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diff --git a/44902-0.txt b/44902-0.txt index 5c15857..0e44a9d 100644 --- a/44902-0.txt +++ b/44902-0.txt @@ -1,37 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Colin Clink, Volume II (of III), by Charles Hooton - -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: Colin Clink, Volume II (of III) - -Author: Charles Hooton - -Illustrator: John Leech and George Cruikshank - -Release Date: February 14, 2014 [EBook #44902] -Last Updated: February 28, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLIN CLINK, VOLUME II (OF III) *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page scans generously provided -by The Internet Archive - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44902 *** COLIN CLINK. @@ -5106,360 +5073,4 @@ END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 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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: Colin Clink, Volume II (of III) - -Author: Charles Hooton - -Illustrator: John Leech and George Cruikshank - -Release Date: February 14, 2014 [EBook #44902] -Last Updated: February 28, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLIN CLINK, VOLUME II (OF III) *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page scans generously provided -by The Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> <p> <br /> </p> @@ -6114,380 +6078,6 @@ END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div> - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Colin Clink, Volume II (of III), by Charles Hooton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLIN CLINK, VOLUME II (OF III) *** - -***** This file should be named 44902-h.htm or 44902-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/9/0/44902/ - -Produced by David Widger from page scans generously provided -by The Internet Archive - - -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. 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-Colin Clink., by Charles Hooton, Esq.
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-Project Gutenberg's Colin Clink, Volume II (of III), by Charles Hooton
-
-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: Colin Clink, Volume II (of III)
-
-Author: Charles Hooton
-
-Illustrator: John Leech and George Cruikshank
-
-Release Date: February 14, 2014 [EBook #44902]
-Last Updated: February 28, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLIN CLINK, VOLUME II (OF III) ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page scans generously provided
-by The Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-<p>
- <br />
- </p>
-<hr />
-
-<div style="height: 8em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h1>
-COLIN CLINK.
-</h1>
-<h2>
-By Charles Hooton, Esq.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h3>
-In Three Volumes. Vol. II. (of III)
-</h3>
-<h4>
-LONDON: <br /> <br /> RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. <br /> <br />
-1841.
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /> <br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/010m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="010m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/010.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/011m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="011m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/011.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-<b>CONTENTS</b>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER I.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Displays Miss Sowersoft's character in a degree of perfection
-unparalleled on any previous exhibition.—Fanny's obstinacy incites
-Mrs. Clink to turn her adrift upon the world.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AVING entered the room, Miss Sowersoft first peeped out to see that no
-listeners were in the neighbourhood, and then cautiously closed the door,—all
-the blood in her veins mustering up in red rebellion against poor Fanny,
-as she stared at that young woman through two dilated eyes, with something
-of the expression of a hand-grenade with a newly-lit fusee.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Take a chair, Mrs. Clink,” said Miss Sowersoft, in a tone which denoted
-more than her ordinary attention to etiquette, as she still kept her eyes
-on Fanny, in order to make her feel her own insignificance the more keenly
-by the contrast; “do be seated;” and she drew up another chair for
-herself, while Fanny was left standing, as best became a servant—and
-a culprit. “Now, I am quite ready to begin.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Have it out of her at once—I would not stand on ceremony with
-anybody like her!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What is it, Fanny,” asked Mrs. Clink, “that the doctor has been talking
-to you about?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I cannot answer that,” replied Fanny. “I have promised to tell nobody,
-and I must keep my word.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“There!—that's sufficient!” cried Miss Sowersoft, “that is plenty!
-You see what it is. She has <i>promised</i>, and will not explain it. I
-knew before, as well as if I had heard, how it would all be. She has
-compromised' herself, just as such a young face-proud hussy was sure to
-do. It is a wonder to me, Mrs. Clink, how you have contrived to keep her
-respectable so long.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I did not intend to talk to <i>you</i>, Miss Sowersoft,” replied, Fanny;
-“but I will tell you that I have always been too respectable for what you
-seem to think.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Answer me, Fanny,” interposed Mrs. Clink. “I am sure you will answer me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I cannot, ma'am,” said Fanny.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You positively will not, do you mean to say?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Indeed I cannot, because I have promised that I would not; but it is
-nothing of the least harm.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, no!” exclaimed Miss Sowersoft, “not the least harm!—to be sure
-not!—oh, no! She is very innocent, no doubt.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“If I discharge you from service unless you do tell me, what then?” asked
-her mistress.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I cannot help it if you do,” said Fanny, as she burst into tears at the
-bare mention of quitting that place which had been as a home to her nearly
-all her life.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then I positively insist either that you do tell me all about it, or stay
-with me no longer than until you can suit yourself elsewhere. I do not
-wish to part with you,—far from it. You have been with me almost all
-your life, and I should not like to see the day when you turned your back
-upon my door for the last time; but I cannot have this silence and secrecy
-about such an affair as the present. I have known enough, and more than
-enough, of the ruin and misery that may ensue, to allow of it in any young
-woman under my care. I cannot have it, Fanny, and will not have it; so you
-must make your choice.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny cried bitterly, and with some difficulty made herself understood
-amidst so many sobs and sighs, as she protested that she dared not tell
-more than she had told; that, on her solemn word, it was not about
-anything that could in the least injure her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, I must say I give her credit for what she says,'' remarked Mrs.
-Clink, in an under tone, to Miss Sowersoft.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Give her a birch rod!” exclaimed the latter lady. “I wonder how you can
-allow yourself to be so easily imposed upon! It is all her artfulness, and
-nothing else. She is as cunning as Satan, and as deep as the day is long,
-she is! Ask her what made the doctor say he would do something for her,—let
-her unriddle that, if she can.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Clink accordingly continued the examination much in the manner
-already described, and with about the same success. Fanny resisted all
-inquiry as strenuously as at first, until at length Mrs. Clink gave her a
-formal warning to seek out for another situation, and to leave her present
-place as soon as she had found one. Fanny replied, that she would go
-begging rather than betray the trust reposed in her, as she believed that
-Providence would never let her starve for having done what was right.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What a wicked wretch she is!” Miss Sowersoft exclaimed, when she had
-heard poor Fanny's expression of trust in a more just power than that
-which now condemned her; “I am sure her horrible wickedness turns me white
-to hear it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-This female tribunal having dissolved itself, Fanny was dismissed up
-stairs again, and the other two ladies remained below to discuss in
-private the question of Colin's removal home, until such time as his
-recovery might admit of his return to the labours of the farm.
-</p>
-<p>
-It will be quite sufficient to state, as the result of their
-deliberations, that within eight-and-forty hours afterwards our hero,
-being somewhat recovered, was laid on a bed placed in a cart, and carried
-home; that Fanny attended him there during some brief space of time
-afterwards, until she procured another situation, and left Mrs. Clink's
-service at once and for ever; and that these changes, together with some
-others of very superior importance, which I shall proceed immediately to
-relate, brought about such a “new combination of parties” amongst the
-personages, great and small, who have figured in our pages, as cannot
-fail, when explained, to throw great light upon the yet dark and abstruse
-points of this veritable history.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER II.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Diamond cut diamond; the two rogues. A gentleman resolves, without
-consent asked, to make Fanny his wife.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the time spoken of in the preceding chapter, a month of the fairest
-season of the year passed away, during which our hero, Colin, continued to
-improve in health and strength much more rapidly than he would, in all
-probability, have done had he remained at the delightful residence of Miss
-Sowersoft at Whinmoor.
-</p>
-<p>
-The consciousness of being at home, whatever that home may be, is more to
-the invalid than a thousand advantages which might perhaps be enjoyed in a
-strange place. Fanny, meanwhile, continued to fulfil her accustomed
-duties, without receiving any information from Doctor Rowel, as to the
-nature of the services which he had promised to render in her favour.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Clink's feelings of asperity against Fanny, for her obstinacy in
-refusing to make known the communications of the doctor, were now,
-however, so far worn away that she never spoke again of discharging her,
-and in fact would secretly have been pleased had she only expressed the
-slightest wish to remain. But, so far from this, Fanny resolved to leave
-her place at the earliest opportunity. While Colin remained at home she
-left the matter in abeyance; but when he returned to the farm, which he
-reluctantly did at the expiration of eight or ten weeks, she felt no
-longer the same inducement to stay as before; and accordingly sought, in
-compliance with her mistress's previous injunction, for another situation.
-</p>
-<p>
-This was not long in presenting itself. An old woman, who had long managed
-the bachelor's household of Mr. Skinwell, the lawyer, happened about this
-time to die. A gap was left where she had stood; and, as though for the
-especial purpose of bringing about a discovery, which it was highly
-needful Fanny should make, she was destined to fill it.
-</p>
-<p>
-While the villagers of Bramleigh were occupied in discussing the cause of
-the old housekeeper's death, Mrs. Clink and Fanny were surprised one
-evening with a visit from Mr. Skinwell. Still more were they amazed when
-he explained his business, namely, to induce Fanny to leave her present
-situation, and take that which the death of the old housekeeper had made
-vacant.
-</p>
-<p>
-Although Skinwell represented his present visit as in great part the
-result of accident, he nevertheless, we may imagine, had certain very
-cogent reasons of his own for desiring to get Miss Fanny Woodruff into his
-house. In fact, certain matters had come to his knowledge professionally,
-concerning the said Fanny and her father.
-</p>
-<p>
-It should be stated, that after Dr. Rowel had obtained the document from
-James Woodruff, a copy of which has already been given, he still continued
-in doubt as to the course he should pursue to make himself secure. Wise as
-his own plans had at first appeared, he so far distrusted them on farther
-consideration, as to consider it needful to consult Mr. Skin-well
-professionally on the matter; but, as he knew the affair to be a very
-delicate one, he at first put it to that gentleman hypothetically. As Mr.
-Skinwell, however, happened to have his own private reasons for
-misunderstanding the doctor's hypothesis, he protested he could not
-comprehend the full merits of the case unless it were put in a more
-circumstantial manner. After a good deal of beating about the bush, Mr.
-Skinwell satisfied himself that the doctor referred to a case in which he
-was himself concerned, and he also contrived to ascertain the names of the
-parties, the amount of property at stake, and the relationship which
-subsisted between the unfortunate man now confined at Nabbfield, and Fanny
-Woodruff.
-</p>
-<p>
-By a little quiet manoeuvring on his own part, Skinwell saw that he could
-not only protect the alleged lunatic and his daughter from the villany of
-Doctor Rowel, but serve himself at the same time.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My opinion,” said he, “is this. The contract of gift being clearly
-illegal, you had better put it into the fire; and, if the patient is now
-of sound mind, as you have intimated, you are bound to set him at liberty,
-and restore to him his estate. If, on the other hand, he is unfit to be at
-large, he and his daughter must be adequately maintained out of the
-profits of that estate. Your course is as clear as daylight.”
- </p>
-<p>
-But it was not clear to the doctor that—whatever the <i>law</i> of
-the case might be,—he could not contrive other means to effect the
-object he had in view; and so much he gave the lawyer to understand: at
-the same time insinuating, that if Mr. Skinwell would assist him in
-achieving that object, his reward should be in proportion to his service:—a
-proposal to which that legal gentleman returned a very grave rebuke.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Long as you have known my character, Doctor, I am astonished and
-indignant that you should have made such a proposal to me. I give my legal
-opinion plainly and frankly; but that man very much mistakes me who
-imagines I will prostitute my professional character to a base service for
-the sake of hire. So far from it, sir, I do not hesitate to tell you now,
-before you leave my office, that, although this communication has been
-made to me in confidence, and professionally, I do not hold myself bound
-to keep faith, neither as a lawyer nor a man, in cases of swindling; and,
-that if your intentions towards these parties are of <i>such</i> a nature,
-I shall exert myself to the utmost of my ability in depriving you of your
-control over them, and restoring them to their rights.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Doctor Rowel stood confounded, mute, and pale. Who ever thought that
-Skinwell had so much virtue in him? The doctor felt that he was a fool for
-having gone so far. How best should he get out of the scrape? How avert
-the lawyer's threatened co-operation with Woodruff and his daughter Fanny?
-The doctor had not much time to think before he was obliged to speak. He
-recovered his tongue, and stammered out a kind of apologetical
-explanation; in which he endeavoured to do away with the impression made
-on Skin well's mind as to the dishonesty of his intentions: but the fact
-had previously been too plainly avowed to be thus explained away.
-</p>
-<p>
-The doctor and his legal adviser parted in mutual dudgeon, though with
-very opposite feelings; the former in rage at the defeat of his project,
-while upon the mind of the latter a faint hope dawned that he might win
-the hand of Fanny, and so secure the chance of inheriting the estate of
-Charnwood whenever her father might happen to die (as he doubtless would
-very soon), after it had been wrested by the tact of Mr. Skinwell himself
-from the hands of Doctor Rowel of Nabbfield.
-</p>
-<p>
-Could Fanny and Mrs. Clink have been in the least aware of the motives
-which actuated Skinwell in making them so unusual a call, they would not
-have felt so much surprise; and the young woman would have given a prompt
-and decisive denial to his application. But Fanny saw only what seemed to
-her an offer of advancement, and a release from the thrall in which, to a
-certain extent, Mrs. Clink continued to hold her. She therefore hesitated
-not long in accepting the offer which Mr. Skinwell had made her; and
-finally consented to enter upon her new duties in about a week.
-</p>
-<p>
-This engagement was fulfilled accordingly; and Fanny remained in the
-situation until a terrible event deprived her suddenly and for ever of her
-master. Several years, however, elapsed before this occurrence, during
-which nothing of consequence to our narrative took place.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER III.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Which, though perfectly natural, contains matters that not the most
-ingenious person could foresee.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the bar of the little tavern at Bramleigh, Doctor Rowel was seated
-before a round table, on which stood a glass of cold sherry and water,
-with a thin biscuit on a little plate beside it.
