their genuineness, it has
+struck us that even from these crude materials a kind of heroine might
+be fashioned--not the heroine of a high-class book--that is, a "book for
+the Boudoir"--but of a book that will at least attempt to draw a certain
+phase of life as plainly as it passed the writer's eyes once.
+
+Let us, ere we _begin_ our story, then, speak of this Mattie a little
+more--this girl, who was not a "reg'lar"--who had never been brought up
+to "the profession"--who was merely a Stray! Let us even watch her in
+her new vocation--set up in life with Mr. Hinchford's sixpence--and note
+by what strange accident it changed the tenor of _her_ life; and at
+least set her above the angry dash of those waves which, day after day,
+engulph so many.
+
+All that we know of Mattie, all that Mattie knew of herself, the reader
+is fully acquainted with. Mattie's mother, a beggar, a tramp,
+occasionally a thief, died in a low lodging-house, and, with some flash
+of the better instincts at the last, begged her child to keep good, _if
+she could_. And the girl, by nature impressionable, only by the force of
+circumstance callous and cunning, tried to subsist on the streets
+without filching her neighbours' goods--wavered in her best intentions,
+as well she might, when the world was extra vigorous with her--grew more
+worldly with the world's hardness, and stole now and then for bread,
+when there was no bread offered her; made friends with young
+thieves--"reg'lars"--of both sexes; constituted them her playmates, and
+rehearsed with them little dramas of successful peculation; fell into
+bad hands--receivers of stolen goods, and owners of dens where thieves
+nightly congregated; regarded the police as natural enemies, the streets
+as home, and those who filled them as men and women to be imposed upon,
+to be whined out of money by a beggar's plaint, amused out of it by a
+song in a shrill falsetto, tricked out of it by a quick hand in the
+depths of their pockets. Still Mattie never became a "reg'lar;" she
+earned money enough "to keep life in her"--she had become inured to the
+streets, and had a fear, a very uncommon one in girls of her age and
+mode of living, of the police-station and the magistrate. Possibly her
+voice saved her; she had sung duets with her mother before death had
+stepped between them, and she sold ballads on her own account when the
+world was all before her where to choose. She was a girl, too, whom a
+little contented; one who could live on a little, and make
+shift--terrible shift--when luck run against her; above all, her
+tempters, the Watts, Simes', and others, festering amongst the Kent
+Street courts, were cruel and hard with her, and she kept out of their
+way so long as it was possible.
+
+Given the same monotony of existence for a few more years, and Mattie
+would have become a tramp perhaps, oscillating from fair to fair,
+race-course to race-course, losing true feeling, modesty, heart and
+soul, at every step. She had already tried the fairs within ten
+miles--the races at Hampton and Epsom, &c., and had earned money at
+them--she was seeing her way to business next summer, at the time she
+was interested in one particular house in Great Suffolk Street, Borough.
+
+Mattie was fond of pictures, and therefore partial to Mr. Wesden's shop,
+where the cheap periodicals and tinsel portraits of celebrated
+stage-ranters, in impossible positions, were displayed--fond, too, of
+watching Mr. Wesden's daughter in her perambulations backwards and
+forwards to a day-school in Trinity Street, and critically surveying her
+bright dresses, her neat shoes and boots, her hats for week days, and
+drawn bonnets for Sundays, with a far-off longing, such as a destitute
+child entertains for one in a comfortable position--such a feeling as we
+envious children of a larger growth may experience when our big friends
+flaunt their wealth in our eyes, and talk of their hounds, their horses,
+and their princely estates.
+
+"Oh! to be only Harriet Wesden," was Mattie's secret wish--to dress like
+her, look like her, be followed by a mother's anxious eyes down the
+street; to have a father to see her safely across the broad thoroughfare
+lying between Great Suffolk Street and school; to go to school, and be
+taught to read and write and grow up good--what happiness, unattainable
+and intangible to dream of!
+
+Eugene Sue, I think, tried to show the bright side of Envy, and the good
+it might effect; and I suppose there are many species of Envy, or else
+that we do not call things invariably by their right names. Mattie at
+least envied the stationer's daughter; Miss Wesden was a princess to
+her, and lived in fairy-land; and in seeing how happy she was, and what
+good spirits she had, Mattie's own life seemed dark enough; but that
+other life which Mattie tried to keep aloof from, denser and viler
+still. Harriet Wesden was the heroine of her story, and in a far-off
+distant way--never guessed at by its object--Harriet Wesden was loved,
+especially after she had begun to notice Mattie's attention to the
+pictures in the window, and to change them for her sole edification more
+often than was absolutely necessary.
+
+Mattie was well known in Great Suffolk Street; they knew her at
+Wesden's--nearly every shopkeeper knew her, and exchanged a word or two
+with her occasionally--Great Suffolk Street was her _beat_. In health
+Mattie was a good-tempered, sharp-witted girl--bearing the ills of her
+life with composure--selling lucifers and singing for a living.
+
+They trusted her in Great Suffolk Street; the poor folk living at the
+back thereof bought lucifers of her of a Saturday night, and asked how
+she was getting on--the boys guarding their masters' shop-boards nodded
+in a patronizing way at her--now and then, a plate of broken victuals
+was tendered her from some well-to-do shopkeeper, who could afford to
+part with it, and not miss it either--before her fever, she had had a
+little "c'nexion," and she set to work to get it up again, when the
+Hinchford sixpence heaped her basket with onions.
+
+That was the turning-point of Mattie's life; after that, a little woman
+with an eye to business; a small female costermonger with a large basket
+before her suspended by a strap--troubled and kept moving on by
+policemen--but earning her fair modicum of profit; quick with her eyes,
+ready with her answers, happy as a queen whose business was brisk, and
+lodging away from Mother Watts and old Simes, whose acquaintance she had
+quietly dropped.
+
+Mattie still watched Harriet Wesden from a distance; still felt the same
+strange interest in that girl, one year her senior, growing up so pretty
+whilst she became so plain and weather-beaten; experiencing still the
+same attraction for that house in particular; knowing each of its
+inmates by heart, and feeling, since the brooch defalcation, a part of
+the history attached to the establishment. When the Wesdens made up
+their minds to send Harriet to boarding-school, by way of a finish to
+her education, Mattie learned the news, and was there to see the cab
+drive off; Mattie even told Ann Packet, servant to the Wesdens, and
+regular purchaser of Mattie's "green stuff," that she should miss her
+werry much, and Suffolk Street wouldn't be half Suffolk Street after she
+was gone--which observation being reported to Mrs. Wesden, directed more
+attention to the stray from that quarter, and made one more friend at
+least.
+
+_One more_--for Mattie had found a friend in the tall, stiff-backed,
+stern-looking old gentleman of the name of Hinchford. The lodger's
+philosophy had all gone wrong; his knowledge of human nature had been at
+fault; his prophecies concerning Mattie's ingratitude had proved
+fallacious, and her steady application to business had greatly
+interested him. He was a sterling character, this old gentleman, for he
+confessed that he had been wrong; and he now held forth Mattie's
+industry as an example of perseverance in the world to his son, just as
+in the past he had intended her as a striking proof of the world's
+ingratitude.
+
+The climax was reached two years after his dialogue with Mattie on the
+stairs--when Mattie was thirteen years of age, and Master Hinchford
+sixteen--when Mattie still hawked goods in Suffolk Street--quite a woman
+of the world, and deeply versed in market prices--one who had not even
+at that time attained to the dignity of shoes and stockings.
+
+Mr. Wesden, the quiet man of business, was in his shop as usual, when
+Mattie walked in, basket and all.
+
+Mr. Wesden regarded her gravely, and shook his head. Onions and some
+sweet herbs had been speculated in that morning, and no further articles
+were required at that establishment.
+
+"If you please, I don't want you to buy, Mr. Wesden--" said she, "but
+will you be good enough to send that up to Master Hinchford?"
+
+Mr. Wesden looked at the small, dirty piece of paper in which something
+was wrapped, and then at Mattie.
+
+"It's honestly come by, sir," said Mattie.
+
+"I never said it wasn't," he responded.
+
+Mattie retired into the street--it was a Saturday night, and there were
+many customers abroad--she was doing a flourishing trade, when a tall
+youth caught her by the arm, and dragged her round the corner of the
+first street.
+
+"Oh! don't pinch my arm so, Master Hinchford."
+
+"What's the twelve and sixpence for, Mattie--not for the--not for
+the----"
+
+"Yes, the _broach_! I've been a-saving up, and keeping myself down for
+it, and now it's easy on my mind."
+
+"I won't have it. I've been thinking about it, and I won't have it,
+Mattie."
+
+"Please do. I've been trying so hard to wipe _that_ off. I'm quite well
+now. I've got the c'nexion all right, and shall save it all up agin, and
+the winter's arf over, and when Miss Wesden comes back, you can buy her
+another brooch with it, and nobody disapinted."
+
+The youth laughed, and coloured, and shook his head.
+
+"I won't take twelve and sixpence from you, I tell you. Why, Mattie, you
+don't know the value of money, or you'd never fling it away like this.
+Why, it's a fortune to you."
+
+"No--it's been a _weight_--that twelve and six, somehow. I've been a
+thief until to-night--now it's wiped clean. Don't try to make me a thief
+agin by giving it on me back. Oh! don't please stop my trade like this!"
+
+"Well, I shall make you out in time, Mattie--_perhaps_."
+
+Master Hinchford pocketed the money, and walked away slowly. Mattie
+returned to her "c'nexion." Mr. Hinchford sat and philosophized to
+himself all the evening on the impracticability of arriving at a
+thorough understanding of human nature, as exemplified in "girl-kind."
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE END OF THE PROLOGUE.
+
+
+Hard times set in after that night. The winter was half over, Mattie had
+said; but the worst half was yet to come, and for that she, with many
+thousands like her, had made but little preparation. The worst half of
+the frost of that year set in like a blight upon the London streets,
+froze the gutters, raised the price of coals, sent provisions up to
+famine figures, cut off all the garden stuff, and threw such fugitive
+traders as Mattie completely out of work. Hers became a calling that
+required capital now; even the greengrocers' shops, Borough way, were
+scantily stocked--the market itself was not what it used to be when
+things were flourishing, and oh! the prices that were asked in those
+times!
+
+Poverty of an ill aspect set in soon after the frost; crime set in soon
+after poverty--when the workhouses are besieged by hungry claimants for
+relief, the prisons are always extra full. Suffolk Street, the streets
+branching thitherwards to Southwark Bridge, the narrow lanes and
+turnings round the Queen's Bench, in the Borough Road and verging
+towards Union Street, were all haunted by those phantoms that had set in
+with the frost--there was danger in the streets as well as famine, and
+money was hard to earn, and hold when earned! Small shopkeepers with
+large families closed their shutters and locked themselves in with
+desolation; men out of work grew desperate--the streets were empty of
+the basket women and costermongers, and swarming in lieu thereof with
+beggars and thieves; even the police, nipped at the heart by the frost,
+were harder on society that stopped the way, and had little mercy even
+on old faces. Mattie's was an old face which stopped the way at that
+time--Mattie, basketless and onionless, and trying lucifers again, and
+essaying on Saturday nights--when workmen's wages were paid--a song or
+two opposite the public-houses.
+
+In this old fashion, Mattie earned a few pence at times; she was small
+for her age--very small--and the anxious-looking face touched those who
+had odd coppers to spare. But it was a task to live notwithstanding, and
+Mattie fought hard with the rest of the waifs and strays who had a tough
+battle to wage that winter time. "Luck went dead against her," as she
+termed it; she was barred from the market by want of capital--one lot of
+goods that she had speculated in never went off her hands, or rather her
+basket, on which they withered more and more with the frost, until they
+became unsaleable products--and there was no demand for lucifers or
+anything!
+
+Mattie was nearly starving when the old tempter turned up in Great
+Suffolk Street--at the time when she was weak, and the police had been
+more than commonly "down on her," and she had not taken a halfpenny that
+day--at a time when the tempter _does_ turn up as a general pile, that
+is, when we are waiting very anxiously for an EXCUSE.
+
+"What! Mattie!--Lor! the sight o' time since I set eyes on you!"
+
+"What! Mrs. Watts!"
+
+"What are you doing, girl?--not much for yourself, I should think," with
+a disparaging glance at the tattered habiliments of our heroine.
+
+"Not much just now, Mrs. Watts--hard lines it is."
+
+"Ah! well, it may be--you allus wanted pluck, Mattie, like your mother.
+And hard lines it is just now, for those who stand nice about trifles.
+What's that in your hand, gal?"
+
+"Congreve lights."
+
+"What! still at Congreve lights--if I shouldn't hate the werry sight and
+smell on 'em by this time."
+
+"So I do," said Mattie, sullenly.
+
+"Come home with me, and let's have a bit o' talk together,
+Mattie--there's a friend or two o' your age a-coming to have a little
+talk with me to-night."
+
+"Don't you keep a lodging house now?"
+
+"No--a little shop for bones and bottles and such things; and we has a
+party in the back parler twice a week, and something nice and hot for
+supper."
+
+"A school--on your own hook?" said Mattie, quickly.
+
+"Oh! how sharp we gets as we grows up!--but you allus was as sharp as
+any needle, and I was only saying to Simes but yesterday, if I could
+just drop on little Mattie, she'd be the werry gal to do us credit--she
+would."
+
+"I've been shifting for myself these last two years and odd, and I got
+on tidy till the frost set in, and now it's--_all up_!"
+
+"Ah!--all up--precisely so."
+
+Mrs. Watts did not detect the tragic element in Mattie's peroration; she
+had sallied forth in search of her, and had found her in the streets
+ragged and penniless and hungry. It was worth while to speculate in
+Mattie now--to show her some degree of kindness--to lure her back to the
+old haunts, and something worse than the old life. She began her
+temptations, and Mattie listened and trembled--the night was cold, and
+she had not tasted food that day. Mrs. Watts kept her hand upon the
+girl, and expatiated upon the advantages she had to offer now--even
+attempted to draw Mattie along with her.
+
+"Wait a bit--don't be in a hurry," said Mattie; "I'll come presently
+p'raps--not just now."
+
+"Oh! I'm not so sweet on you," said Mrs. Watts, aggrieved; "come if you
+like--stop away if you like--it's all one to me. I'll go about my
+rump-steaks for supper, and you can stay here and starve, if you prefer
+it."
+
+This dialogue occurred only a short distance from Mr. Wesden's shop,
+when Mr. Wesden was putting up the shutters in his own quiet way, with
+very little noise, his boy having left him at a moment's notice. Mrs.
+Wesden, who had her fears for his back--Mr. W. had had a sensitive back
+for years--was dragging the shutters out from under the shop-board--thin
+slips of wood, that required not any degree of strength to manage. There
+were six shutters--at the third Mr. Wesden said--
+
+"There's Mattie."
+
+"Ah! poor girl!"
+
+At the fifth he added--
+
+"With an old woman that I don't like the style of very much."
+
+Mrs. Wesden went to the door, and looked down the street at the tempter
+and the tempted--Mattie was under the lamp, and the face was a troubled
+one, on which the gas jet flickered. When the sixth shutter was up, and
+the iron band that secured them all firmly screwed into the door-post,
+the quiet couple stood side by side and watched the conflict to its
+abrupt conclusion. Both guessed what the subject had been--there was
+something of the night-bird and the gaol-bird about Mrs. Watts, that was
+easy of detection.
+
+Mrs. Wesden touched her husband's arm.
+
+"Danger, John."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"And that girl has been a-going on so quietly for years, and getting her
+own living, and she without a father and a mother to care for her--not
+like our Harriet."
+
+"No."
+
+"And the way she brought back the money for that brooch."
+
+"Yes--that was funny."
+
+"I don't see the fun of it, John."
+
+"That was good of her."
+
+"Do you know, I've been thinking, John, we might find room for
+her--those boys are a great trouble to us, and if we had a girl, it
+might answer better to take the papers out, and she might serve in the
+shop."
+
+"Serve in MY shop--good Lord!"
+
+"Some day when we could trust her, I mean--and she could sleep with Ann;
+and I daresay she would come for her keep in these times. And we might
+be saving her--God knows from what!"
+
+"Mrs. Wesden, you're as full of fancies as ever you can stick."
+
+"I've a fancy to help her in these hard times, John; and when helping
+her won't ruin us--us who have put by now a matter of three thou----"
+
+"Hush!"
+
+"And when helping her won't ruin us, but get rid of those plagues of
+boys, John. Fancy our Harriet in the streets like that!"
+
+She pointed to Mattie standing alone there, still under the gas lamp,
+deep in thought. Mr. Wesden looked, but his lined face was expressive of
+little sympathy, his wife thought.
+
+"We're hard pushed for a boy--the bill's no sooner down than up
+again--try a girl, John!"
+
+"If you'll get in out of the cold, Mrs. W., I'll think of it."
+
+Mrs. Wesden retired, and Mr. Wesden kept his place by the open door, and
+his quiet eyes on Mattie. He was a man who did nothing in a hurry, and
+whose actions were ruled by grave deliberation. He did not confess to
+his wife that of late years he had been interested in Mattie; watched
+her from under his papers in the shop-window; saw her business-like
+habits, her method, her briskness over her scanty wares, her cleverness
+even in dodging her _bete noire_ the policeman. He was a man, moreover,
+who went to church and read his Bible, and had many good thoughts
+beneath his occasional brusqueness and invariable immobility. A very
+quiet man, a man more than ordinarily cautious, hard to please, and
+still harder to rouse.
+
+In shutting up his shop that night, he had caught one or two fragments
+of the dialogue, and he knew more certainly than his wife that Mattie
+was being tempted back to the old life. Of that life he knew everything;
+he had learned it piece by piece without affecting to take an interest
+in the matter; he even knew that Mattie had long taken a fancy--an odd
+fancy--to his daughter, that she often inquired about her, and her
+boarding-school, of Ann Packet, domestic to the house of Wesden.
+
+He thought of Mattie's temptation, then of Mrs. Wesden's extraordinary
+suggestion. He was a lord of creation, and if he had a weakness it was
+in pooh-poohing the suggestions of his helpmate, although he adopted
+them in nine cases out of ten, disguising them, as he thought, by some
+little variation, and bringing them forward in due course as original
+productions of his own teeming brain.
+
+And boys _had_ worried him for years--lost his numbers, been behind-hand
+with the _Times_ to his best customers, insulted those customers when
+reprimanded, and set the blame of delay at his door, played and fought
+with other boys before his very shop-front, broken his windows in
+putting up the shutters, had even paid visits to his till, and
+surreptitiously made off with stock, and had never in his memory of
+boys--industrious or otherwise--possessed one civil, clean-faced, decent
+youth.
+
+"Suppose I had Mattie on trial for a week," he said at last, and looked
+towards the lamp-post. Mattie was gone--a black shadow, exactly like
+her, was hurrying away down the street towards the Borough--running
+almost, and with her hands to her head, as though a crowd of thoughts
+was stunning her!
+
+Mr. Wesden never accounted for leaving his shop-door open without
+warning his wife--for running at his utmost speed after the girl.
+
+At the corner of Great Suffolk Street he overtook her.
+
+"Where are you going?--what are you running for?" he asked, indignantly.
+
+Mattie started, looked at him, recognized him.
+
+"Nothin--partic'ler--is anythink the matter?"
+
+"How--how--should you--like--to be--_a news boy_?" he panted.
+
+No circumlocution in Mr. Wesden--straight to the point as an arrow.
+
+"Yours!--you wouldn't trust me--you never gives trust."
+
+"I've--I've thought of trying you."
+
+"You?" she said again.
+
+"Yes--_me_."
+
+"Well, I'd do anythink to get an honest living--but I was giving up the
+thoughts o' it--it's so hard for the likes of us, master."
+
+"Come back, and I'll tell you what I've been thinking about, Mattie."
+
+Not a word about what Mrs. Wesden had been thinking about--such is man's
+selfishness and narrow-mindedness.
+
+Mattie went back--for good!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On this prologue to our story we can afford to drop the curtain, leaving
+our figures in outline, and waiting a better time to paint our
+characters--such as they are--more fully. We need not dwell upon
+Mattie's trial, upon Mattie's change of costume, and initiation into an
+old frock and boots of the absent Harriet--of the many accidents of life
+at Wesden, stationer's, accidents which led to the wanderer's settling
+down, a member of the household, an item in that household expenditure.
+Let the time roll on a year or two, during which Mr. Wesden's back grew
+worse, and Mrs. Wesden's hair more grey, and let the changes that have
+happened to our friends speak for themselves in the story we have set
+ourselves to write.
+
+Leave we, then, the Stray on the threshold of her new estate, standing
+in Harriet Wesden's dress, thinking of her future; the shadow-land from
+which she has emerged behind her, and new scenes, new characters beyond
+there--beneath the bright sky, where all looks so radiant from the
+distance.
+
+
+END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+THE NEW ESTATE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+HOME FOR GOOD.
+
+
+Three years make but little difference in the general aspect of a poor
+neighbourhood. The same shops doing their scanty business; the same
+loiterers at street corners; the same watch from hungry eyes upon the
+loaves and fishes behind the window-glass; the same slip-shod men, women
+and children hustling one another on the pavement, in all weathers,
+"doing their bit of marketing;" the same dogs sniffing about the
+streets, and prowling round the butchers' shops.
+
+An observer might detect many changes in the names over the shop fronts,
+certainly. Business goes wrong with a great many in three years--capital
+is small to work with in most instances, and when the rainy day comes,
+in due course, by the stern rule by which rainy days are governed, the
+resistance is feeble, and the weakest put the shutters up, sell off at
+an alarming sacrifice, and go, with wives and children, still further on
+the downhill road. There are seizures for rent, writs issued on
+delinquents, stern authority cutting off the gas and water, sterner
+authorities interfering with the weights and measures, which, in poor
+neighbourhoods, _will_ get light occasionally; brokers' men making their
+quarterly raids, and still further perplexing those to whom life is a
+struggle, desperate and intense.
+
+Amidst the changes in Great Suffolk Street, one business remains firm,
+and presents its wonted aspect. Over the little stationer's shop, the
+old established emporium for everything in a small way, is still
+inscribed the name of Wesden--has been repainted the name of Wesden in
+white letters, on a chocolate ground, as though there were nothing in
+the cares of business to daunt the tradesman who began life there, young
+and blooming!
+
+There are changes amongst the papers in the windows--the sensation
+pennyworths--the pious pennyworths--the pennyworths started for the
+amelioration and mental improvement of the working classes, unfortunate
+pennyworths, that never get on, and which the working classes turn their
+backs upon, hating a moral in every other line as naturally as we do.
+The stock of volumes in the library is on the increase; the window,
+counter, shelves and drawers, are all well filled; Mr. Wesden deals in
+postage and receipt stamps--ever a good sign of capital to spare--and
+has turned the wash-house into a warehouse, where reams of paper,
+envelopes, and goods too numerous to mention, are biding their time to
+see daylight in Great Suffolk Street.
+
+Changes are more apparent in the back-parlour, which has been home to
+Mr. and Mrs. Wesden for so many years. Let us look in upon them after
+three years' absence, and to the best of our ability note the alteration
+there.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Wesden are seated one on each side of the fire--Mr. Wesden
+in a new arm-chair, bought of an upholsterer in the Borough, an easy and
+capacious chair, with spring seats and sides, and altogether a luxury
+for that establishment. Mrs. Wesden has become very feeble and rickety;
+rheumatic fever--that last year's hard trial, in which she was given
+over, and the quiet man collapsed into a nervous child for the
+nonce--has left its traces, and robbed her of much energy and strength.
+She is a very old woman at sixty-three, grey-haired and sallow, with two
+eyes that look at you in an amiable, deer-like fashion--in a motherly
+way that gives you an idea of what a kind woman and good Christian she
+is.
+
+Mr. Wesden, sitting opposite his worn better-half, was originally
+constructed from much tougher material. The lines are deeper in his
+face, the nose is larger, the eyes more sunken, perhaps the lips more
+thin, but there is business energy in him yet; no opportunity to earn
+money is let slip, and if it were not for constant twinges in his back,
+he would be as agile as in the old days when there were doubts of
+getting on in life.
+
+But who is this sitting with them, like one of the family?--a
+dark-haired, pale-faced girl of sixteen, short of stature, neat of
+figure, certainly not pretty, decidedly not plain, with an everyday
+face, that might be passed fifty times, without attracting an observer;
+and then, on the fifty-first, startle him by its intense expression. A
+face older than its possessor's years; at times a grave face, more
+often, despite its pallor, a bright one--lit-up with the cheerful
+thoughts, which a mind at ease naturally gives to it.
+
+Neatly, if humbly dressed--working with a rapidity and regularity that
+would have done credit to a stitching machine--evidently at home there
+in that back-parlour, to which her dark wistful eyes had been so often
+directed, in the old days; this is the Mattie of our prologue--the
+stray, diverted from the dark course it was taking, by the hand of John
+Wesden.
+
+"Wesden, what's the time now?"
+
+"My dear, it's not five minutes since you asked last," is the mild
+reproof of the husband, as he tugs at his copper-gilt watch chain for a
+while; "it's close on ten o'clock."
+
+"I hope nothing has happened to the train--"
+
+"What should happen, Mrs. Wesden?" says a brisk, clear ringing voice;
+"just to-night of all nights, when Miss Harriet is expected. Why, she
+didn't give us hope of seeing her till nine; and trains are always
+behind-hand, I've heard--and it's very early hours to get fidgety, isn't
+it, sir?"
+
+"Much too early."
+
+"I haven't seen my dear girl for twelve months," half moans the mother;
+"she'll come back quite a lady--she'll come back for good, Wesden, and
+be our pride and joy for ever. Never apart from us again."
+
+"No, all to ourselves we shall have her after this. Well," with a
+strange half sigh, "we've done our duty by her, Mrs. W."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"It's cost a heap of money--I don't regret a penny of it."
+
+"Why should you, Wesden, when it's made our girl a lady--fit for any
+station in the world."
+
+"But this perhaps," says Mr. Wesden, thoughtfully; "and this can't
+matter, now we----"
+
+He does not finish the sentence, but takes his pipe down from the
+mantel-piece, and proceeds to fill it in a mechanical fashion. Mrs.
+Wesden looks at him quietly--her lord and husband never smokes before
+supper, without his mind is disturbed--the action reminds his wife that
+the supper hour is drawing near, and that nothing is prepared for
+Harriet's arrival.
+
+"She will come home tired and hungry--oh! dear me--and nothing ready,
+perhaps."
+
+"I'll help Ann directly," says Mattie.
+
+The needle that has been plying all the time--that did not cease when
+Mattie attempted consolation--is stuck in the dress she is hemming; the
+work is rolled rapidly into a bundle; the light figure flits about the
+room, clears the table, darts down-stairs into the kitchen; presently
+appears with Ann Packet, maid-of-all-work, lays the cloth, sets knives
+and forks and plates; varies proceedings by attending to customers in
+the shop--Mattie's task more often, now Mr. Wesden's back has lost its
+flexibility--flits back again to the task of preparing supper in the
+parlour.
+
+With her work less upon her mind, Mattie launches into small talk--her
+tongue rattles along with a rapidity only equal to her needle. She is in
+high spirits to-night, and talks more than usual, or else that loquacity
+for which a Mrs. Watts rebuked her once, has known no diminution with
+expanding years.
+
+"We shall have her in a few more minutes, mistress," she says,
+addressing the feeble old woman in the chair; "just as if she'd never
+been away from us--bless her pretty face!--and it was twelve days,
+rather than twelve months, since we all said good-bye to her. She left
+you on a sick bed, Mrs. Wesden, and she comes back to find you well and
+strong again--to find home just as it should be--everything going on
+well, and everybody--oh! so happy!"
+
+"And to find you, Mattie--what?" asks Mr. Wesden, in his quiet way.
+
+"To find me very happy, too--happy in having improved in my scholarship,
+such as it is, sir--happy with you two friends, to whom I owe--oh! more
+than I ever can think about, or be grateful enough for," she adds with
+an impetuosity that leads her to rush at the quiet man and kiss him on
+the forehead.
+
+"We're square, Mattie--we're perfectly square now," he replies, settling
+his silver-rimmed spectacles more securely on his nose.
+
+"Oh! that is very likely," is the sharp response.
+
+"You nursed the old lady like a daughter--you saved her somehow. If it
+hadn't been for you----"
+
+"She would have been well weeks before, only I was such a restless girl,
+and wouldn't let her be quiet," laughs Mattie.