-</p>
-<p>
-Now, during the former part of his life, the doctor had not by any means
-been in the general habit of passing his time at such a place, and in such
-a manner. Latterly, however, fear had made him suspicious; and during the
-few years which I have said elapsed after his attempt to bribe the lawyer,
-and while Fanny remained in the house of this latter worthy, he had been
-haunted with certain undefinable terrors lest the lawyer should at some
-time or other discover anything relating to the subject on which they had
-so seriously differed, and on which he could not but feel that he lay very
-much at Mr. Skin-well's mercy. To be prepared for, and to counteract as
-far as he could, anything of this kind, Mr. Rowel had mingled somewhat
-more than hitherto had been his wont with the people of the village;
-although it was not until this identical evening that he had heard
-anything tending to involve his opponent, the lawyer, in the charge of
-having made use against him of the results of that professional and
-confidential communication between them already described. The information
-which had thus come to the doctor's knowledge was of a nature to decide,
-in his opinion, the existence of a plot on the part of Skinwell to
-discover the whole secret to Fanny Woodruff, and then, with her
-concurrence, and in her name, to take proceedings for the liberation of
-her father, and the recovery of his property. Whether that information was
-true remains to be seen; though certain enough it is, that Mr. Skinwell
-had employed the intervening time in cultivating Fanny's friendship, and
-rendering himself as agreeable to her as any middle-aged bachelor can
-reasonably expect to be to a young maid.
-</p>
-<p>
-Under these circumstances, the reflections which crowded on the mind of
-Rowel were bitterness itself, and the more bitter, because he stood
-indebted to no one save himself for being placed in his present position.
-In imagination he saw himself reduced to the lowest extremity, at which
-point he began to form resolutions for his own protection against such a
-dreaded end. He fancied, perhaps, the lawyer might fall sick before his
-plans were ripe, and that he himself might have to attend him. Would that
-he might die suddenly!—that a fever would take him off, or a plague
-seize him—or—yes—nobody questions a physician's medicine—if—nay,
-he dare not trust his bewildered brain to think it. He must be mad—worse
-than mad—to suffer such a thought to cross his mind—and yet it
-came again and again—it <i>would</i> come. He began to feel fearful
-of himself,—to doubt whether he could trust himself to do right
-rather than wrong, should misfortune place his opponent in his power.
-While Skinwell lived, the doctor himself held all he had upon the slender
-tenure of a dozen words, which might be spoken for the gain they would
-bring,—or be uttered recklessly in a moment of anger,—or might
-even drop out thoughtlessly, as one of those true things spoken in jest
-which they who hear never forget.
-</p>
-<p>
-Doctor Rowel looked up, and beheld the village lawyer before him, taking a
-seat on the opposite side of the table. Rowel did not acknowledge his
-entrance nor his presence, until after a few minutes of dead silence, in
-which his face became as white as ashes with the secret emotions of his
-mind. He then abruptly, and with hurried speech, put this question to him,
-“Mr. Skinwell, I have heard something lately respecting you,—and now
-I wish to know what it is you intend to do about that business of mine?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Having already given my opinion, Doctor,” replied Skinwell, “I have
-nothing more to say to you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But I have something to say to you,” responded the physician. “I intend
-to know for what purpose you have had that girl in your house so long,
-before you and I part again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Indeed!” exclaimed Skinwell, sarcastically, though still somewhat flushed
-to find that his intentions had somehow become suspected; “then you are
-not the first man, Doctor, I can assure you, who has intended a great deal
-more than he could achieve. Do you imagine, because I am not quite <i>knave</i>
-enough for you, that I am quite fool enough to make myself accountable to
-you for what I choose to do?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I intend to know that,” repeated Rowel, doggedly. “Do you mean to blow to
-the world what has been made known to you in strict confidence as a
-professional man? Because, if that is your principle, I tell you
-beforehand, and to your face, that you are a disgrace to your profession,
-and a d——d dishonourable scoundrel to boot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Just hand me three and fourpence,” remarked Skinwell, with the most
-provoking coolness, “for informing you that by talking in that manner you
-are laying yourself open to a special action.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean to act the villain?” demanded Rowel, with increased passion.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Three and fourpence, Doctor,” demanded Skinwell.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ay!—you 're a mean cold-blooded scoundrel,” continued the doctor,
-still more enraged.
-</p>
-<p>
-Skinwell was somewhat aroused by this abuse, and replied in a more biting
-temper, “Why, if you really want to know whether I intend to blow you to
-the world, as you call it, I answer—yes. I am resolved to expose
-your villany, and compel you to do justice in spite of yourself.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, very well!” cried the doctor, rising from his seat, and striding
-towards the door, “that is enough—say no more—that is all I
-want. Now I know my man. But I'll tell you what,” and he turned half round
-in the doorway, and looked at his antagonist with the fierce malignity of
-a demon, “if physic can't beat law to the dogs at last, I 'll grant you
-free grace to drain me to my last penny.” So saying, he hurried out of the
-house.
-</p>
-<p>
-The words which the lawyer had uttered seemed, like an echo a hundred
-times repeated, to ring in Rowel's ears as a sound that would never die
-away. He hurried along the village street more by instinct than present
-knowledge, in the direction of the lawyer's house. On reaching it, he
-knocked at the door, which was opened by Fanny.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Young woman,” said he, “you remember what I told you when I first saw you
-at Whinmoor? You have not mentioned a word to any one? Then take care not
-to do so on any account. You are in danger. If Skinwell asks you anything,
-do not utter a word, or the design I had in view for you is ruined. If he
-tells you anything, do not believe him;—no matter what it is, tell
-him you do not believe it. He is a scoundrel,—an unmitigated
-villain,—and if you stay longer in this house you will be ruined.
-Trust none of his promises. He may pretend that he wants to marry you, but
-do not believe him; and if he says he knows something about you and your
-family, take no notice of it; for it will be done merely to get from you
-what I have told you to do. He may perhaps even go so far as to say he
-knows where your father is—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“My father!” exclaimed Fanny. “Why, who knows my father?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I say he may <i>say</i> so,” replied Rowel, “for he will say anything;
-but you must not believe him. The truth is, he has found out that I am
-doing something for you, and he is determined to stop it if he can. But do
-not let him talk to you. You must leave this house as early as possible.
-Be cautious, above all things. I will soon see you again.” And the doctor
-walked away.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What, under heaven,” exclaimed Fanny, as she closed the door after him,
-“can the man mean? I am in danger,—and master wants to marry me,—and
-knows where my father is,—and I must leave here directly! What in
-the world am I to do? for there seems no end to trouble!”
- </p>
-<p>
-And then, according to the regular female rule in cases of difficulty of
-this kind, she sat down and began to cry; and as she cried, she called to
-mind that Mr. Skinwell had, more particularly of late, showed himself
-unusually kind to her, and more so, indeed, than she ought to suffer.
-</p>
-<p>
-Shortly afterwards Skinwell walked in. He had met Dr. Rowel in a part of
-the road which warranted some suspicion that the latter might have been up
-to his house, and accordingly he proceeded to question Fanny on the
-subject.
-</p>
-<p>
-After an awkward attempt or two to evade his inquiries, she at length
-declared, that he came only upon some business which related merely to
-herself, and therefore she could not explain it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There is no occasion,” replied he, “to explain it to me. I know it well
-enough. That man is a scoundrel, Fanny,—worse by ten times ten
-multiplied than anybody would imagine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The very thing,” thought she, “that the doctor said of you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Since so much has come out as this,” continued Skinwell, “and my plan is
-about ripe, I do not hesitate to say that that man has been the ruin of
-you and your family; and, but for him, you yourself would at this very
-time have been—there is no knowing—anything but what you are.
-Depend upon it, my dear, many a better man than Dr. Rowel has died in a
-hempen neckcloth.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The girl paid little regard to all this, for it was precisely the same as
-her friend the doctor had declared he <i>would</i> say; and yet she felt
-doubtful which of the two to believe,—or were they not alike
-dishonest?
-</p>
-<p>
-Skinwell's profession had not left him so heedless an observer of human
-nature, as not to remark that, instead of his disclosures, as he conceived
-them to be, being received with astonishment and wonder, Fanny took
-comparatively little notice of them. However, he persevered,—“As you
-and the doctor are so intimate, then,” continued he, “of course he has
-told you something of your own history. Has he ever told you that you have
-a father living?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny stood mute.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He never told you that?” the lawyer repeated.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh no!” exclaimed Fanny; “but if I truly have a father, do tell me where
-he is, and I will do anything in the world for you!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Now was the lawyer's time to make his proposals, which he did at some
-length, promising that, in case they were agreed to, he would tell her
-where her father was—he would liberate him from a dungeon worse than
-any prison, and recover for him and herself the property that was now
-unjustly withheld from them.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny hung her head and blushed, and felt as though she could laugh or
-cry, or do both perhaps together; but she could not speak.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” continued Skinwell, “I know what you think,—it is natural
-enough. I admit that I am a little older than I was twenty years ago, and
-probably not quite so eyeable to look upon as when I paid more attention
-to personal appearances; but the time was when I had my day as well as
-others, and, in fact, was considered one of the best in Bramleigh.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Since it is not what a man <i>has been</i>, but what he is, which is
-considered in these cases, we need not feel surprised that the lawyer's
-recommendation of himself failed to be considered a recommendation by her
-to whom it was addressed; and though the temptation offered was great
-enough, she calmly, yet firmly rejected any idea of agreeing to the terms
-proposed. Her refusal aroused the lawyer's indignation, and, for the time,
-converted the only man who could prove eminently useful to her as a friend
-into a bitter enemy. He vowed that her father's bones should rot on the
-floor where he lay, before he would open his lips to assist him; and,
-declaring that Fanny would live to repent her determination, he left the
-room.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER IV.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin takes steps to extricate Fanny from her difficulties, but is
-interrupted by a fearful occurrence which threatens to make Doctor Rowel
-triumphant.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AVING in some degree recovered from the terror inspired by Skinwell's
-denunciation, Fanny occupied herself in calling together all the fragments
-of information of which she had thus strangely been put in possession, and
-in endeavouring so to fit the broken pieces together as to make something
-like an intelligible whole. In this attempt she necessarily failed. The
-whole matter was a maze, a mystery,—a jargon of seeming truth and
-certain falsehood,—of things partly consistent and partly
-contradictory. In this state of uncertainty she determined to consult
-Colin upon the steps most advisable to be taken; for though he was now
-only about eighteen in actual years, yet his early mental developement and
-his plain manly honesty entitled him to be considered upon an equality
-with many who were several years his seniors. A note was accordingly
-despatched by the first convenient carriage to Whinmoor, requesting Colin
-to pay a visit to Bramleigh at the earliest possible opportunity.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such an opportunity very fortunately occurred within the ensuing week, and
-on a day which, by a lucky coincidence, Mr. Skinwell himself had chosen
-for a drive, on business, to the city of York. Ample opportunity was thus
-afforded the young people to discuss the subject of their meeting.
-</p>
-<p>
-Troubled as Fanny had been in her own mind to devise what course to pursue
-under the seemingly difficult circumstances in which she was placed, she
-had no sooner related them to Colin, than that youth declared the steps
-proper to be taken were as clearly chalked out as the track of a plough
-along the fields.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Leave it to me, and I will find it all out very soon. In the first place,
-I shall ask my mother whether <i>she</i> ever knew, anything of your
-father; for it is plain that she must know something of the place you came
-from. If that does not answer, I should then ask Mr. Skinwell and Dr.
-Rowel. The truth is all that would be required of them, and surely people
-cannot very well refuse to tell the truth in such a case as this. But let
-us try my mother first. Shall I go down to her now?”
- </p>
-<p>
-To this proposition Fanny assented; and, while she remained behind in a
-state of anxious hope and expectation, Colin went onwards to Mrs. Clink's,
-for the purpose of obtaining the required information.
-</p>
-<p>
-A dreary pause of an hour or more, which to Fanny's imagination appeared
-half a day, followed Colin's departure. “Now,” thought she, after a little
-interval of time, “he has arrived there; now he is talking about it to his
-mother; and now, perhaps, she is telling him what she would never tell me,
-though I often asked her so particularly about it.” And then, again, as
-time wore away, and one five minutes after another were scored on the side
-of that great eternity the Past, she thought he must be coming back; she
-mistook the footsteps of every passer-by for his, and every distant
-external sound as the wished-for herald of his approach. At length, as she
-began to grow heart-sick with anxiety, he came.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Has she told you anything?” asked Fanny the moment she saw him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Not much,” he replied, “and that of no great consequence.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ay, I feared it would be so! Then what is it, Colin?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“She knows nothing whatever of your father, that is certain. She never did
-know him, nor your mother either.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny sighed, and then asked timidly,
-</p>
-<p>
-“Did she say anything about me, then?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, yes,—she did; though it is not of very pleasant hearing; and
-besides, it is not of any consequence, particularly——”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But <i>do</i> tell me,—you must tell me!” exclaimed Fanny. “I do
-not care what it is; it cannot hurt me now.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, then,” returned Colin, “the truth is this—”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny sat down in a chair; and as she gazed intently on Colin's features
-while he spoke, her bosom heaved and fell as though some sentence of
-punishment was being passed upon her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My mother,” continued the youth, “has told me that she first had you when
-you were three or four years old, as near as she could guess. At that time
-she lived in a little yard near Park-lane in Leeds, with her sister, who
-died shortly afterwards. One dark night in the autumn, and almost about
-bed-time, she and her sister heard a stirring and talking amongst the
-neighbours in the yard, and the crying of a little child. They went out to
-see what was the matter, and found some women with candles in their hands
-round a little girl that was lost;—this child was you, Fanny.
-Though, how you had been lost, or how you came there, they could not tell.
-My mother says she asked you if you knew who brought you there, and you
-said something that they thought meant 'uncle brought me;' but they could
-not be certain about it; they made out, however, that your name was Fanny
-Woodruff, as you had been taught to speak that much plainer than anything
-else. As all the poor people in the yard had families of their own, except
-my mother and her sister, they took you in for that night; or, as they
-thought, until somebody should own you. Next morning the circumstance was
-made known in all the ways they could think of or afford to pay for; but
-day after day passed on, and week after week, and they were none the
-forwarder for their trouble, until at last it died away, and became
-certain, as proved to be the case, that she would have to keep you always.
-Some people, Fanny, wanted to persuade her to take you to the workhouse,”—Fanny
-burst into tears,—“but my mother had got used to you by that time,
-and would not do it. Besides, her sister died, and she wished her on her
-death-bed to keep you; 'for, perhaps, Anne,' said she to my mother, 'you
-may find it all out in the end.' My mother,” added Colin, “says she
-believes that dying people very often speak like prophets. She resolved,
-therefore, to keep you from that time to this.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And yet,” added Fanny in a mingled feeling of jest and earnest, “there
-seems to be small chance of the prophecy coming true.” Before Colin could
-reply, a noise without was heard of the tread of numerous feet, mingled
-with the sound of carriage wheels as they slowly advanced down the road,
-cracking and crushing the dry gravel. Then came a hurried rap at the door.
-Fanny flew to it, but it was already opened. A little crowd had gathered
-outside, and every face looked solemn and anxious. Some peeped down the
-passage, and others at the contents of a gig which had stopped before the
-house. She looked out. The shafts were snapped asunder; the harness
-broken; the horse, led by a farming man, was covered with foam and dust
-and mud. He bled at the mouth, and looked fierce and angry, though
-subdued. In the gig itself lay the body of her master the lawyer,
-insensible, and supported on the knee of a second farming man. Fanny ran
-into the house again, terrified at the sight, and summoned Colin, the
-lawyer's clerk, and an under servant girl, to his assistance. Shortly
-afterwards the body was carefully lifted out and carried up stairs. Before
-this, a man had been despatched to obtain the speedy assistance of the
-proprietor of the lunatic asylum at Nabbfield.
-</p>
-<p>
-What an opportunity for Dr. Rowel was presented here to stifle Fanny's
-evidence for ever!
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER V.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Relates the triumph of the Doctor, and the manner in which he achieved
-it.—Lawyer Skinwell's death-bed, and what happened there.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE evening was warm and fine; and the gentle slope, on the top of which
-Dr. Rowel's establishment stood, was coloured with the setting light of
-the sun; as, with the glass-doors, which opened from his drawing-room upon
-the lawn, thrown wide back to admit the scarcely stirring air,—the
-doctor himself sat near it and alone, in an attitude of thought,
-meditating mischief. A dash of vermilion-coloured light shot athwart the
-lower part of his person, while the upper portion was covered with that
-kind of illuminated shadow, that clear obscure, which, to the delicate
-perception of a painter, constitutes one of Nature's greatest beauties.
-But the thoughts and reflections in which the doctor indulged were deeply
-at variance with those which the scene before him, and the character of
-the hour, were calculated to suggest. It was not with him—“how much
-do I now enjoy?” but the morose reflection—“how long shall I enjoy
-it?” His present happiness was swallowed up in the anticipation of
-possible coming evil.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What matters it,” thought he, “when tomorrow, perhaps, that treacherous
-villain may make everything known? Nay, how do I know he has not done so
-already? True, I have had him watched. I know everything he has done, and
-something that he has said; and this very day again he is gone to York.
-To-morrow I may wake to be arrested,—to have my house searched, and
-Woodruff set at liberty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the doctor then mused, the door opened, and a stranger was ushered in.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Doctor,” said he in a hurried tone, “lawyer Skinwell has just got thrown
-out of his gig, and is almost killed. He has been insensible ever since.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ah! Impossible!” exclaimed Rowel starting to his feet with surprise. “Are
-you sure, man?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is quite true, sir,” replied he, as though scarcely knowing what to
-make of the doctor's strange manner, the latter gentleman regarding him
-for a moment with an eye of unaccountable incredulity; for the idea had
-instantaneously flashed across his mind that he might be deceived by his
-own imagination, and that it was only the devil that was tempting him. A
-minute or two elapsed; when, recovering himself, he replied in a more
-subdued and professional tone, “I will be there immediately,” on which the
-man disappeared.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now then,” thought Rowel, “is the time! Had I asked for it,—designed
-it myself,—I could not have made it better. Thrown out, and <i>insensible</i>.
-He cannot, therefore, know anything of what I do. And as nobody else knows
-of our differences, nobody will think otherwise than that I am doing for
-the best. Who shall question my practice? Even if it be inquired into,—if
-it come to anything that way,—they may arraign my judgment, but can
-do nothing else.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The doctor went immediately into his dispensary, dismissed his assistant
-upon some frivolous errand, and closed the door after him. Some minutes he
-remained compounding drugs with his own hand; after which he mounted his
-pony, which had been saddled in the mean time, and rode rapidly off to the
-lawyer's house.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Send all these people out!” somewhat sharply exclaimed the doctor, as, in
-passing up stairs, he cast his eye upon the numerous assembly of
-“sympathisers,” who had gathered in the passage and about the foot of the
-staircase. Fanny dismissed them, and then, accompanied by Colin, went up
-stairs into the room in which the unfortunate man had been laid upon a
-bed, and whither also Dr. Rowel had directed his steps.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the first place, the lawyer was very copiously bled; after which the
-doctor administered a powder with his own hands, and gave instructions
-that, in the course of about an hour, if Mr. Skinwell appeared more
-recovered, another of a similar description should be given. He then very
-strictly charged Fanny not to allow any person to visit him, and to
-prevent him talking in case he should attempt to speak, as silence and
-quietness were highly essential to any patient in his condition. Promising
-that he should call again in the course of the night, the doctor then took
-his leave, though not until he had privately drawn Fanny aside, and fully
-satisfied himself that Mr. Skinwell had not discovered to her any material
-portion of that secret which he so greatly dreaded should come to her
-knowledge.
-</p>
-<p>
-During several hours the unfortunate man continued much the same as
-before; but about midnight he rallied. There was nobody in the room except
-Fanny and the servant girl. Colin had taken his leave long before; and
-Skinwell's stripling clerk, who was introduced to the reader at the
-commencement of this story, and who had now grown up into a tame,
-spiritless, and crest-fallen man, was sitting below in the kitchen,
-seeking refuge from the whereases and aforesaids of the law in the
-pleasant pages of Joseph Andrews.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Skinwell, as I have said, rallied a little. He looked wildly about as
-though seeking for assurance of the locality of the place he was in, and
-then feebly beckoned Fanny to bring her ear near him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Who has been to me?” he whispered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Only Dr. Rowel, sir,” answered Fanny assuringly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then I am a dead man!” exclaimed the lawyer, bursting into a flood of
-tears. “Oh Heaven, forgive my sins as I forgive all those who have sinned
-against me!” And he forced his head into the pillow as though he would
-bury it out of sight. The foam gathered upon his blue lips, and his teeth
-snapped together with a sound that made the girl's blood turn.—“Oh,
-what has he given me? my breath is hotter than fire.—The flame eats
-my heart out!—water,—water!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, no!” cried an eager voice behind; “'twill kill him!” and Dr. Rowel
-strode across the room. Fanny saw him, and his looks terrified her. The
-sedateness of the experienced physician, which no circumstance of this
-kind can generally disturb, was all gone. He breathed half-convulsively
-through his opened mouth and dilated nostrils; shining beads of water that
-momentarily glistened in the lamplight, stood upon his forehead; and
-several times successively, as he crossed the room, he passed his hand
-with instinctive energy over the sides of his temples, so as to cast the
-hair which clustered there backwards, as though his burning brain sought
-closer contact with the cool common air. He stood by the bedside. Skinwell
-rolled round his eyes, and strove to cry, “You 've poisoned me!” But the
-doctor rapidly closed his hand over the sick man's mouth, and drowned his
-failing voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny stood petrified with horror; while the servant girl rushed screaming
-out of the room. The doctor still kept his open hand on Skin-well's mouth,
-while the dying man Strove to set himself free by violent motions of the
-head and writhings of the body. A stifled call on the name of Fanny at
-length broke from his muffled lips.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Go out! leave me!” fiercely cried Rowel to the horrified young woman; but
-she did not obey him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fanny!” again escaped the lawyer's lips.
-</p>
-<p>
-The sight, the voice, the desperate sense that came upon her all at once
-that Rowel was killing his patient, nerved her with more than woman's
-courage and ten times woman's ordinary strength. She rushed franticly to
-the opposite side of the bed from that on which the doctor stood, and
-violently seized his wrist.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Away, woman!” he cried, suddenly turning all his efforts against her, in
-the endeavour to free his hands and strike her down. But she held him
-tightly. Curses upon her, whispered almost as from the inmost soul, but
-deadly and pregnant with hellish meaning, hissed through the doctor's
-teeth, which showed between his lips clenched like a workman's vice. Fanny
-prayed mentally for strength to hold him. As they struggled, the sick man
-beneath them spoke.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fanny—your father———”
- </p>
-<p>
-Rowel threw the whole weight of his body upon him to stop that tongue. He
-could not.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Your father is in Rowel's—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's a lie!—a lie!—a lie!” cried the doctor in rapid
-succession, to render the words inaudible.
-</p>
-<p>
-Their struggle grew more desperate, and Fanny could not hold much longer:
-the unwonted muscles would not obey her will to gripe. They were
-overstrained, and growing useless. At the same time the doctor wrenched
-more furiously than ever. The dying man beneath him gurgled in the throat
-for breath, and tossed in muscular convulsions beneath the clothes. At
-last he got himself to the edge of the bed, and by a sudden and last
-violent effort, struck himself against the doctor so forcibly as to loosen
-him from the hands of Fanny, and throw him several paces from the bed. The
-lawyer threw himself upright, and with his dim half-dead eyes fixed on
-Fanny, and his finger turning to point at Rowel, he cried with his last
-breath, “In his madhouse!—his madhouse!” and sunk back to groan and
-die.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny stood a moment, and then fell, like a stone, insensible to the
-ground.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/061m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="061m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/061.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-Presently the clerk and the maid-servant, were in the room. Doctor Rowel
-had just folded up the bed-clothes.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Take that girl up,” said he calmly; “she has fainted at this sight of
-death. Your master is gone, young man. I did not think, at first, he would
-see the night over. Give her some cold water; sprinkle her temples, and
-carry her to bed, and then send for somebody to lay this corpse out.
-Before morning it will be cold.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the doctor said this he gathered up such of the powders as had not been
-administered, and put them in his pocket. At the same time Fanny was
-carried away, according to his directions, and placed on the bed in her
-own room. Thither Doctor Rowel followed, and employed himself in restoring
-her. When Fanny first opened her eyes and saw him bending over her, she
-shrieked and sunk again. Again she was recovered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Do leave me,” said she. “Do go away, or I shall die.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But I have something to say to you, my dear,” observed the doctor, with
-an assumed sweetness of tone. “Now, quiet yourself, and endeavour to get
-over this agitation. You will never be better till you get calmer.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then pray leave me,” again replied Fanny, “and I may then be quiet. Is
-master any better?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes—yes,” the doctor answered; “but never mind him. You should not
-have interfered with <i>me</i>, Fanny. He was delirious,—outrageous.
-I was obliged to hold him down.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He said something about my father,” observed Fanny in a faint voice. “I
-heard him say it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Nothing—nothing, I assure you!” the doctor exclaimed. “He was
-delirious. Now, quiet yourself, and do not talk any more tonight. Say
-nothing about it; and another day, when you are better, you shall convince
-yourself, for Mrs. Rowel shall take you all over my house—you shall
-see everybody in it—and I will prove to you that your father cannot
-be there. As I told you some time ago, I know something about you, and
-will take care to see you righted as far as I can; but then you must not
-listen to the wild nonsense of a man who did not know what he was talking
-about: it ruins everything.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny was silent; but she still beheld, as in a vivid picture, the
-corpse-like figure of the lawyer sitting up in bed, its glazed eyes upon
-her, and its finger pointing towards that man. She heard the rattle of its
-horny tongue as it articulated those last words, “In his madhouse!—<i>his</i>
-madhouse!” And she thought of the words of Colin's mother, which had been
-told to her only a few hours previously, that dying people always speak
-the truth. But, was he dying? “Is he dead?” asked she.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My dear,” answered Rowel, “do not alarm yourself: but he <i>is</i> dead.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“O God! what have I seen!” cried the affrighted young woman, as she hid
-her head beneath the bed-clothes, for a spirit seemed to pass before her
-when she heard those words,—it was that of her dead master!
-</p>
-<p>
-The doctor departed; but in that house there was no sleep that night.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER VI.
-</h2>
-<h3>
-<i>The Doctor's reflections on his return.</i>
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OW much safer am I now?” thought the doctor, as he pursued his way home
-in the dark, and reflected on all that had just transpired, and on the
-probable consequences of it. “To-morrow there will be a jury,—it
-cannot be avoided; and I shall be called to give evidence, and Fanny, who
-saw it all, will be called also. She suspects something, and may tell all
-until she raises suspicions in the minds of others. Would that she too
-were out of the way, and then—then I should be finally secure!”
- </p>
-<p>
-But as he thus thought on another death, the dread of the last came
-strongly upon him; and his skin seemed to creep upon his bones. He fancied
-there was a body lying in the road, and several times he checked his horse
-to avoid trampling upon it, or turned him suddenly aside in order to pass
-it by.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/070m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="070m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/070.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-He could see the shadowy lineaments of the man he had murdered flickering
-about in the doubtful air, with the very folds of the bed-clothes which
-his own hand had gathered round it, pictured in misty but accurate lines,
-like an artist's first sketch emerging from a ground of dark and
-indistinct space. He grew anxious to get home. He wondered how it was that
-never in his life before had any sight so haunted him, and yet he had seen
-many worse agonies than that,—many. Yes; he had seen old sinners
-die,—stubborn and unrepentant to the last; he had seen them die, and
-make no sign of hope of Heaven's grace. And he had seen young maids die of
-very terror at the thought and name of death. Yet these were nothing. They
-were happiness itself to what he had witnessed that night. When he arrived
-at home, his wife remarked that he looked pale and ill.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, my dear,” he replied, “I am very well indeed,—wonderfully well.