+
+She passes into the shop again with the same elastic tread, serves out
+two ounces of tobacco, detects a bad shilling, and focuses the customer
+with her dark eyes, appears but little impressed by his apologies, and
+more interested in her change, locks the till, and is once more in the
+parlour, talking about Miss Harriet again.
+
+"She is on her way now," she remarks; "at London Bridge by this time,
+and Master Hinchford--we must say Mr. Hinchford now, I suppose--helping
+her into the cab he's been kind enough to get for her."
+
+"What's the time now, Wesden?" asks the mother.
+
+"Well," after the usual efforts to disinter--or disembowel--the silver
+watch, "it's certainly just ten."
+
+"And by the time Tom's put the shutters up, she'll be here!" cries
+Mattie; "see if my words don't come true, Mr. Wesden."
+
+"Well, I hope they will; if they don't, I--I think I'll just put on my
+hat, and walk down to the station."
+
+Presently somebody coming down-stairs with a heavy, regular tread,
+pausing at the side door in the parlour, and giving two decisive raps
+with his knuckles on the panels.
+
+"Come in."
+
+Enter Mr. Hinchford, senior, with his white hair rubbed the wrong way,
+and his florid face looking somewhat anxious.
+
+"Haven't they come yet?"
+
+"Not yet, sir."
+
+"Ah! I suppose not," catching Mattie's glance directed towards him
+across the needlework which she has resumed again, and at which she is
+working harder than ever; "there's boxes to find, and pack on the cab,
+and Miss Harriet's no woman if she do not remember at the last minute
+something left behind in the carriage."
+
+"Won't you sit down, sir?" asks Mrs. Wesden.
+
+"N--no, thank you," he replies; "you'll have your girl home in a minute,
+and we mustn't over-crowd the little parlour. I shall give up my old
+habit of smoking here, now the daughter comes back--you must step up
+into my quarters, Wesden, a little more often."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Temporary quarters, I suppose, we must say, now the boy's getting on so
+well. Thank God," with a burst of affection, "that I shall see that boy
+in a good position of life before I die."
+
+"He's a clever lad."
+
+"Clever, sir!" ejaculates the father, "he's more than clever, though I
+don't sing his praises before his face. He has as clear a head-piece as
+any man of forty, and he's as good a man of business."
+
+"And so steady," adds Mrs. Wesden.
+
+"God bless you! madam, yes."
+
+"And so saving," is the further addition of Mr. Wesden,--"that's a good
+sign."
+
+"Ah! he knows the value of money better than his father did at his age,"
+says the old man; "with his caution, energy, and cleverness we shall see
+him, if we live, a great man. Whoever lives to see him--a great man!"
+
+"It's a comfort when our children grow up blessings to us," remarks Mrs.
+Wesden, dreamily looking at the fire; "neither you nor I, sir, have any
+cause to be sorry for those we love so very, very much."
+
+"No, certainly not. We're lucky people in our latter days--good night."
+
+"You can't stop, then?" asked Wesden.
+
+"Not just now. Don't keep the boy down here, please--he'll stand and
+talk, forgetting that he's in the way to-night, unless you give him a
+hint to the contrary. Out of business, he's a trifle inconsiderate,
+unless you plainly tell him he's not wanted. Good night--I shall see
+Harriet in the morning."
+
+"Yes--good night."
+
+Mr. Hinchford retires again, and in a few minutes afterwards, before
+there is further time to dilate upon the danger of railway travelling,
+and the uncertainty of human hopes, the long-expected cab dashes up to
+the door. There is a bustle in Great Suffolk Street; the cabman brings
+in the boxes amidst a little knot of loungers, who have evidently never
+seen a box before, or a cab, or a young lady emerge therefrom assisted
+by a tall young man, or listened to an animated dispute about a
+cab-fare, which comes in by way of sequence whilst the young lady is
+kissing everybody in turn in the parlour.
+
+"My fare's eighteenpence, guv'nor."
+
+"Not one shilling, legally," affirmed the young man.
+
+"I never did it for a shilling afore--I ain't a going now--I'll take a
+summons out first."
+
+"Take it."
+
+"You won't stand another sixpence, guv'nor?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then," bundling on to his box, and lashing his horse ferociously, "I
+won't waste my time on a tailor--it's much too valuable for that!"
+
+The young man laughs at this withering sarcasm, and passes through the
+shop into the parlour, where the animation has scarcely found time to
+subside.
+
+Harriet Wesden is holding Mattie at arm's length, and looking steadily
+at her--the stationer's daughter is taller by a head than the stray.
+
+"And you, Mattie, have been improving, I see--learning all the lessons
+that I set you before I went away--becoming of help to father and
+mother, and thinking of poor _me_ sometimes."
+
+"Ah! very often of 'poor me.'"
+
+"Oh! how tired I am!--how glad I shall be to find myself in my room!
+Now, Mr. Sidney, I'm going to bid you good night at once, thanking you
+for all past services."
+
+"Very well, Miss Harriet."
+
+"And, goodness me!--I did not notice those things before! What!
+spectacles, Sidney--at your age?"
+
+The tall young man colours and laughs--keeping his position at the
+door-post all the while.
+
+"Can't afford to have weak eyes yet, and so have sacrificed all my
+personal charms for the sake of convenience in matters of business. You
+don't mean to say that they look so very bad, though?"
+
+"You look nearer ninety than nineteen," she replies. "Oh! I wouldn't
+take to spectacles for ever so much."
+
+"That's a very different affair," remarks Sidney.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh! because it _is_--that's all. Well, I think I'll say good night
+now--shall I take that box up-stairs for you, Miss Harriet?"
+
+"Ann and I can manage it, Mr. Hinchford," says Mattie.
+
+"Yes, and put a rib out, or something. Can't allow the gentler sex to be
+black slaves during my sojourn in Great Suffolk Street. Good night all."
+
+"Good night."
+
+He closes the shop door, seizes the box which has been deposited in the
+shop, swings it round on his shoulders, and marches up-stairs with it
+two steps at a time, and whistling the while. On the landing, outside
+the sitting-room, and double-bedded room, which his father occupies, Ann
+Packet, domestic servant, meets him with a light.
+
+"Lor a mussy on us!--is that you, Master Sidney?"
+
+"Go a-head, up-stairs, wench, and let us find a place to put the box
+down. This is Miss Harriet's box."
+
+"Orful heavy, ain't it, sir?"
+
+"Well--it's not so light as it might be," asserts Master Sidney;
+"forward, there."
+
+Meanwhile, too tired to repair to her room for any toilette arrangements
+at that hour of the night, Harriet Wesden sits down between her mother
+and father, holding her bonnet on her lap. Mr. and Mrs. Wesden regard
+her proudly, as well they may, Harriet being a girl to be proud
+of--tall, graceful, and pretty, something that makes home bright to the
+parents, and has been long missed by them. No one is aware of all that
+they have sacrificed in their desire to make a lady of their only
+child--or of one-half of the hopes which they have built upon concerning
+her.
+
+"This always seems such an odd, _little_ box to come back to after the
+great Brighton school," she says, wearily; "oh, dear! how tired I am!"
+
+"Get your supper, my dear, at once, and don't sit up for anybody
+to-night," suggests the mother.
+
+"I don't want any supper. I--I think I'll go up-stairs at once and keep
+all my little anecdotes of school and schooling till the morrow. Shall
+I?"
+
+"By all means, Harriet, if you're tired," says the father, "but after a
+long journey I would take something. You don't feel poorly, my dear?"
+
+"Who?--I--oh! no," she answered, startled at the suggestion; "but I have
+been eating biscuits and other messes all the journey up to London, and
+therefore my appetite is spoiled for the night. To-morrow I shall be
+myself again--and we will have a long talk about all that has happened
+since I left here last year--by to-morrow, we shall have settled down so
+comfortably!"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+She looks timidly towards her father, but he is smoking his pipe, and
+placidly surveying her. She kisses him, then her mother, lastly Mattie,
+and leaves the room;--the instant afterwards Mattie remembers the
+unwieldy box, which Master, or Mr. Hinchford has carried up-stairs.
+
+"She'll never uncord the box--I should like to help her, if you can
+spare me."
+
+"Knots always did try the dear girl," affirms Mrs. Wesden, "go and help
+her by all means--my dear."
+
+Mattie needs no second bidding; she darts from the room, and in a few
+minutes is at the top of the house; in her forgetfulness inside the room
+without so much as a "By your leave, Miss Wesden."
+
+"Oh! dear, I forgot to knock--and oh! dear, dear!" rushing forward to
+Harriet sitting by the bedside and rocking herself to and fro, as though
+in pain, "what is the matter?--can I help you?--what has happened!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A GIRL'S ROMANCE.
+
+
+Miss Wesden continued to rock herself to and fro and moan at frequent
+intervals, after Mattie had intruded so unceremoniously upon her
+sorrows. She had reached the hysterical stage, and there was no stopping
+the tears and the little windy sobs by which they were varied--and
+Harriet Wesden in tears, the girl whom Mattie had reverenced so long,
+was too much for our small heroine.
+
+"Oh! dear--what has happened?--shall I run and tell your father and
+mother?"
+
+"Oh! for goodness sake, don't think of anything of the kind!" cried the
+startled Harriet; "I--I--I shall be better in a minute. It's only a
+spasm or something--it's nothing that any one--can--help me--with!"
+
+"I know what it is," remarked Mattie, after a moment's reflection.
+
+"You--_you_ do, Mattie!"
+
+"It's the wind," was the matter-of-fact reply; "you've been eating a
+heap of nasty buns, and then come up here without your supper--and it's
+brought on spasms, as you say."
+
+"How ridiculous you are, child!" said this woman of seventeen, parting
+her fair hair back from her face, and making an effort to subdue her
+agitation; "don't you see that I am very, very miserable!"
+
+"In earnest?"
+
+"Are people ever really, truly miserable in fun, Mattie?" was the sharp
+rejoinder.
+
+"Not truly miserable, I should fancy. But you--oh! Miss Harriet, you
+miserable, at your age!"
+
+"Yes--it's a fact."
+
+"Perhaps you have been robbed," suggested the curious Mattie; "I know
+that they used to send them out from Kent Street to hang about the
+railway stations. Never mind, Miss Harriet, I have been earning money,
+lately; and if you don't want your father to know how careless you have
+been----"
+
+"Always unselfish--always thinking of doing some absurd action, that
+shall benefit any one of the name of Wesden. No, no, Mattie, it's not
+money, it's not that--that vulgar complaint you mentioned just now. Oh!
+to have one friend in the world in whom I could trust--in whom I could
+confide my misery!"
+
+"And haven't you _one_?" was the soft answer.
+
+Harriet looked up at the wistful face--so full of love and pity.
+
+"Ah! there's _you_--you mean. But you are a child still, and would never
+understand me. _You_ would never have sympathy with all that I have
+suffered, or keep my secret if you had."
+
+"What I could understand, I cannot say--I'm still hard at work, in
+over-time, at my lessons--but you may be sure of my sympathy, and of my
+silence. It's not that I'm so curious, Miss Harriet--but that I hope,
+when I know all, to be a comfort to you."
+
+Harriet shook her head despondently, and beat her tiny foot impatiently
+upon the carpet. Any one in the world to be a comfort to her, was a
+foolish idea, that only irritated her to allude to.
+
+"I'm living here to be a comfort to you all," said Mattie, in a low
+voice; "I've set myself to be that, if ever I can. Every one in this
+house helped in a way to take me from the streets; every one has been
+more kind to me than I deserved--helped me on--given me good
+advice--done so much for me! I--I have often thought that perhaps my
+time might come some day to your family, or the Hinchfords; but if to
+you, my darling, whom I love before the whole of them--who has been more
+than kind--whom I loved when I was a little ragged girl in the dark
+streets outside--how happy I shall be!"
+
+"Happy to see me miserable, Mattie--that's what _that_ amounts to."
+
+"I didn't mean that," answered Mattie, half-aggrieved.
+
+"No, I'm sure you did not," was the reply. "Lock the door, my dear, and
+let me take you into my confidence--I _do_ want some one to talk to
+about it terribly!"
+
+Mattie locked the door, and, full of wonder, sat down by Harriet
+Wesden's side. The stationer's daughter had always treated Mattie as a
+companion rather than as a servant; she had but seen her in her holidays
+of late years--her father had trusted Mattie and made a shop-woman of
+her--she had found Mattie constituted after a while one of the
+family--Mattie was only a year her junior, and Mattie's love, almost her
+idolatry for her, had won upon a nature which, though far from
+faultless, was at least susceptible to kindness, ever touched by
+affection, and ever ready to return both.
+
+"You must know, Mattie, then--and pray never breathe a syllable of this
+to mortal soul again--that I'm in love."
+
+"_Lor!_" gasped Mattie.
+
+"Dreadfully and desperately in love."
+
+"Oh! hasn't it come early--and oh! _ain't_ I dreadfully sorry."
+
+"Hush, Mattie, not so loud. They'll be coming up to bed in the next room
+presently, and if they were to find it out, I should die."
+
+"They wouldn't mind, after they had once got used to it," said Mattie;
+"and if it has really come to love in earnest--there's a good deal of
+sham love I've been told--why, I don't think there's anything to cry
+about. I should dance for joy myself."
+
+"You're too young to know what you're talking about, Mattie," reproved
+Harriet.
+
+"No, I'm not," was the quick answer; "I should feel very happy to know
+that there was some one to love me better than anybody in the world--to
+think of me first--pray about me before he went to bed at night--dream
+of me till the daytime--keep me always in his head. Why, shouldn't I be
+happy to know this, I who never remember what love was from anybody?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I understand you, Mattie," said Harriet; "that's part of
+love--not all."
+
+"What else is there?"
+
+Mattie was evidently extremely curious concerning all phases of "the
+heart complaint."
+
+"It's too complicated, Mattie; when you're a woman, you'll be able to
+find out for yourself. It's better not to trouble your head about it yet
+awhile."
+
+"I wish you hadn't, Miss Harriet. It's not the likes of me that is going
+to think about it; and if you had left it till you were really a
+woman--I don't know much about the matter yet--but I'm thinking it would
+be all the better for you, too, my dear."
+
+"It came all of a rush like--I wasn't thinking of it. There were two
+young men at first, who used to watch our school, and laugh at the
+biggest of us, and kiss their hands--just as young men _will_ do,
+Mattie."
+
+"Like their impudence, I think."
+
+Mattie's matter-of-fact views were coming uppermost again. She had seen
+much of the world in her youth, experienced much hardship, worked hard
+for a living, and there was no romance in her disposition--only
+affection, which had developed of late years, thanks to her new
+training.
+
+"But there's always a little fun amongst the big girls, Mattie."
+
+"What is the governess about?"
+
+"She's looking out--but, bless you, she may look!"
+
+"Ah! I suppose so. Well?"
+
+"And then one young man went away, and only one was left--the handsomer
+of the two--and he fell in love _with me_!"
+
+"Really and truly?"
+
+"Why, of course he did. Is it so wonderful?" and the boarding-school
+girl looked steadily at her companion.
+
+Mattie looked at her. She _was_ a beautiful girl, and perhaps it was not
+so wonderful, after all. But then Mattie still looked at Harriet Wesden
+as a child--even as a child younger than she whom the world had aged
+very early--rendered "old-fashioned," as the phrase runs, in many
+things.
+
+"Not wonderful, perhaps--but wasn't it wrong?" asked Mattie.
+
+"I don't think so--I never thought of that--he was very fond of me, and
+used to send me letters by the servant, and I--I did get very fond of
+him. He was a gentleman's son, and oh! _so_ handsome, Mattie, and _so_
+tall, and _so_ clever!"
+
+"About your age, I suppose?"
+
+"No, four-and-twenty, or more, perhaps. I don't know."
+
+"Well?--oh! dear, how _did_ it end?" asked Mattie; "it's like the
+story-books in the shop--isn't it?"
+
+"Wait awhile, dear. The misery of the human heart is to be unfolded now.
+He's a gentleman's son, and there's an estate or something in West India
+or East India, or in some dreadful hot place over the water somewhere,
+where the natives hook themselves in the small of their backs, and swing
+about and say their prayers."
+
+"How nasty!"
+
+"And--and he--was to go there," her sobs beginning again at the
+reminiscence, "and live there, and," dropping her voice to a whisper,
+"he asked me if I'd run away with him, and be married to him over
+there."
+
+Mattie clenched her fist spasmodically. She saw through the flimsy veil
+of romance, with a suddenness for which she was unprepared herself. She
+was a woman of the world, with a knowledge of the evil in it, on the
+instant.
+
+"Oh! that man was a big scamp, I'm sure of it--I know it!"
+
+"What makes you think that?" asked Harriet, imperiously.
+
+"Couldn't he have come to Suffolk Street, and told your father all about
+it like a--like a man?"
+
+"Yes, but _his_ father--his father is a gentleman, and would never let
+him marry a poor, deplorable stationer's daughter."
+
+"Ah! his father does not know you, and his father didn't have the chance
+of trying, I'm inclined to think," was the shrewd comment here.
+
+"Never mind that," said Harriet, "I don't see that that's anything to do
+with the matter just now. I wouldn't run away; I was very frightened; I
+loved father and mother, and I knew how they loved me. And when I cried,
+he said he had only done it to try me, and then--and then--he went away
+next day for ever!"
+
+"And a good riddance," muttered Mattie.
+
+"Oh! Mattie, you cruel, _cruel_ girl, is this the sympathy you talked
+about a little while ago?"
+
+"I've every sympathy with you, my own dear young lady," said Mattie;
+"I'm sorry to see how this is troubling you--you so young!--just now.
+But I don't think _he_ acted very properly, Miss Harriet, or that you
+were quite so careful of yourself as--as you might have been."
+
+"I'm a wretched, wretched woman!"
+
+"Does he know where you live?"
+
+"Ye--es," she sobbed.
+
+"And where did he live before he went to India?"
+
+"Surrey."
+
+"That's a large place, I think. I haven't turned to geography lately,
+but I fancy it's a double map. If that's all the address, it's a good
+big one. May I ask his name?"
+
+"Never," was the melodramatic answer.
+
+"Ah! it does not matter much. I hope, for the sake of all down-stairs,
+you will try and forget it. It's no credit; you were much too young, and
+he too old in everything. Oh! Miss Harriet, you and the other young
+ladies must have been going it down at Brighton!"
+
+"It all happened suddenly, Mattie; I'm not a forward girl; they're all
+of my age--oh! and ever so much bolder."
+
+"A very nice school that must be, I should think," said Mattie, leaving
+the bed for the box, which she proceeded to uncord; "if I ever hear of
+anybody wanting to send their daughters to a finishing akkademy," Mattie
+was not thoroughly up in pure English yet, "I'll just recommend that
+one!"
+
+"Mattie," reproved Harriet, "you've got at all that you wanted to know,
+and now you're full of bitter sarcasm."
+
+"I'm full of bitter nothing, Miss," was the reply; "and oh!--you don't
+know how sorry I feel that it has all happened, making you so old and
+womanly, before your time--filling your head with rubbish about--the
+chaps!"
+
+Harriet said nothing--she sat and watched with dreamy eyes the process
+of uncording; only, when Mattie attempted to turn the box on its side,
+did she spring up and help to assist without a word.
+
+"There, that'll do," she said peevishly; "let me only unlock the box,
+and get at my night-things, that's all I want. Mattie, for goodness
+sake, don't keep so in the way!"
+
+Mattie stood aside, and Harriet Wesden, with an impatient hand, unlocked
+the box, and raised the heavy oaken lid. Mattie's eyes, sharp as
+needles, detected a small roll of written papers, neatly tied.
+
+"Are these the letters, Miss Harriet?"
+
+"Good gracious me, how curious and prying you are!" said Harriet,
+snatching the packet from her hand. "I wish I had never told you a
+syllable--I wish you'd leave my things alone!"
+
+"I beg your pardon--I only asked. It _was_ wrong."
+
+"Well, there, I forgive you; but you are so tiresome, and old-fashioned.
+I can't make you out--I never shall--you're not like other girls."
+
+"Was I brought up like other girls, you know?" was the sad question.
+
+"No, no--I forgot that--I beg your pardon, Mattie; I didn't mean it for
+a taunt."
+
+"God bless you, I know that. What are you doing?"
+
+"Getting rid of these," thrusting the letters in the candle flame as she
+spoke. "I can trust you, but not them, Mattie."
+
+"I'd hold them over the fire-place, then. If they drop on the
+toilet-table, we shall have the house a-fire."
+
+Harriet took the advice proffered, and removed her combustibles to the
+place recommended. Mattie, on her knees by the box, watched the process.
+
+"And there's an end of _them_," Harriet said at last, in a decisive
+tone.
+
+"And of him--say of him?"
+
+"We parted for ever--but I shall always think of him--think, too, that
+perhaps I _was_ very young and thoughtless and vain, to lead him on, or
+to be led on. But oh! Mattie, he did love me--he wouldn't have harmed me
+for the world!"
+
+"He hasn't spoken of writing--you haven't promised to write any more."
+
+"No--it was a parting for _ever_. Haven't I said so, over and over
+again?"
+
+"Then you'll soon forget him, Miss Harriet--try and forget him, for your
+own sake--you can't tell whether he wasn't making game of you, for
+certain; he didn't act well, for he wasn't a boy, was he? And now go to
+sleep, and wake up in the morning your old self, Miss."
+
+"I'll try--I must try!"
+
+"I don't think that this fine gentleman will ever turn up again; if he
+does, you'll be older to take your own part. Oh! dear, how contrary
+things do go, to be sure."
+
+"What's the matter now?"
+
+"I did think I knew whom you were to marry."
+
+"Who was it?" said Harriet, with evident interest in her question.
+
+"Well, I thought, Miss Harriet, that you'd grow up, and grow up to be a
+young woman, and that Master Sidney underneath, would grow up, and grow
+up to be a young man, and you'd fall naturally in love with one
+another--marry, and be oh! so happy. When I'm hard at work at the
+lessons he or his father writes out for me sometimes, I catch myself
+forgetting all about them, and thinking of you and him together--and I
+your servant, perhaps, or little housekeeper. I've always thought that
+that would come to pass some day, and that he'd grow rich, and make a
+lady of you--and it made me happy to think that the two, who'd been
+perhaps the kindest in all the world to me, would marry some fine day.
+I've pictered it--pictured it," she corrected, "many and many a time,
+until I fancied at last it must come true."
+
+"Master Sidney, indeed!" was the disparaging comment.
+
+"When you know him, you won't talk like that," said Mattie; "he's a
+gentleman--growing like one fast--and I don't think, young as he is,
+that he would have acted like that other one you've been silly enough to
+think about."
+
+"Silly!--oh! Mattie, Mattie, that isn't sympathy with me--I don't know
+whether you're a child, or an old woman--you talk like both of them, and
+in one breath. Why did I tell you!--why did I tell you!"
+
+"Because I was in earnest, and begged hard--because I was afraid, and
+you could not keep such a secret from me as that; and if you had wanted
+help--how I would have stood by you!"
+
+Harriet noted the kindling eyes, and her heart warmed to the
+nondescript.
+
+"Thank you, Mattie--one friend at least now."
+
+"Always,--don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+Mattie was at the door, when Harriet called her back.
+
+"Mattie, never a word about this again. I daresay I shall soon forget
+it, for I am very young; and though it was LOVE, yet I won't let it
+break my heart. I'm very wretched now. I shall be glad," she added with
+a yawn, "to lie down and think of all my sorrows."
+
+"And sleep them away."
+
+"Oh! I shall not close an eye to-night. Good night, Mattie."
+
+Miss Harriet Wesden, a young lady who had begun life early, was sleeping
+soundly three minutes after Mattie's departure from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+OUR CHARACTERS.
+
+
+In our last chapter we have implied that life began early for Harriet
+Wesden. Before her school-days were finished, and with that precocity
+for which school-girls of the present era are unhappily distinguished,
+she was thinking of her lover, and constituting herself the heroine of a
+little romance, all the more dangerous for being unreal and out of the
+common track. A tender-hearted girl, with a head not the most strong in
+the world, is easily impressed by the sentiment, real or assumed, of the
+first good-looking young fellow whom she may meet. In her own opinion
+she is not too young to receive admiration, and the consciousness of
+having impressed one of the opposite sex, arouses her vanity, changes
+the current of her thoughts, makes the world for awhile a very different
+place--bright, etherial and unreal. All this very dangerous ground to
+tread, but the more delightful for its pitfalls; all this a something
+that has occurred in a greater or less degree to most of us in our time,
+though we have the good sense to say nothing about it, or to laugh at
+the follies and the troubles we rashly sought in our nonage. Boys and
+girls begin their courtships early in these latter days--there is not a
+girl of sixteen who does not consider herself fit to love and be loved,
+however demure she may appear, or however much she may be kept back by
+detestable short frocks and frilled indescribables. And as for our boys,
+why, they are men of the world immediately they leave school--men of a
+world that is growing more rapid in its revolutions, and hardens its
+inhabitants wonderfully fast. It is a singular fact in the history of
+shop-keeping, that children's toys are becoming unfashionable. "Bless
+you, sir, children don't buy toys now, they're much too old for those
+amusements!" was the assertion of one of the trade to the writer of this
+work. And how many little misses and masters can most of us call to mind
+who are growing pale over their fancy work, their books, and their
+"collections," children who will do anything but play, and have souls
+above "Noah's Arks."
+
+Therefore, in these precocious times, Harriet Wesden, seventeen next
+month, was no exceptional creature; moreover, she had been to a
+boarding-school, where she had met with many of her own age who were
+twice as womanly and worldly--big girls, who were always talking about
+"the chaps," as Mattie had inelegantly phrased it.
+
+There is no occasion in this place to retrace the school-career of
+Harriet Wesden, to see how much she has kept back or extenuated; her
+story to Mattie was a truthful one, told with no drawbacks, but with a
+half-pride in her achievements which her girlish sorrows were not
+capable of concealing. There was something satisfactory in having loved
+and having been loved; and though the love had vanished away, still the
+reminiscence was not wholly painful, however much she might fancy so at
+that period.
+
+Mattie had listened to her story, and offered all the consolation in her
+power; Mattie was a girl of hard, plain facts, and looked more soberly
+at the world than her contemporaries. She had a dark knowledge of the
+worst part of it, and her early years had aged her more than she was
+aware of herself--aged her thoughts rather than her heart, for she was
+always cheerful, and her spirits were never depressed; she went her way
+in life quietly and earnestly, grateful for the great change by which
+that life had been characterized; grateful to all who had helped to turn
+it in a different channel. At this period, Mattie was happy; there was
+nothing to trouble her; it was an important post to hold in that
+stationer's shop; everybody had confidence in her, and had given her
+kind words; she had learned to know right from wrong; they were
+interested in her moral progress, both the shopkeeper and the lodgers on
+the first floor; she was more than content with her position in
+society--she was thankful for it.
+
+The Hinchfords had maintained their interest in Mattie, from the day of
+her attempt to explain her long search for the brooch. The father, a
+student of human nature, as he termed himself, had persuaded her to
+attend evening school, to study to improve in reading and writing at
+home; and Master Hinchford, who wrote a capital hand, set her copies in
+his leisure, and gave his verdict on her calligraphic performances.
+Mattie snatched at the elements of her education in a fugitive manner;
+Mr. Wesden did not object to her progress, but she was his servant,
+afterwards his shop-woman, and he wanted his money's worth out of her,
+like a man who understood business in all its branches. Mattie never
+neglected work for her studies, and yet made rapid advancement; and,
+by-and-bye, Mr. Hinchford, during one of his quiet interviews with the
+stationer, had obtained for her more time to attend her evening
+classes--and hence the improvement which we have seen in Mattie. So time
+had gone on, till Miss Wesden's return for good--so far, then, had the
+stationer's daughter and the stray made progress.
+
+Mattie, with a judgment beyond her years, had perceived the evanescent
+nature of Harriet Wesden's romance, and prophesied concerning it. She
+did not believe in the depth or intensity of Harriet's sorrow; moreover,
+she knew Harriet was not of a fretful disposition, and that new faces
+and new pursuits would exercise their usual effect upon a nature
+impressionable, and--just a little weak! Mattie was a judge of character
+without being aware of it, and her own unimpressionability set her above
+her fellows, and gave her a clear insight into events that were passing
+around her. A girl of observation also, who let few things--serious or
+trivial--escape her, but glanced at them in their revolutions, and
+remembered them, if necessary. This acuteness had possibly been derived
+from her hand-to-mouth existence in the old days; in her time of
+affluence, the habit of storing up and taking mental notes of
+everything, had not deserted her. Take her altogether, she was a sharp
+girl, and suited Mr. Wesden's business admirably.
+
+Quietly Mattie set herself to take stock of Harriet Wesden, after the
+latter's confession, to note if the love to which she had confessed were
+likely to be a permanency or not. Harriet and Mattie spoke but little
+concerning the adventures at Brighton; Mattie shunned the subject, and
+turned the conversation when Harriet felt prone to dilate upon her
+melancholy sensations. Besides, Mattie knew her place, kept to the shop,
+whither Harriet seldom followed her--that young lady having a soul above
+the business, by which she had benefited. Mr. and Mrs. Wesden rather
+admired this; they had saved money, and the business, to the latter at
+least, was but a secondary consideration; they had paid a large sum to
+make a lady of Harriet, and when they retired from business, Harriet
+would go with them, and be their hope and comfort, with her lady-like
+ways, in their little suburban residence. They were not slow in letting
+Harriet know this; they spoke of a private life very frequently; when
+Harriet was two years older, they would retire and live happily ever
+afterwards! Or, Mr. Wesden thought more prudently, if they did not give
+up the business for good, still they would live away from it, and leave
+the management of it to some trustworthy personage--Mattie, for
+instance, who would see after their interests, whilst they took their
+ease in their old age.
+
+Mr. Hinchford, senior, had listened to these flying remarks more than
+once; he spoke of his own establishment in the future in _his_
+turn--where and how he should live with that clever boy of his, who
+would redeem the family credit by assuming the Hinchfords' legitimate
+position.
+
+"I kept my carriage once, Mr. Wesden--I hope to do it again. My boy's
+very clever, very energetic--he has gained the esteem of his employers,
+and I believe that they will make a partner of him some day."
+
+What Sidney Hinchford believed, did not appear upon the surface. He was
+a youth--say a young man--who kept a great many thoughts to himself, and
+pushed on in life steadily and undemonstratively. His father was right;
+Sidney had gained the esteem of his employers; he _was_ very clever at
+figures, handy as a correspondent, never objected to over-work, did more
+work than any one of the old hands; evinced an aptitude for business and
+an interest in his employers' success--very remarkable in these
+egotistical times. His employers were wholesale tea-dealers in Mincing
+Lane--well-to-do men, without families of their own--men who had risen
+from the ranks, after the fashion of City-men, who have a nice habit of
+getting on in the world. Sidney Hinchford's manner pleased them, but
+they kept their own counsel, and watched his progress--and Sidney's was
+a remarkable progress, for a youth of his age.
+
+Sidney, be it said here, was an ambitious youth in his heart. His father
+had been a rich man; his father's family, from which they held
+themselves aloof, were rich people, and his hope was in recovering the
+ground which, by some means or other never satisfactorily explained to
+him, the Suffolk Street lodgers had managed to lose. Young men brought
+up in City counting-houses have a wonderful reverence for money; Sidney
+saw its value early in life, and became just a trifle too careful; for
+over-carefulness makes a man suspicious, and keeps the heart from
+properly expanding with love and charity to those who need it. An
+earnest and an honourable young man, as we hope to prove without
+labelling our character at the outset, yet he stood too much upon what
+was legal, what was a fair price, or a good bargain, and pushed his way
+onwards without much thought for the condition of beings less lucky than
+he. There was a prize ahead of him; he could see it above the crowd
+which jostled him for bread, for fame, for other prizes worth the
+winning, and by which he set no store, and he kept his eyes upon it
+steadfastly and dreamed of it in his sleep. He became grave-faced and
+stern before his time--he was a man at nineteen, with a man's thoughts,
+and doing a man's work.
+
+And then a something came to soften him and turn his thoughts a little
+aside from the beaten track, and this is how it came about.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+A NEW ADMIRER.
+
+
+Master Sidney Hinchford in old times had been a playfellow of Harriet
+Wesden--lodging in the same house together, returning from school at the
+same hours, they had become almost brother and sister, entertaining for
+each other that child's affection, which it was but natural to expect
+would have been developed under the circumstances.
+
+Mr. Hinchford, a widower, with no great ability in the management of
+children, was glad to see his boy find an attraction in the stationer's
+parlour, and leave him to the study of his books or the perusal of his
+newspapers, after the long office-hours. He was a thoughtful man, too,
+who considered it best for his son to form a friendship with one of his
+own age; and he had become attached to the Wesdens, as people who had
+been kind to him and his boy in a great trouble. And it was satisfactory
+to pair off Harriet Wesden--who was in the way of business, and
+generally considered at that period a tiresome child, seldom of one mind
+longer than five minutes together--with Master Hinchford, and so keep
+her out of mischief and out of the shop where the draughts were many and
+likely to affect her health. This good understanding had never
+diminished between Harriet Wesden and Sidney Hinchford; only the
+boarding-school at last had set them apart. When they met once a year,
+they were still the same warm friends, and it was like a brother meeting
+a sister when the Christmas holidays came round. The last holiday but
+one, when Harriet, who had grown rapidly, returned from Brighton, a girl
+close upon sixteen years of age, there was a little shyness at first
+between them, which wore off in a few days. Sidney met her after a
+year's absence without kissing her, stared and stammered, and found it
+hard to assume a natural demeanour, and it was only Harriet's frank and
+girlish ways that eventually set him at his ease.
+
+The present Christmas all was altered, very much for the worse, Sidney
+thought. He had met, for the first time, a pale-faced, languishing young
+lady--a lady who had become very beautiful certainly, but was not the
+Harriet Wesden whom he had hitherto known. He had escorted her from the
+Brighton station, thinking that she had altered very much, and that he
+did not like her new ways half so well as the old; he had seen her every
+evening after that return, noted the variableness of her moods, set her
+down, in his critical way, for an eccentric girl, whom it was impossible
+to understand.
+
+If she were dull, he fancied he had offended her; if she were lively, he
+became thin-skinned enough to imagine that she was making fun of him. He
+did not like it, he thought; but he found the new Harriet intruding upon
+his business ideas, getting between him and the rows of figures in his
+ledger, perplexing him with the last look she gave him, and the last
+musical word that had rung in his ears. He did not believe that he was
+going to fall in love with her--not when he was really in love with her,
+and found his sensations a nuisance.
+
+And Harriet Wesden, who had already succumbed to the love-god, and been
+enraptured by the dulcet notes of the stranger, she thought Sidney
+Hinchford had not improved for the better; that his glasses rendered him
+almost plain, that his dry hard voice grated on her ears, and that he
+had even grown quite a cross-looking young man. She took occasion to
+tell him these unpleasant impressions with a sisterly frankness to which
+he appeared to object; gave him advice as to deportment, set of his
+neckerchief, size of his gloves, and only became a little thoughtful
+when she noted the effect which her advice had upon him, and the
+lamb-like docility with which he obeyed all her directions. Finally, all
+her spirits came back; she had her doubts as to the state of Sidney
+Hinchford's heart, and whether her first judgment on his personal
+appearance were correct in the main; she began to observe him more
+closely; life appeared to present an object in it once more; her
+vanity--for she was a girl who knew she was pretty, and was proud of the
+influence which her pretty face exercised--was flattered by his rapt
+attention; and though she should never love anybody again--never, never
+in all her life!--yet it was pleasant to know that Sidney was thinking
+of her, and to see how a smile or a frown of hers brightened his looks
+or cast them back into shadow.
+
+Harriet Wesden was partial to experimentalizing on the effect which her
+appearance might create on society. She was not a strong-minded girl,
+who despised appearances; on the contrary, as weak and as vain as that
+Miss Smith or Miss Brown, whose demerits our wives discuss over their
+tea-tables. She was not strong-minded--she was pretty--and she was
+seventeen years of age!
+
+If she went for a walk, or on a shopping excursion, she was particular
+about the bonnet she wore; and if young men, and old men too, some of
+them, looked admiringly at her pretty face as they passed her, she was
+flattered at the attention in her heart, although she kept steadily on
+her way, and looked not right or left in her progress. If the army of
+nondescripts in the great drapers' was thrown into a small flutter at
+her appearance therein, and white neckclothed servility struggled behind
+the boxes for the distinction of waiting on her, it was a gratification
+which she felt all the more for remaining so lady-like and unmoved on
+the high chair before the counter. She was a girl who knew her
+attractions, and was proud of them; but unfortunately she was a girl who
+knew but little else, and who thought but of little else just then.
+There was a pleasure in knowing that, let her step into any part of the
+London streets, people would notice her, even stop and look after her;
+and it did not strike her that there were other faces as pretty as hers,
+who received the same amount of staring and gaping at, and met with the
+same little "romantic" incidents occasionally.
+
+From her boarding-school days, Harriet had been inclined to romance; the
+one foolish _escapade_ had tinged life with romantic hues, and pretty as
+she was, her opinion of her own good looks was considerably higher than
+any one else's. She passed through life from seventeen to eighteen years
+of age taking everything as a compliment--flattered by the rude stares,
+the impertinent smiles from shallow-brained puppies who leer at every
+woman _en route_; rather pleased than otherwise if a greater idiot or a
+nastier beast than his contemporaries tracked her footsteps homewards,
+and lingered about Great Suffolk Street in the hope of seeing her again.
+All this the spell of her beauty which lured men towards her; all this
+without one thought of harm--simply an irresistible vanity that took
+delight in her influence, and was pleased with immoderate fooleries.
+
+Pretty, vain, foolish, and fond of attention, on the one side; but
+good-tempered, good-hearted, and innocent of design on the other. A
+butterfly disposition, that would carry its owner through life if the
+sun shone, but would be whirled heaven knows where in a storm. She would
+have been happy all her life, had all mankind been up to the dead level
+of honest intentions, which it is not, just at present, thanks to the
+poor wretches like us who get our living by story-telling.
+
+Most young ladies constituted like Harriet Wesden have an ordeal to pass
+through for better for worse; if for worse, God help them! Harriet
+Wesden's came in due course.
+
+It was, in the beginning, but another chapter of romance--another
+conquest! Love at first sight in London Streets, and the fervour of a
+new-born passion carrying the devotee out of the track, and leading him
+to follow in her footsteps, worshipping at a distance. It had occurred
+twice before, and was a compliment to the power of her charms--her heart
+quite fluttered at these little breaks in a somewhat monotonous
+existence. It was rather aggravating that the romance always ended in an
+old-fashioned bookseller's shop in Great Suffolk Street, where "the
+mysterious strangers" were jostled into the mud by people with baskets,
+and then run down by bawling costers with barrows. That was not a nice
+end to the story, and though she wished the story to conclude at the
+door, yet she would have preferred something more graceful as a
+"wind-up." Nevertheless, take it for all in all, a satisfactory proof
+that she had a face pretty enough to lure people out of their way, and
+rob them of their time--lead them without a "mite of encouragement" on
+her part to follow her fairy footsteps. If there were hypocrisy in her
+complaints to Mattie concerning the "impudence" of the fellows, she
+scarcely knew it herself; and Mattie would not believe in hypocrisy in
+the girl whom she served with a Balderstonian fidelity. The third
+fugitive adorer of the stationer's daughter was of a different stamp to
+his predecessors. He was one of a class--a gentleman by birth and
+position, and a prowler by profession. A prowler in fine clothes of
+fashionable cut, hanging about fashionable thoroughfares when London was
+in town, and going down to fashionable watering-places when London
+needed salt water. A man of the lynx order of bipeds, hunting for prey
+at all times and seasons, meeting with many rebuffs, and anon--and
+alas!--with sufficient encouragement--attracted by every fresh, innocent
+face; seeking it out as his profession; following it with a pertinacity
+that would have been creditable in any other pursuit--in fact, a scamp
+of the first water!
+
+Harriet Wesden had gone westward in search of a book ordered by a
+customer, and had met this man, when homeward bound, in Regent Street.
+Harriet's face attracted him, and in a business-like manner, which told
+of long practice, he started in pursuit, regulating his conduct by the
+future manoeuvres of the object in view. Harriet fluttered on her way
+homewards, conscious, almost by intuition, that she was followed;
+proceeding steadily in a south-eastern direction, and pertinaciously
+keeping the back of her straw bonnet to the pursuer. Had she looked
+behind once, our prowler would have increased his pace, and essayed to
+open a conversation--a half smile, even a look of interest, the ghost of
+an _oeillade_ would have been sufficient test of character for him,
+and he would have chanced his fortunes by a _coup d'etat_.
+
+But he was in doubt. Once in crossing the Strand, towards Waterloo
+Bridge, he managed to veer round and confront her, but she never glanced
+towards him; so with a consideration not generally apparent in prowlers,
+he contented himself with following her home. He had his time on his
+hands--he had not met with an adventure lately--he was approaching a
+region that was not well known to him, and the smell of which disgusted
+him; but there was a something in Harriet Wesden's face which took him
+gingerly along, and he was a man who always followed his adventures to
+an end. Cool, calculating and daring, he would have made an excellent
+soldier--being brought up as an idler, he turned out a capital
+scoundrel.
+
+Harriet reached her own door and gave a half timid, half inquiring
+glance round, before she passed into the shop; our prowler took stock of
+the name and the number--he had an admirable memory--examined everything
+in the shop window; walked on the opposite side of the way; looked up at
+the first and second floor, and met with nothing to reward his vigilance
+but the fierce face of old Hinchford; finally entered the shop and
+purchased some cigars, grinding his teeth quietly to himself over Mr.
+Wesden's suspicions of his sovereign being a counterfeit.
+
+We should not have dwelt upon this incident, had it thus ended, or had
+no effect upon our story's progress. But, on the contrary, from the
+man's persistency, strange results evolved.
+
+Twice or thrice a week this tall, high-shouldered, moustached _roue_, of
+five-and-thirty, appeared in Suffolk Street--patronized the bookseller's
+shop by purchases--hulked about street corners, watching the house, and
+catching a glimpse of Harriet occasionally. This was the Brighton
+romance over again, only Harriet was a year older now, and the hero of
+the story was sallow-faced and sinister--there was danger to any modest
+girl in those little scintillating eyes of his; and that other hero had
+been much younger, and had really loved her, she believed!
+
+Pertinacity appears like devotion to some minds, and our prowler had met
+with his reward more than once by keeping doggedly to his post; he held
+his ground therefore, and watched his opportunity. Harriet Wesden had
+become frightened by this time; the adventure had lost its romantic
+side, and there was something in her new admirer's face which warned
+even her, a girl of no great penetration.
+
+Mattie was always Harriet's _confidante_ in these matters--Harriet was
+fond of asking advice how to proceed, although she did not always take
+the same with good grace. That little, black-eyed confidante kept watch
+in her turn upon the prowler, and resolved in her mind the best method
+of action.
+
+"I'm afraid of him, Mattie," whispered Harriet; "I should not like
+father to know he had followed me home, lest he should think I had given
+the man encouragement, and father can be very stern when his suspicions
+are aroused. Besides, I shouldn't like Sidney to know."
+
+"But he wouldn't believe that you had given him encouragement; he thinks
+too much of you, I fancy."
+
+"You're full of fancies, Mattie."
+
+"And--oh! there's the man again, looking under the _London Journals_.
+How very much like the devil in a French hat he is, to be sure!"
+
+This dialogue occurred in the back parlour, whilst Mrs. Wesden was
+up-stairs, and Mr. Wesden in Paternoster Row in search of the December
+"monthlies"--and in the middle of it the devil in his French hat,
+stepped, with his usual cool imperturbability, into the shop.
+
+This procedure always annoyed Mattie; she saw through the pretence, and,
+though it brought custom to the establishment, still it aggravated her.
+It was playing at shop, and "making-believe" to want something; and shop
+with our humble heroine was an important matter, and not to be lightly
+trifled with. She had her revenge in her way by selling the prowler the
+driest, hardest, and most undrawable of cigars, giving him the penny
+Pickwicks for the mild Havannahs; she sold him fusees that she knew had
+been left in a damp place, and the outside periodicals, which had become
+torn and soiled--could she have discovered a bad sixpence in the till, I
+believe, in her peculiar ideas of retaliation, she would not have
+hesitated an instant in presenting it, with his change.
+
+The gentleman of energy entered the shop then, rolled his eyes over the
+parlour blind towards Harriet, who sat at fancy-work by the fireside,
+finally looked at Mattie, who stood stolidly surveying him. Now energy
+without a result had considerably damped the ardour of our prowler, and
+he had resolved to push a little forward in the sapping and mining way.
+He was a man who had made feminine pursuit a study; he knew human
+weakness, and the power of the money he carried in his pockets. He was
+well up in Ovid and in the old comedies of a dissolute age, where the
+Abigail is always tempted before the mistress--and Mattie was only a
+servant of a lower order, easily to be worked upon, he had not the
+slightest doubt. There was a servant who did the scrubbing of the stones
+before the door, and sat half out of window polishing the panes, till
+she curdled his blood, but she was a red-faced, stupid girl, and as
+there was a choice, he preferred that shop-girl, "with the artful black
+eyes," as he termed them.
+
+"Good morning, Miss."
+
+"Good morning."
+
+"Have you any--any more of those exceedingly nice cigars, Miss?"
+
+"Plenty more of them."
+
+"I'll take a shilling's-worth."
+
+Mattie, always anxious to get him out of the shop, rolled up his cigars
+in paper, and passed them rapidly across the counter. The prowler, not
+at all anxious, unrolled the paper, drew forth his cigar-case, and
+proceeded to place the "Havannahs" very carefully one by one in their
+proper receptacles, talking about the weather and the business, and even
+complimenting Mattie upon her good looks that particular morning, till
+Mattie's blood began to simmer.
+
+"You haven't paid me yet, sir," she said, rather sharply.
+
+"No, Miss--in one moment, if you will allow me."
+
+After awhile, during which Mattie moved from one foot to another in her
+impatience, he drew forth a sovereign and laid it on the counter.
+
+"We're short of change, sir--if you have anything smaller----"
+
+"Nothing smaller, I am compelled to say, Miss."
+
+Mattie hesitated. Under other circumstances, she would have left her
+shop, ran into the pork-butcher's next door, and procured change, after
+a hint to Harriet to look to the business; but she detected the _ruse_
+of the prowler, and was not to be outwitted. She opened her till again,
+and found fourteen shillings in silver--represented by a preponderance
+of threepenny pieces, but that was of no consequence, save that it took
+him longer to count--and from a lower drawer she drew forth one of many
+five-shilling packets of coppers, which pawnbrokers and publicans on
+Saturday nights were glad to give Mr. Wesden silver for, and laid it
+down with a heavy dab on the counter.
+
+"What--what's that?" he ejaculated.
+
+"That's ha'pence--that's all the change we've got--and I can't leave the
+shop," said Mattie, briskly. "You can give me my cigars back and get
+change for yourself, if you don't like it."
+
+"Thank you," was the suave answer, "I was not thinking much about the
+change. If you will buy yourself a new bonnet with it, you will be
+conferring a favour upon me."
+
+"And what favour will you want back?" asked Mattie, quickly.
+
+"Oh! I will leave that to time and your kindness--come, will you take it
+and be friends with me? I want a friend in this quarter very much."
+
+He pushed the silver and the cumbrous packet of coppers towards her. He
+was inclined to be liberal. He remembered how many he had dazzled in his
+time by his profuse munificence. Money he had never studied in his life,
+and by the strange rule of contraries, he had had plenty of it.
+
+Mattie was impulsive--even passionate, and the effort to corrupt her
+allegiance to the Wesdens fired her blood to a degree that she even
+wondered at herself shortly afterwards.
+
+"Take yourself out of this shop, you bad man," she cried, "and your
+trumpery change too! Be off with you before I call a policeman, or throw
+something at you--you great big coward, to be always coming here
+insulting us!"
+
+With her impatient hands she swept the money off the counter,
+five-shilling packet of coppers and all, which fell with a crash, and
+disgorged its contents on the floor.
+
+"What--what do you mean?" stammered the prowler.
+
+"I mean that it's no good you're coming here, and that nobody wants to
+see you here again, and that I'll set the policeman on you next time you
+give me any of your impudence. Get out with you, you coward!"
+
+Mattie thought her one threat of a policeman sufficient; she had still a
+great reverence for that official personage, and believed that his very
+name must strike terror to guilty hearts. The effect upon her auditor
+led her to believe that she had been successful; but he was only alarmed
+at Mattie's loud voice, and the stoppage of two boys and a woman at the
+door.
+
+"I--I don't know what you mean--you're mad," he muttered, and then slunk
+out of the shop, leaving his cumbrous change for a sovereign spread over
+the stationer's floor. Mattie went round the counter and collected the
+_debris_ of mammon, minus one threepenny piece which she could not
+discern anywhere, but which Mr. Wesden, toiling under his monthly
+parcel, detected in one corner immediately upon his entrance.
+
+"Why, Mattie, what's this?--MONEY--_on the floor_!"
+
+"A gentleman dropped his change, sir."
+
+"Put it on the shelf, he'll be back for it presently."
+
+"No, I don't think he will," was Mattie's dry response.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+PERSEVERANCE.
+
+
+Mattie in her self-conceit imagined that she had frightened the prowler
+from Great Suffolk Street; in lieu thereof, she had only deterred him
+from entering a second appearance on the premises. He had made a false
+move, and reaped the bitter consequence. He must be more wary, if he
+built upon making an impression on Harriet Wesden's heart--more
+cautious, more of a strategist. So he continued to prowl at a distance,
+and to watch his opportunity from the same point of view. Presently it
+would come, and with the advantage of his winning tongue, which could
+roll off elegant phrases by the yard, he trusted to make an impression
+on a shopkeeper's daughter.
+
+For a moment, and after his rebuff, he had hesitated as to the
+expediency of continuing the siege; but his pride was aroused; it was an
+unpleasant end to his plans, and the chance had not presented itself yet
+of trying his fortune with Miss Wesden herself. Presently the hour would
+come; he did not despair yet; he bided his time with great patience.
+
+The time came a fortnight after that little incident in the Suffolk
+Street shop. Harriet Wesden was coming down the Borough towards home one
+wet night when he accosted her. It was getting late for one thing, and
+rainy for another, and Harriet was making all the haste home that she
+could, when he made her heart leap into her throat by his sudden "Good
+evening, Miss."
+
+One glance at him, the nipping of a little scream in the bud, and then
+she increased her pace, the prowler keeping step with her.
+
+"Will you favour me by accepting half my umbrella, Miss Wesden--for one
+instant then, whilst I venture to explain what may seem conduct the
+reverse of gentlemanly to you?"
+
+"No, sir, I wish to hear nothing--I wish to be left alone."
+
+"I have been very rude--I will ask your pardon, Miss Wesden, very
+humbly. But let me beg of you to listen to this explanation of my
+conduct."
+
+"There is nothing to explain, sir."
+
+"Pardon me, but there is. Pardon me, but this is not the way you would
+have treated Mr. Darcy had he been in my place."
+
+Harriet gasped for breath. Mr. Darcy, the hero of her Brighton folly,
+the name which she had never confessed to a living soul, the only man in
+the world who she thought could have taunted her with indiscretion, and
+of being weak and frivolous rather than a rude and forward girl! Harriet
+did not reply; she looked at him closely, almost tremblingly, and then
+continued her hurried progress homewards; the prowler, seeing his
+advantage, maintained his position by her side, keeping the umbrella
+over her.
+
+"Mr. Darcy was an intimate friend of mine before he went to India; we
+were together at Brighton, Miss Wesden--more than once he has mentioned
+your name to me."
+
+"Indeed," she murmured.
+
+"You would like to hear that he is well, perhaps."
+
+"I am glad to hear that," Miss Wesden ventured to remark.
+
+"He is in India still--I believe will remain there, marry and settle
+down there for good."
+
+"Have you been watching my house to tell me this?"
+
+"Partly, and partly for other reasons, for which I have a better excuse.
+I have been a wanderer--in search of happiness many years, and for the
+first time in a life not unadventurous there crosses my----"
+
+"Good evening, sir--I have been entrapped into a conversation--I must
+beg you to leave me."
+
+Harriet set off at the double again--in double quick time went the
+prowler after her.
+
+People abroad that night began to notice the agitated girl, and the tall
+man marching on at her side, who, in his eagerness to keep step, trod on
+people's feet, and sent one doctor's boy, basket and bottles, crunching
+against a lamp-post; one or two stopped and looked after them and then
+continued their way--it was a race between the prowler and his victim,
+the prowler making a dead heat of it.
+
+Harriet gave in at last--her spirit was not a very strong one, and she
+stopped and burst into tears.
+
+"Sir, will you leave me?--will you believe that I don't want to hear a
+single word of your reasons for thus persecuting me?"
+
+"Miss Wesden, only allow me to explain, and I will go my way and never
+see you more. I will vanish away in the darkness, and let all the bright
+hopes I have fostered float away on the current which bears you away
+from me."
+
+"Go, pray do go, if you are a gentleman. I must appeal to some one for
+protection, if you----"
+
+"Miss Wesden, you must hear me--you shall hear me. I am not a child; I
+am----"
+
+"A scoundrel, evidently," said a harsh voice in his ears, and the
+instant afterwards Sidney Hinchford, with two fiery eyes behind his
+spectacles, stood between him and the girl he was persecuting. Harriet,
+with a little cry of joy, clung to the arm of her deliverer; the prowler
+looked perplexed, then put the best face upon the matter that he could
+extemporize for the occasion.
+
+"Who are you, sir?" was the truly English expletive.
+
+"My name is Hinchford--my address is at your service, if you wish it.
+Now, sir, your name--and _business_?"
+
+"I decline to give it."
+
+"You have insulted this lady, a friend of mine. Apologize," cried young
+Hinchford, in much such a tone as an irritable officer summons his
+company to shoulder arms.
+
+"Sir, your tone is not calculated to induce me to oblige _you_. If Miss
+Wesden thinks that I----"
+
+"APOLOGIZE!" shouted Hinchford, a second time. He had forgotten the
+respect due to his charge, and shaken her hand from his arm; he was
+making a little scene in the street, and convulsing Harriet with fright;
+he was face to face with the prowler, his tall, well-knit form,
+evidently a match for his antagonist; he was chivalrous, and scarcely
+twenty years of age; above all, he was in a towering passion, and verged
+a little on the burlesque, as passionate people generally do.
+
+As if by the touch of a magic wand, a crowd sprang up around them;
+respectable passers-by, the pickets of the Kent Street gang on duty in
+the Borough, unwashed men and women who had been seeking shelter under
+shop-blinds, the doctor's boy, who had been maltreated and had a claim
+to urge for damages, a fish-woman, two tradesmen with their aprons on
+fresh from business, and shoals of boys who might have dropped from
+heaven, so suddenly did they take up the best places, and assume an
+interest in the adventure.
+
+The prowler turned pale, and flinched a little as Sidney approached,
+flinched more as the audience seized the thread of discussion and
+expressed its comments more vociferously.
+
+"Punch his head if he don't 'pologize, sir--throw him into the mud,
+sir--I'd cure him of coming after _my_ gal--knock the bloke's hat off,
+and jump on it--lock him up!"
+
+The prowler saw his danger; he had heard a great deal of the mercies of
+a London mob, and it was hemming him in now--and, like most men of the
+prowling class, he was at heart a coward. He succumbed.
+
+"I never intended to insult the lady--if I have uttered a word to offend
+her, I am very sorry. It is all a misconception. But if the lady
+considers that I have taken a liberty in offering--in offering," he
+repeated, rather disturbed in his harangue by a violent shove from
+behind on to the unhappy doctor's boy, upon whose feet he alighted, "a
+common courtesy, I apologise with all my heart. I----"
+
+"That will do, sir," was the curt response; "you have had a narrow
+escape. Take it as a lesson."
+
+Sidney was glad to back out of the absurd position into which he had
+thrust Harriet, to draw her hand through his arm and hasten away,
+offering a a hundred excuses to her for his imprudence and
+impulsiveness.