-I never felt better in my life. I can assure you, you are mistaken.” He
-sat down to his supper; but as he tried to carve, his knife slipped, and
-he did not try it again. The face of the lawyer seemed to be over the
-table, dancing about in the broad beams of the candlelight.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You tremble, Frank!” cried his wife; “your hand shakes. How did you leave
-Skinwell?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He is dead.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Dead!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes,—he is gone. A concussion of the brain has taken him off. It
-was a terrible fall, indeed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But how sudden!” exclaimed she.
-</p>
-<p>
-“People will die suddenly sometimes,” replied the doctor; “and especially
-when pitched headlong out of a gig on a stony road. Now I think of it, let
-me tell you, my dear, that to-morrow perhaps, or on some early day, I
-shall want you to show a young woman down in the village here, all over
-the house. I wish her to see the patients. Do not ask any questions now; I
-have particular reasons for it. I only have to request of you very
-particularly, when she does come, to make no inquiries of her of any kind,
-nor to answer any questions she may put to you. It is of great importance
-to yourself as well as to me; and more so indeed than you can be aware of
-just now; so that it is unnecessary to insist further upon it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The wife promised strict compliance with his injunctions, as it was no
-very unusual thing for her thus to be requested to take a blind part in
-the performance of some mystery or other in the establishment, of which no
-one knew the purpose save Dr. Rowel himself. By this combination of
-secrecy with his wife, and of apparent openness and candour towards Fanny,
-he trusted to convince the latter that the communication which the dying
-man had made respecting her father was false and utterly without
-foundation. In adopting this bold course, it is evident that the doctor
-laid himself open to the possibility at least of a discovery; yet it was
-clearly the safest plan which, under the circumstances, he could adopt.
-The opinions which his wife entertained respecting the sanity of the
-unfortunate James Woodruff rendered it highly necessary, not only that the
-name and relationship of the visiter to whom he had promised an inspection
-of his house should be unknown to her, but also that no suspicion should
-be excited by any attempt on his part to prevent James Woodruff's being
-seen by Fanny along with all the other patients; since the very fact of
-one of them being purposely withheld would of itself give room for doubt;
-while, from an interview between them he had nothing to fear, since in his
-opinion it was a moral impossibility that either father or daughter should
-recognise the other.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER VII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>A jury sits on the body of Skinwell. Colin advises Fanny Woodruff upon
-a subject of some importance.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> CORONER's jury was summoned to hold an inquest at the tavern at
-Bramleigh, on the body of Mr. Skinwell. The men composing this jury were
-such ignorant louts, that Doctor Rowel, on being called before them, soon
-succeeded in so far mystifying their perceptions, that they unanimously
-determined it to be quite useless to call any other witnesses than one or
-two of those who saw the accident. The coroner himself was an indolent and
-superficial person, and, under pretence of having other inquests to hold a
-few miles off, seemed anxious to hurry the present inquiry to a
-conclusion. Fanny remained outside during the deliberation, and, though it
-was once or twice suggested that her evidence might prove important, the
-Coroner peremptorily refused to listen to it, and especially as Doctor
-Rowel took the liberty of hinting that any statement which she might make
-could not prove of the least value after his own lucid and professional
-exposition of the state of the deceased on his being brought home.
-Accordingly, a verdict of “Accidental Death” was recorded; and Doctor
-Rowel returned to Nabbfield highly gratified in secret with the result of
-the inquiry.
-</p>
-<p>
-But, as the success of guilt affords no pleasant matter for reflection, I
-will proceed to relate something concerning a better and more virtuous
-character.
-</p>
-<p>
-The story of Lawyer Skinwell's death soon spread abroad, and reached the
-farm at Whinmoor in its progress. When Colin became acquainted with the
-facts, he necessarily concluded that Fanny would again be homeless, and
-that his advice and assistance might prove useful to her. He accordingly
-seized the first opportunity that presented itself for taking a walk to
-Bramleigh, which occurred about a week after the dreadful event just
-related. During that time Fanny had been wishing day and night to see him,
-but had been too much occupied amidst the circumstances which this
-unexpected change had brought about, to be enabled to do more than wish
-for his coming. Everything had, of course, been left in some confusion.
-Nor were there any known relations of her late master to whom application
-could be made to take his affairs under their management. Skinwell had
-come to the village, unknown, when a young man, and was generally
-understood to say that indeed, to the best of his knowledge and belief, he
-was the last of his family.
-</p>
-<p>
-Under these circumstances both Fanny and the poor clerk would have felt
-somewhat embarrassed in what manner to proceed, had not Mr. Longstaff, the
-steward, and the landlord of the tavern, taken an early opportunity, after
-the lawyer's death, to call at the house, formally to announce to the poor
-clerk himself that they were legal witnesses to a will which the deceased
-had made some time ago in his favour; and which, after providing for all
-debts and expenses, left to him the residue and the business together. The
-document thus spoken of was soon found amongst his private papers; and, as
-nobody came forward to dispute and litigate over the poor man's corpse, as
-is usually the case when anybody has a small matter to leave behind him,
-the affairs of the household were soon placed in a way for being carried
-on as usual; and especially as Fanny consented to remain for the present
-with the lawyer's successor on the same terms as she had formerly agreed
-upon with him.
-</p>
-<p>
-These arrangements had been made when Colin arrived; and therefore the
-difficulties in which he expected to find Fanny were entirely obviated.
-But there was another and a far more dreadful subject to engage his
-attention, which he could not possibly have anticipated, namely, the
-communication made by the dying man respecting her father, and the
-horrible scene which she had witnessed at the time that communication was
-made. Partly from a conscientious fear of doing any one an injustice, and
-partly from doubt whether, after all, the doctor really was or was not
-guilty, she had not hitherto mentioned the subject to any one, though it
-lay on her mind like a burden which would allow no rest until it was
-shaken off. If the lawyer had spoken truth, was it not unjust to his
-memory to make no use of what he had spoken? And if she really had a
-father living, and that father was confined in a madhouse, what could she
-think of herself were she not to make an effort for his deliverance?
-</p>
-<p>
-On his arrival, Colin thought Fanny looked ill and anxious; and that she
-spoke less freely to him than heretofore. He felt surprised to hear her
-allude to Doctor Rowel in a manner so changed from that in which she had
-always spoken of him formerly. Then it was as a friend, a helper; one from
-whom, above all others living, she had the most to hope from, and to whom
-she ought to feel most grateful. But now she mentioned the very name with
-dread, and seemed to shudder whenever the recollection of his presence in
-that house came across her mind. All this raised Colin's curiosity, and
-stimulated his inquiries. Question after question did he put to her, until
-the vivid recollection of the scene that had passed, and the keener sense
-of her father's situation, which this conversation awakened, brought her
-again to tears, and amidst many sobs and interruptions she at last related
-to the horror-stricken youth the whole story of her late master's
-death-bed communication.
-</p>
-<p>
-During the recital Colin turned pale as ashes; and when it was done, “I'm
-sure he murdered him!” he exclaimed, “and we shall find it all true about
-your father. Think as you like about it, but that doctor tried to stop his
-mouth only to prevent him telling you. Take him at his word, Fanny, and
-let him show you over his house.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny made no reply. She scarcely heard his words, for in imagination she
-fancied herself before the little cell that held her father; she thought
-of him as a madman whom she dared not touch, and scarcely even look at;
-one who, though her own parent, had not sense enough left to talk even
-like a little child. And as she thus thought, the tears silently but
-rapidly rolled down her cheeks. She longed for the time to arrive, but
-dreaded the trial to which it might expose her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having arranged that they should meet again as early as possible after her
-visit to the madhouse, Colin took his farewell of Fanny; and, on quitting
-the house, proceeded immediately in the direction of the old hall of
-Kiddal, with the intention of carrying out another part of his plan.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER VIII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin seeks an interview with Squire Lupton. An unexpected adventure
-takes place, which raises him to the station of a hero, and promises great
-things to come.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Colin arrived at Kiddal Hall, Mr. Lupton was quietly reposing himself
-on a small couch placed near the widely-opened window of his drawing-room,
-and inhaling the fragrance of the great “wicked weed” from a long Turkish
-pipe, whose voluminous folds lay like a sleeping serpent on the ground
-beside him. At some distance from him, close to the door, and unperceived
-by the squire, stood an individual of short stature, dressed in a coat
-that reached nearly to his knees; inexpressibles that descended to the
-same point, blue worsted stockings, and laced-up boots. His hat was placed
-upon its crown on the floor beside him, as though the owner, in so
-disposing of it, meditated a stay of some duration.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is that Mr. Lupton?” demanded a gruff voice.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Who the d——l is that?” exclaimed the squire, puffing the
-smoke away from his mouth, and looking eagerly in the direction whence the
-voice proceeded.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nay—nay, now!” was the reply he received, “it signifies nothing to
-you who <i>I</i> am, for if a man gets justice done him for his crimes,
-what can it matter to him whose hand does it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“How did you come in here, fellow?” again asked the squire.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Never mind asking me how I got here,” replied the little old man; “that
-is my business and not yours. I <i>am</i> here, and that is enough.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But, what are you?—who are you?—for what purpose have you
-come here?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well—well! if you ask me what I am, I can tell you; I am <i>a
-father</i>. And, if I were to tell you what you are, sir, I should say you
-are an unprincipled man, and unworthy of your station: a man that, because
-he has power in his hands, can insult poverty, and betray it to ruin,
-under the pretence of doing it a service. Does your recollection extend as
-far back as sixteen or eighteen years ago?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Instead of answering this question, Mr. Lup-ton laid aside his pipe, rose
-from his seat, and advanced towards the little man in the middle of the
-room, extending his hand in an authoritative manner. “Come, come, fellow!
-go away. Save me the trouble of putting you out.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“<i>You</i> put <i>me</i> out, sir!” tauntingly replied his strange
-visiter; “it is more than you dare undertake to do if all your servants
-were about you; and, as it is, remember there is not one. Keep your hands
-off me, or I shall make you repent it. You have touched too much of my
-blood already; and now I have called for some of yours. Look to yourself.
-I 'll be fair with you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As he thus spoke he drew something from the pocket of his long coat, which
-Mr. Lupton thought, from the slight glance he caught of it in the
-twilight, to be a pistol. The sight nerved him to desperation, and
-suddenly he sprung forwards to strike or seize the man before him. But the
-latter was too expert; he slipped aside, and Mr. Lupton fell forwards with
-the impetus of his motion, almost to the ground. The cocking of the pistol
-and the opening of the room-door were heard at the same instant. Flash
-went the deadly powder, slightly illuminating the apartment, and showing a
-<i>third</i> party standing against the old man in the long coat, who had
-struck the pistol aside with his hand, and thus diverted what otherwise
-would have proved a deadly aim. That third person was Colin. He had
-reached the hall a minute or two before; and one of the servants who knew
-him, had conducted him up-stairs, under the belief that the squire was
-alone,—for the old man had obtained admittance secretly. While in
-the passage outside, however, they overheard the latter part of the
-conversation just related, which induced Colin to rush in, and thus was he
-instrumental in saving the life of his own father—though unknown to
-himself—from the deadly hand—equally unknown to him—of
-his own grandfather!
-</p>
-<p>
-Jerry Clink had recently returned from New South Wales; and during all the
-years of his banishment had kept
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“The patient watch, the vigil long,
-Of him who treasures up a wrong.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-No sooner did he find that the pistol had failed in its intended work, and
-that Mr. Lupton, who was a powerful man, was again upon his legs, than he
-dashed Colin furiously aside, and retreated towards the window. The squire
-followed him, and was himself followed also by Colin and the servant. They
-endeavoured to pin the old man in a corner, but their first efforts did
-not succeed. He strove to rush between them, and to escape at the door.
-Lights now glanced along the passage, and on the staircase. Other servants
-were hurrying forwards, having been brought up by the report of fire-arms.
-Escape that way was now impossible. What could he do? There was the window—the
-only chance. Nobody so much as dreamed that he would go out there, for it
-was twenty feet or more from the ground. He approached it. The resolution
-and the action were one. In an instant his body darkened the open space as
-he leaped through, and he was gone! The spectators stood still some
-moments,—for into mere spectators did this daring and desperate leap
-transform them all. They then ran to the window. There lay a dark
-substance on the ground beneath,—it moved,—it got up. They
-watched it; and, in the height of their amazement, never thought of
-running out to seize it. Jerry looked up and laughed with derision in
-their faces as he hastened off. Some of them now ran down stairs in
-pursuit. It was deep twilight, and the desperado was speedily out of
-sight. He had crossed the lawn, and got into the woods. They followed with
-guns and staves, but Jerry Clink was safe.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And what young man is this?” asked Mr. Lupton, as he turned to gaze at
-Colin, and by the lights which now shone in the apartment beheld a noble,
-open countenance, and a pair of bold, dark eyes, whose look brought a
-flush of heat up in the squire's face, and made him for a moment dream
-that he gazed into a mirror, so much were they the counterpart of his own.
-“Whoever you are,” pursued the squire, “I owe you much for this brave
-interposition. I am indebted to you, young man, perhaps for my life;
-certainly for sound bones and a whole skin. Sit down—sit down a
-moment. But stop; this will do at present.” And he drew out his purse
-containing nearly ten guineas, and tendered it to Colin, “Take this, until
-I can do something better for you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, sir, thank you,” replied the youth. “I do not want money: and if I
-did, I could not take it for only doing right. I came to speak to you,
-sir, about something else, if you will allow me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Not take it!” exclaimed Mr. Lupton, in astonishment,—“then you were
-not born in Yorkshire, were you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir, I was,” answered he: “I was born and brought up in this
-village, though you do not know me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Indeed! Why, I do not remember to have remarked you before. Who are you?
-What is your name?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Colin Clink, sir, is my name.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The squire sat down and turned away his face, so that the lad could not
-see it, as he asked, in an altered and somewhat tremulous voice, if Mrs.
-Clink, that kept the shop, was his mother?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir,” replied Colin, “she is; but I never knew my father.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mr. Lupton was for some moments silent. He placed his elbow on the back of
-his chair, and his open hand over his eyes, as if to screen them.
-Something had touched his bosom suddenly; but the lad knew not what. At
-length, and evidently with some effort, though without changing his
-position in the least, Mr. Lupton said, “I cannot talk with you now, young
-man: that fellow has ruffled me. Take that purse, and come again some
-other time. I shall be from home nearly three weeks. Come again this day
-three weeks, and I shall have something of importance to talk to you
-about. Take particular notice, now, and be punctual. But what are you
-doing? and where do you live?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin satisfied him on both these particulars. The squire continued, “Then
-come as I have appointed, and your situation shall be exchanged for a
-better. I will make your fortune: but I cannot talk now. Come again, my
-boy,—come again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin stood a few moments in silent suspense as to the course to be
-pursued. The unexpected event which had taken place had entirely defeated
-the purpose for which he had ventured to Kiddal Hall, while the squire's
-language half confounded him. Should he speak again? He dared not, except
-to express his thanks; retiring therefore from the room, he left the
-squire's purse untouched upon the table.
-</p>
-<p>
-Colin reached Whinmoor shortly before ten o'clock.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Mr. Lupton arose from his reverie, and strode across the room, his
-foot struck against the bullet that had been discharged from Jerry Clink's
-pistol. He looked up to the wall; and, though the blow which at the
-critical moment Colin had struck diverted it from himself, the squire saw,
-with a strange sensation, for which he could not account, that it had
-passed through the canvass, and near the bosom of his wife's picture.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER IX.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Gives a description of Fanny's visit to the madhouse, and of her
-interview with her father.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>FTER the lapse of some few days, during which Mr. Lupton left the hall on
-his proposed brief journey,—(though not without first sending a
-messenger to Whinmoor with a small packet for Colin, which the latter
-found to contain fifteen guineas, and a repetition of the invitation to
-appear again at Kiddal on the day previously named,)—Fanny's
-arrangements for going over Doctor Rowel's establishment were completed;
-and according to appointment she set out one morning, early after
-breakfast, and reached Nabbfield about ten o'clock. As she approached the
-place her heart began to throb violently, and her hands to tremble as she
-placed them on her bosom, as if by that action to still the poor troubled
-thing within. She gazed at the building as though every single stone was a
-separate source of fear to her; at its melancholy windows as so many eyes,
-out of which madness and pain looked upon the pleasant world below. As she
-passed along the footpath outside the boundary wall she stopped, and
-listened. Instead of sounds of woe, which she expected to hear from
-within, the blackbird and the linnet in the plantations sounded their
-pleasant notes there the same as elsewhere. The great and gaudy dragon-fly
-darted along the sunny wall, and little clouds of gnats flew in
-innumerable and ever-changing evolutions beneath the pendent branches of
-the young elms and sycamores by the roadside. When she saw the gateway she
-first lingered, and then stopped, to gather breath and resolution. She
-could not: she looked again, and then retraced her steps some yards,
-hoping to quiet herself, and grow more calm. She looked up at the sky: it
-was bright, and vast, and deep, with an intense blue, that seemed as
-unfathomable as eternity. She thought of her father, and then of another
-Father who alone could help her and sustain her in all trials. Fanny sunk
-down upon the bank, and clasped her hands together in silent and
-spontaneous prayer for assistance to meet the coming trial. She arose
-strengthened, calm, and assured.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the keeper of the lodge-gate opened it to admit her, Fanny inquired,
-with evident signs of fear, whether the people whom she saw at some
-distance up the pathway, would do her any injury? These were several of
-the partially-recovered and harmless patients, who had been allowed to
-take exercise in the garden. Although Fanny's question was answered in the
-negative, and she was told not to be in the least afraid of them, she yet
-advanced up the pathway with a quick-beating heart, and a timorous step.
-As she approached them, several of the people held up their heads, and
-gazed half-vacantly at her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny hurried along with increased rapidity, and reached the doctor's
-house without interruption. She rung the bell, and stood a long time
-before anybody answered it, though she knew not it was more than a moment,
-so occupied was her mind with the thoughts of what was about to ensue. “If
-my father <i>be</i> here,” thought she,—“if I <i>should</i> see him,
-and hear him say his name is the same as mine, what in the world shall I
-do? How shall I conduct myself? What shall I say to him?” and, as she thus
-thought the door opened, and Fanny was ushered into an elegantly-furnished
-room, such as she had not before seen, and at the same time into the
-presence of the doctor's wife.
-</p>
-<p>
-As I have before stated that the visit had been previously arranged, Mrs.
-Rowel was of course prepared to conduct her almost immediately over the
-establishment. As she successively passed through open rooms in which the
-more harmless patients were assembled,—some laughing and playful,
-others desponding and weeping over again their troubles of former days,—and
-thence was conducted down gloomy ranges of cells, the dim light of which
-just served to show the fairest of God's creations writhing in foul
-struggle with the demon of madness,—or, yet more remotely, was taken
-to behold sights which humanity forbids me to describe, but which, once
-seen, can never be forgotten;—as all this, I repeat, passed before
-the affrighted eyes of Fanny, and brought up to her mind still more
-vividly the picture of her own father, it was with the greatest difficulty
-she could hide her emotion from those who accompanied her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny and the doctor's wife now proceeded together, and unaccompanied,
-down that winding passage which led to the yard where James Woodruff
-obtained all of daylight and air which he had enjoyed during many years.
-The door was opened to the dazzling light of Midsummer time, so that Fanny
-could scarcely see, after being so long in the dungeon-like places of that
-dreary mansion. But there stood the black old yew-tree, looking as if
-carved out of ebony, amidst the blaze of a mid-day sun, and under its deep
-hard shadow lay a man, motionless as might be the monumental effigy in
-some old church aisle; his eyes upon the bright space above him, and his
-hands fast bound across his breast. As the noise occasioned by the
-approach of Fanny and Mrs. Rowel reached his ear, he gently turned his
-head, and displayed to the gaze of Fanny a countenance pale and
-thoughtful, surrounded by a profusion of deep black hair, and brightened
-by a pair of eyes of the same hue, that looked like spots of jet set in a
-face of alabaster.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And is he,” remarked Fanny, as she turned towards her conductress, “is he
-as wild as those men we have seen in the cells?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The doctor,” replied Mrs. Rowel, “says he is quite insane; though for
-myself I sometimes think he talks as properly and sensibly as you or I
-might do. But then Mr. Rowel says that no dependence is to be placed upon
-that, because people who are quite out of their senses will sometimes
-appear as reasonable in their conversation as any other person.”
- </p>
-<p>
-This declaration somewhat startled Fanny's faith in the virtue of common
-sense; and, as if seeking for an illustration of this strange doctrine in
-the person before her, she again turned to the yew-tree. She started.
-Those coal-black eyes were still upon her, fixed, and apparently full of
-some mysterious meaning. She dreaded lest the madman should be meditating
-wrong against her, and instinctively seized the arm of the doctor's wife.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Do not be alarmed,” observed the latter encouragingly; “he will do you no
-injury in the world. He looks more frightful than he is a great deal; his
-hair makes him look so: but he and I have had many conversations together.
-I will try if he will speak, and then you can hear how these mad people
-talk. James!” raising her voice, “how do you do to-day?”
- </p>
-<p>
-He rolled round on his back, and by a sudden and peculiar action, which
-long captivity and experience alone could have rendered familiar to him,
-leapt instantaneously up without the assistance of his arms. Fanny shrunk
-convulsively within the door, in dread lest he should approach her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Stand still, my dear,” remarked her companion; “there is not the least
-danger from him. Now, <i>do</i> be assured, and come forward.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny obeyed with trembling, especially when she saw the man advance
-towards them with the intention, apparently, of addressing either her or
-her conductress. He spoke, however, in the first instance, to the latter.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Good morning, good lady, and to your young companion. How bright and
-beautiful the day is! How does the world look beyond these walls?
-Beautiful, I dare say; glorious far beyond any thought of mine, for I have
-almost forgotten what robe the earth wears in summer time. Yet it is full
-of delight even on this arid sand, and between these burning walls. And
-so, young lady,”—and James Woodruff turned his dark eyes upon
-Fanny's countenance as he spoke in a more jesting, yet melancholy strain,—“you
-have come to look at me as a curiosity and a show?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, no, sir!” exclaimed she in a hurried tone, and with her face
-deepening with blushes, “I—I—I am very glad to see you, sir.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Are you?” exclaimed Woodruff earnestly. “Then Heaven bless that heart,
-and reward you with its choicest gifts, for feeling glad to see such an
-unfortunate thing as I! Glad to see me! Why, that is more than any one has
-said these many years! Forgive me, young woman; but in your face I see
-over again the good angel that delivered Peter from his dungeon, and it is
-a blessing to my eyes to look upon one like you. I am not mad, young lady;
-indeed I am not. Nay, do not shrink. I would dash this head against the
-wall sooner than dream of injury to you. I had a wife once at your age:
-your youth brings her back again, till I could think she had come from
-heaven to plead for me! I have been here twenty winters,—I have
-given up all my land and money—everything but life—for
-liberty, and have still been basely deceived! Now do not, for the love of
-God, and of justice! do not doubt me. I am not mad. I never was. I was
-stolen from my home, and from my daughter—a child—a little
-child.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny's brain grew dizzy. She clung to her companion for support.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let us go, my dear,” said Mrs. Rowel. “You cannot bear it. James, why do
-you talk so?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I will not go!” cried Fanny eagerly, and struggling hard to rally herself
-“Tell me your name—your name!” added she, addressing the captive.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Woodruff!” cried the poor prisoner.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny's glazed eyes were fixed on him for an instant,—she sprung
-forwards with a shriek, and fell at full length on the ground, and as
-though dead, at his feet!
-</p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Rowel and the unfortunate James Woodruff stood equally astonished.
-The latter attempted to raise Fanny: he could not—his arms were
-bound—and he laughed. But the next instant, as he requested the
-mistress of the mansion to do so, he stooped over the insensible body
-before him, and burst into a flood of tears.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Who is she?” he demanded. “What soul of beauty is it?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I do not know, James,” replied the lady; “she is a stranger to me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Would that I could touch her cheek with my finger!” said Woodruff. “She
-is good—good indeed!”
- </p>
-<p>
-In the mean time Robson had answered the call of Mrs. Rowel, and come to
-her assistance.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Carry her into the house. Or, stay, fetch water,” said she; “she had
-better be recovered here,” and Robson was accordingly despatched for a
-glass of water, with which he soon returned. It was applied to her lips,
-and partially sprinkled on her forehead.
-</p>
-<p>
-After a time she began to recover; she opened her eyes, looked round, and
-spoke—“Where is he?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Here! I am here, young lady,” replied Woodruff, as he looked her
-earnestly in the face to fix her attention. “What of me?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“My father!” exclaimed Fanny, as she again sunk into a state of
-insensibility.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Father!” repeated Woodruff—“my father! I her father! She my
-daughter!” He strove to wrench his arms free to clasp her to his bosom,
-but again he could not.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Take her away, Robson,” said Mrs. Rowel. “What does all this mean? Take
-her away!—take her away!”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Fanny was carried back by the strong man to the room into which she
-had at first been introduced; while James Woodruff remained standing upon
-that spot, gazing on that ground where his child had laid, as though the
-great world contained in it no other place which, even to him, deserved
-for a moment to be looked upon.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER X.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Is so very necessary between the ninth and eleventh that it could not
-possibly be dispensed with.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Fanny was sufficiently recovered, Mrs. Rowel questioned her very
-particularly upon the circumstances that had occurred, and exhibited a
-great deal of laudable curiosity to be fully enlightened touching the
-mystery that had been enacted before her. Fanny would fain have kept it to
-herself; but too much had already passed in the presence of the doctor's
-wife to render such a line of conduct altogether practicable.
-Nevertheless, it was not until a faithful promise of secrecy had been made
-on the part of Mrs. Rowel, that Fanny was induced to communicate to her so
-much of her story as was needful to render something like an intelligible
-whole. In this account she omitted any mention of the source from whence
-the information respecting her father had been obtained; and also forbore
-making the most distant allusion to the death of her late master, or to
-the part which she secretly believed the doctor had taken in that event.
-</p>
-<p>
-The lady listened to her narrative with great astonishment, and when it
-was concluded, seized both her hands in an affectionate manner, and
-exclaimed, “Then, my dear, you are my niece:—the doctor is your own
-uncle, for your mother and he were brother and sister!”
- </p>
-<p>
-This information, as may be readily supposed, astonished Fanny, though it
-did not affect her so much as the discovery of her father made just
-before. She thought of her own uncle being a murderer;—she regretted
-ever having mentioned the subject to Colin, and resolved never to allude
-to it again before any one. She dreaded the very thought that, bad as he
-was, her own uncle should owe to her his degradation, and an ignominious
-death on a public scaffold. The thought of all this she could not endure;
-and, in order to avert the possibility of danger from any unexpected
-quarter, she now begged of the doctor's wife to hide from her husband the
-fact that she <i>had</i> discovered her father in those cells, lest it
-might lead to a still worse danger, the bare possibility of which she
-dreaded to think upon. Mrs. Rowel not only promised to do all this,—a
-promise which eventually she fulfilled,—but also gave Fanny the
-fullest assurance that she would exercise her utmost endeavours in the
-attempt to prevail upon her husband to set James Woodruff at liberty. For
-all this Fanny returned her most heartfelt thanks, and then took her
-leave.
-</p>
-<p>
-For some time afterwards she could take no rest, no food, think of nothing
-in the world except her father. She felt eager to see Colin and inform him
-of what had occurred, but found it impossible to do so until some few days
-after, when she took the opportunity afforded by a Sunday afternoon to
-hasten over to Whinmoor.