+
+He had not moved twenty yards with her when the yell of the mob--and the
+mob in that end of London possesses the finest blood-curdling yell in
+the world--startled him and all within half a mile of him. It was a dull
+night, and the wild elements of street life were fond of novelty; a
+swell had been caught insulting a British female in distress, and the
+unwashed hates swells like poison. An apology was not sufficient for the
+lookers-on; prostration on bended knees and hands outstretched would not
+have done; sackcloth and ashes vowed for the remainder of the
+delinquent's existence, would have been treated with contumely--all that
+was wanted was an uproar. The boys wanted an uproar because it was
+natural to them; the representatives of Kent Street, because it was in
+the way of trade, and one or two respectable gents had become interested
+in the dispute, and wore watch-chains; the women, because "_he_ had not
+been sarved out as he desarved, the wretch!"
+
+So the prowler, backing out of the crowd, met with a sledge-hammer hand
+upon his hat, and found his hat off, and mud in his face, and then
+fists, and finally an upheaving of the whole mass towards him, sending
+him into the roadway like a shell from an Armstrong gun. There was no
+help for it, the prowler must run, and run he did, pursued by the
+terrible mob and that more terrible yell which woke up every recess in
+the Borough; and in this fashion the pursuer and the pursued sped down
+the muddy road towards the Elephant and Castle.
+
+An empty Hansom cab offered itself to the runaway; he leaped in whilst
+it was being slowly driven down the Borough, and dashed his fist through
+the trap.
+
+"Drive fast--double fare--REFORM!"
+
+The Hansom rattled off, the mob uttered one more despairing yell, and,
+after a slight abortive effort, gave up the chase, and left the prowler
+to his repentance.
+
+And he did repent of mixing with life "over the water,"--for Great
+Suffolk Street never saw him again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+"IN THE FULNESS OF THE HEART," ETC.
+
+
+"Oh! Harriet, I am very sorry," burst forth Sidney, when the noise had
+died away, and Harriet Wesden, pale and silent, walked on by his side
+with her trembling hand upon his arm.
+
+Harriet did not reply--her dignity had been outraged, and his defence
+had not greatly assisted her composure, though it had answered the
+purpose for which it was intended.
+
+Sidney gulped down a lump in his throat, and glanced at the pretty,
+agitated face.
+
+"You are offended with me--well, I deserve it. I'm a beast."
+
+This self-depreciatory verdict having consoled him, and elicited no
+response from Harriet, he continued, "I acted like a fool; I should have
+taken it coolly; why, he was more the gentleman of the two, scamp as he
+was. By George, I was near smashing him, though! Harriet," with
+eagerness, "you will look over my outburst. You're not so very much
+offended, are you?"
+
+"No, I'm not offended, only the mob frightened me, and you were very
+violent. I don't know what else you could have done."
+
+"Knocked him down and walked on, or given him in charge; knocked him
+down quietly would have been the most satisfactory method. How did it
+begin?"
+
+"He followed and spoke to me. He has been hanging about the house for
+weeks."
+
+"The dev--I beg pardon--has he though?"
+
+Sidney Hinchford walked on; he had become suddenly thoughtful. More
+strongly than ever it recurred to him what a mistake he had made in not
+knocking down the prowler in a quiet and graceful manner.
+
+"Mattie has noticed it, and spoken to him about it, but he would not go
+away."
+
+"Did he ever speak to you before to-night."
+
+"Never."
+
+"He's a great blackguard!" Sidney blurted forth; "but there's an end of
+him. He'll not trouble you any more, Harriet; he did not know that you
+had a big brother to take care of you. These sorts of fellows object to
+big brothers--they're in the way so much."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so."
+
+"You oughtn't to go out at this time of night alone," he added after
+awhile; "it isn't exactly the thing, you know."
+
+"No one spoke to me before."
+
+"N--no, but it is not what _I_ call proper."
+
+"What you call proper, Mr. Hinchford!--I'm sure I--"
+
+"I beg pardon; of course anything that I--I think proper, is of no
+consequence to you. It's only my way of speaking out--rather too
+plainly. I offend the clerks in the office at times and--and of course
+it's no business of mine, Harriet, although I did hope once that--that
+it would be. _There!_"
+
+Harriet saw what was coming, or rather what had come. She was alarmed,
+although this was not her first offer, and the bloom of novelty had been
+lightly brushed off by that boarding-school folly of which she felt more
+ashamed every day. She began walking very fast, in much the same way
+from his passionate words as she had done from the frothy vapidity of
+that man, extinguished for ever.
+
+Sidney walked on with her; her hand was sliding from his arm when he
+made a clutch at it, and held it rather firmly. He went at his love
+affairs in a straightforward manner--his earnestness making up for his
+lack of eloquence.
+
+"I know I've done it!" he said; "I know I should have kept this back a
+year or two--perhaps altogether--but it wouldn't answer, and it has made
+me miserable, out of sorts, and an enigma to the old dad. I'm only just
+twenty--of no position yet, but with a great hope to make one--I'm sure
+that I shall love you all my life, and never be happy without you--can
+you put up with a fellow like me, and say I may hope to teach you to
+love me some day?"
+
+A strange fear beset Harriet--a fear of answering before the whirl of
+events had given her time to consider. She had never seriously thought
+of pledging herself to him; though her woman's quickness had guessed at
+his secret long since, she had never dreamed of him or felt her heart
+beat for him, as for that first love who had won her girl's fancy, and
+then faded away like a dream-figure. She was agitated from the preceding
+events of that night, and now, in an unlucky moment, he added to her
+embarrassment and made her brain whirl--she was scarcely herself, and
+did not answer like herself.
+
+"Let go my hand, sir--let me go home--I don't want to hear any more!"
+
+"Very well," he answered; and was silent the rest of the way
+home--leaving her without a word in the shop, and passing through that
+side door reserved for the Hinchfords for the last thirteen years.
+Harriet, trembling and excited, almost stumbled into the back parlour,
+and began to sob forth a part of the adventures of that evening. Sidney,
+like the ghost of himself, stalked into the first-floor front, where his
+father was keeping a late tea for him.
+
+The anxious eyes of the father glanced from under the bushy white brows;
+he was a student of human nature, so far as his son was concerned at
+least.
+
+"Anything wrong, Sid?"
+
+"N--no," was the hesitative answer.
+
+"You look troubled."
+
+"I'm tired--dead beat."
+
+"Let us get on with the tea, then," he said assuming a cheery voice;
+"here's the _Times_, Sid."
+
+"I have read it," was the hollow answer.
+
+"Oh! I haven't--any news?"
+
+"Tea gone up with a rush, I believe."
+
+"Ah! good for the firm, I hope."
+
+"Believe so--don't know. Phew! how infernally hot this room gets!"
+
+Mr. Hinchford hazarded no more remarks--the curt replies of his son were
+sufficient indication of a reluctance to attend to him. He set out the
+tea-table, and superintended the duties thereof in a grave, fatherly
+manner, glancing askance at his son over the rim of his tea-cup. Sidney
+was in a mood that troubled the sire--for it was an unusual mood, and
+suggested something very much out of the way.
+
+After tea, Sidney would compose himself and relate what had happened in
+the City to disturb him, and led him to respond churlishly to the old
+father, who had never given him a cross word in his life. He would wait
+Sidney's good time--there was no good hurrying the lad.
+
+These two were something more than father and son; their long
+companionship together, unbroken upon by other ties, had engendered a
+concentrative affection which was a little out of the common--which more
+resembled in some respects the love existent between a good mother and
+daughter. They were friends, confidants, inseparable companions as well.
+The son's ambition was the father's, and all that interested and
+influenced the one equally affected the other. Sidney had made no
+friends from the counting-house or warehouse clerks; they were not "his
+sort," and he shunned their acquaintance. He was a young man of an
+unusual pattern, a trifle more grave than his years warranted, and
+endued with more forethought than the whole business put together. He
+looked at life sternly--too sternly for his years--and his soul was
+absorbed in rising to a good position therein, for his father's sake as
+well as his own. His father was growing old; his memory was not so good
+as it used to be; Sid fancied that the time would shortly come when the
+builders would discover his father's defects, dismiss him with a week's
+salary, and find a younger and sharper man to supply his place. That was
+simply business in a commercial house; but it was death to the
+incapables, whom sharp practice swept out of the way. Sidney felt that
+he had no time to lose; that there must come a day when his father's
+position would depend upon himself; when he should have to work for
+both, as his father had worked for him when he was young and helpless
+and troublesome. Sidney's employers were kind, more than that, they were
+deeply interested in the strange specimen of a young man who worked
+hard, objected to holidays, and took work home with him when there was a
+pressure on the firm; he was honest, energetic and truthful, and a
+servant with those requisites is always worth his weight in gold. They
+had conferred together, and resolved to make a partner of him in due
+course, when he was of age or when he was five-and-twenty; and Sidney,
+though he had never been informed of their intentions, guessed it by
+some quick instinct, read it in their faces, and believed that good luck
+would fall to his share some day. Still he never spoke of his hopes,
+save once to his father in a weak moment, of which he ever after
+repented, for his father was of a more sanguine nature, and inclined to
+build his castles too rapidly. Sidney knew the uncertainties of
+life--more especially of city life--and he proceeded quietly on his way,
+keeping his hopes under pressure, and talking and thinking like a clerk
+in the City who never expected to reach higher than two or three hundred
+a year.
+
+Yet with all his prudence he was, singular to relate, not of a reticent
+nature; he was a young man who spoke out, and hated mystery or suspense.
+
+Possibly in this last instance he had spoken out too quickly for Harriet
+Wesden; and though suspense was over, he did not feel pleased with his
+tactics of that particular evening. And he _was_ inclined to keep back
+all the unpleasant reminiscences of that night, sink them for ever in
+the waters of oblivion, and never let a soul know what an ass he had
+made of himself. It was his first imprudence, and he was aggrieved at
+it; he had given way to impulse, and suffered his love to escape at an
+unpropitious moment--his ears burned to think of all the folly which he
+had committed.
+
+In a bad temper--he who was generally so calm and equable--he took his
+tea, and shunned his father's inspection by turning his back upon him.
+After a while he took up the _Times_, which he had previously declined,
+and feigned an interest in the "Want Places." Mattie came in and out of
+the room with the hot water, &c.; she waited on the Hinchfords when Ann
+of all work was weak in the ankles, which was of frequent occurrence.
+Mattie made herself generally useful, and rather liked trouble than not.
+With a multiplicity of tasks on her mind, she was always more cheerful;
+it was only when there was nothing to do that her face assumed a
+sternness of expression as if the shadow of her early days were settling
+there.
+
+Mattie, bustling to and fro in attendance upon the Hinchfords, observed
+all and said nothing, like a sensible girl. She was quick enough to see
+that something unusual had happened above stairs as well as below, and
+her interest was as great in these two friends--and _helpers_--as in the
+Wesdens. She would have everybody happy in that house--it had been a
+lucky house for her, and it should be for all in it, if she possessed
+the power to make it so!
+
+She saw that one trouble had come at least; and looking intently at
+Sidney's grim face--she had busied herself with the bread and butter
+plate to get a good look at it--she read its story more plainly than he
+would have liked.
+
+Outside the door she paused and put "this and that together"--_this_ in
+the drawing-room, and _that_ in the parlour, and jumped at once at the
+right conclusion, with a rapidity that did infinite credit to her
+seventeen years. Seventeen years then, and rather shorter than ever, if
+that were possible.
+
+"He has been courting Harriet--I know he has!" she said; "and Harriet's
+been in a tantrum, and said something to cross him--that's it!"
+
+She missed a step and shook up the tea-things that she was carrying
+down-stairs. This recalled her to the duties of her situation.
+
+"One thing at a time, Mattie, my dear," she said, in a patronizing way
+to herself, as she descended to the lower regions. In those lower
+regions poor Ann Packet created another divergence of thought. Ann's
+ankles continued to swell--she had been much on her feet during the last
+heavy wash, and the gloomy thought had stolen to her, that her new
+calamity--she was a woman born for calamities--would end in the
+hospital.
+
+This idea having just seized her, she communicated it at once to Mattie,
+upon her re-appearance in the kitchen.
+
+"Mattie," said Ann, lugubriously, "I've been a good friend to you, all
+my life--ain't I?"
+
+"To be sure you have," was the quick answer.
+
+"When you came here first, a reg'lar young rip, I took to you, taught
+you what was tidiness, which you didn't know any more than the babe
+unborn, did you?"
+
+"Not much more--don't you feel so well to-night, Ann?"
+
+"Much wus--I'm only forty, and my legs oughtn't to go at that age."
+
+"No, and they won't."
+
+"_Won't_ they?" was the ironical answer; "but they will--but they has!
+Oh! Mattie gal, you'll come and see me at St. Tummas's?"
+
+"Ann Packet," said Mattie gravely, "this won't do. You're getting your
+old horrors again, and you're full of fancies, and your ankles are not
+half so bad as you think they are. I know what _you_ want."
+
+"What?"
+
+"A good shaking," laughed Mattie, "that's all."
+
+"Oh! you unnat'ral child!"
+
+"Well, the unnat'ral child will ask Mr. Wesden if she may keep out of
+the shop to-night, and bring a book down-stairs to read to you, over
+your needlework. But if you don't work I shan't read, Ann--is it a
+bargain?"
+
+"You're allus imperent; but get the book, if master'll let you. Oh! how
+_they_ do shoot!"
+
+Mattie obtained permission, brought down a book from the store, and sat
+down to read to honest Ann. She had made a good choice, and Ann was soon
+interested, forgot her ailments, and stitched away with excitable
+rapidity. Mattie had no time for thoughts of her own, or the new mystery
+above-stairs till the supper hour. She read on till the Hinchford bell
+rang once more; then she closed the book, and met with her reward in
+Ann's large red hand falling heavily, yet affectionately, on her
+shoulder.
+
+"Thankee, Mattie. I'll do as much for you some day, gal."
+
+"When you can spell, or when I've gouty ankles, Ann?"
+
+"Ah! get out with you!--I'm only fit for making game on, you think. I'm
+a poor woman, who never had the time to larn to read, and the likes of
+you can laugh at me."
+
+"No--only try to make you laugh, Ann. You're not cross?"
+
+"God bless you!--not I," she ejaculated spasmodically. "There, go about
+your work, and don't think anything of what an old fool like me talks
+about."
+
+Mattie busied herself with the supper tray, the bread, cheese, knives
+and plates, and then bore them away in her strong arms; Ann watched her
+out of the room, and then produced an indifferently clean cotton
+handkerchief, with which she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
+
+"To think how that gal has altered since she first came here, a little
+ragged thing," soliloquized Ann, "a gal who skeered you with the wulgar
+words she'd picked up in the streets, and was so awful ignorant, you
+blushed for her. And now the briskiest and best of gals; if I don't
+spend all my money in doctors stuff afore I die, that Mattie shall have
+every penny of it. It's in my will so; they put it down in black and
+white for me, and she'll never know it till I'm--I'm gone!"
+
+A prospect that caused Ann Packet to weep afresh; a dismal, but a
+soft-hearted woman, who had passed through life with no one to love,
+until she met with the stray. She was a stray herself, picked up at the
+workhouse gate, to the disgust of the relieving officer, and turned out
+to service as soon as she could walk and talk, and a mistress be found
+for her--lonely in the world herself, she had, when the time came round,
+taken to one more forlorn and friendless than ever she had been. And she
+_had_ left her all her money--fourteen pounds, seven and sevenpence, put
+out at interest, two and seven eighths, in the Finsbury Savings Bank,
+whither her ankles refused to carry her to get her book made up, another
+trouble at that time which kept her mind unsettled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+Whilst Mattie read to her fellow-workman, consolation was also being
+attempted in the drawing-room that she had quitted. Consolation
+attempted by the father after awhile to his son.
+
+After awhile, for an hour passed before a word was exchanged, and Sidney
+Hinchford still held the newspaper before him, staring at it, without
+comprehending a word. A singular position for him to adopt; a youth of
+twenty, who never wasted time, who had always something on his hands to
+fill up his evenings at home, who was very often too busy to play
+backgammon with his father.
+
+That father was troubled; his heart was in his son's peace of mind;
+there was nothing that he would not have sacrificed for it, had it lain
+in his power. His pride was in his son's advancement, his son's ability,
+and he fancied that a great trouble had occurred at the business to
+change the scene in which both played their parts. He was less
+strong-minded and more nervous than he had been four years ago, and so
+less affected him.
+
+When the hour had passed, and he had grown tired of Sidney's silence, he
+said, with something of his son's straightforwardness,
+
+"What's the matter, Sid?"
+
+Sidney crumpled the paper in his hands, and flung it on the table; he
+was tired, even a little ashamed of his sullen deportment.
+
+"A matter that I ought to keep to myself, it being a foolish one, sir,"
+he answered; "but, if you wish, I will relate it."
+
+"If _you_ wish, Sid," was the courteous answer; "I have no wish to hear
+anything that you would desire to keep back from me. If you think I can
+be of no use to you, give you no advice, offer no consolation that you
+may think worthy of acceptance, and if," with a very wistful glance
+towards him, "you consider it a matter that concerns yourself alone, why
+I--I don't wish to intrude upon your confidence."
+
+"I don't think that we have had any secrets from each other yet; I don't
+see any reason why we should begin to get mysterious, father," Sidney
+replied; "and so, here's the full, true, and particular account."
+
+Mr. Hinchford edged his chair nearer to his son, the son turned and
+looked his father in the face, blushing just a little at the beginning
+of his narrative.
+
+"It's an odd thing for one _man_ to tell another," he said quickly, "but
+it's what you ought to know, and though it makes me wince a little, it's
+soon over. I've been thinking of engaging myself to----"
+
+"Not to another firm, Sid--_now_?" cried the father, as he paused.
+
+"To Harriet Wesden, down-stairs."
+
+"God bless me!"
+
+Mr. Hinchford passed his hands through his scanty white hairs, stroked
+his moustache, blew at an imaginary something in the air, loosened his
+stock, and gasped a little. His son engaging himself to be married was a
+new element to perplex him; he had never believed in human nature, or
+the Hinchford nature, taking that turn for years and years. Once or
+twice he had thought that his careful son might some day look around him
+and _marry well_; but that at twenty years of age he should have fallen
+in love, was a miracle that took some minutes to believe in.
+
+"Well," he said at last.
+
+"I should have said, father, that I had been thinking of an
+engagement--a long one to end in a happy marriage, when there was fair
+sailing for all of us--and that my thoughts found words when I least
+expected them, and surprised Harriet by their suddenness. I told her I
+loved her, and she told me that she didn't--and there's an end of it! We
+need not speak of the affair again, you know."
+
+"'And that she didn't!'" quoted the father, "why, that's more amazing
+still!"
+
+"On the contrary, that is the most natural part of it."
+
+"And she really said--"
+
+"She said that she did not want any more of my jaw--rather more
+elegantly expressed, but that is what she meant. Well, I _was_ a fool!"
+
+Mr. Hinchford sat and reflected, becoming graver every instant. He did
+not attempt to make light of the story, to treat it as one of those
+trifles 'light as air,' which a breath would disperse. His son's was
+neither a frivolous nor a romantic nature, and he treated even his
+twenty years with respect. Mr. Hinchford was astonished also at his own
+short-sightedness; the strangeness of this love passage darting across
+the monotony of his quiet way, without a flash from the danger signal by
+way of hint at its approach. He saw how it was to end, very clearly now,
+he thought; Harriet Wesden and his son would contract an early
+engagement, marry in haste, and cut him off by a flank movement, from
+his son's society. He saw the new loves replacing the old, and himself,
+white-haired and feeble, isolated from the boy to whom his heart
+yearned. He scarcely knew how he had idolized his son, until the
+revelation of this night. Still he was one of the least selfish men in
+the world; Sidney's happiness first, and then the thought how best to
+promote his own.
+
+After a few more questions and answers, Mr. Hinchford mastered the
+position of affairs. Harriet Wesden loved his boy--that was a certainty,
+and to be expected--and her timid embarrassment at Sid's sudden
+proposal, and her nervous escape from it, were but natural in that sex
+which poor Sid knew so little concerning. And the Wesdens, _pere et
+mere_, why, they would be proud of the match; for Sid's abilities would
+make a gentleman of him, and Sid in good time--all in good time--would
+raise the stationer's daughter to a position, of which she might well be
+proud! He liked the Wesdens, but heigho!--he had looked forward to his
+boy doing better in the world, finding a wife more suitable for him in
+the future.
+
+It was all plain enough, but he furbished up his philosophy,
+nevertheless--that odd philosophy which at variance with his brighter
+thoughts, sought to prepare those to whom it appealed for the worst that
+might happen. He looked at the worst aspect of things, whilst his heart
+had not a doubt of the best; he would have prepared all the world for
+the keenest disappointments, and been the man to give way most, and to
+be the most astounded at the result, had his prophecies come true. Years
+ago he foretold Mattie's ingratitude and duplicity in return for his
+patronage; but he had not believed a word of his forebodings. He had
+told his son not to build upon so improbable a thing as a partnership
+with his employers at so early an age; but he was more feverishly
+expectant than his son, and so positive that his son's abilities would
+be thus rewarded, that his pride had expanded of late years, and he
+talked more like the rich man he had been once himself.
+
+Mr. Hinchford prepared his son for the worst that evening; and the son,
+knowing his character, felt a shadow removed at every dismal conjecture
+as to how the little love affair would terminate.
+
+"You can't let it rest here, however bad it may turn out, Sid."
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"You must see Harriet's father in the morning, and make a clean breast
+of it; and then if he turn you off with a short word--feeling himself a
+rich man, and above the connection--why, you will put up with it
+gravely, and like a Hinchford. There are a great many things against
+your chances, my boy."
+
+"We're both too young, perhaps," suggested Sidney, more dolefully.
+
+"Years too young," was the reply; "and people have unpleasant habits of
+changing their minds--and then what a fix it would be, Sid! Why, Harriet
+Wesden's not eighteen till next month--quite a child!"
+
+"No, I'm hanged if she is!" burst forth Sidney.
+
+"Well then, you're but a boy, after all; and these long and early
+engagements are bad things for both. But still as it has come, you must
+speak to the old people; and if they have no objection--which I think
+they will have--and Harriet is inclined to accept you--which I think she
+isn't--why, make the best of it, work on in the old sure and steady
+fashion--you're worth waiting for, my lad."
+
+"Thank you, dad," was the reply; "you're very kind, but your opinion of
+me is not the world's. I'm a cross-grained, unforgiving, disagreeable
+person--there!"
+
+"In your enemy's estimation--but your friends?"
+
+"I don't know that I have any."
+
+"Oh! we shall see--and if you have not any abroad," he added, "you must
+put up with the old one at home, Sid."
+
+"He will put up with me, I hope; he will remember that I have only him
+yet awhile to tell my hopes and fears to, standing in the place of the
+mother."
+
+"Ah! the good mother, lost so early to us!--she should have heard this
+story, Sid."
+
+The old man snatched up the paper and began reading; the son turned to
+his own work at last, and was soon buried in accounts. But the paper was
+uninteresting, and the accounts foggy; after awhile both gave it up, and
+talked again of the old subject. Sid's full heart overflowed that night,
+and his reticence belonged not to it; he was sure of sympathy with his
+feelings, and had the mother--ever a gentle and dear listener--been at
+his side, he could not have more fully dwelt upon the love which had
+troubled him so long, and which he had kept so well concealed. It had
+grown with his growth; Harriet's playfellow, Harriet's brother, finally
+Harriet's lover. Page after page, chapter after chapter of the story
+which begins ever the same, and only darts off at a tangent when the
+crisis, such as his, comes in due course, to end in various
+ways--happily, deplorably--in the sunshine of comedy, the mystery of
+melodrama, the darkness of tragedy, taking its hues from the
+"surroundings," and giving us poor scribes no end of subjects to write
+upon.
+
+Mr. Hinchford was a patient listener; other men might have been wearied
+by the romantic side to a love-sick youth's character; but Sid was a
+part of himself, and he had no ambition, no hope in which his son did
+not stand in the foreground, a bright figure to keep him rejoicing.
+
+Supper served and over, Sidney retired to his share in the double-bedded
+room at the back--the shabby room with which Mr. Hinchford had lately
+grown disgusted, and even wished to quit, knowing not his son's reason
+for remaining--leaving the father to fill his after-supper pipe before
+the fire. Mr. Hinchford was in a reflective, wide-awake mood, and not
+inclined for rest just then; he sat with his slippered feet on the
+fender, puffing away at his meerschaum. Had he not promised his son to
+keep away from Mr. Wesden until the _denouement_ had been brought about
+by Sid's own method, he would have gone down stairs and talked it over
+with the old people; but the promise given, he would sit there and think
+of his son's chances, and pray for them, as they were nearest his heart
+then.
+
+He was a father who understood human nature a little, not so much as he
+fancied himself, but who was, nevertheless, a man of discernment, when
+his simple vanity did not stand in the way.
+
+He had not thought deeply of Harriet Wesden before; now that there
+loomed before him the prospect of calling her "daughter," he conjured up
+every reminiscence connected with her, and set himself to think whether
+such a girl were likely to make Sid happy, or to love Sid as that
+pure-hearted, honest lad deserved. He was astonished, after a while, at
+the depth of his researches into the past; he could remember her a
+light-hearted child, a vivacious girl, now, presto, a woman, whom Sid
+sought for a wife; he could see her flitting before him, a pretty girl,
+swayed a little by the impulse of the hour, and verging on extremes; he
+called to mind certain traits of character that had struck him more than
+once, and had then been forgotten in the hurrying passage of events
+foreign to her; he sat studying an abstruse volume, and perplexing
+himself with its faintly written characters. Mothers have had such
+thoughts, and made them the business of a life, sorrowing and rejoicing
+over them, and praying for their children's future; seldom fathers,
+before whom are ever the counting-house in the City, the bargains to be
+made in the mart or on the exchange, the accommodation to be had at the
+bankers'.
+
+Hinchford thought like a woman; he was a clerk whose business thoughts
+ended when he came home at night, and he was alone in the world with one
+hope. All the old worldly thoughts lay apart from him, and the
+affections of paternity were stronger within him in consequence. He
+lived for Sid, not for himself.
+
+He was still in a brown study, when the shuffling feet of Mrs. Wesden,
+being assisted up-stairs by her husband to the top back room, disturbed
+him for an instant; then the rustle of a dress, and the light footfall
+of the daughter, assured him of Harriet's retirement. All was still in
+that crowded house which he had wished to exchange a year ago for a
+house in the suburbs, suitable to the united salaries of himself and
+boy. He thought of that wish, and sighed to think it had not been
+carried out, for, after all, he was not quite satisfied with the turn
+affairs had taken.
+
+The door opened suddenly and startled his nerves. He turned a scared
+face towards the intruder, who jumped a little at the sight of him
+sitting before the grate, black, yawning and uninviting at that hour.
+
+"I thought you had gone, Mr. Hinchford," said Mattie; "I came for the
+supper tray and to tidy up a bit here, and save time in the morning."
+
+"How's Ann?" he asked absently.
+
+"Better, I think," replied Mattie, still standing at the door.
+
+"You can clear away--I'm going in a minute. How's the evening school,
+girl?"
+
+"Why, I have left it this twelvemonth!"
+
+"To be sure--I had forgotten that you had learned all that they could
+teach you, and had become too much of a woman. Why, we shall hear of you
+being married next."
+
+"Who's going to be married _now--Mr. Sidney_?"
+
+"Confound you! how sharp you are," said Mr. Hinchford a little dismayed;
+"no, I never said so--mind I never said a word, so don't let us have any
+ridiculous tattling."
+
+"I never tattle," said Mattie in an offended tone. "Oh! Mr. Hinchford,"
+she added suddenly, "you can always trust _me_ with anything."
+
+"I hope so, Mattie--I hope so."
+
+"And if Mr. Sidney thinks of marrying our Harriet, you may trust me not
+to let the people round here know a word about it. Not a word, sir!" she
+repeated, with pursed lips.
+
+Mr. Hinchford ran his hands through his hair, and loosened his stock
+again. He was confused, he had betrayed his hand, and made a mess of it,
+or else Mattie knew more than he gave her credit for, it was doubtful
+which.
+
+"Mattie," he said, after a while, when that young woman, rapid in her
+movements, had packed the tray and was proceeding to retire with it.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+She left the table and came nearer to him.
+
+"Whatever made you think that my dear boy was likely to--to take a fancy
+to Harriet?"
+
+"I've noticed that he talks to her a good deal, and comes into the back
+parlour a great deal, and brightens up when she speaks to him, and you
+can see his eyes dancing away behind the little spectacles he's taken
+to--and very becoming they are, sir."