-</p>
-<p>
-As she passed down the fields, she felt fearful of again encountering Miss
-Sowersoft, and tried to plan several little ways for seeing Colin unknown
-to her. In the midst of her reveries she suddenly beheld old George
-sauntering along the hedge side, with his hands on his back, and a bit of
-hawthorn blossom stuck in the button-hole of his coat. To him Fanny
-applied; and as the old man most readily undertook to execute her wishes,
-she waited in the fields until he sent Colin out to meet her. Together,
-then, they slowly traversed the fields, while Fanny detailed her
-extraordinary story, and listened with additional wonder to that which the
-youth in turn related respecting his adventure at Kiddal Hall, and the
-great assistance which, in consequence, the squire had promised to afford
-him. This mightily revived Fanny's hopes; for in the person of Mr.
-</p>
-<p>
-Lupton she fancied she now saw one who would aid in the liberation of her
-father.
-</p>
-<p>
-But Colin somewhat clouded these fair visions, when, after some thought,
-he told her that as, in consequence of Mr. Lupton being from home so long,
-it would be impossible to communicate the matter to him, he would not wait
-until the time was passed, and leave her father in such a horrible place
-so much longer, but would try a plan of his own contrivance for effecting
-his liberation.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having explained his scheme, and succeeded in quieting Fanny's distrust as
-to its execution, Colin bade her farewell, and promised to see her again
-in a few days.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XI.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Plot and counter-plot.—The difference between two sides of the
-same question curiously illustrated.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S Mrs. Rowel very strictly kept her word with Fanny, and contrived to
-evade telling the doctor any portion of the discovery that had been made,
-that gentleman remained in the happy belief that his project to convince
-his niece of the deceased lawyer's falsehood had entirely succeeded. James
-Woodruff was therefore allowed to spend the day out of his cell, as usual.
-</p>
-<p>
-Early one morning, shortly after the interview between himself and his
-daughter, already recorded, he was pacing mechanically up and down the
-yard, revolving in his agitated and confused mind the inexplicable doubts
-attending all that had recently occurred, when he was momentarily startled
-from his reverie by observing something white skim above the wall, make a
-seeming pause in the air, and then fall to the ground within his
-inclosure. Woodruff advanced towards it, and beheld a piece of paper
-folded up like a letter. He eagerly stooped to pick it up; but his arms
-were bound in that accursed ligature, which made him more helpless than a
-child. He threw himself wildly on the ground, and gathered it up with his
-mouth; still he had no hands to open it. He looked angrily round, but
-could not discover anything that might aid him. He placed it between his
-knees;—the attempt failed, and the little packet dropped again to
-the ground. Again he gathered it up, and rose to his feet; he placed it
-against the wall, and with tongue and lips contrived, after much trouble,
-to force it open. Again he sat on the ground, placed it on his knee, and
-read as follows:—
-</p>
-<p>
-“The young woman who came to see you is your own daughter, Frances
-Woodruff. Be of good heart, as she is making all possible exertions to
-liberate you. In order to effect this, it is necessary that you contrive
-some pretext for staying out in your yard until ten o'clock at night, or
-later, on the third night after this. If you should not succeed, then try
-each night afterwards successively until you do succeed. You will then see
-a head over the north-east corner of the wall of the yard where the
-yew-tree stands, and opposite the thickest part of the east plantation.
-Wait in the corner beneath, and a rope-ladder will be let down, by which
-you can climb to the top and escape. This is written by your daughter's
-friend, Colin Clink, who will do his best to get you out; so do not be
-afraid of being betrayed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Fanny has seen this, and she prays God night and day that you will be
-able to agree to it. Do not be afraid, as Colin is sure to come (happen
-what may, short of death) at the time appointed. The third night, mind,—or
-any night after, at ten o'clock.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Poor James could scarcely believe his eyes. He almost doubted at first
-whether he was not at length really growing insane, and whether the
-circumstances which he fancied had so recently occurred were not mental
-delusions, consequent 011 his burning desire to be at liberty. Could it
-indeed be possible that the glorious hour was so near at hand?—that
-his daughter was alive?—that he had seen her,—a beautiful
-young woman, like what his own wife was when first he took her to his
-home;—that she was aiding him once more to tread the earth <i>free?</i>—that
-he might again have a home,—be revenged on the man who so cruelly
-wronged him,—and, once more reinstated in his house at Charnwood,
-enjoy that greatest of all earthly blessings, a father's pride in the
-beauty, the virtue, and the heroism of his child?
-</p>
-<p>
-These thoughts were almost more than he could bear, and he wept aloud, as
-he mentally offered up a prayer of gratitude to Heaven for all its
-goodness to him.
-</p>
-<p>
-Afterwards, in order to prevent the possibility of any discovery, he tore
-up the letter into the most minute fragments with his teeth, and buried
-them in a hole which he made with his foot, near the trunk of the old
-yew-tree. Nevertheless he was not safe. There were enemies without, of
-whom he knew nothing, and treachery was at work to undermine Colin's
-project.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was stated some few pages back that Fanny and Colin were sauntering in
-the fields on the old farm at Whinmoor, when the former related her
-discoveries at Nabbfield, and the latter explained to her the plan he had
-formed for assisting her father to escape. Now, at the time when he was
-earnestly engaged in doing this, Miss Sowersoft was standing behind an
-adjacent hedge, having stealthily crept there with her shoes off, in order
-to gratify a certain irrepressible curiosity to know what object Fanny
-could have in coming so far to see Colin, old George having announced her
-arrival. Although Colin frequently, and very fortunately, spoke in too low
-a voice for Miss Sowersoft to catch the meaning of the projected attempt,
-and also mentioned so few of the details of his plan, that she could
-scarcely make head or tail of it; yet so much reached her attentive ear as
-sufficed to form in her mind the ground-work of some very horrible
-suspicions of Colin's honesty. The great fertility of her genius in
-matters of this description soon enabled her to make out, from the broken
-discourse she had heard, that Colin was no better than a thief, and that
-he actually meditated committing a burglary upon the premises of Dr. Rowel
-some night in the course of the ensuing week; while Fanny was doing
-neither more nor less than aiding and abetting him in his nefarious
-attempt. But as her information was not of a sufficiently positive kind to
-justify her in acquainting the constable, and getting him immediately
-apprehended, she came to the conclusion that Dr. Rowel ought at least to
-be put upon his guard, in order that he might station proper watchmen in
-his neighbourhood to seize the culprit whenever he might make his
-appearance. This matter also afforded such an excellent opportunity for
-her to revenge herself upon Fanny for what she had formerly said before
-the doctor's face, on the occasion of Colin's illness, that she could not
-think by any means of allowing it to slip by. Accordingly, some time
-before the night arrived which Colin had appointed for his trial, Miss
-Sowersoft might have been seen marching with important step up the gardens
-before the doctor's establishment, with the intention of communicating to
-that gentleman in person some hints of the imminent danger that threatened
-his property.
-</p>
-<p>
-On her introduction to him, she announced the object of her visit in the
-following manner. “It is a most unpleasant thing to me, Dr. Rowel, to have
-to call upon you on such a case of secrecy as the present. You are aware,
-doctor, that I have a boy about me over at the farm—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, yes,” interrupted the doctor, “I know him well. Palethorpe, you
-mean?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh no, sir!—oh no!—not him—by no means. He is a
-middle-aged man, and a very honest one. No, no. I mean the boy that you
-attended a while ago—Colin Clink. That boy, sir, I am sorry to say,
-is as vicious and bad a character as ever crossed a threshold. I am sure,
-if he escapes the gallows at last, it will only be because he was born to
-be drowned. He has been hatching mischief of one sort or another every day
-since he came into the world, and now he has got to such a pitch—”
- </p>
-<p>
-Here Miss Sowersoft bent her head towards the doctor, and whispered during
-the space of ten minutes, in so low a voice that nobody save the doctor
-himself could catch a word of what was said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You amaze me!” exclaimed the doctor.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I assure you, doctor,'” she reiterated, “I believe every word I have said
-is as true as that you sit there.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The doctor thanked Miss Sowersoft for her information, assured her two or
-three times over that he would make the best use of it, and very politely
-ended the conference by wishing her good morning.
-</p>
-<p>
-Never, I verily believe, did any mischief-maker feel a greater degree of
-self-satisfaction than did Miss Sowersoft, as she returned to Whinmoor.
-What revenge should she not take when Colin was caught in the very fact of
-house-breaking, and when Fanny would be immediately involved in the same
-crime! The thought was so inspiriting, that she tripped along with a
-degree of briskness which would have induced any one who did not see her
-face to believe her at least twenty years the junior of herself.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin prepares for his undertaking, and exhibits great stubbornness of
-temper in withstanding many difficulties.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the time at which James Woodruff had received the little packet, up
-to the eventful night when the attempt to extricate him from confinement
-was to be made, Colin had busily employed all his spare hours in
-manufacturing in secret such articles for his purpose as he conceived he
-should require. This he was the better enabled to do, from having
-accompanied Fanny on a visit of inspection to the place, when, by the top
-of the old yew-tree being visible above the high wall, she was enabled to
-point out to him the exact spot in which her father was confined, and
-where his attempt must necessarily be made.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the afternoon preceding the appointed night, Colin asked for leave to
-go to Bramleigh on particular business; and at the same time stated, that,
-as it might detain him rather late, he should very probably have to remain
-there all night. Much to his surprise, Miss Sowersoft immediately granted
-his request with a more than ordinary grace; at the same time remarking
-very pleasantly, “that if his business there was but honest and good, she
-hoped he would succeed in it, as everybody ought to do; but if people went
-about unprincipled jobs of any kind, it was very right and just that the
-evil spirit they served should betray them in the end.”
- </p>
-<p>
-At any other time Colin might not have noticed these remarks; but, under
-present circumstances, they sunk deep into his mind. He feared that his
-design had, by some means or other, become, if not wholly known, at least
-suspected; and during the next half hour, instead of setting out, he sat
-down upon the step of the open house-door, considering what course he
-ought to pursue. The doubts which then arose in his mind were not so much
-the result of fear as of cautious forecast, touching the probable result
-of his enterprise. If by any means it had been found out, his wisest
-course would be to abandon it for the present, and either wait some more
-favourable opportunity, or leave the whole matter in abeyance until his
-visit to the Hall, on the Squire's return, afforded him a chance of
-explaining the circumstances to that gentleman, and of gaining, if
-possible, his assistance. Yet, if he did so, what would Mr. Woodruff
-think? He would wait in horrible anxiety hour after hour, still depending
-upon the word of him, who said that nothing short of death should prevent
-his coming. These reflections decided the question. Colin rose up, and
-within ten minutes was some distance on his road.
-</p>
-<p>
-Another circumstance disturbed him. Before leaving the house, he saw Mr.
-Palethorpe, with his best inexpressibles on, preparing himself apparently
-for a short journey; and, on Colin's putting the question to him, he
-observed, with a malicious grin, that <i>he</i> also was going to
-Bramleigh. The youth turned pale, and red, and pale again, as shame and
-fear alternately predominated, though he pursued his way with undiminished
-resolution, conscious that he had engaged in a good cause, and resolved
-rather to fail in it than to commit himself in falsehood, through the
-foolish dread of some undefined and perhaps imaginary danger.
-</p>
-<p>
-Colin arrived at his mother's house about six o'clock in the evening, and,
-by previous appointment, met there with his friend Fanny. Together they
-put everything into a state of preparation; while Colin, as a
-precautionary measure, in case anything unfortunate should happen, obliged
-the young woman to take three guineas of the fifteen which Mr. Lupton had
-sent him, and the whole of which he had brought in his pocket, in case it
-should be required for the service of Mr. Woodruff when he had got out of
-the mad-house.
-</p>
-<p>
-As hour after hour passed by, the young couple grew indescribably anxious
-and restless. Fanny dreaded that some unforeseen evil would befall Colin,
-and with tears in her eyes now begged him to give up the design, and wait
-until the Squire's return enabled them to do so much more securely. To
-this he replied in few words, that what he had promised to do he would do,
-happen what might.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then,” said Fanny, “let us tell your mother all about it. I dare say she
-means the best for both of us, after all; and then, perhaps, she may think
-of something to help you in the attempt.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Clink was accordingly informed, very much to her amazement, of the
-principal heads of this affair, so far as already known to the reader, and
-also of the business which, in consequence, Colin now had upon his hands.
-This last she considered highly chimerical and dangerous; she prophesied
-it would lead to nothing but trouble to himself; declared positively that
-twenty better methods could readily be devised; and concluded by assuring
-her son, that if he did not relinquish it at once and for ever, he would
-surely live to repent it before another week was over his head. Colin's
-reply again was, that no representations whatever could induce him to
-alter his purpose; and he began to get ready, and tie up his simple
-apparatus for climbing the wall.
-</p>
-<p>
-At half-past nine o'clock he was ready to set out. Somehow, he knew not
-why, Colin felt that he must bid his mother and Fanny a more serious adieu
-than usual. His mother kissed him, and Fanny,—she, when in the
-shadow of the door, kissed him too, and asked a thousand blessings on his
-head. He promised, in case he succeeded, to be back with Mr. Woodruff in
-the course of an hour and a half; and, having again shaken hands with
-Fanny, he passed out into the street.
-</p>
-<p>
-That hour and a half passed heavily by, during which Mrs. Clink and Fanny
-talked the matter over again, reflected, speculated, hoped, and feared.
-Colin did not come.
-</p>
-<p>
-Eleven o'clock struck—he was not there; they looked out, but could
-see nothing; listened, but could hear nothing.