+
+"Very," asserted the old gentleman.
+
+"And he's always dull when she's out, and fidgets till he knows where
+she has gone, and tries to make me tell; and so I've fancied, oh! ever
+so long, that Harriet and he would make a match of it some day."
+
+He was amazed at this girl ascertaining the truth before himself, but he
+retained his cool demeanour.
+
+"Some long day hence, mayhap--who can tell?"
+
+"Love's as uncertain as life--isn't it, sir?"
+
+"Ahem--yes."
+
+"At least, I've read so," corrected Mattie. "It's a thing I shall never
+understand, Mr. Hinchford."
+
+"Time enough--time enough, my girl."
+
+"But our Harriet, she's pretty, she's a lady, she's meant to be loved by
+everybody she meets, and she's the only one that's good enough to marry
+_him_."
+
+She lowered her voice at the last word, and made a quick movement with
+her hand in the direction of the adjoining room.
+
+"You are very fond of Harriet, Mattie?" said Mr. Hinchford, curiously.
+
+"As I need be, sir, surely."
+
+"Ah! surely--she is amiable and kind."
+
+"Always so, I think."
+
+"A little thoughtless, perhaps--eh?"
+
+He was curious concerning Harriet Wesden now--no match-making mother
+could have taken more indirect and artful means to elicit the truth
+concerning her child's elect.
+
+"Why, that's it!" exclaimed Mattie; "that's why Mr. Sidney ought to
+marry her."
+
+"Oh! is it?"
+
+"You'll see, sir," said Mattie, suddenly drawing a chair close to Mr.
+Hinchford, and assuming a position on the edge thereof; "you'll soon
+see, sir, what I mean by that."
+
+"Yes--yes."
+
+It was a strange picture, with an odd couple in the foreground; Harriet
+Wesden, Sidney Hinchford, or afflicted Ann Packet, coming in suddenly,
+would have been puzzled what to make of it. The burlesque side to the
+scene did not strike Mr. Hinchford till long afterwards; the slight
+figure of the girl on the chair before him, the rapid manner in which
+she expounded her theory, her animation, sudden gestures, and, above
+all, his own intense interest in the theme, and forgetfulness of the
+confidence he placed in her by his own absorbent _pose_. He had put his
+pipe aside, and, open-mouthed and round-eyed, was drinking in every
+word, clutching his knees with his hands, meanwhile.
+
+"Mr. Sidney isn't thoughtless. He's careful, and he has a reason for
+everything, and he will keep her from harm all her life. She'll be the
+best and brightest of wives to him, if they should ever marry, which I
+do hope and pray they will, sir, soon. I'm sure there are no two who
+would make a happier couple, and oh!--to see them happy," clapping her
+hands together, "what would _I_ give!"
+
+"You haven't lost your interest in us, then, Mattie?"
+
+"When I forget the prayers that Mrs. Wesden taught me, or the first
+words of yours that set me thinking that I might grow good, or all the
+kindness which everybody in this house has shown for me, then I shall
+lose that, sir--not before!"
+
+"You're an uncommon girl, Mattie."
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You show an uncommon phase--great gratitude for little kindnesses. I'm
+glad to see this interest in Harriet and my boy--perhaps they might do
+worse than make a match of it. But--but," suddenly returning to the
+subject which engrossed him, "hasn't it struck you--just a little, mind,
+nothing to speak of--that Harriet Wesden is a trifle vain?"
+
+"Wouldn't you be proud of your good looks, if you had any?" was the
+sharp rejoinder.
+
+"Um," coughed he, "I daresay I might."
+
+"I should be always staring at myself in the glass if I had her
+complexion, her golden hair, her lovely blue eyes. I should be proud to
+think that my pretty face had made my happiness by bringing the thoughts
+of such a son as yours to me."
+
+"Ah! I didn't see it in that light," said he, tugging at his stock
+again, "and I--I daresay everything will turn out for the best. We will
+not dwell upon this any more, but let things take their course, and not
+spoil them by interference, or by talking about them, Mattie."
+
+"Don't fear me," said Mattie, rising.
+
+"I don't think it is our place," he added, associating himself with
+Mattie, to render his hints less personal, "to be curious about it, and
+seek to pry into what is going on in the hearts of these young people.
+Do you think now, Mattie, that she's inclined to be fond of--of my Sid?"
+
+"I don't say she'd own it just now--but I think she is. Why shouldn't
+she be?"
+
+"Ah!--why, indeed. There's not a boy like him in the whole parish."
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And Harriet Wesden will be a lucky girl."
+
+"Ah! that she will!"
+
+"And--and now good night, Mattie, and the less we repeat of this gossip
+the better."
+
+"Certainly--things had better take their course without _our_
+interference."
+
+"Yes," was the dry answer.
+
+Mattie seized her tray, and prepared to depart. At the door, with her
+burden _en avance_ she paused, went back to the table, replaced her
+tray, and returned to Mr. Hinchford's side.
+
+"Something happened to-night! The dear girl has been disturbed--I hope
+Mr. Sidney has not been in a hurry, and----"
+
+"Hush! I don't think he's asleep. Good night--good night."
+
+"When _she_ was a year younger, it was hard work to keep back what was
+in her heart from me; but she's growing older in her ways, and better
+able to understand that I'm only a poor servant, after all. I don't
+complain," said Mattie, "she's always kind and good to me, but she's my
+mistress's daughter, rather than the sister--or something like the
+sister--that used to be. And I do so like to know everything, sir!"
+
+"So it seems," remarked Mr. Hinchford.
+
+"Everything that concerns her, I mean--because I might be of help when
+she least expected it. And so Mr. Sidney has told her all about it
+to-night?"
+
+"I never said so," cried the embarrassed old gentleman.
+
+"Well, I only guess at it," answered Mattie; "I shall soon come to the
+rights of it, if I keep a good look out."
+
+She caught up her tray again and marched to the door to ponder anew. Mr.
+Hinchford writhed on his chair--would this loquacious diminutive help
+never go down-stairs and leave him in peace? She asked no more
+questions, however.
+
+"And to think that what I fancied would happen is all coming round like
+a story-book, just as I hoped it would be for her sake--for his
+sake--years and years ago! How nicely things come round, sir, don't
+they?"
+
+"Don't they!" he re-echoed.
+
+Mattie departed, and the old gentleman blew at invisibility in the air
+once more.
+
+"How that girl does talk!--it is her one fault--loquacity. If she can
+only find a listener, she's happy. And yet, when I come to consider it,
+that girl's always happy--for she's thankful and content. And things are
+coming nicely round, she says--well, I hope so!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+SIDNEY STATES HIS INTENTIONS.
+
+
+Mr. Wesden, if not the first person up in the house, was at least the
+first person who superintended business in the morning. For years that
+little shop had been opened punctually at six A.M. When the boy had not
+arrived to take down the shutters, Mr. Wesden lowered them himself.
+Tradesfolk over the way, early mechanics sallying forth to work from the
+back streets adjacent, the policeman on duty, the milkboy, and the woman
+with the watercresses, knew when it was six o'clock in Great Suffolk
+Street by the opening of Mr. Wesden's shop.
+
+Mr. Wesden prided himself upon this punctuality, and not even to Mattie
+would he entrust the duties of commencing the labours of the day,
+despite the inflexibility of his back after a night's "_rest_."
+
+Sidney Hinchford, who knew Mr. Wesden's habits, therefore found no
+difficulty in meeting with that gentleman at five minutes past the early
+hour mentioned.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Wesden."
+
+"Good morning, Sidney."
+
+Mr. Wesden was sitting behind his counter, in business position, ready
+for customers; the morning papers had not come in from the agent--he had
+given up of late years fetching them from the office himself--and there
+was not much to distract him from full attention to all that Sidney had
+to communicate.
+
+"I thought I should find you handy for a serious bit of talk, sir."
+
+Mr. Wesden looked at him, and his face assumed a degree of extra
+gravity. Sidney Hinchford had got into debt with his tailor, and wished
+to borrow a few pounds "on the quiet."
+
+"I suppose Harriet told you last night what happened?"
+
+"Not all that happened, I fancy."
+
+"Then she waited for me, possibly," he said, a little taken aback
+nevertheless, "or told her mother. Well, you see, to make a long story
+short, Mr. Wesden, I have taken the liberty of falling in love with your
+daughter, as was natural and to be expected, and I have come down early
+this morning to tell you plainly that that's the state of my feelings,
+and that if you have anything to say against it or me, why you can clap
+on the extinguisher, and no one a bit the wiser."
+
+Mr. Wesden was a man who never showed his surprise by anything more than
+an intenser stare than usual; he sat looking stolidly at Sidney
+Hinchford, who leaned over the counter with flushed cheeks and earnest
+eyes, surveying him through his glasses.
+
+Still Mr. Wesden was surprised--in fact, very much astonished. Only a
+year or two ago, and the tall young man before him was a little boy
+fresh from school, and a source of trouble to him when he got near the
+tinsel drawer, and Skelt's Scenes and Characters--now he was talking of
+love matters.
+
+"You're the first customer this morning, Sidney, and you've asked for a
+rum article," he said bluntly.
+
+"Which you'll not refuse me, I hope, sir--which you'll give me a chance
+of obtaining, at all events."
+
+"What does Harriet say?"
+
+"I've--I've only just said a few words to her--more than I ought to have
+said perhaps, before I know her feelings towards me, or what your wishes
+were, sir."
+
+Sidney, very humble and deferential to pater-familias, after taking the
+case in his own hands, like all young hypocrites who have this terrible
+ordeal to pass, and are doubtful of the upshot.
+
+Mr. Wesden listened and stared--clean over Sidney's head, rather than at
+him. Had he not had a long experience of the stationer's ways, he would
+have augured ill for his prospects from the stolidity with which his
+news was received; but Mr. Wesden was always a grave and reserved man,
+and his immobile features did not alarm the young suitor.
+
+"Well, and what's to keep her and you--_my money_?"
+
+"Not a farthing of it, sir, by your good leave," said Sidney, proudly;
+"I wish to work on and wait for her. I have every hope of attaining to a
+good position in my office--I think I see my way clearly--I won't ask
+you to let her marry me till I can show you a home of my own, and a
+little money in the bank, sir."
+
+"Why didn't you wait till then?" was the dry question.
+
+"Why, because a fellow wants a hope to live on--permission from you to
+pay his addresses to Miss Harriet, and to ask her to give me a hope
+too."
+
+"I see."
+
+Mr. Wesden fidgeted about his top drawers, folded some papers, looked in
+his till, and then turned his little withered face to Sidney. The face
+had altered, was brighter, even wore a smile, and Sidney's heart leaped
+again.
+
+"If you'd been like most young men, I should have said 'Not yet.' But
+you haven't crept about the bush, and you've dealt fair, and I'll
+promise all I can without tying the girl up too closely."
+
+"Tying her up!"
+
+"The home of your own hasn't turned up yet," shrewdly remarked the
+stationer; "and though I believe that and the money will, we may as well
+wait for some signs of them. And----"
+
+"Well, well."
+
+"Don't you be in a hurry, young man; breath don't come so fast as it
+did, and I'm not used to long speeches."
+
+"Take your time, sir--I beg pardon."
+
+"And Harriet's very young, and may see some one else to like better."
+
+"I hope not, sir."
+
+"And _you_ are very young, and may see some one else too."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Wesden."
+
+"Ah! it's shocking to think of, but these awful events do occur," said
+the old man, satirically; "and, besides, my old lady and I are ignorant
+people in one way, and mayn't suit you when you get bigger and prouder."
+
+"Mr. Wesden, you'll not fancy that, I know."
+
+"You'll have to think whether, when you are a great man, you'll be able
+to put up with the old lady and me coming to see our girl sometimes."
+
+Sidney entered another protest--was prolific, even liberal in his
+invitations, which he issued on the spot.
+
+"Then if it's not an engagement, or what I call downright keeping
+company just yet--say for another year at least, I shan't turn my back
+upon you."
+
+"Thank you, sir--you are more than generous."
+
+He leaned across the counter and shook hands with Mr. Wesden; the
+news-agent drove up in his pony-cart at the same moment, and directly
+afterwards had flung a heavy bundle of the "early mornings" upon the
+counter; the news-boy entered, and waited for orders for his first
+round; a little girl came in for a penny postage stamp, change for
+sixpence, and a piece of paper to wrap the lot in. Business was
+beginning in Great Suffolk Street, and Sidney Hinchford getting in the
+way. Sidney would have liked to add a little more, but Mr. Wesden
+stopped him.
+
+"Harriet's been down this half hour," he said; "I suppose you know
+that."
+
+"Indeed I did not, sir," exclaimed Sidney, with a wild glance towards
+the parlour.
+
+Harriet was there, busying herself with the breakfast cloth--a domestic
+picture, fair and glowing. He dashed into the parlour, and Harriet,
+prepared for him now, listened demurely, felt her heart plunging a
+little, but did not rebuke him with any words similar to those of
+yesternight. His despairing look of that period had kept her restless
+all night; she could not bear to know that others were unhappy, and she
+fancied that she should soon learn to love him, if she did not love him
+already, for his manliness and frankness. So she listened, and Sidney
+detailed his interview with her father, and her father's wish that it
+should not be considered an engagement between them until at least
+another year had passed.
+
+"We are to go on just the same as if nothing had happened, but--but I
+wish you to look forward to the end of that year like myself, to have
+hope in me and my efforts, and to give me hopes of you."
+
+"Am I worth hoping for, Sidney?" was the rejoinder; "you don't know half
+the foolishness of which I have been guilty--what a weak, frivolous,
+romantic girl I have been."
+
+She thought of her Brighton romance, opened the book, and then shut it
+hastily again. It was a story he had no right to know yet, and she had
+not the courage to tell him just then--it belonged wholly to the past,
+so rake the dead leaves over it and let it rest again!
+
+Let it rest, then; there was no engagement. Both were free to change
+their minds before the year was out in which the strength of their love
+would be put to the test. For that year nothing more than friends, she
+thought, or a something more than friends, and less than lovers.
+
+The half bargain was concluded, and Sidney went on his way rejoicing.
+There was rejoicing in the hearts of all in that house for a while. Mrs.
+Wesden cried over her girl as though she was going away to-morrow, but
+talked as if it were a settled engagement, and was glad that Sidney
+Hinchford was to be her son-in-law some day. Mr. Hinchford and Mr.
+Wesden smoked their pipes together that evening, and talked about it in
+short disjointed sentences, amidst which Mr. Hinchford learned that Mr.
+Wesden would retire from business before the year's probation had
+expired, leaving Mattie, possibly, in charge. Mattie and Ann Packet in
+the lower regions dwelt upon the same subject, free debatable ground,
+which no one cared to hem round by restrictions.
+
+Late in the evening, Mattie stole up to Harriet's bed-room, and knocked
+softly at the panels of the door.
+
+"May I come in?" she asked.
+
+"To be sure, Mattie."
+
+"I thought that you would be sitting here, thinking of it."
+
+"Thinking of what, Mattie?"
+
+"Ah! you don't tell me anything now--but I can guess--and Mr. Sidney did
+not sit in the parlour all the evening for nothing!"
+
+"No, Mattie; but it's not a downright engagement yet. I'm to try if I
+can like Sidney first."
+
+"That's the best way--didn't I say that this would happen some day, Miss
+Harriet?"
+
+"But it hasn't happened yet."
+
+"Ah! but it will--I see it all now as plain as a book. I said only last
+night that things were coming round nicely for us all. And they
+are--they are!"
+
+Harriet began to cry, and to beg Mattie to desist. For an instant the
+sanguine assertion sounded like a vain prophecy, and jarred strangely on
+her nerves, bringing forth tears and heavy sobs, and a fear of that
+future which stretched forth radiantly beyond to Mattie's vision. After
+all, Harriet was but a girl, and had not thought very deeply of all that
+the contract implied between Sidney and herself. And after all, _were_
+things coming round nicely?--or was the red glow in the sky lurid and
+threatening to her, and more than her?
+
+This is scarcely a quiet story, and we are not through our first volume.
+What does the astute novel-reader think?
+
+END OF BOOK THE SECOND.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+UNDER SUSPICION.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+AN OLD FRIEND.
+
+
+Mr. Wesden retired from business. After thirty or forty years'
+application to the arduous task of "keeping house and home together,"
+after much hesitation as to whether it were safe and practicable and he
+could afford it; after a struggle with his old habits of shop-keeping,
+and a deliberate survey of his position from all points of the compass,
+he migrated from Great Suffolk Street, and settled down in what he
+considered country--a back street in the Camberwell New Road, commanding
+views of a cabbage-field, a public house, and another back street in
+course of formation by an enterprising builder.
+
+This was country enough for Mr. Wesden; and handy for town, and Great
+Suffolk Street. For he had scarcely retired from business, merely
+withdrawn himself from the direct management, the sales over the
+counter, and the worry of the news-boys. The name of Wesden was still
+over the door, and Mattie remained general manager at the old shop,
+which had been her refuge from the world in the hard times of her
+girlhood.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Wesden then considered themselves in the country. They had
+humble notions, and a little contented them. There was a back garden
+with a grass plot, a gravel walk, two rows of box edging, and a few
+flower-beds--surely that was country enough for anybody, they thought?
+Then it was quite a mansion of a house--six rooms exclusive of kitchen;
+and, thanks more to Harriet's taste than her parents', was neatly and
+prettily furnished.
+
+It was a change from Great Suffolk Street. Harriet Wesden had been
+brought up with lady-like notions, and had never taken to the shop; it
+was pleasant to live in a private house, practice her piano, assist her
+mother in the gardening, and have a young man to come courting her "once
+or twice a-week!" Mr. Wesden, with habits more formed for shop life, had
+to struggle hard before he could accustom himself to the novelty of his
+position; in his heart he never felt thoroughly at home, and was always
+glad of an excuse to walk over to Great Suffolk Street. He could not sit
+on the new chairs all day, and stare at the roses on the carpet; there
+was nothing much to see out of window save the postman, pot-boy,
+grocer's boy, and butcher, at regular intervals; gardening did not agree
+with his back, and it was hard work to get through the day, unless he
+went for a walk with the old lady.
+
+The old lady aforesaid had taken quite a new lease of life--absence from
+the close neighbourhood of Suffolk Street had given her back some of her
+old strength; for twenty years she had solaced herself with the thought
+of "retiring"--the one ambition of a tradesman's wife--and now it had
+come, and she was all the better for the change. She made such good use
+of her limbs at intervals, became so absorbed in training Sweet
+Williams, and picking the snails off the white lilies, brightened up so
+much in that small suburban retreat, that the old gentleman--always be
+it remembered of a suspicious turn--doubted in his own mind if Mrs. W.
+had not been "shamming Abraham" in Great Suffolk Street.
+
+Harriet was not nineteen years of age yet, and business had not been
+left in Mattie's charge three months, when Mr. Wesden's character began
+to mould itself afresh. The change which had done mother and daughter
+good, altered Mr. Wesden for the worse. He became irritable, at times a
+little despondent; nothing to do, began seriously to affect his temper.
+This is no common result in men who have been in harness all their
+lives--steady, energetic shopkeepers, whose lives have been one bustle
+for a quarter of a century and upwards, find retiring from business not
+so fine a thing as it looked from the distance, when they were in debt
+to the wholesale purveyors.
+
+Mr. Wesden did not like it--if the truth must be spoken, though he kept
+it to himself, for appearances sake, he absolutely hated it. He was not
+intended for a gentleman, and he could _not_ waste time--it made his
+head ache and gave him the heart-burn. If it had not been for the shop
+in Great Suffolk Street, he would have gone melancholy mad, or taken to
+drinking; that shop was his safety valve, and he was only his old self
+when he was back in it, pottering over the stock.
+
+Unfortunately his _new_ self was never more highly developed than when
+he had returned to Camberwell, and woe to the beggar or the brass band
+that halted before his gates and worried him.
+
+Meanwhile, the shop in Great Suffolk Street continued to do its steady
+and safe business. Mattie was not far from eighteen years of age, proud
+of her position of trust, the quickest and best of shopkeepers. On the
+first floor still resided Mr. Hinchford and his son; the place was handy
+for office yet, and they were biding their time to launch forth, and
+assert their true position in society. The rent was moderate, and Sidney
+was trying hard to save money out of his salary; there were incentives
+to save, and at times he was even a trifle too economical for his
+father's tastes. Still, he erred on the right side--his father was
+becoming weaker, and his father's memory was not what it had been--his
+employers had not spoken of the partnership lately, and there might be
+rainy days ahead, which it was policy to prepare for--in a world of
+changes, who could tell what might happen?
+
+Mattie found it dull at first after the Wesdens' departure; the place
+seemed full of echoes, and one bright face at least was hard to lose.
+But the face came often to light up the old shop again, and on alternate
+Sundays she went to dine at the fine house at Camberwell, leaving Ann
+Packet in charge of the establishment.
+
+Still she was soon "at home;" she was a dependant, and must expect
+changes; she was a girl who always made the best of everything. There
+was no time for her to regret the alterations; she was born for work,
+and there was plenty to do in Mr. Wesden's business, not to mention a
+watch upon Ann Packet at times, who, when "afflicted," was rather remiss
+in her attentions upon the lodgers.
+
+Life was not monotonous with her, for she took an interest in her work;
+and if it had been, there were many gleams of sunshine athwart it; those
+who knew her best, loved her and had confidence in her. Many in Suffolk
+Street thought there wasn't such a young woman in the world; a butcher
+over the way--a young man beginning business for himself, thought that
+it would be a "good spec" to have such a young woman behind his counter
+attending to the customers--those who knew her history, and there were
+many in Suffolk Street who remembered her antecedents, wondered at her
+progress; all was well until the autumn set in, and then the tide turned
+in the affairs of Mattie, and on those good friends whom Mattie loved.
+
+One afternoon in September, Mattie was busy in the shop as usual--she
+kept to the shop all day, and never adopted the plan of hiding away from
+customers in the back parlour--when a woman with a large basket, a key
+on her little finger, a bonnet half off her head disclosing a broad,
+sallow, wrinkled face, came shuffling into the shop.
+
+Mattie looked at her across the counter, and waited for orders, looked
+till her heart began beating unpleasantly fast. Back from the land
+benighted came a rush of old memories at the sight of that dirty,
+slip-shod woman, whom she had hoped never to see again.
+
+"And so you recollects me, Mattie, arter all these years?"
+
+"I--I think that I have seen you before."
+
+"_I_ should think you just had, once or twice. And so you're minding
+this shop for the Wesdens, whose turned gentlefolks?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"Well," putting her basket on the counter, and taking the one chair that
+was placed for the convenience of customers, "wonders will never cease.
+To think that you should find a place like this, and should have stuck
+to it so long, and never gone traipsing about the streets again."
+
+"Can I serve you with anything?" asked Mattie.
+
+"No, you can't. I never deal here."
+
+"Then what do you want?"
+
+"Ah! that's another wonder which won't cease either, my dear," said the
+old woman, assuming an insinuative manner, "and a bigger wonder than the
+tother one."
+
+"I don't want to hear it, I don't want anything to say to you. You must
+go out of the shop, Mrs. Watts."
+
+"Don't be afeard of me, my love; the Lord knows I haven't been a trouble
+to you, though I've lived within a stone's throw, and could have dropped
+in here at any moment. But no, I says, let her keep to her fine stuck up
+people if she likes, and forget her oldest and best friends for 'em, and
+do her wust, it's not the likes of me or mine who'll poke our noses into
+her affairs. No, I says, let her keep a lady, and wear brown meriner
+dresses, and smart black aprons, and white collars and cuffs, for me!"
+
+Mrs. Watts had verged into the acrimonious vein, taken stock of Mattie's
+general appearance at that juncture, and introduced it into her
+conversation with an ease and fluency that was remarkable.
+
+Mattie stood watching her. This was the evil genius of her early life,
+and there was danger in her very presence. It was not safe to take her
+eyes from her.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked again.
+
+"It's somethin' partickler--shall we come into the parler?"
+
+"Oh! no."
+
+"I'm not well dressed enuf, I spose?--I'm not fit society for sich a
+nice young gal, I spose?--I'm to be turned off as if I was a beggar,
+instead of the woman of property which I am, I spose?"
+
+"What do you want?" repeated Mattie.
+
+"And I was your poor mother's friend, and trusted her when nobody else
+would, and gave her a bed to die on comforbly when there wasn't a mag to
+be made out of her. And I was your friend, though that's something to
+turn your nose up at, ain't it?"
+
+"You were kind in your way, perhaps--I cannot say, I don't know; I don't
+wish to remember the past any more. Will you tell me what you want, or
+go away?"
+
+"And you won't come into the parler?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It's the curiest story as you ever did hear. There's been a man asking
+arter you down our court, and asking arter me, and finding me out at
+last, and nearly coming to a bargain with me, when, cus my greediness, I
+lost him."
+
+"Asking after me?"
+
+"Ah! you may well open those black eyes of yourn--he made me stare, I
+can tell you. He walks one day into my house, as if it belonged to him,
+and says, 'Are you Mrs. Watts?' 'Yes,' I says. 'Do you remember Mrs.
+Gray?' he says. 'Not by name,' I says. 'She was a tramp,' he says, 'and
+died here.' 'Oh!' I says, 'if it's her you mean, whose name I never
+knowed or cared about, died here, she did.' 'And the child?' he says.
+'Mattie you mean,' I says. 'Ah! Mattie,' he says. And then I says,
+thinking it was a dodge, my dear, for the perlice are up to all manner
+of tricks, and you mightn't have been going on the square, and been
+wanted, then I says, 'And will you obleege me with your reasons for all
+these questions of a 'spectable and hard-working woman?' I says. 'My
+name's Gray,' he says, 'and I'm Mattie's father.'"
+
+"Is this true?--oh! is it really true?"
+
+"Hopemaydropdead, my dear, if it isn't," Mrs. Watts remarked, running
+her words into each other in the volubility of her protestation;
+"hopemayneverstiragainfromhere, if t'isn't, _Miss Gray_! 'Mattie's
+father,' I says. 'Yes,' he says; 'is that so very wonderful?' And I
+says, 'Yes it is, arter all this time ago.' And then he asks all manner
+of questions, which I didn't see the good of answering, and so was werry
+ignorant, my dear, until he said he'd give me a suverin to find you out.
+I says, 'I'd try for a five pun note, for you was a long way off, and
+it'd be a trouble to look arter you.' And he says, 'I'll take that
+trouble,' and I didn't see the pull of that, knowing he was anxious
+like, and fancying that five pounds wouldn't ruin him, so I held out.
+And then he looked at his watch, and said he'd come again, which he
+never did, as I'm an honest ooman."
+
+"How long was this ago?"
+
+"Two months."
+
+"What kind of a man was he?"
+
+"Oh! a little ugly bloke enough--not too well dressed. Your father won't
+turn out to be a duke or markis, if he ever turns up agin and brings me
+my five pounds."
+
+"But you will not tell him where I live?--he may be a bad, cruel man--my
+mother ran away from him because he treated her ill, I have heard her
+say. Oh! don't tell him where I live--I am happy and contented here."
+
+Mrs. Watts brightened up with a new idea. "You must make it a five pun
+note, then, instead of him, and I'll tell him I can't find yer when he
+comes back to take you home with him. You've saved money, I daresay, by
+this time, and five pounds ain't much to stand."
+
+Mattie recovered her composure when it came to the money test; there was
+a motive for Mrs. Watts' appearance there, she thought; after all it was
+an idle story, a foolish scheme to extort money, which Mattie saw
+through now.
+
+"I shall not give you any money--not five pence, Mrs. Watts."
+
+"Leave it alone, then," was the sharp reply; "you can't leave here, and
+I'll bring him to you, if he ever comes agin. I didn't come to get money
+out of yer, but to keep my eye upon you for your father's sake. And
+you'll never take a step away from this place, right or left, but what
+I'll know it--there's too many on us about here for you to steal away."
+
+"I do not intend to steal away," cried Mattie.
+
+"And considerin' that I've come out of kindness, and to give you a piece
+of news, you might have said thankee for it--bad luck to you, Mattie
+Gray."
+
+"Oh! bad luck will not come to me at your wish."
+
+The old woman paused at the door, and shook her key at her.
+
+"I never wished bad luck to any living soul, but what it came. Now think
+of that!"
+
+She went out of the shop and along Great Suffolk Street at a smart
+pace--like a woman who had suddenly remembered something and started off
+in a hurry after it. Mattie was perplexed at the interview; doubtful if
+any truth had mixed itself with Mrs. Watts' statement, and at a loss to
+reconcile all that she had heard with fabrication. Even from Mrs. Watts'
+lips it sounded like truth; the woman seemed in earnest, her offer to
+take five pounds for her silence an impromptu thought, originated by
+Mattie's sudden fear.
+
+"What can it mean?--what can it mean?" reiterated Mattie to herself;
+"was it unfair to doubt her?--she thought so, or she would not have
+wished me bad luck so evilly at the last?"
+
+She sat down behind the counter to reflect upon the strangeness of the
+incident, and was still revolving in her mind the facts or falsities
+connected with it, when Ann Packet burst from the parlour door into the
+shop, with eyes distended.
+
+"Have you been up-stairs, Mattie?"
+
+"Upstairs, Ann!--no."
+
+"Have you been asleep?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, lor!--quite sure--not a moment!"
+
+"No--no--what has happened!"
+
+"Somebody's been up-stairs into all the rooms, into yourn, too, where
+the money's put for Mr. Wesden--and--and broken open the drawer."
+
+"And the cash box that I keep there?"
+
+"Open, and EMPTY!"
+
+Mattie dropped again into the chair from which she had risen at the
+appearance of Ann Packet, and struggled with a sense of faintness which
+came over her. The bad luck that Mrs. Watts had wished had soon stolen
+on its way towards her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+STRANGE VISITORS TO GREAT SUFFOLK STREET.
+
+
+Mattie guessed the plan by which the robbery had been effected, and at
+which Mrs. Watts had connived. Her attention had been distracted by the
+story that had been fabricated for the purpose, and then the accomplice,
+on his hands and knees, had stolen snake-like towards the door opening
+on the stairs, and made short work with everything of value to be found
+in the upper floors. What was to be done?--what would Mr. Wesden say, he
+who had never had a robbery committed on his premises during all the
+long years of his business life, thanks to his carefulness and
+watchfulness? What would he think of her? Would he believe that she had
+paid common attention to the shop he had left in trust to her, to be
+robbed in the broad noonday? What should she do? wait till the shop was
+closed and then set forth for Camberwell with the bad news, or start at
+once, leaving Ann Packet in charge, or wait till Mr. Hinchford came
+home, and ask him to be the mediator?
+
+Whilst revolving these plans of action in her mind, the proprietor of
+the establishment, wearied of his country retirement, walked into the
+shop.
+
+"Oh! sir, something has happened very dreadful!" she exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Wesden began to stare over her head at this salutation.
+
+"What's that?" he asked.
+
+"Some one has been up-stairs this afternoon, broken open the drawers,
+and the cash-box, and taken the money, eight pounds, nine shillings and
+sixpence, sir."
+
+Mr. Wesden sat down in the chair formerly occupied by Mrs. Watts and
+tried to arrange his ideas; he stared over Mattie's head harder than
+ever; he held his own head between his hands, taking off his hat
+especially for that purpose, and placing it on the counter.
+
+"Money taken out of _this_ house?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"At _this_ time of day--where were you, Mattie?"
+
+"In the shop, sitting here, I believe."
+
+"Then they came in at the back, I suppose?"
+
+"No, in the front, whilst Mrs. Watts was talking to me."
+
+"What Mrs. Watts?--not the woman----"
+
+"Yes, yes, the woman who would have tempted me to evil, years ago; she
+came into the shop this afternoon, and said that my father--as if I'd
+ever had one, sir!--had been inquiring for me in Kent Street."
+
+"This is a curious story," muttered Mr. Wesden.
+
+He put on his hat and went up-stairs; it was half an hour, or an hour
+before he reappeared, looking very grave and stern.
+
+"They didn't come in at the back of the house--I can't make it
+out--eight pounds nine and sixpence is a heavy loss--I'll speak to the
+policeman."
+
+Mr. Wesden went in search of a policeman, and presently returned with
+two members of the official force, with whom he went up-stairs, and with
+whom he remained some time. After a while Mr. Hinchford, senior, came
+home, heard the tidings, went into his room, and discovered a little
+money missing also, besides a watch-chain which he had left at home that
+day for security's sake, a link having snapped, and repairs being
+necessary.
+
+Mr. Wesden and the policemen came down stairs and put many questions to
+Mattie and Ann Packet; finally the policemen departed, and Mr. Wesden
+very gravely walked about the shop, and paid but little attention to
+Mattie's expressions of regret.
+
+"It's my carelessness, sir, and I hope you'll let me make it up. I've
+been saving money, sir, lately, thanks to you."
+
+"Well, you can't say fairer than that, Mattie," he responded to this
+suggestion; "I'll think about that, and let you know to-morrow."
+
+He never let Mattie know his determination, or seemed inclined to dwell
+upon the subject again; the robbery became a forbidden topic, and
+drifted slowly away from the present. But it was an event that saddened
+Mattie; for she could read that Mr. Wesden had formed his own ideas of
+its occurrence, and she tortured herself with the fear that he might
+suspect her. She had gained his confidence only to lose it; her
+antecedents were dark enough, and if he did not believe all that she had
+told him, then he must doubt if she were the proper person to manage the
+place in his absence.
+
+He said nothing; he suggested no alteration; but he came more frequently
+to business; and he _was_ altered in his manner towards her.
+
+Mattie was right--he suspected her; he thought he kept his suspicions to
+himself, for amidst the new distrust rose ever before him the past
+struggles of the girl in her faithful service to him, and he was not an
+uncharitable man. But the police had seconded his doubts--the story was
+an unlikely one, Mattie had been a bad character, and, above all, Mrs.
+Watts, upon inquiry, had not lived in Kent Street or parts adjacent for
+the last three years. However, his better nature would not misjudge
+implicitly, although a shadow of distrust was between him and Mattie
+from that day forth. He said nothing to Harriet or his wife, but he
+seldom asked Mattie to his house at Camberwell now; he came more
+frequently for his money, and looked more closely after his stock; he
+had a habit of turning into the shop at unseasonable hours and taking
+her by surprise there.
+
+Mattie bore with this for a while--for two or three months, perhaps,
+then her out-spoken nature faced Mr. Wesden one evening.
+
+"You've got a bad thought in your head against me, sir."
+
+Thus taxed, Mr. Wesden answered in the negative. Looking at her fearless
+face, and her bright eyes that so steadily met his, he had not the heart
+or the courage to confess it.
+
+"I'd rather go away than you should think that; go away and leave you
+all for ever. I know," she added, very sorrowfully and humbly, "that my
+past life isn't a fair prospect to look back upon, and that it stands
+between you and your trust in me at this time."
+
+"No, Mattie."
+
+"If you doubt me----"
+
+"If I believed that you were not acting fairly by me, I should not have
+you here an hour," he said.
+
+He was carried away by Mattie's earnestness; he forgot his new
+harshness, which he had inherited with his change of life; before him
+stood the girl who had nursed his wife through a long illness, and he
+could not believe in her ingratitude towards him. After that charge and
+refutation, Mattie and Mr. Wesden were on better terms with each
+other--the robbery, the visit of Mrs. Watts, appeared all parts of a bad
+dream, difficult to shake off, but in the reality of which it was hard
+to believe. And yet it was all a terrible truth, too, and the story,
+true or false, of Mrs. Watts, late of Kent Street, had left its
+impression on Mattie, deep and ineffaceable; she could almost believe
+that from the shadowy past some stranger, cruel and villainous, would
+step forth to claim her.
+
+Meantime the course of Sidney Hinchford's true love flowed on
+peacefully; he was happy enough now--with the hope of Harriet Wesden for
+a wife he became more energetic than ever in business; possibly even a
+young man less abrupt to his companions in office; for the tender
+passion softens the heart wonderfully. He was more kind and less brusque
+in his manner. To Mattie he had been always kind, but she fancied that
+even she could detect a different and more gentle way with him.
+
+When he returned from Camberwell--Mr. Wesden always shut him out at
+early hours--he generally brought some message from Harriet to the old
+half-friend and confidante, and at times would loiter about the shop
+talking of Harriet to Mattie, and sure of her sympathy with all that he
+said and did.
+
+On one of the latter occasions, about six in the evening, he remarked,
+
+"When Harriet and I are grand enough to have a large house of our
+own--for we can't tell what may happen--I shall ask you to be our
+housekeeper, Mattie."
+
+Mattie's face brightened up; it had been rather a sad face of late, and
+Sidney Hinchford had observed it, and been puzzled at the reason. The
+story of the robbery had not affected him much.
+
+"Oh! then I'll pray night and day for the big house, Mr. Sidney," she
+said, with her usual readiness of reply.
+
+"Why, Mattie, are you tired of shop-keeping?"
+
+"At times I am," she answered. "I don't know why. I don't see how to get
+on and feel happy. It's rather lonely here."
+
+"You dissatisfied, Mattie! Why, I have always regarded you as the very
+picture of content."
+
+"I'm not dissatisfied exactly; don't tell any one that, or they'll think
+I'm ungrateful for all the kindness that has been shown me, and all the
+confidence that has been placed in me. You, Mr. Hinchford, must not
+think I'm ungrateful or discontented."
+
+"Perhaps you're ambitious, Mattie," he said, jestingly, "now you've
+mastered all the lessons which I used to set you, and can read and write
+as well as most of us."
+
+"I don't exactly understand the true meaning of ambition," said Mattie.
+"I'm no scholar, you know. Is it a wish to get on in the world?"
+
+"Partly."
+
+"I'm not ambitious. I wouldn't be a lady for the world. I would rather
+be of service to someone I love, than see those I love working and
+toiling for my sake. But then they must love me, and have faith in me,
+or I'm--I'm done for!"
+
+Mattie had dropped, as was her habit when excited, into one of her old
+phrases; but its meaning was apparent, and Sidney Hinchford understood
+it.
+
+"Something's on your mind, Mattie. Can I punch anybody's head for you?"
+
+"No, thank you. But you can remember the promise about the housekeeper
+when you're a rich man."
+
+Like Sidney's father, she accepted Sidney's coming greatness as a thing
+of course, concerning which no doubts need be entertained.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"It's a promise, mind. Good night, Mattie."
+
+"Good night."
+
+That night was to be marked by another variation of the day's
+monotony--by more than one. It was striking seven from St. George's
+Church, Southwark, when a stately carriage and pair dashed up Great
+Suffolk Street, and drew up at the stationer's door. A few moments
+afterwards a tall, white-haired old gentleman entered the shop leaning
+upon the arm of a good-looking young man, and advanced towards the
+counter.
+
+The likeness of the elder man was so apparent to that of old Mr.
+Hinchford up-stairs, that Mattie fancied it was he for an instant, until
+her rapid observation detected that the gentleman before her was much
+thinner, wore higher shirt collars, had a voluminous frill to his shirt,
+and a double gold eye-glass in his hand.
+
+"Thank you, that will do. I won't trouble you any further."
+
+"Shall I wait here?"
+
+"No, my boy--don't let me keep you from your club engagements. If you
+are behind time take the carriage."
+
+"No, no--not so selfish as that, sir. Good night."
+
+"Good night."
+
+The good-looking young man did not wait to see the result of his
+father's mission; he glanced for a moment at Mattie, and then took his
+departure, leaving the stately old gentleman confronting her at the
+counter.
+
+"This is Mr. Wesden's, stationer, I believe?" he asked, surveying Mattie
+through his glasses.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"A Mr. Hinchford lives here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Is he within?"
+
+"Not the old gentleman, I believe, sir."
+
+"As I have not come hither to base my hopes of an interview on the
+belief of a black-eyed shop-girl, will you be kind enough to inquire?"
+
+The old gentleman sat down and loosened the gilt clasp of a long cloak
+which he wore--an old-fashioned, oddly cut black cloak, with a cape to
+it.
+
+Mattie forgot the likeness which this gentleman bore to the lodger
+up-stairs; lost her impression of the carriage at the door, and thought
+of Mrs. Watts and the hundred tricks of London thieves. She began
+thumping with her heels on the floor, until she quite shook up the old
+gentleman on the other side of the counter.
+
+"What's that for, my child?" he asked.
+
+"That'll bring up the servant--I never leave the shop."
+
+The gentleman closed his glasses, and rapped upon the counter with them,
+in rather an amused manner.
+
+"By Jupiter Tonans, that's amusing! She thinks I am going to make off
+with the stationery," he said, more to himself than Mattie.
+
+Ann Packet, round eyed and wondering as usual, looked over the parlour
+blind. Mattie beckoned to her, and she opened the parlour door.
+
+"Run up and tell Mr. Sidney that a gentleman wishes to see his father.
+Is he to wait, or to call again?"
+
+"I think I might answer that question better myself--stay."
+
+The slim old gentleman very slowly and deliberately searched for his
+card-case, produced it and drew forth a card.
+
+"Present that to Mr. Sidney, and say that the bearer is desirous of an
+interview."
+
+Ann Packet took the card in her great red hand, turned it over, looked
+from it to the owner, gave vent to an idiotic "Lor!" and then trudged
+up-stairs with the card. Mattie and the old gentleman, meanwhile,
+continued to regard each other--the suspicions of the former not
+perfectly allayed yet.
+
+Ann Packet returned, appearing by the staircase door this time.
+
+"Mr. Sidney Hinchford will see you, sir--if your business is of
+importance, he says."
+
+The gentleman addressed compressed his lips--very thin lips they became
+on the instant--but deigned no reply. He rose from his chair, and
+followed Ann through the door, up-stairs towards Mr. Hinchford's room,
+leaving his hat on the counter, where he had very politely placed it
+upon entering the shop.
+
+Mattie put it behind her, and then scowled down a lack-a-daisical
+footman, who was simpering at her between a _Family Herald_ and a
+portrait of T. P. Cooke.
+
+The stranger followed Ann Packet up-stairs, and entered the room on the
+first floor, glancing sharply round him through his glasses, and taking
+a survey of everything which it contained on the instant. There was a
+fire burning in the grate that autumn night; the gas was lighted; the
+tea-things ready on the table; at a smaller table by the window, working
+by the light of a table-lamp adorned with a green shade, and with
+another green shade tied across his forehead by way of extra protection
+for the eyes he worked so mercilessly, sat Sidney Hinchford, the only
+occupant of the room.
+
+Sidney rose, bowed slightly, pointed to a chair with the feather of his
+pen, then sat down again, and looked at his visitor from under the ugly
+shade, which cast his face into shadow.
+
+The gentleman bowed also, and took the seat indicated, keeping his
+gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.
+
+"You are my brother James's son, I presume?"
+
+"The same, sir."
+
+"You are surprised to see me here?"
+
+"Yes, sir--now."
+
+"Why now?" was the quick question that followed like the snap of a
+trigger.
+
+"Years and years ago, when I was a lad, I fancied that you might visit
+here, and make an effort to bridge over an ugly gulf, sir."
+
+"Years and years ago, young man, I had too much upon my mind, and, it
+was just possible, more pride in my heart than to make the first
+advances."
+
+"You were the richer man--and you had done the wrong."
+
+"Wrong, sir!" replied the other; "there was no wrong done that I am
+aware of. I was a man careful of my money, and your father was a man
+improvident with his. Was it wrong to object to an alliance?"
+
+"I have but a dim knowledge of the story, sir. My father does not care
+to dwell upon it."
+
+"I will tell it you."
+
+The old gentleman drew his chair nearer to Sidney; the young man held up
+his hand.
+
+"Pardon me, but I have no desire to hear it. Were I to press my father,
+I could learn it from his own lips. Please state the object of your
+coming hither."
+
+"To make the first advances in the latter days that have come to him and
+me," he said; "can I say more? To help him if he be in distress--and to
+assist his son if he find the world hard to cope with. It is a romantic
+appearance, a romantic penitence if you will, for not allowing your
+father to spend my money as well as his own," he added, with a slight
+curl of the lip, which turned Sidney suddenly against him; "but it is an
+effort to bridge over the gulf to which you have recently alluded."
+
+"I fear my father will not thank you for the effort," was the cold
+reply; "and for the help which you would offer now, I can answer for his
+refusal."
+
+"Ah! he was always a proud fellow, and blind to his own interest," was
+the quiet observation here; "his friends laughed at his pride, and
+traded in his weakness before you were born."
+
+"He has one friend living who respects them now, sir."
+
+"His son, I presume?"
+
+"His son, sir."
+
+"I am glad that his son is so high-spirited; but he will find that
+amiable feeling rather in the way of his advancement."
+
+"No, sir--I think not."
+
+Mr. Hinchford regarded Sidney very closely; he did not appear put out by
+the young man's retorts, and he was pleased at the effect that his own
+satire had upon him.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "I have not come to quarrel with my nephew--I
+am here as a peace-maker, and, lo! the son starts up with all the
+father's old obstinacies. Your name is Sidney, I believe."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Sidney Hinchford, then," said he, "if you be a man of the world--which
+I fancy you are--you will not turn your back on your own interests for
+the sake of the grudge which my unforgiving brother may owe me. That's
+not the way of the world, unless it's the world of silly novel-writers
+and poets."
+
+"Sir, this sudden interest in my father and myself is somewhat
+unaccountable."
+
+"Granted," was the cool response.
+
+"Still, let me for my father and myself thank you," said Sidney, with a
+graceful dignity that set well upon him, "thank you for this sudden
+offer, which I, for both, must unhesitatingly decline."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"We are not rich, you can see," Sidney said with a comprehensive sweep
+of his hand, "but we have managed to exist without getting into debt,
+and I believe that the worst struggle is over with us both."
+
+"Upon what supposition do you base this theory?"
+
+"No matter, Mr. Hinchford, my belief is strong, and I would not deprive
+myself of the pleasure of saying that I worked on with my father to the
+higher ground without the help of those rich relations who would at the
+eleventh hour have taken the credit to themselves."
+
+"You are a remarkable young man."
+
+"Sir, you come too late here," said Sidney, with no small amount of
+energy; "we bear you no ill-will, but we will not have your help now. If
+you and yours forgot my father in his adversity, if you made no sign
+when he was troubled by my mother's death, if you held aloof when
+assistance and sympathy would have made amends for the old breach
+between you, if you turned your backs upon him and shut him from your
+thoughts then, now we repudiate your service, and prefer to work our way
+alone!"
+
+"Well, well, be it so," said his uncle; "it is heroic, but it is bad
+policy, more especially in you, a young man who will have to fight hard
+for a competence. You will excuse this whim of mine."
+
+"I have already thanked you for the good intention."
+
+"I did not anticipate encountering so hard and dogmatic a disposition as
+your own, but I do not regret the visit."
+
+Sidney looked at his watch, fidgeted with the feather of his pen, but
+made no remark to this.
+
+"We will say it was a whim--you will please to inform your father that
+this was simply a whim of mine--the impulse of a moment, after an extra
+glass of port wine with my dessert."
+
+"I will think so, if you wish it."
+
+"You perceive that I am an old man--your father's senior by eight
+years--and old people _do_ get whimsical and childish, when the iron in
+their nerves melts, by some unaccountable process, away from them.
+Possibly this is not the first time that it has struck me that my
+brother James and I might easily arrive at a better appreciation of each
+other's character, if we sat down quietly face to face, two old men as
+we have become. The sarcasm that wounded him, and the passionate impulse
+that irritated me, would have grown less with our white hairs, I think.
+I don't know for certain--I cannot answer for a man who always would
+take the wrong side of an argument, and stick to it. By Gad! how tightly
+he would stick to it!"
+
+The old gentleman rapped his gold-headed cane on the floor, and indulged
+in a little sharp laugh, not unpleasant to hear. Sidney repressed a
+smile, and looked significantly at his watch again.
+
+"You wish me gone, young sir," said his uncle.
+
+"Candidly, I see no good result to arise from your stay. My father is of
+an excitable disposition, and, I am sorry to say, neither so strong nor
+so well as I could wish. I fear the shock would be too much for him."
+
+"I will take the hint," he said, rising; "I hate scenes, and if there is
+likely to be a second edition of those covert reproaches with which you
+have favoured me, why, it is best to withdraw as gracefully as possible,
+under the circumstances. You will tell him that I have called?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You will tell him also--bear this in mind instead of sucking your pen,
+will you?--that if he owe me no ill-will, he will call on me next--that
+it is _his_ turn! I never ask a man twice for anything--except for the
+money he may owe me," he added, drily.
+
+"I will deliver your message, Mr. Hinchford."
+
+"Then I have the honour, sir, to apologize for this intrusion, and to
+wish you a good evening."
+
+He crossed the room and held out a thin white hand to Sidney, looking
+very strangely, very intently at him meanwhile. Sidney placed his own
+within it, almost instinctively, and the two Hinchfords shook hands.
+
+They parted; Sidney thought that he had finally taken his departure,
+when the door opened, and he reappeared.
+
+"Do you mind showing me a light?--it's a corkscrew staircase, leading to
+the bottomless pit, to all appearances."
+
+Sidney seized the table-lamp, and proceeded to the top of the stairs,
+which his uncle descended in a slow and gingerly manner. At the first
+landing he looked up, and said:
+
+"That will do, thank you--remember, _his_ turn next--good evening."
+
+Sidney went back to the room, and shortly afterwards Mr. Hinchford, the
+great banker, the owner of princely estates in three counties, was
+whirled away westward in his carriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+SIDNEY'S SUGGESTION.
+
+
+When Mr. Hinchford returned home, Sidney related the particulars of the
+strange visit that he had received; and from the effect which the news
+produced on his father, was grateful for the thought which had prompted
+him to request his uncle's departure. Sidney had noticed with sadness,
+lately, that his father was easily disturbed, easily affected, and it
+was satisfactory to know that it had been judicious on his part to
+advise his uncle's retirement.
+
+Mr. Hinchford tugged at his stock, held his temples, passed his hands
+through his scanty hair, puffed and blowed, dropped his first cup of tea
+over his knees, and did not subside into a moderate state of calmness
+for at least a quarter of an hour after the story had been told.
+
+"And so brother Geoffry turns up at last!--well, I thought he would."
+
+Sidney looked with amazement at his father.
+
+"He would have turned up years ago, I daresay, if it hadn't been for his
+wife--she and I never agreed; but old steady, quiet Geoffry, why, when
+we were boys, we were the best of friends."
+
+"You certainly surprise me, father. Perhaps I have done wrong in
+persuading him to depart. But I always understood that it had been a
+desperate quarrel between you, and that you had almost taken an oath
+never to speak to him again."
+
+"That's all true enough, and it was a desperate quarrel, and he was
+tight-fisted just then, and let me drift into bankruptcy, rather than
+help me. It wasn't brotherly, and I'll never forgive him--never. How was
+the rascal looking, Sid?"
+
+"Like a spare likeness of yourself, sir."
+
+"He's taller than I am by a good two inches. We used to cut notches in
+the sides of all the doors, when we were boys; comparing notes, we
+called it. I suppose he's very much altered?"
+
+"Well, never having seen him before, it is difficult to say. But I have
+no doubt that there's a difference in him since you met last."
+
+"Let me see--it's five-and-twenty years ago, come next February.
+Twenty-five years to nurse a quarrel, and bear enmity in one's heart
+against him. What a time!"
+
+"He was anxious to tell me the story of that quarrel, sir, but I
+declined to listen to it."
+
+"I hope you weren't rude."
+
+"Oh! no, sir."
+
+"You have a most unpleasant habit of blurting out anything that comes
+uppermost. That's your great failing, Sid."
+
+"I like to speak out, sir."
+
+"And after all, perhaps if we had spoken out less--he and I--we should
+not have been all these years at arm's length, and you might have been
+the better for that. There's no telling, things turn out so strangely.
+And it wasn't so much his refusal to lend me, his only brother, ten
+thousand pounds--ten drops of water to him--but the way in which he
+refused, the bitterness of his words, the gall and wormwood instead of
+brotherly sympathy. I was half mad with my losses, and he stung me with
+his cool and insolent taunts, and cast me off to beggary--Sid, would you
+forgive that?"
+
+Mr. Hinchford had realized the scene again; through the mists of
+five-and-twenty years, it shone forth vividly; his cheek flushed, and
+his hand smote the table heavily, and made the tea things jump again.
+
+Sidney cooled him by a few words.
+
+"He has been cautious with his money, and you might have shown signs of
+being reckless with yours, at that time. Possibly you both were heated,
+and said more than you intended. It don't appear to me to have been a
+very serious affair, after all."
+
+"Did he ever seek me out again, or care whether I was alive or dead,
+until to-day?--was that kind?"
+
+"Did you ever seek _him_ out!"
+
+"He was the rich man, and I the poor, Sid."
+
+"Ah! that makes a difference!"
+
+"What would you have done?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"Kept away; not because it was right or politic, but because I inherit
+my father's pride."
+
+"It's an odd legacy, Sid," remarked the father, mournfully.
+
+"I told him to-night we did not care about his patronage, and could work
+our way in the world--that at so late an hour, when the worst was over,
+we would prefer to thank ourselves for the result. I don't say that I
+was right, father," he added; "but there was a satisfaction in saying
+so, and in showing that we did not jump at any favour he might think it
+friendly to concede."
+
+"You're a brave lad," remarked the father, relapsing into thought again;
+"and perhaps it is as well to show we don't care for him. He talked
+about my turn next, you say?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That means, that he'll never come here again, or make another effort to
+be friends. Oh! he's as hard as iron when he says a thing, Sid."
+
+"Shall I tell you what I have thought, sir?--it goes against the foolish
+oath you took, but I think you'll be forgiven for it."
+
+"What have you thought?" he asked with eagerness.
+
+"That it shall be our turn some day--some early day, I hope--to visit
+him, and say:--'We are in a good position in life, and above all help,
+shall we be friends again?'"
+
+"To walk into his counting-house, and surprise him?" cried the father;
+"for me to say:--'I owe all to my son's energy and cleverness, and can
+afford to face you, without being suspected of wanting your money.'
+Well, we ought to bear and forbear; I don't think it would be so very
+hard to make it up with him!"
+
+It was a subject that discomposed Mr. Hinchford--that kept him restless
+and disturbed. His son detected this, and brushed all the papers into a
+heap, thrust them into the recesses of his desk, and began hunting about
+for the backgammon-board. The past had been ever a subject kept in the
+background, and of late years his father had not seemed capable of
+hearing any news, good or bad, with a fair semblance of composure. The
+change in him had been a matter of regret with Sidney; far off in the
+distance, perhaps, there might loom a great trouble for him--he almost
+fancied so at times. Meanwhile, there were troubles nearer than that
+fancied one--man is born unto them, as the sparks fly upwards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+PERPLEXITY.
+
+
+Harriet Wesden had spoken more than once to Mattie of the Eveleighs, a
+family which plays no part in these pages, although, from Harriet's
+knowledge of it, every after page of this story will be influenced. A
+Miss Eveleigh, an only daughter, and a spoiled one, had been a
+schoolfellow of Harriet's; an intimacy had existed between them in the
+old days, and when school days were ended for good, a correspondence was
+kept up, which resulted, eventually, in flying visits to each other's
+houses--the house in Camberwell, and Miss Eveleigh's residence at New
+Cross.
+
+Harriet, during the last week or two, had been spending her time at New
+Cross with the Eveleighs, much to the desolateness of the Camberwell
+domicile, and the dulness of Master Sidney Hinchford. But the visit was
+at an end on the morning of the day alluded to in our last chapter, and
+had it not been for his father's excitability, Sidney, who had mapped
+his plans out, would have abandoned the backgammon board and a-wooing
+gone.
+
+It was as well that he did not, for Harriet Wesden at half-past seven in
+the evening entered the stationer's shop, and surprised Mattie by her
+late visit.
+
+"Good gracious!" was Mattie's truly feminine ejaculation, "who would
+have thought of seeing you to-night? How well you are looking--how glad
+I am that you have come back--what a colour you have got!"
+
+"Have I?" she said; "ah! it's the sharp frost that's in the streets
+to-night. Let me deliver father's message, and hurry back before he gets
+fidgety about me."
+
+Harriet Wesden and Mattie went into the parlour, Mattie taking up her
+position by the door, so as to command the approach from the street,
+Harriet sitting by the fire with her head against the chimney-piece. The
+message was delivered, sundry little account books were wanted at once,
+and Harriet was to take them back with her; Mattie had to find them in
+the shop, and make them up into a little parcel for our heroine.