-</p>
-<p>
-Twelve came—midnight—he did not return. Fanny could not be
-restrained by Mrs. Clink any longer, and she went up alone to the scene of
-his enterprise, trusting there at least to ascertain something. All was
-silent as the grave. One solitary light alone, as of some one retiring to
-quiet rest, was visible in the mad-house, and that was all. But while she
-stood, she heard a horseman enter the stony yard, as though he had come
-from the Whin-moor road. The light of a lantern glanced along the walls
-above, and then vanished in the stables. She hastened, terrified, back
-again—Colin was not there. The whole night passed—morning
-broke—the world grew light and gay—but he did not come again.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XIII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin's attempt to liberate Fanny's father from the madhouse, with the
-adventures that befell him thereupon.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Colin had taken leave of his friends, and passed out of his mother's
-house, he found the night, as he thought, peculiarly adapted for his
-purpose. The air was dark and troubled, vexed with contending winds, which
-blew, as it seemed, now from one quarter of the heavens, and then again
-from its opposite, while drops of rain occasionally came on the blast,
-succeeded by momentary showers of hail. Though summer-time, the weather
-felt as though it had suddenly changed to that of March, so cold and
-ungenial was the blast.
-</p>
-<p>
-He pursued his way for some distance along a dark lane, fenced high with
-thick hawthorn on each side, and traversed by deep ruts, here and there
-containing puddles of water, which reflected some little light as they
-caught the sky, and deceived him with the idea that something white was
-lying in his road. From this lane he crossed a stile and several fields,
-as offering the most direct route to the back part of the grounds around
-the doctor's house. When arrived there, he stopped outside the plantation,
-in order to assure himself that no person was about. Nothing living
-stirred at that hour. He forced his way through a thorny gap in the fence,
-and soon found himself at that north-east corner of the yard-wall which he
-had particularly specified. He now uncoiled his rope, and cautiously threw
-up that end of it to which a grappling-hook was attached. After a few
-efforts it caught firm hold, and, as the distant clock struck ten, he
-ascended to the top of the wall; though, as he fancied this elevation
-would bring him in relief against the sky, he crouched as closely as
-possible, in order to avoid being seen, should it unluckily so chance that
-any individual of the establishment was about.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Are you there?” asked Colin, in a low but earnest voice, as he peeped
-down into the yard.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes,'” answered one from below, in a similar tone. “All right. Make
-haste!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin's heart leaped within him for joy. Now was he well rewarded for all
-his pain and trouble:—to think that he had succeeded at last,
-notwithstanding all his mother's and Fanny's fears! Hastily he drew up the
-hempen ladder after him, and, sitting upon the top of the wall, fixed it
-on the other side, in order to enable James Woodruff to ascend.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Put your feet in, and hold by the sides,” said Colin, as he saw dimly
-that the figure was coming up.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, yes,” replied he. “Stop there till I get safe to the top.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And in the next minute, when the body was half above the wall, Colin
-received a heavy blow on the head from a short bludgeon, accompanied by a
-fierce exclamation and an oath, that if he did not surrender that instant
-his brains should be blown out! Regardless of the height of the wall, he
-instantly dropped, and, though half stunned, and sprained in the leg
-besides, he endeavoured to make off. The fellow who, it was now evident,
-had been stationed in the yard on purpose to draw him into this trap,—poor
-Woodruff had been kept in his cell,—was afraid to risk his limbs or
-his neck by following Colin's example; but, instead of so doing, he began
-to bawl lustily for assistance. Colin heard two blunderbusses fired, and
-afterwards the crash of pursuers through the plantations behind him.
-Conscious that the injury he had received from the fall would prevent him
-from escaping them by flight, he raised himself up against a gate-post,
-with his arms close against his sides. In this situation he had the
-pleasure, two minutes afterwards, of both hearing and seeing a couple of
-stout fellows rush past within a yard of him, one of whom, by his voice
-and language, Colin recognised to be Mr. Palethorpe. Within a short
-period, having “lost scent,” they returned, and lingered a few moments
-about the gate, as though irresolute which way to take. During this brief
-interval he plainly overheard the following conversation.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dang him, I wish we'd hit him! It would have saved us all this trouble.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ay, ay, and hit him I will,” replied Palethorpe, “if I can once get sight
-of him. Meesis was quite right, you see, in what she overheard him say—a
-young vagabone! She told me afore I came out, if I <i>did</i> get a shot
-at him, to pepper him well; and so I will. If we kill him in trespass and
-burglary, I think the law will stand at our backs. Dang him!—we lost
-sound of him somewhere here about, and I should not wonder if he 's crept
-under some of these bushes. I'll fire in, and chance it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-No sooner said than done. Off went the blunderbuss into the thick
-underwood, for the moment making the spot whereon they stood as light as
-day, and illuminating Colin's figure as brilliantly as though he had stood
-beneath the flaring light of a gas-burner. Luckily the two men stood with
-their backs towards him, or he must inevitably have been detected. The
-report over, they listened; but a few frightened birds, blindly flapping
-their wings amongst the trees, were all that could be heard. Palethorpe
-loaded again, and then made a proposal, which was agreed to by his
-companion, that they should take a circuit of the plantation, and then get
-on to the road.
-</p>
-<p>
-The opportunity thus afforded to Colin was made the best use of by him,
-and he endeavoured to steal off in the direction of his mother's house.
-But, when he had cleared the plantation fence, he again heard his pursuers
-beating about in the road between him and that place, so that he deemed it
-most advisable to take the direction of Whinmoor. In that direction the
-coast seemed clear; and, accordingly, keeping closely under the darkness
-of the hedge-side, he set off at his best speed. For the period of three
-quarters of an hour or more he pursued his way unobstructed; and as at the
-expiration of that time he had reached the Leeds and York highway, about a
-mile beyond which the old farm was situated, he began to congratulate
-himself upon his escape. Here he slackened his pace in order to recover
-breath and strength, both of which were well-nigh exhausted by his
-previous exertion.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he rose to the top of a gentle hill, which the highway crossed, the
-sound of a horse's hoofs upon the hard road, though at a considerable
-distance, struck his ear. It came from the direction in which he had come,
-and seemed to be getting nearer. Was it any one pursuing him? His fears
-told him it must be so. Instead, therefore, of pursuing the road any
-farther, he leapt the fence, and hurried by a shorter cut over the fields
-in the direction of Miss Sowersoft's house. As he advanced the gusty wind
-again and again brought along with it the sound of violent galloping. It
-was gaining rapidly upon him; but he was now nearer the house, and the
-horseman, if destined to the same place, would, he knew, be obliged to
-keep the beaten road, which would take him nearly a mile farther than that
-which Colin himself had taken. As he crept quietly into the farm-yard he
-perceived a light in one of the lofts. The door was open, and a waggon
-stood beneath. Abel and old George were loading it with hay, for the
-purpose of sending it during the night to York; in order to be in that
-city sufficiently early on the following morning. There was no time to
-lose; and to stay at the farm to be taken prisoner would be quite as bad
-as though he had allowed himself to be taken at first. He therefore walked
-boldly up, and briefly told them that while he was at Bramleigh a plot had
-been laid by Palethorpe to entrap him; that he had threatened to shoot him
-if he could catch him; that it was with the greatest difficulty he had
-escaped; and that even now he believed they had sent some one on horseback
-to pursue him.
-</p>
-<p>
-All this being to their own knowledge pretty characteristic of the
-aforesaid Palethorpe, they did not hesitate in agreeing to Colin's
-proposal that he should get into the waggon, have the hay-trusses piled
-around and over him, so as not to exclude the air, and in this manner to
-convey him to York. In order to bind them the more strongly to their
-promises of strict silence and secrecy, Colin gave Abel one of his
-guineas, to be afterwards divided between the two. He then jumped into the
-waggon, and in a few minutes was very effectually put out of sight. In a
-few minutes afterwards a horseman dashed into the yard, and demanded of
-them whether Colin had come home. Abel denied that he was under any roof
-there; and, after undergoing a strong test of his powers of equivocation,
-contrived, very much to Colin's satisfaction, to persuade the pursuer to
-go home again.
-</p>
-<p>
-Some time afterwards the horses were tackled on, the waggon began to move,
-and a tedious journey of more than six hours' duration brought them within
-the old walled city of York, at about seven o'clock in the morning.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having deposited his waggon in the marketplace, Abel now invited Colin,
-who had made his way out of the vehicle when some two miles off the city,
-to accompany him to a public-house. This request the lad complied with;
-and, while making his breakfast obtained ink and paper from the landlord,
-and wrote a short letter to his mother, and another to Fanny, explaining
-the circumstances which had led to his absence and flight, and promising
-to write again as soon as he had resolved in what place he should settle
-for the present, as he did not consider it safe to remain permanently,
-even at the distance he then was. These he gave in charge to Abel, who
-vowed to deliver them both safe and speedily. He then inquired of Colin
-whether he did not intend to go back again?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Not till I know that everything is safe,” replied the youth, “or else it
-would have been useless to come here.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then what do you intend to do? or where does 't mean going?” again asked
-the man.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I am quite undecided yet,” remarked Colin; “but I shall find out a place
-somewhere, depend upon it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, lad,” said Abel, “if I could do aught for thee, I would; but I mean
-leaving our missis's myself as soon as I can. I 'll either list, or go to
-Lunnun very soon, for it's beggarly work here.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The thought struck Colin,—should <i>he</i> go to London? He had
-money, very luckily sufficient to keep him awhile; and, so far off, he
-would be safe enough. When there, as he dared not return to Bramleigh to
-pay his promised visit to Kiddal Hall, he could write to the Squire, and
-tell him what had happened, which would do quite as well; and doubtless
-enable him, with Mr. Lupton's assistance, not only very shortly to triumph
-over his persecutors, but give him sufficient power to effect successfully
-that great object, the attempt to achieve which had so unexpectedly led to
-his present unpleasant situation.
-</p>
-<p>
-He finally took his leave of Abel in the market-place, and then rambled
-alone and thoughtfully about the town, until within an hour or two of
-mid-day.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XIV.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Country notions of London.—A night-journey to the Metropolis, and
-Colin's arrival there.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE good people of the Great City possess but a slight idea of the light
-in which they and the modern Babylon are regarded by the remote and rustic
-natives of the provinces. Colin partook largely of the general sentiment
-respecting that wonderful place, and its, in many respects, scarcely less
-marvellous people. To him, in common with every other child of village or
-hamlet, however remote, the name of London had been familiar almost from
-the cradle. He knew not the time when he knew it first; and the idea
-presented by it was that of some great, undefined, and unknown place,
-which had no equal in the world, nor resemblance—(save in that it
-was composed of buildings and endless streets)—to anything he had
-ever seen. It was a vast spectre, without shape, and measureless, looming
-in the misty atmosphere of a doubtful mind, like the ideal pictures of
-cities and the wonderful palaces of gnomes and genii, after reading some
-marvellous Arabian tale. Then, with the rustic inhabitants of every remote
-place, anything uncommon or superior is always presumed to have come from
-London, and to say that it came thence, is at once to confer upon it a
-higher ideal value. Many a worthless trinket brought by some wandering
-pedlar is purchased, and afterwards miraculously preserved from juvenile
-spoliation amidst the wreck of all other toys, merely because it came from
-London. The very appearance in a village of an individual of more than
-usual gentility, startling the bumpkins with a “sight” on some fine
-summer's morning, is of itself taken as presumptive evidence that he very
-probably came from London. Any innovation or improvement in dress or
-manners is promptly and naturally supposed to have had its origin in
-London. London is the place, in short, where everything is great,—where
-everything of the best is made,—where all the first people of the
-world do congregate,—where it is very needful to look sharp about
-you lest your very eyes get picked out without your knowing it until they
-are gone,—where the most cunning thieves are always at your elbow,—where
-everything worth seeing is to be seen, and worth hearing to be heard,—where
-anybody may chance to succeed, though he could succeed nowhere else,—and
-where, finally, for some one or other or all of these causes, every man,
-woman, girl, and boy express a wish to go to before they die.
-</p>
-<p>
-Thus is London generally regarded by the rural people of the provinces;
-and thus was it in degree that Colin thought, as he paced about the quiet
-streets of York. What to do when he should get there he did not know; but
-go somewhere he must. There was still room left for many more in London
-than himself. Accordingly he walked into a coach-office, and, after making
-some inquiries, took his place by a coach which, though it travelled an
-indirect route, had the advantage of being about to start in half an hour.
-That interval he employed in writing another letter home, expressive of
-the intention he had just formed, and stating that he should write again
-as soon as he arrived in London.
-</p>
-<p>
-The public vehicle being now nearly ready, Colin climbed awkwardly up and
-took his seat; and, after all the important preparations incident to such
-an occasion had been duly made, an expert ostler ingeniously twitched off
-the horses' coverings as they were starting, and within a short time Colin
-was whirled away on this his first day of foreign travel.
-</p>
-<p>
-Never having been on a public stage before, Colin felt delighted. The
-pleasant and rapid motion, and the continual change of scenery, almost
-made him wonder why those people who could afford it did not ride on the
-top of a public coach every day of their lives. Village, town, and then
-long spaces of cultivated fields, alternately came on the horizon, and
-were left behind; foot-passengers by the road-side appeared to him almost
-at a standstill, and the speed of such irritable curs as barked and ran
-after the horses, little greater than that of a mole. Towards evening,
-however, these things lost much of their attraction, and he began to grow
-weary. With weariness came despondency, and he almost felt as though he
-was lost.
-</p>
-<p>
-The sun went down somewhere in the direction of the home he had left last
-night. What were his mother and Fanny doing now? What doubt were they not
-in, and what misery enduring through his (to them) unaccountable absence!
-It was evident enough, too, that Palethorpe knew him,—and that his
-design had been found out. What evil reports would they not spread
-concerning him, to the dismay and shame of Fanny and his mother! Mr.
-Lupton, also, might hear them, and perhaps refuse to take any notice of
-his letters; though he himself, were he there, could explain all this to
-everybody's satisfaction. Tears both of sorrow and vexation swam in his
-eyes, and he wished it was but possible the coachman could drive him back
-again. Night came on, and at a great town (Leicester, I believe) two
-flaring lamps were put up, which cast upon the ground a sharp light on
-either side, as though they flew with a pair of fiery wings. Passers-by,
-tree-trunks, and mile-stones shot out of the darkness before, and into
-that behind, almost before they could be seen; while occasionally might be
-observed other bright rayless lights, glancing through the hedges, or
-staring boldly down the road before them, like the eyes of a monstrous
-dragon. Then came the rattle of another coach, a shout of recognition
-between the coachmen, a tip upwards of the whip, and all was dark again.