+
+When she returned, Harriet was in the same position, staring very
+intently at the fire.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked our heroine.
+
+"Oh! no--what should be the matter, dear?"
+
+"You're very thoughtful, and it's not exactly your look, Miss Harriet."
+
+"Fancies again, Mattie," remarked Harriet; "I'm only a little tired,
+having walked from Camberwell."
+
+"I hope you'll not walk back--it's getting late. Unless," she added,
+archly, "Mr. Sidney up-stairs is to see you safely home. That must be
+one of the nicest parts of courtship, to go arm-in-arm together about
+the streets--to feel yourself safe with _him_ at your side."
+
+Harriet's thoughtful demeanour vanished; she gave a merry laugh at the
+gravity with which Mattie delivered this statement, taunted Mattie with
+having thoughts of a lover running in her head, darted from that subject
+to the pleasant fortnight she had been spending with the Eveleighs at
+New Cross, detailed the particulars of her visit, the people to whom she
+had been introduced, and lively little incidents connected with
+them--finally caught up her parcel and bade Mattie good night.
+
+"Ah! you'll wait till I call down Mr. Sidney, I'm sure."
+
+"He'll think that I have called for him. No, I'm going home alone
+to-night."
+
+"Why, what will he say?"
+
+"Tell him that I was in a hurry, going home by omnibus to save time, and
+appease father's nervousness about me. I will not have any danglers in
+my train to-night. I'm in a bad temper--nervous, irritable and
+excitable--I shall only offend him."
+
+"Then something has----"
+
+"Good night, Mattie--oh! I had nearly forgotten to ask you to dine with
+us on Sunday; you'll be sure to come early?"
+
+"Who told you to say that?"
+
+"Why, my father, to be sure."
+
+"I'm glad of it--I'm glad he thinks better of me," Mattie cried; "oh!
+Miss Harriet, you don't know how miserable I have been in my heart, lest
+he--lest he has thought differently of me lately!"
+
+"More fancies! I have always said that they were fancies, Mattie."
+
+"Ah! I guess pretty near to the truth sometimes."
+
+"And tease yourself with a false idea more often--why, you will imagine
+that _I_ shall think differently of you presently."
+
+"No--I don't think you will."
+
+"Never, Mattie."
+
+"God bless you for that!--if ever I'm in trouble I shall look to you to
+defend me."
+
+"And in my trouble, Mattie?" was the half-laughing rejoinder.
+
+"I'll think of you only, fight for you against all your enemies--die for
+you, if it will do any good. Oh! Miss Harriet, you are growing up a lady
+very far above me, getting out of my reach like, you won't forget the
+little girl you were kind to, and shut her wholly from your heart?"
+
+Harriet Wesden was touched; ever a sensitive girl, the sight of
+another's sorrow struck home. She went back a step or two into the
+parlour.
+
+"This isn't like the old Mattie," she said, "the Mattie who always
+looked at the brightest side of life, and made the best of every
+difficulty. Is that silly affair of the robbery still preying on your
+mind?"
+
+"On your father's perhaps--not on mine."
+
+"Then I'll fight the battle for you to begin with--if there be really
+one doubt in my father's heart, I'll charge it from its hiding-place
+to-night. Perhaps I have been wrapped up too much lately in my own
+selfish thoughts when I might have helped you, Mattie. Will you forgive
+me?"
+
+She stooped and kissed Mattie, whose arms closed round her for a minute
+with a loving clasp.
+
+"I'm better now," said Mattie, "it was fancy, perhaps, a fancy that you,
+too, were going further away from me--perhaps thinking ill of me. For
+you were cold and distant when you came here first to-night."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Well, that was my fancy, too, it's very likely. I'll say good night
+now, for it's getting late."
+
+"Good night, then."
+
+At the door she paused and returned.
+
+"Mattie, put on your bonnet and come with me to the end of the street
+where the omnibus passes. I'm nervous to-night--I don't care to walk
+alone about these streets again."
+
+"Let me call Mr. Sid----"
+
+"No, no; you--not him!" she interrupted.
+
+"I never leave the shop, Miss Harriet; it's my trust, and your father
+would not like it. Shall Ann----"
+
+"Oh! it does not matter much; you have only made me nervous. I'm very
+wrong to seek to take you from the business, and father so particular
+and fidgety. I daresay no one will fly away with me. Good night, my
+dear."
+
+She went away with a bright smile at her own nervousness. That was the
+last gleam of brightness there for awhile!
+
+After that there settled on her face a confused expression, often a sad,
+always a thoughtful one, with a long look ahead, as it were from the
+depths of her blue eyes. From that night there was a change in her;
+Mattie, quick of observation, was the first to detect it. It was a face
+of trouble, and Mattie, seeing it now and then, could note the shadows
+deepen. Sidney observed it next, detected with a lover's jealous
+scrutiny a difference in her manner towards him, a something new which
+was colder and less friendly, and yet not demonstrative enough for him
+to murmur against, even if his half engagement had permitted him.
+
+He asked her once if he had offended her, and she replied in the
+negative, and was kinder towards him for that night; but the reserve,
+indifference, coldness, or whatever it was, came back, and perplexed
+Sidney Hinchford more than he cared to own. The year of his novitiate
+was approaching to an end, and he thought that he could afford to wait
+till then; she was not tiring of him and his attentions, he had too good
+an opinion of himself to believe that; at times he solaced himself with
+the idea that she was reflecting on the gravity of the next step, that
+formal engagement to be married in the future to him.
+
+Mattie and Sidney were both observers of some power, for after all they
+saw through the bright side--the forced side--of her. For the father and
+mother was reserved Harriet Wesden with her mask off.
+
+Fathers and mothers are strangely blind to the causes of their
+daughters' ailments--this humble pair formed no exception to the rule.
+They were perplexed with her fits of brooding, her forced efforts to
+rally when taxed with them, her pallor, loss of appetite, red eyes and
+restless looks in the morning. Mr. Wesden, a suspicious man to the world
+in general, was the most trustful and simple as regarded his daughter;
+he did not know the depth of his love for her until she began to look
+ill, and then he almost worried her into a real illness by his
+suggestions and anxiety.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Wesden had many secret confabulations concerning the change
+in Harriet; pottering over a hundred fusty ideas, with never a thought
+as to the true one.
+
+Was Camberwell disagreeing with her?--was the house damp, or her room
+badly situated?--had not the dear girl change enough, society
+enough?--what _was_ the matter? Mr. Wesden set it down for "a low
+way"--an unaccountable complaint from which people suffer at times, and
+for which change of scene is good.
+
+So he set to work studying the matter, originating small excursions for
+the day, submitting her to the healthy excitement of the winter course
+of lectures at the infant schools in the vicinity--lectures on
+artificial memory, on hydrostatics with experiments, on the poets with
+experiments also, and unaccountable ones they were--even once ventured
+into a box of the Surrey Theatre, and began to flatter himself and wife
+that at last Harriet was rapidly improving.
+
+But Harriet Wesden was only learning rapidly to disguise that
+"something" which was perplexing her more and more with every day;
+learning to subdue her parents' anxiety, and sinking a little deeper all
+the new thoughts. But the whirl of events brought the secret uppermost,
+and betrayed her--she was forced to make a confidante, and she thought
+of Mattie, who had always loved her, and stood her friend--Mattie, in
+whom she was sure was the only one she could trust.
+
+The confidence was placed suddenly, and at a time when Mattie was
+scarcely prepared for it--Mattie who yet, by some strange instinct, had
+been patiently waiting for it.
+
+"I believe when that girl's in trouble, she will come to me," Mattie
+thought, "for she knows I would do anything to serve her. Have I any one
+to love except her in the world?--is there any one who requires so much
+love to keep her, what I call, strong?"
+
+Mattie had seen that Harriet Wesden was not strong--that she was
+tender-hearted, affectionate, and weak--that there were times when she
+might give way without a strong heart and a stout hand to assist her.
+She had been a weak, impulsive, passionate child--she had grown up a
+woman very different to Mattie, whose firmness, and even hardness, had
+made Harriet wonder more than once. And Mattie had often wondered at
+Harriet in her turn--at her vanity and romantic ideas, and made excuses
+for her, as we all do, for those we love very dearly. She had even
+feared for her, until the half engagement with Sidney Hinchford had
+taken place, and then she had noticed that Harriet had become more staid
+and womanly, and was glad in her heart that it had happened thus.
+
+Then finally and suddenly the last change swept over the surface of
+things--all the worse for our characters perhaps, but infinitely better
+for our story, which takes a new lease of life from this page.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MR. WESDEN TURNS ECCENTRIC.
+
+
+The nights "drew in" more and more; and nearer and nearer with the
+shortest day approached the end of Sidney Hinchford's probation. Only a
+week or two between the final explanations of Sid's position--of his
+chances in the future perhaps--everything very quiet and still at
+Suffolk Street and Camberwell--a deceptive calm before the storm that
+was brewing.
+
+Harriet Wesden called more frequently at the stationer's shop; she was
+glad to escape from the long evenings at home, and the watchful, ever
+anxious eyes of her father, and it was easy to frame an excuse to repair
+to Great Suffolk Street. Occasionally Sidney Hinchford knew of her
+propinquity, and escorted her home--more often missed his chances of a
+_tete-a-tete_--three or four times, and greatly to his annoyance,
+crossed her in the journey, and reached Camberwell to spend the evening
+with a fidgety old man and his invalid spouse.
+
+At this time it also happened that Sidney Hinchford fell into a dreamy
+absent way, for which there appeared no valid reasons, unless he had
+become alive to the doubts of Harriet's affection for him; an absence of
+mind, and even an irritability, which was disguised well enough from the
+father--before whom Sidney was more or less an actor--but which Mattie,
+ever on the watch, was quick as usual to detect.
+
+She had become puzzled by Harriet's abstraction, and had looked for its
+reflex at once in Sidney Hinchford's face--finding it there, as she
+thought, after a while.
+
+Mattie, left in the dark as to the truth, and every day becoming more of
+a young woman, who knew her place, and felt the distance between her
+master's daughter, her master's lodgers, and herself, could but draw her
+own conclusions, and frame a story from them.
+
+Harriet and Sidney had quarrelled, and were keeping their quarrel a
+secret from the good folk at Camberwell; something had happened to cast
+a gloom on the way that Mattie thought would be ever bright and rosy,
+and each day they who should have been lovers seemed drifting further
+apart. She would have liked to play the part of mediator between
+them--to see them friends again--but her position held her back, and she
+had not the courage of a year ago. Those two young lovers had been the
+bright figures in her past--her life had somehow become blended with
+them, and she felt that her interest was of a cumulative character, and
+not likely to die out with her riper womanhood. She could not
+disassociate her mind away from them; at every turn in her career they
+were before her--they haunted her thoughts, and harassed her with their
+seeming inconsistencies of conduct. She did not understand them, for the
+clue to the inner life was absent from her; she could not see why
+Harriet was not a girl to love this young man with all her heart, as she
+was loved--she felt that there was an assimilation between the strength
+of one, and the weakness that needed support in the other; and that
+Sidney's earnest love should have more deeply impressed a heart
+naturally susceptible to anything that was honest and true.
+
+And yet Harriet grew paler, and looked disturbed in mind, and Sidney
+Hinchford came home from business every day with a deeper shade of
+thought upon his face. He went less often to Camberwell also--she took
+notice of that--and stayed up late at night in the drawing-room, after
+having deluded his father into the belief that he should be only a few
+moments after him. All was mystery in Suffolk Street, denser than the
+fogs which crept thither so often in the winter time.
+
+Mr. Wesden, before retiring from business, had left strict orders with
+Mattie to be the last to go round the house, and see, in particular, to
+the gas burners, and the bolts which Ann Packet was continually leaving
+unfastened, and had once received warning for in Mr. Wesden's time.
+Mattie had injunctions to see to the drawing-room burners as well; to
+wait to an hour however late for the Hinchford exit.
+
+This waiting up became a serious matter when Sidney Hinchford remained
+in the drawing-room till the small hours of the morning, and brooded
+over his papers, with which one table or another was invariably strewn.
+Mattie, a young woman of business, who did a fair day's work, and rose
+early, ventured to remonstrate at last; it was intrenching beyond her
+province, but she made the plunge in a manner very nervous and new to
+her--in a manner that even confused herself a little.
+
+He brought the remonstrance upon himself by coming down into the shop to
+hunt for some writing paper, which he intended to pay for in the
+morning, and was a little surprised to find Mattie sewing briskly in the
+back parlour.
+
+"Up still, Mattie!--late hours for you," he said.
+
+"Ah! and for you, too, sir."
+
+"Men can do with little rest, and I never leave one day's work for the
+next," said he, in that quick manner which had become habitual to him,
+and which appeared, to strangers, tinged with more abruptness than was
+really intended. "I was thinking of robbing your stationery drawer,
+Mattie, and lo the thief is detected in the act."
+
+"Oh! I hope you do not intend any more work to-night, sir."
+
+"Why not?" he asked, his eyes expressing a mild sort of surprise through
+his spectacles.
+
+"I'm waiting to see the gas out in that table-lamp."
+
+"Can't I see to it myself?"
+
+"I thought so until I found the tap in the india-rubber pipe turned full
+on last night."
+
+"Did you sit up last night, too?"
+
+"Mr. Wesden has always wished that I should make sure everything was
+safe."
+
+"But I'm busy just now; you mustn't be a slave as well as myself."
+
+"I hope you're not a slave, Mr. Sidney," said Mattie, assuming that
+half-familiar style of conversation which was natural to her with her
+two old friends, and which always escaped in spite of of her, "or that
+you will not keep one much longer, for it's not improving your looks, I
+can tell you."
+
+"_You_ can tell me," said Sidney; "well, what's the matter with my
+looks, Mattie?"
+
+Mattie looked steadily at him.
+
+"You're paler than you used to be," she said after a while; "you're not
+like yourself; you've something on your mind."
+
+Sidney frowned, rubbed his hair up the wrong way, after his father's
+fashion, cleared off suddenly and then laughed.
+
+"Who hasn't?" was his reply.
+
+"There's nothing which can't easily be got over, or my name isn't
+Mattie," said our heroine, with great firmness.
+
+She was full of her one reason for all this thought on his side, and the
+confusion and perplexity on Harriet's, and she delivered her hint
+emphatically.
+
+"I don't despair of getting over most things," he said, with a forced
+lightness that did not deceive his observer; "there's only one thing in
+the way that bothers me."
+
+He said it more to himself than Mattie, who cried, instinctively--
+
+"What's that, sir?"
+
+"Why, that's my secret," he responded, shutting up on the instant; "and
+I shall keep it till the last."
+
+He had turned very stern and rigid; Mattie felt that she had crossed the
+line of demarcation, and withdrew into herself and her needlework with a
+sigh.
+
+Sidney Hinchford shook himself away from that dark thought instanter.
+
+"You're as curious as ever, Mattie--you'll be a true woman. I would not
+be your husband for the world."
+
+Mattie felt herself crimson on the instant, and a strange wild commotion
+in her heart ensued, more unaccountable than the mystery which had
+deepened around her. They were light, idle words of his, but they made
+her cheeks flush and her bosom heave; he spoke in jest, almost in
+sarcasm, but the words rang in her ears as though he had thundered them
+forth with all the power of his lungs.
+
+When all this Suffolk Street life was over; when she and he, when she
+and they whom she loved had gone their separate ways, when she was an
+old woman, she remembered Sidney Hinchford's words.
+
+Still she flashed back the jesting reply--or whatever it was--with a
+quickness that was startling.
+
+"You'll wait till you're asked," she said.
+
+At this moment some one knocked at the outer-door.
+
+"Hollo!--a late customer like me," said Sidney, opening the door as he
+was nearer to it, and then staring with surprise at the person who had
+arrived--no less a person than Mr. Wesden himself.
+
+"Hollo!" he said again; "nothing wrong, sir, I hope?"
+
+"Not at home," was the dry response. "Is anything wrong here?"
+
+"Oh! no."
+
+He entered, took the door-handle from Sidney, and closed the door
+himself, turned the key in the lock, and drew the bolts to. Sidney
+Hinchford thought Mr. Wesden looked very nervous that evening--very
+different from his usual stolid way.
+
+"You're quite sure--quite sure that it's all right, sir?" asked Sidney,
+his thoughts flashing to Harriet again.
+
+"I said so; I never tell an untruth, Sidney. Good night"
+
+"Good night, sir. Oh!" turning back, "the letter-paper, Mattie--I had
+forgotten."
+
+Mr. Wesden watched the transfer of the writing paper from the drawer to
+Sidney Hinchford's hands, glanced furtively from Sidney to Mattie,
+gradually unwinding a woolen comforter from his neck meanwhile.
+
+When Sidney had withdrawn, very much perplexed, but too dignified to ask
+any more questions, Mr. Wesden turned to Mattie.
+
+"What's he doing down here at this time of night, Mattie?"
+
+"He came for writing paper--he's very busy."
+
+"What are _you_ sitting up for?"
+
+"To see to the gas-burners in the drawing-room."
+
+"Turn the gas off at the meter, and leave him in the dark next time,"
+said Mr. Wesden. "You can go to bed now. I'll sit up for a little while;
+I'm going to sleep here to-night."
+
+"Indeed, sir! Oh! sir, I hope that nothing serious _has_ happened?"
+
+"Nothing at all. It's not so very wonderful that I should come to my own
+house, I suppose, Mattie?"
+
+"N--no," she answered, hesitating; "but it's past one o'clock."
+
+"I couldn't sleep--and Harriet was at home with the good lady," he said,
+as if by way of excuse; adding very sulkily, a moment afterwards, "I
+never could sleep in that Camberwell place--I wish I'd never left the
+shop!"
+
+Mr. Wesden hazarded no further reason for his eccentric arrival, and
+Mattie went up-stairs to lay it with the rest of her stock of mysteries
+daily accumulating round her. Mr. Wesden remained down-stairs, fidgeting
+with shop drawers, counting the money left in the till, and wandering up
+and down in a reckless, hypochondriacal fashion, very remarkable in a
+man of his phlegmatic temperament, and which it was as well for Mattie
+not to have seen.
+
+Finally he groped his way down-stairs into the kitchen, and the
+coal-cellar where the gas-meter was placed, and with a wrench cut off
+the supply of gas for that night, casting Sidney Hinchford so suddenly
+into darkness, that he leaped up with an exclamation far from
+appropriate to his character.
+
+"What the devil next?"
+
+The next thing for Sidney was to knock over the chair he had been
+sitting upon, which came down on the drawing-room floor with a bumping
+noise that shook the house, and woke up his father, who shouted forth
+his name.
+
+"Coming, coming,'' said Sidney, walking into the double-bedded room, and
+giving up further study or brooding for that night.
+
+"What's the matter, Sid, my boy?" asked the father, from the corner;
+"haven't you been in bed yet?"
+
+"Must have fallen asleep in the next room, I think."
+
+"And a terrible row you've made in waking, Sid. Good night, my boy--God
+bless you!"
+
+The old gentleman turned on his side, and was soon indulging in the
+snores of the just again. There was a night-light burning there, and
+Sidney took it from its saucer of water and held it above his head,
+looking down at that old, world-worn, yet handsome face of the father.
+
+"God bless _you_!" he said, re-echoing his father's benediction; "how
+will you bear it when the time comes, I wonder?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A BURST OF CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+Yes, Mr. Wesden, late of Suffolk Street, had become nervous and
+eccentric in his old age--many people do, besides stationers. He had
+retired from business too late to enjoy the relaxation from business
+cares; he had better have died in harness than have given up the shop,
+for isolation therefrom began to work its evil.
+
+He had not had much to worry him in his middle age; his youth had been a
+struggle, but he had been young and strong to bear with it, blest by a
+homely and affectionate wife, who struggled with him and consoled him;
+then had followed for more years than we care to reckon just now, the
+everyday life of a London shopkeeper--a life of business-making and
+money-making, plodding on in one groove, with little change to distract
+his attention, or trouble his brain. All quiet and monotonous, but
+possessing for John Wesden peace of mind, which, if not exactly
+happiness, was akin to it. And now in his old age, when every habit had
+been burned into him as it were, business was over, and idleness became
+a sore trial to him. And then after idleness came his daughter to worry
+him, not to mention Mattie, who worried him most of all, for reasons
+which we shall more closely particularize a chapter or two hence.
+
+So with these troubles bearing all at once upon a mind that had been at
+its ease in its stronger days, Mr. Wesden turned eccentric. Want of
+method rendered him fidgety, the mysteries in _his_ path, as well as
+Mattie's, perplexed him; he was verging upon hypochondriacism without
+being aware of it himself; and that suspicious nature which had been
+born with him, began to develop itself more, and give promise of bearing
+forth bitter fruit. Possibly before his concern for his daughter's
+health, was his concern for the shop in Great Suffolk Street, which he
+considered that he had neglected in leaving to the charge of a girl not
+eighteen years of age, and which, since the robbery, was an oppression
+that weighed heavily upon him. He was full of fancies concerning that
+shop; his mind--which unfortunately was fed by fancies at that
+time--began to give way somewhat when he took it in his head to think
+something had happened, at twelve o'clock at night, and start at once
+for Great Suffolk Street, as we have noticed in our preceding chapter.
+
+The ice once broken, the eccentricities of Mr. Wesden did not diminish;
+he had his old bed-room seen to in the house again, and surprised Mattie
+more than once after this by sudden appearances at untimely hours. He
+had a right to look after his business--did _people_ think that he had
+lost his interest in the shop, because he lived away from it?--did
+_people_ think that he was not sharp enough for business still? With
+these changes he became more nervous, more irritable, and less
+considerate; yet brightening up sometimes for weeks together, and
+becoming his old stolid self again, to the relief of his wife and
+daughter. That daughter detected the change in her father also, woke up
+at last to the fact that her own thoughtfulness had tended to unsettle
+him, and became more like her old self also--or rather, more of an
+actress, with the power to impersonate that self from which she had
+seceded.
+
+Everything was going wrong with our characters, when Harriet Wesden
+broke through the ice one night with that impulsiveness which she had
+not lived down or grown out of. It was strange that she always broke
+down in Mattie's presence; that only in the company of the stray did she
+feel the wish to avow all, and seek counsel in return. To Harriet Wesden
+the impulse was incomprehensible, but it was beyond her strength, at
+times, and carried her away. She loved Mattie; she saw in her the
+faithful friend rather than the servant; she knew that the child's
+passionate love for her had grown with Mattie's growth, and absorbed her
+being. But love was but half the reason with Harriet, and she would not
+own--which was the secret--that the weak and timid nature sought relief
+from a mind that had grown strong and practical in a rough school.
+
+A need of sympathy, a perplexity becoming greater every day, allied to a
+love for the confidante, brought about the truth, which escaped in the
+old fashion.
+
+She had been paying her visit--an afternoon one in this instance--to
+Mattie at the shop; it was a dull season, and no business stirring; the
+December gloom preyed upon the spirits of most people abroad that day;
+it affected Harriet more than usual, or the pressure of the old thoughts
+reduced her to subjection at last. The two girls were sitting by the
+fireside, Mattie with her face turned to the shop door, when Harriet
+Wesden laid both her hands suddenly on our heroine's.
+
+"Mattie," she cried, "look me in the face a moment!"
+
+"Come round to the little light there is left, then."
+
+"There!"
+
+Harriet Wesden set her pretty face, pale and anxious then, more into the
+light required. Mattie regarded it attentively.
+
+"Isn't it a false face?" asked Harriet, in an excited manner--"the face
+of one who brings sorrow and wrong to all who know her?"
+
+"I hope not."
+
+"It is!" she asserted. "Oh! Mattie, I am in distress, and terrible
+doubt--I have been foolish, and acted inconsiderately--I am in a maze,
+that becomes more tangled with every step I take--tell me what to do!"
+
+"You ought to know best, dear--you should not have any troubles which
+you are afraid to confess to your father and mother, and--and Mr.
+Hinchford."
+
+"Yes, yes, but not to them first of all," she cried. "Oh! Mattie, I am
+not a wicked girl, God knows--I have never had a thought of
+wickedness--I would like everybody in the world to be as happy as I was
+once myself."
+
+"Once!" repeated Mattie. "Oh! I won't have that."
+
+"I don't think," she added, very thoughtfully regarding the fire, "that
+I shall be ever happy again. Now, Mattie dear, I'm going to swear you to
+secrecy, and then ask what you would do in my place."
+
+"You're very kind to trust in me--but is there no one else?--Miss
+Eveleigh, for instance."
+
+"She's a worse silly than I am!"
+
+"Your mother."
+
+"I should frighten her to death--she and father are both weak, and
+altering very much. Oh! Mattie, if they should die and leave me alone in
+the world!"
+
+"Need you get nervous about that just now?"
+
+"I'm nervous about everything--I'm unsettled--Mattie, I have acted very
+treacherously to _him_."
+
+"To Mr. Sidney!--not to Mr. Sidney?"
+
+"Yes," was the answer.
+
+Mattie became excited. How had it occurred?--who had done it?--who had
+stolen her thoughts away from him?
+
+"I have been trying very hard to love him--sometimes I think I do love
+him better than the--the _other_--just for a while, when he is very
+happy sitting near me, and very full of the future, that can never,
+never come."
+
+"Go on please," said the curious Mattie.
+
+"Mattie, you remember Mr. Darcy?" she asked, spasmodically.
+
+"Mr. Darcy--no," said the puzzled Mattie.
+
+"The gentleman who--who fell in love with me when I was a child," she
+explained, very rapidly, and with still greater excitement, "whom I
+thought I had forgotten, and who had forgotten me, until I met him
+again."
+
+"Oh! this _is_ wrong!" exclaimed Mattie.
+
+"I know it--I have owned it!" cried Harriet; "let me tell the story out.
+I met him, parted coldly from him, met him again, all by accident on my
+part; met him for a third time at the Eveleighs, with whom he had got on
+visiting terms; met him day after day, evening after evening there,
+until the spell was on me which overpowered me, and robbed me of my
+peace--until I loved him, Mattie!"
+
+"And he knows----"
+
+"He knows nothing, save that I am engaged to be another's--and that I
+dare scarcely think of him."
+
+"He knows too much, _I_ know," said Mattie, reflectively; "and he has
+found a way to turn you against Mr. Sidney. What a wonder he must be!"
+
+"Poor Sidney!"
+
+"And to think it's all over between you and him," added Mattie--"him who
+thinks so much of you, and is growing old to my eyes, with the fear upon
+him which I understand now, and which is now so natural!"
+
+"What fear!"
+
+"Of losing you."
+
+"I am so sorry--_so_ very sorry for him. And I am ashamed to think that
+I have led him on to build his hopes upon me, and now must dash them
+down."
+
+"Yes--to-night," said Mattie, thoughtfully.
+
+"Tonight!" exclaimed Harriet, in alarm.
+
+"I don't know much about these things--I never understood what love for
+a young man was, having had too much to do," she added, with a little
+laugh that echoed strangely in that shadowy room, "but it don't seem
+quite the thing to keep the two on, or both of them in suspense about
+you."
+
+"Do you think I would?" asked Harriet, proudly.
+
+"It seems to me that if I were in your place, I should take a pattern
+from Mr. Sidney, and speak out at once--go straight at it, as he calls
+it--and tell him everything."
+
+"But----"
+
+Mattie became excited in her turn.
+
+"It isn't right--it isn't fair to let a man keep thinking of you, when
+you've turned against him," she cried; "it's cowardly and base to hide
+the truth from him, or be afraid of telling it. It won't kill him,
+Harriet, for he's a proud spirit, that will bear up through it all,
+bitterly as he will feel it for a while."
+
+"I'm not afraid--it is not that," said Harriet; "I only wish to know
+what you would think the best method of telling him all, and yet sparing
+him pain. I have been fancying that if _you_ hinted to him at first the
+truth----"
+
+"_I_ hint!" exclaimed Mattie, "not for the world. I'm only a servant
+here, and you might as well ask poor Ann Packet to hint the truth as me.
+I'm sorry--you will never know how sorry I am--that you two are going to
+break it off forever; but I should be more sorry still if you let
+to-night go by, and not try hard to face him."
+
+"Mattie, I will face him," said Harriet, with her lips compressed; "I
+will tell him all. After all, it was not an engagement, and I was as
+free as he to make my choice elsewhere if I preferred. I am not in the
+wrong to tell him that my girlish fancy was a mistake."
+
+"No--only in the wrong to keep the truth back."
+
+"You will not think that I have intentionally attempted to deceive poor
+Sidney, will you?"
+
+"God forbid, my dear."
+
+"Vain--frivolous, and weak--anything but cruel. Yes, I will tell him all
+when he comes back to-night. There is no use in delay."
+
+"Only danger," added Mattie, remembering her copy-book admonition; a
+copy which Sidney Hinchford had set her himself in the old days, when
+she was deep in text-hand.
+
+"And then when it is all told, and he knows that I am free, happiness
+will come again, I suppose. Heigho! I was very happy once."
+
+"Happiness will come again," said Mattie, more cheerfully, "to be sure."
+
+"Mattie, I have been trying very hard to think of Mr. Sidney, first of
+all; it is that trying which has made me ill. I know he loves me very
+much, and will never think of anybody else; and it is--it is hard upon
+him now!"
+
+"You must be very fond of this other one," said Mattie. "Is he
+handsome?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"And very fond of you, of course?"
+
+"Yes; but it is a struggle to keep his love back--I am cold to him--and
+I--I will _not_ listen to him, and so drive him to despair. Oh! I am a
+miserable wretch! I make everybody unhappy whom I meet."
+
+The weak girl burst into tears, and rocked herself to and fro on the
+chair before the fire. Mattie passed her arms round her neck and drew
+the pretty agitated face to her bosom, soothing it there as though she
+had been a mother troubled with love-sick daughters of her own.
+
+"It will soon be over now," Mattie said, when Harriet was more composed.
+"Try and be calm; think of what you shall say to poor Sidney, while I
+attend to the shop a bit."
+
+Mattie went into the shop, leaving Harriet Wesden with her chin clutched
+in both hands, looking dreamily at the fire. She was more composed now
+the whole truth had escaped her; she felt that she should be happy in
+time, after Sidney Hinchford had been told all, and that terrible ordeal
+of telling it had been gone through. One more scene, which had made her
+shudder to forestall by sober thought, and then the new life, brighter
+and rosier from that day!
+
+Poor Sidney, what should she say to him, to soften the look which would
+rise to his dark eyes and transfix her? What was best to say and do, to
+keep him from thinking ill of her, and despising her for vacillation?
+
+Mattie came in, looking white and scared; but Harriet, possessed by a
+new thought which had suddenly dashed in upon her, failed to observe the
+change.
+
+"Mattie, dear," she cried, "if he should think I give him up because
+he's poorer than Mr. Darcy--that it is for the sake of money that I turn
+away from him!"
+
+"Money's a troublesome thing," said Mattie, snatching up her bonnet from
+the sideboard, and putting it on her head with trembling hands; "if you
+take your eyes from it for an instant, it's gone."
+
+"But, Mr. Darcy----"
+
+"Oh! bother Mr. Darcy," was the half-peevish exclamation. "I have been
+listening to you, and they've robbed the shop again. Everything's
+against me just now! Mind the place till I come back, please."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE PLAN FRUSTRATED.
+
+
+Yes, the house in Great Suffolk Street had been again visited by "the
+dangerous classes." It was a house well watched, or a house that was
+doomed to be unfortunate in its latter days. A house left in charge of a
+girl of seventeen, therefore likely to have its weak points, and
+considered worth watching in the dark hours. This was Mattie's idea upon
+awakening to the conviction of a second successful attempt upon Mr.
+Wesden's property; but Mattie was wrong.
+
+The robbery was the result of accident and neglect, as most robberies
+are in this world. A youth had entered the shop to make a small
+purchase, and hammered honestly on the counter with the edge of his
+penny piece--a youth of no principle, certainly, brought up ragged,
+dirty, ignorant, and saucy--a Borough boy. Fate and the devil contrived
+that Mattie should be absorbed in the love-story of Harriet Wesden at
+the time, and the boy finding no attention paid to his summons, looked
+over the shop blind, saw the rapt position of the parlour occupants,
+dropped upon his hands and knees like a lad brought up to the
+"profession," and slid insidiously towards the till, which he found
+locked and keyless. Fortune being against his possession of any current
+coin of the realm, the young vagabond turned his attention to stock, and
+in less time than it takes to sum up his defalcations, had appropriated
+and made off with a very large parcel underneath the counter--a parcel
+that Wiggins, wholesale stationers of Cannon Street, had just forwarded
+by London Parcels' Delivery Company to order of John Wesden, Esq., and
+which parcel had been found almost too large to decamp with.
+
+Mattie thought no more of Harriet Wesden's troubles; here was a second
+instance of her carelessness--of her incapacity for business. What would
+Mr. Wesden think now; he who had been so cold and strange to her after
+the last robbery? And what did she deserve?--she who had had a trust
+committed to her and abused it.
+
+Mattie did not give way to any ebullition of tears; she was a girl with
+considerable self-command, and only betrayed her agitation by her whiter
+face. She did all that lay in her power to remedy the great error,
+leaving Harriet Wesden in charge of the shop whilst she ran down Great
+Suffolk Street and towards the Borough, hoping to overtake the robber.
+Straight to Kent Street went Mattie; thieves would be sure to make for
+Kent Street--all the years of her honest life faded away like a dream,
+and she ran at once to the house of a receiver of stolen goods, a house
+that she had known herself in the old guilty past.
+
+Her hand was on the latch of the door, when a policeman touched her on
+the arm,
+
+"Do you want anything here?"
+
+"I've been robbed of a large parcel--I thought they must have brought it
+here."
+
+"Why here?"
+
+"This is Simes's--this used to be Simes's--surely."
+
+"Yes, and it's Simes's still; but nobody's been here with a parcel. You
+haven't been and left nobody in Mr. Wesden's shop?" was his inelegant
+query.
+
+Mattie did not remark that the policeman knew her then; she was too
+excited by her loss.
+
+"Mr. Wesden's daughter's there."
+
+"Then you had better come round to the police-station, and state your
+loss, Miss."
+
+Mattie thought so too; she went to the police station, mentioned the
+facts of the robbery, the nature of the parcel stolen, &c, and then
+returned very grave and disconsolate to Great Suffolk Street, to find
+three customers waiting to be served, Harriet turning over drawer after
+drawer in search of the goods required, and one woman waiting for
+change, which Harriet, having mislaid her own purse, and found the till
+locked, was unable to give her.
+
+Mattie turned to business again, attended to the customers, and then
+re-entered the parlour.
+
+"It cannot be helped, and I must make the best of it," said Mattie; "I
+don't mind the loss it is to me, who'll pay for it out of my own
+earnings, as I do the vexation it will be to your father."
+
+"Leave it to me, Mattie," said Harriet; "when I go home this evening, I
+will tell him exactly how it occurred, and how it was not your fault but
+mine. And, Mattie, I intend to pay for it myself, and not have your hard
+earnings entrenched upon."
+
+"You're not in trust here," said Mattie, somewhat shortly; "if I don't
+pay for it, I shall be unhappy all my life."
+
+"Then it's over and done with, and I wouldn't fret about it," said
+Harriet, suddenly finding herself in the novel position of comforter.
+
+"I never fret--and I said that I would make the best of it," replied
+Mattie, placing her chair at the parlour door, half within the room and
+half in the shop; "and if I'm ever tricked again whilst I remain here,
+it's very odd to me."
+
+Harriet Wesden, not much impressed by so matter-of-fact event as a
+robbery, was anxious to return to the subject which more closely
+affected herself; the parcel, after all, was of no great value; the
+police were doubtless looking for the thief; let the matter be passed
+over for the present, and the great distress of her unsettled mind be
+once more gravely dwelt upon! This was scarcely selfishness--for Harriet
+Wesden was not a selfish girl--it was rather an intense craving for
+support in the hard task of shattering another's hopes.
+
+They had tea together in that little back parlour, and Harriet found it
+difficult work to keep Mattie's thoughts directed to the subject upon
+which advice had been given before the theft.
+
+"You will not think of me," she said at last, reproachfully; "and what
+does it matter about that rubbishing parcel?"
+
+"What can I do for you, more?" asked Mattie, wearily. Her head ached
+very much with all the excitement of that day, and she was inwardly
+praying for the time to pass, and the boy to put the shutters up. The
+robbery was _not_ of great importance, and she wondered why it troubled
+her so much, and rendered her anxiety for others, just for a while, of
+secondary interest. Did she see looming before her the shadow of her
+coming trial; was there foreknowledge of all in store for her, stealing
+in upon her that dark December's night? She was superstitions enough to
+think so afterwards, when the end had come and life had wholly changed
+with her!
+
+After tea, Mattie's impression became less vivid, for Harriet's
+nervousness was on the increase. The stern business of life gave way to
+the romance--stern enough also at that time--of Harriet Wesden. It was
+close on seven o'clock, and every minute might bring the well-known form
+and figure home.
+
+"I shan't know what to say," said Harriet; "it seems out of place to ask
+him in here, and coolly begin at once to tell him not to think of me any
+more, just as he comes home from business, tired and weary, too, poor
+Sid! Shall I write to him?--I'll begin the letter now, and leave it here
+for you to give him. Oh! I can't face him--I shall never be able to face
+him, and tell him how fickle-minded I am!"
+
+"Write to him if you wish then, Harriet; perhaps it is best, and will
+spare you both some pain."
+
+"Yes, yes, I'll write," said Harriet, opening Mattie's desk instantly,
+and sending its neatly arranged contents flying right and left; "it _is_
+much the better way--why make a scene of it?--I hate scenes! And I'm not
+fickle-minded, Mattie," suddenly reverting to her self-accusation of a
+moment since; "for I had a right to think for myself, and choose for
+myself--we were not to be engaged till next month; and I did like him
+once--I do now, somehow! If _he_ will only think well of me afterwards,
+and not despise me, poor fellow, and believe that I had a right to turn
+away from him, if my heart said that I was not suitable for him at the
+last. If he--Mattie, _where_ do you keep your pens?"
+
+Mattie remarked that she had turned the box full amongst the
+letter-paper. Harriet sat herself down to write the letter after much
+preparation and agitation; Mattie looked at her, sitting there, in the
+full light of the gas above her head, and thought how pretty a _child_
+she looked--how unfit to cope with the world's harshness--how lucky for
+her that she was the only child of parents who had made money for her,
+and so smoothed one road in life at least. Yes, more a child than a
+woman even then; captious, excitable, easily influenced, swayed by a
+passing gust of passion like a leaf, trembling at the present, at the
+future, always unresolved, and yet always, by her trust and confidence
+in others, even by her sympathy for others, to be loved.
+
+Mattie went into the shop, leaving Harriet to compose her epistle; after
+a while, and when she was brooding on the parcel again, and wondering if
+Mrs. Watts were at the bottom of the robbery, Harriet called her. She
+took her place again on the neutral ground, between parlour and shop,
+and found Harriet very much discomfited; her face flushed, her fair hair
+ruffled about her ears, her blue eyes full of tears.
+
+"I don't know what to say--I can't think of anything that's kind enough,
+and good enough for _him_. What would you say, Mattie?"
+
+"And you that have had so much money spent on your education to ask
+me--still a poor, ignorant, half-taught girl, Miss Harriet!"
+
+"I'm too flurried to collect my thoughts--I _can't_ think of the right
+words," she said; "I can't tell him of Mr. Darcy before Mr. Darcy has
+spoken to me--and I--I don't like to write down that I--I don't love
+him--never did love him--it looks so spiteful, dear! Mattie, what would
+you say?"
+
+"I should simply tell him the story which you told me."
+
+"He might show the letter to father and mother, who are anxious--oh!
+much more anxious than you fancy--to marry me to Sidney."
+
+"They know his value, Harriet."
+
+"And then it will all come at once to trouble them, instead of breaking
+it by degrees. Well, it's my fate. I must not keep it from them."
+
+"No. How much have you written?"
+
+"'Dear Sidney'--and--and the day of the month, of course. Oh! dear--here
+he is!"
+
+Away went paper and pens into the desk again, and the desk cleared from
+the table, and turned topsy-turvy on to a chair.
+
+"Oh! the top of the ink-stand's out--look here!--oh! what a mess
+there'll be!" cried Mattie.
+
+Harriet reversed the desk.
+
+"Perhaps it's not all spilt--I'm very sorry to have made such a mess of
+it, and--and it's only Sidney's father, after all. Don't tell him I'm
+here."
+
+The old gentleman came into the shop, and nodded towards Mattie standing
+in the doorway.
+
+"Has my boy come home?" he asked.
+
+"Not yet, sir."
+
+The father's countenance assumed a doleful expression on the
+instant--life without his boy was scarcely worth having.
+
+"He's very late, then, for I'm late," looking at his watch; "I hope he
+hasn't been run over."
+
+Mattie laughed at the expression of the father's fear.
+
+"That's not likely, sir."
+
+"People do get run over at times, especially in the City, and more
+especially near-sighted people. There's nothing to laugh at."
+
+And rather offended at the manner in which his gloomy suggestion had
+been received, Mr. Hinchford senior passed through the side door into
+the passage. Mattie found Harriet at the desk again, picking out several
+sheets of paper saturated with ink, and arranging them of a row on the
+fender.
+
+"More ink, dear--more ink!" she cried, impetuously; "I've thought of
+what to say. Don't keep me long without the ink."
+
+Mattie replenished her ink-stand, and Harriet dashed into the subject
+with vigour, slackened after the first few lines, then came to a dead
+stop, and stared intently at the paper. Mattie went into the shop for
+fear of disturbing Harriet's train of ideas, remained there an hour
+attending to customers, and arranging stock, finally went back into the
+parlour.
+
+The desk was closed once more; a heap of torn papers was on the floor.
+Harriet, with her bonnet and shawl on, and her eyes red with weeping,
+was pacing up and down the room.
+
+"No letter?" asked Mattie.
+
+"I can't write a letter, and tell him what a wretch I am," she said,
+"and if I face him to-night, I shall drop at his feet. Girl," she cried,
+passionately, "do you think it is so easy to act as I have done, and
+then avow it?"
+
+"I should not be ashamed to own it," was Mattie's calm answer; "I should
+consider it my duty to tell him."
+
+"And I will tell him all. God knows I would not deceive him for the
+world, Mattie, or leave him in ignorance of the true state of my heart.
+But I cannot tell him now. I'm afraid!"
+
+There was real fear in her looks--an intense excitement, that even
+alarmed Mattie. She saw, after all, that it was best to keep the secret
+back for that night.
+
+"Then I would go home, Harriet, at once. To-morrow, when you are calmer,
+you may be able to write the letter."
+
+"Yes, yes--to-morrow I will write it. I shall have all day before me,
+and can tear up as many sheets as I like. I will write it to-morrow, and
+post it from Camberwell. Mattie, as I'm a living woman, and as I pray to
+be free from this suspense and torture, I WILL write to him to-morrow!"
+
+"One day is not very important," said Mattie, in reply, little dreaming
+of the difference that day would make. "Delays are dangerous--delays are
+dangerous"--she had written twenty times in her copy-book, and taken not
+to heart; and there _was_ danger on its way to those who had put off the
+truth, and to him for whom they feared it.
+
+"Delays are dangerous!" Take it to heart, O reader, and remember it in
+the hour when you shrink from the truth, as from a hot iron that may
+sear you. Wise old admonitions of our copy-book times--we might do worse
+very often than laugh at ye!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A SUDDEN JOURNEY.
+
+
+Harriet Wesden hurried away after her promise; Mattie, at the last
+moment, recalling to her notice the fact of the robbery, and reminding
+her of the way in which she ought to break the news to her father. Then
+the excited girl darted away to Camberwell, and it was like the
+stillness of the grave in the back parlour after her departure. Mattie
+went in for an instant to set the place to rights, and then returned to
+her watch in the shop, and to her many thoughts, born of that day's
+incidents. She was quite prepared for a visit from Mr. Wesden at a late
+hour, but Mr. Wesden's movements under excitement were not to be
+calculated upon; and we may say here that the knowledge of his loss did
+not bring him post-haste to Great Suffolk Street. Mattie was thinking of
+her loss, when the passage door opened, and the white head of Mr.
+Hinchford peered round and looked up at the clock, over the top shelf
+where the back stock was kept. The movement reminded Mattie of the time,
+and she glanced at the clock herself--_half-past nine_.
+
+"I thought the clock had stopped up-stairs," he said, by way of
+explanation for his appearance.
+
+"I had no idea it was so late," said Mattie.
+
+"I had no idea it was so early," responded Mr. Hinchford; adding, after
+a pause, "though I can't think where the boy has got to; he said he
+would be home early, as he had some accounts to look through."
+
+"It's not very late, sir, and if he has gone to Camberwell, not knowing
+Miss Harriet was here to-night----"
+
+"He always comes home first--I never knew him go anywhere without coming
+home first to tell me. But," with another look at the clock, "it's not
+so very late, as you say, Mattie."
+
+"He will be here in a minute."
+
+"I hope so," said Mr. Hinchford, going to the shop door, and looking
+down the street, "for it's coming on to rain, and he has no umbrella.
+The boy will catch his death of cold."
+
+After standing at the door for two or three minutes, the old gentleman
+turned to go up-stairs again.
+
+"It'll be a thorough wet night--I'll tell Ann to keep plenty of water in
+the boiler--nothing like your feet in hot water to stave off a cold."
+
+He retired. Half an hour afterwards he reappeared in the shop, excitable
+and fidgety.
+
+"I can't make it out," he said, after another inspection of the clock;
+"there's something wrong."
+
+"Perhaps he has gone to the play, sir."
+
+"Pooh! he hates plays," was the contemptuous comment to this; "he
+wouldn't waste his time in a playhouse. No, Mattie there's something
+wrong."
+
+"I don't think so," said Mattie, cheerfully. "I would not worry about
+his absence just yet, sir."
+
+"I'll give him another hour, and then I'll go down to the office and ask
+after him."
+
+"Or find him there, sir."
+
+"No, they're not busy, I think. He can't be there. Mattie," he said
+suddenly. "Have you noticed a difference in him lately?"
+
+"I--I fancy he seems, perhaps, a little graver; but then he's growing
+older and more manly every day."
+
+"Ah! he grows a fine fellow--there isn't such another boy in the
+world--perhaps it's all a fancy of mine, after all."
+
+Mattie knew that it was no fancy; that even Sidney's care and histrionic
+efforts could not disguise his trouble entirely from the father. But she
+played the part of consoler to Mr. Hinchford as well as she was able,
+and the old gentleman, less disturbed in mind, returned to his room for
+the second time.
+
+But time stole on, and Mattie herself found a new anxiety added to those
+which had heretofore disturbed her. The wet night set in as Mr.
+Hinchford had prophesied; the boy came and put up the shutters; the
+clock ticked on towards eleven; all but the public-houses were closed in
+Great Suffolk Street, and there were few loiterers about.
+
+Ann Packet brought in the supper, and was informed of the day's two
+features of interest--the robbery, and the absence of Mr. Sidney. Ann
+Packet, of slow ideas herself, and slower still in having other ideas
+instilled into her, thought that the missing parcel was connected with
+the missing lodger, and so conglomerated matters irremediably.
+
+"You may depend upon it, Mattie, he'll bring the parcel back--it's one
+of his games--he was a rare boy for tricks when I knew him fust."
+
+"Ann, you've been asleep," said Mattie, sharply.
+
+"I couldn't help it," answered Ann, submissively; "it was very lonely
+down there, with no company but the _beadles_--and times ain't as they
+used to was, when you could read to me, and was more often down there."
+
+"Ah! times are altering," sighed Mattie.
+
+"And Mr. Wesden don't like me here till after the shop's shut--because
+he can't trust me, or I talk too much, I s'pose," she said; "but now,
+dear, sit down and tell me all about everything, to keep my sperits up."
+
+Ann Packet and Mattie always supped together after the shop was
+closed--Ann Packet lived for supper time now, looked forward all the day
+to a "nice bit of talk" with the girl who had won upon those affections
+which three-fourths of her life had rusted from disuse.
+
+"It's uncommon funny that I never had anybody to care about afore I
+knowed you, Mattie," she said regularly, once or twice a-week; "no
+father, mother, sisters, anybody, till you turned up like the ace in
+spekkilation. And now, let me hear you talk, my dear--I don't fancy that
+your tongue runs on quite so fast as it did."
+
+Ann Packet curled herself in her chair, hazarded one little complaint
+about her ankles, which were setting in badly again with the Christmas
+season, and then prepared to make herself comfortable, when once more
+Mr. Hinchford appeared, with his hat, stick, and great cloak this time.
+
+"Mattie, I can't stand it any longer--I'm off to the office in the
+City."
+
+Mattie did not like the look of his excited face.
+
+"I'd wait a little while longer, sir."
+
+"No--something has happened to the boy."
+
+"Shall I go with you, sir?"
+
+"God bless the girl!--what for?"
+
+"For company's sake--it's late for you to be alone, sir."
+
+"Don't you think I can take care of myself?--am I so old, feeble, and
+drivelling as that? Are they right at the office, after all?" he added
+in a lower tone.
+
+"I shouldn't like to be left here all alone," murmured Ann Packet;
+"particularly after there's been robberies, and----"
+
+There was the rattle of cab-wheels in the street, coming nearer and
+nearer towards the house.
+
+"Hark!" said Mattie and Mr. Hinchford in one breath.
+
+The rattling ceased before the door, the cab stopped, Mr. Hinchford
+pointed to the door, and gasped, and gesticulated.
+
+"Open, o--open the door!--he has met with an accident!"
+
+"No, no, he has only taken a cab to get here earlier, and escape the
+wet," said Mattie, opening the door with a beating heart, nevertheless.
+
+Sidney Hinchford, safe and sound, was already out of the cab and close
+to the door. Mattie met him with a bright smile of welcome, to which his
+sombre face did not respond. He came into the shop, stern and silent,
+and then looked towards his father.
+
+"I thought you might have gone to bed, father," he said.
+
+"Bed!" ejaculated Mr. Hinchford, in disgust; "what has--what has----"
+
+"Come up-stairs, I wish to speak to you."
+
+Father and son went up-stairs to their room, leaving Mattie at the open
+door. The cab still remained drawn up there; the cabman stood by the
+horse's head, stolid as a judge in his manifold capes.
+
+"Are you waiting for anything?" asked Mattie.
+
+"For the gemman, to be sure."
+
+"Going back again?"
+
+"He says so--I spose it's all right," he added dubiously; "you've no
+back door which he can slip out of?"
+
+"Slip out of!" cried the disgusted Mattie, slamming the front door in
+his face for his impudent assertion.
+
+Meanwhile Sidney Hinchford was facing his father in the drawing-room.
+
+"Sit down and take the news coolly, sir," he said; "there's nothing
+gained by putting yourself in a flurry."
+
+"N--no, no, my boy, n--no."
+
+"I have no time to spare, and I wish to leave you all right before I
+go."
+
+"Go!"
+
+"I am going for a day or two, very likely for a week, on a special
+mission for my employers--that is all that I can tell you without
+breaking the confidence placed in me--I must go at once."
+
+"Bless my soul! what--what can I possibly do without you. Can't I go
+with you? Can't I--"
+
+"You can do nothing but wait patiently for my return, believing that I
+am safe, and taking care of myself. Why, what are a few days?"
+
+"Well, not much after all," said the father, wiping his forehead with
+his silk-handkerchief, "and there's no danger, of course?"
+
+"Not any."
+
+"And you are only going----"
+
+"A journey of a few days. Try and calm yourself whilst I pack a few
+things in my portmanteau. There, that's well!"
+
+Sidney passed into the other room, leaving his father still struggling
+with the effects of his astonishment. The portmanteau must have been
+filled without any regard for neatness, for Sidney in a few minutes
+returned with it in his hands.
+
+"Why, you should be proud of this journey of mine," he said with a
+forced lightness that could only have deceived his father; "think what
+it is to be chosen out of the whole office to undertake this business."
+
+"It's a good sign. Yes, I see that now."
+
+"And I shall be back sooner than you expect, perhaps. Why, you and I
+must not part like two silly girls, to whom the journey of a few miles
+is the event of a life. Now, good-bye, sir--God keep you strong and well
+till I come back again!"
+
+"And you, my lad, and you, too."
+
+"Amen. God grant it."
+
+There was a strange earnestness in the son's voice, but the father was
+still too much excited to take heed.
+
+"And now good-bye again," shaking his father's hands; "you'll stay here,
+sir, you'll not come down any more to-night."
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"You must try and keep calm; I will beg you as a favour to remain here,
+father."
+
+"Well, well, if you wish it--but I'm not a child."
+
+Sidney released his father's hands, caught up his portmanteau, and
+marched down stairs. Mattie, pale with suppressed excitement, met him in
+the shop. He put down his burden, caught her by the wrist, and drew her
+into the parlour. Seeing Ann Packet there, he bade her go down stairs
+somewhat abruptly, released his grip of Mattie, and waited for Ann's
+withdrawal, beating his foot impatiently upon the carpet.
+
+Mattie looked nervously towards him, and thought that she had never seen
+him look more stern and hard. His face was deathly white, and his eyes
+burned like coals behind the glasses that he wore.
+
+"Mattie," he said, "you and I, my father and you, are old friends."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I will ask a favour of you before I go. Take care of him! Ask him to
+come down here to smoke his pipe with you, and keep him as light-hearted
+as you can till I return."
+
+"Who?--I, sir?"
+
+"You have the way with you; you are quick to observe, and it will not
+take much pains to keep him pleased, I think. When he begins to wonder
+why I haven't returned, break to him by degrees that I have deceived
+him, fearing the shock too sudden for his strength."
+
+"Oh! sir, how can you leave all this to me?"
+
+"I have faith in no one else, Mattie, to do me this service. You are
+always cool, and will know the best way to proceed. Cheer up the old
+gentleman all you can, too;--you were a quaint girl once--don't let him
+miss me if you can help it."
+
+"And you'll be gone----"
+
+"Six weeks or two months."
+
+"It's not a very happy journey, sir."
+
+"How do you know that?" was the quick rejoinder.
+
+"You're not looking happy--there's trouble in your face, Mr. Sidney."
+
+"Well, there is room for it, and I am going, as I fear, to face trouble,
+and bring back with me disappointment. We can't have it all our own way
+in this world, Mattie."
+
+"No, sir, that's not likely."
+
+"And if there be more troubles than one ahead, why we must fight against
+them till we beat them back, or they--crush us under foot. Good-bye."
+
+He shook hands with her long and heartily, adding, "You will remember
+your trust--you will break the news to him like a daughter?"
+
+"I'll do my best, sir."
+
+"He knows that I cannot send him any letters."
+
+"And, and--letters for you?"
+
+She thought of the letter which Harriet Wesden, in her sleepless bed,
+might be pondering upon then. Of the new trouble which he seemed to
+guess not; for immediately afterwards he said--
+
+"Keep the letters till I come back--and give my love to Harriet; tell
+her I shall think of her every hour of the day and night. I wrote to her
+the last thing this evening. Now, good-bye, old girl, and wish me luck."
+
+"The best of luck, Mr. Sidney--with all my heart!"
+
+"Luck in the distance--luck when I come back again, and see it shining
+in my Harriet's eyes. Ah! _it won't do!_" he added, with a stamp of his
+foot.
+
+"I'll pray for it sir," cried Mattie; "we can't tell what may happen for
+the best, or what _is_ for the best, however it may trouble us at
+first."
+
+"Spoken like the parson at the corner shop," he said, a little
+irreverently. "Bravo, Mattie--honest believer!"
+
+He passed from the shop into his cab, glancing at the up-stairs windows,
+and waving his hand for a moment towards his father, waiting anxiously
+there to see the last of him.
+
+The cab rattled away the moment afterwards, and Sidney Hinchford was
+borne on his unknown journey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the evening of the next day, a letter, in Harriet Wesden's
+hand-writing, was received. The postman and Mr. Hinchford, senior, came
+into the shop together.
+
+"Sidney Hinchford, Esq.," said the postman.
+
+"Thank you--I'll post it to him when he sends me his address," said Mr.
+Hinchford. "By Jove!" looking at the superscription, "the ladies miss
+him already."
+
+Harriet Wesden had kept her promise, and found courage to write her
+story out.
+
+
+END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mattie:--A Stray (Vol 1 of 3), by
+Frederick William Robinson
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATTIE:--A STRAY (VOL 1 OF 3) ***
+
+***** This file should be named 35290.txt or 35290.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/2/9/35290/
+
+Produced by Louise Davies, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.