-The passengers were silent, and Colin grew doubly melancholy. The coachman
-now and then looked round at his fares, as much as to say he very much
-doubted whether he was driving a hearse or not; yet all sat as quiet as
-corpses. He asked “the box” if he were cold? The box said “No,” and then
-turned up his coat-collar, and pretended to go to sleep. The coachman sung
-himself a song, and beat his whip-hand upon his left shoulder to keep the
-blood stirring. The guard shouted to him, and he shouted back again—“The
-bag of corn was to be left at So-and-so, and old Joe was to see and send
-that harness back in the morning.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin took no interest in all this, so he shut his eyes, and, after
-awhile, fell asleep. The horn blowing for a change of horses awoke him
-again. Again he went to sleep, and the same pleasing tune was played in
-his vexed ears, and on the same occasion, repeatedly during the night.
-When morning broke, he was chilled almost to death: his feet felt as
-though undergoing amputation: he could never have believed it was so cold
-in summer at any part of the twenty-four hours as he now found it. The
-night had been fine and dry, and daylight began with only a few thin
-clouds. He longed for a ray of the sun, and watched his increasing light
-with desire unfelt before. As he rose, however, the mists gathered,
-thicker and thicker as it grew lighter. Then they swept like a storm over
-the hills in front, and filled the valleys with a damp fog as thick as any
-in November. At two or three hours after sunrise, all was clear again; and
-he basked delightfully in the burning heat. They now began to pass droves
-of sheep, and herds of cattle, hundreds together, and often recurring, yet
-all bent the same way as themselves: they were going to London to be
-devoured. None seemed to come back again. They ascended a steep hill; and
-to the right Colin saw the longest-bodied church, with the shortest tower
-he had ever seen in his life: it was St. Alban's. Here a man of business,
-escaped from the metropolis the night before, and now fresh from sleep and
-breakfast, and with a “shining morning face,” gave the coachman a familiar
-nod and word, and jumped up, to return to his ledger. The stable-boys
-looked at Colin, and regarding him as a “green 'un,” winked at each other,
-and smiled. The coachman took no notice of him, as being considerably
-beneath his observation. But Colin, without troubling himself concerning
-other people's thoughts of him, looked at the long signs about posting at
-so much per mile, and at those which advertised Messrs. Mangel Wurzel and
-Co's Entire, and wondered what in the world they meant. Another hour or
-two passed, and the road seemed to our hero to be alive with all kinds of
-vehicles describable and nondescript. Dog-horses drawing lumbering old
-coaches, and dog-carts filled with country-baked bread, intermingled with
-spring vehicles, carrying soda-water, and carriers' carts laden with
-crockery, were jumbled together in all the glorious confusion and dust of
-a dry summer morning. Occasionally some butcher's boy, without his hat,
-would drive from amongst them, as though his very life depended on his
-speed, and shoot a-head, until, in character with all of his fraternity,
-he outstripped everybody, and, after the fashion of the good deities of
-the Heathen mythology, vanished in a cloud of his own raising.
-</p>
-<p>
-The coach approached a high archway in the road. Through it Colin saw what
-he took to be a mass of horizontal cloud; and, peering above it in
-solitary grandeur, like one lone rock above a wilderness of ocean, the
-dome of a great cathedral. To the left, on descending the hill, stood what
-he took to be a palace; and still farther on, in Holloway and Islington,
-so many things of a totally new character presented themselves to him,
-that he scarcely believed himself in the same world as he was yesterday.
-The turnpikes, and the Angel Inn, the coaches and cabs, the rabble and
-noise, the screaming of hawkers, the causeways lined with apple-women and
-flower-girls, the running and scrambling of men carrying bundles of
-newspapers, as they bawled to the passengers of outward-bound stages, “<i>Times,
-sir!—Chronicle!—Morning Post!</i>” the swearing of coachmen,
-the thrashing of drovers, the barking of dogs, and the running of
-frightened sheep and over-goaded cattle, formed altogether such a Babel as
-made him for the time utterly forget himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“City, young man, or get down here?” demanded the coachman..
-</p>
-<p>
-“Where are we?” asked Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Islington. Where are you going to?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“London,” replied Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I say, Jim,” remarked the coachman to his friend the guard, “that 's a
-neatish cove now, isn't he, to come here?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wot do I care, d——his eyes! Pick up that basket, and go on,
-without you mean to stop here all day!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Whereupon the driver folded up his waybill, and elbowed his passage
-through a crowd of miserable, perishing, be-coated and be-capped
-night-travellers, who blocked up the causeway with trunks, carpet-bags,
-and hat-boxes. Their pallid visages and heavy eyes, indeed, conveyed to
-the spectator no indifferent idea of so many unfortunate ghosts just
-landed on the far side of the Styx.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So you are for London, young 'un, are you?” asked the coachman, when
-again on his seat.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes, sir,” replied Colin, “and I suppose we are not far from it, now?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Jim!” shouted the coachman, as he leaned half round to catch a glimpse of
-the guard, “this chap wants to know how far he is from London, if you can
-tell him!” And this humorous remark he rounded off with a weasing chuckle,
-that appeared to have its origin in a region far below the thick
-superstratum of coat and shawl with which the coachman himself was
-covered. He then deliberately eyed Colin from head to foot several times,
-with a look of great self-satisfaction, and again inquired,—“Wot did
-your mother send you from home for?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Nobody sent me,” said Colin; “I came of my own accord.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Wot, you 're going i' sarvis, then? or, have you come up to get made Lord
-Mayor?” Our hero had felt sufficiently his own loneliness before; but this
-last observation made him feel it doubly. He coloured deeply.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Come, I didn't mean that,” said the driver,—“it was only a joke to
-raise your spirits. I don't want to spile your feelin's, young man.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I assure you, sir,” replied Colin, with emotion, “I have no place to go
-to, and I do not know a single soul in London. When I get off this coach,
-I shall not know where to turn, nor what to do!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then wot did you come for?” inquired the coachman.
-</p>
-<p>
-“To get a place,” said Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And you don't know where to put up?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Humph! Well, m'happen I can tell you. How much money have you got?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin satisfied the inquirer on this particular; and in return received
-the coachman's promise to direct him to a respectable house, at which he
-might put up until he had done one of two things, either obtained a
-situation or “got himself cleaned out.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XV.
-</h2>
-<h3>
-<i>The “Yorkshire House.”—Its company.—And an adventure.</i>
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the course of some subsequent conversation, Colin's friend the coachman
-ascertained that his “green” passenger came from some place in the county
-of York, and instantaneously concluded, by a peculiar process of
-reasoning, that our hero ought of necessity to put up at a “Yorkshire
-House.” He forthwith recommended him to a tavern of some notoriety in the
-city, backing his recommendation with the assurance that, as he was but
-raw in London, it would be better for him to be amongst his own
-countrymen.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the “Yorkshire House,” then, we will suppose him. His first business,
-after having refreshed himself, was to call for ink and paper, and indite
-an epistle to Squire Lupton, giving him not only an explicit statement of
-the cause of his precipitate retreat from Bram-leigh, and his consequent
-inability to attend at the Hall on the appointed day, but also detailing
-the horrible scene of the lawyer's confession respecting the situation of
-James Woodruff, which had led to his recent attempt, and compelled that
-retreat. This being done, and duly despatched, he hastily prepared
-himself, fevered and confused in brain as he was by the long
-night-journey, to take a turn in the streets. He longed, as every stranger
-does who first enters this mighty city, to wander among its endless maze
-of houses, and witness the vastness of its resources. He passed down one
-of the by-streets into Cheapside; wondered at the numbers of caravans and
-carts, the coaches and cabs, which blocked themselves to a temporary
-stand-still in the streets branching from either side; marvelled what all
-the vehicles that shot along could be employed for; where the contrary and
-cross currents of human beings could all possibly be setting in; or how
-the enormous evidences of almost inconceivable wealth, displayed on all
-sides, could ever have been thus accumulated. As he ruminated, the crowd
-every now and then half spun him round, now one way, now another, in the
-endeavour to pass or to outstrip him. Some belated clerk, hurrying to his
-duty, put a forcible but inoffensive hand upon his shoulder, and pushed
-him aside; the butcher's boy (and butchers' boys are <i>always</i> in a
-hurry) perhaps poked the projecting corner of his wooden tray or the shank
-of a leg of mutton into his ear; the baker drove a loaf into his ribs; the
-porter knocked his hat off with a box on his knot, accompanying the action
-with the polite expression of “By your leave;” the merchant pushed it into
-the gutter in order to avoid treading upon it, and the policeman, standing
-by the lamp-post, smiled as sedately as a wooden doll, whose lower jaw is
-pulled down with a string, and, when advice was useless, kindly told him
-to “take care of his hat.”
- </p>
-<p>
-By the time he had passed through Fleet Street, and had returned along
-Oxford Street and Holborn, his head was in a whirl. In the course of a few
-short hours his senses had received more numerous and striking impressions
-than had been made upon them probably during the whole course of his
-previous life. London seemed to him a Babel, and himself one of those who
-were lost utterly in the confusion of tongues,—tongues not of men
-merely, but of iron and adamant, rattling together their horrible jargon,
-until his ears sounded and reverberated like two shells beside his head,
-and his brain became bewildered as if with (that which he had happily
-never yet experienced) a night's excess.
-</p>
-<p>
-About seven o'clock in the evening he returned to his inn. Having placed
-himself quietly in a retired corner of the parlour of the “Yorkshire
-House,” and immediately beneath a sloping skylight extending the whole
-breadth of the room,—a position which very strongly suggested the
-idea that he was sitting under a cucumber frame,—Colin amused
-himself by making silent remarks upon the scene before him. Sundry very
-miscellaneous-looking personages formed the principal figures of the
-picture, and were relieved by numerous accessaries of mutton-chops,
-biscuits, broiled kidneys, pints of stout, and glasses of gin-punch; the
-whole being enveloped in an atmosphere of such dense smoke, as gave a very
-shadowy and mysterious character to every object seen through it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's a fly on your nose, Mr. Prince,” remarked a lean hungry-looking
-fellow; “a blue-bottle, sir, just on the end there.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The individual thus addressed was a sinister-looking man, who, it
-afterwards appeared was a native of Leeds, in which he had formerly
-carried on business, and contrived to scrape together a large fortune. In
-mercantile phraseology, he was a “thirty thousand pound man” and, though
-an ignorant and surly fellow, on account of his property he was looked up
-to by everybody as ignorant as himself. On hearing his friend Hobson's
-remark, Mr. Prince suddenly seized the end of his own nose, and grasped it
-in his hand, as he was in the regular habit of doing whenever the fly was
-mentioned, while with a very shallow assumption of facetiousness he
-replied, “Then I 've got him to-night, by Go'!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Every individual in the company who knew his business properly now forced
-a laugh at the great man's witty method of doing things, while Hobson
-replied, “I think not, Mr. Prince. He's too 'fly' for you again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Look in your hand, Mr. Prince,” suggested a thick-headed fellow from the
-East-Riding, not unlike a bullock in top-boots. Mr. Prince thanked him for
-the hint; but declined adopting it, on the score that if he opened his
-hand he should lose him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Put him in Hobson's glass,” said another.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” replied Hobson, “as we all know Mr. Prince is very poor, I 'll
-give him sixpence if he will.”
- </p>
-<p>
-This hint at Mr. Prince's poverty was exceedingly relished both by the
-Prince himself and all the toadeaters about him. Its ingenuity seemed to
-delight them, as did also the reply made by the great man himself. “I
-doubt whether you ever had a sixpence to spare in your life.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Another mechanical laugh was here put in at Hobson's expense, which that
-gentleman not relishing quite so well as he would have done had the
-insinuation been made at the expense of any other person, he repelled it
-by challenging Mr. Prince to produce, there and then, as many sovereigns
-upon the table as any other man in the company. This touched Mr. Prince in
-a delicate place, and he growled out with a horrible oath, that he could
-buy Hobson and all his family up with only the simple interest of his
-capital. At the same time he put his hand in his breeches-pocket, and drew
-forth a broad-bellied greasy black pocket-book, which he slapped heavily
-on the table, as he swore there was more money in it than Hobson had ever
-even so much as seen together before. Hobson flatly denied it, and offered
-to bet glasses round that it did not contain twenty pounds more than his
-own.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Done!” roared Mr. Prince, as his clenched fist fell on the table, with a
-weight which made all the pipes and glasses upon it dance a momentary
-hornpipe. A comparison of pocket-books was immediately instituted. Mr.
-Prince's was declared to contain one hundred and seventy bank-notes more
-than Hobson's, and Hobson was called upon for the grog. This being more
-than he expected, he endeavoured to evade the bet altogether, by
-insinuating that he should not believe Mr. Prince's notes were good,
-unless he looked at them himself. Several voices cried together “No, no!”
- and the rest vented their opinions in loud exclamations of “Shame, shame!—Too
-bad!” and the like.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Prince felt the indignity offered to his pocket-book most keenly. He
-looked unutterable things at Hobson, and bellowed loud enough to have been
-heard as far as Lad Lane, that he would not trust a single farthing of his
-money in the hands of such a needy, starving, penniless bankrupt as he
-was. Many of those present felt that this language was not exactly
-warrantable; but there were no cries of shame in favour of Mr. Hobson.
-</p>
-<p>
-At this interesting period of the discussion, Colin's eyes chanced to be
-fixed very earnestly on the countenance of Mr. Prince, which that
-gentleman remarking, he forthwith turned suddenly on the young man with
-this abrupt demand:—
-</p>
-<p>
-“What are <i>you</i> staring at, eh? Did you never see a man's face
-before.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” very quietly replied Colin; “I have seen many <i>men's</i> faces
-before.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What do you mean by that, eh?” cried Prince. “What does he mean?”
- addressing the company. “Come, come, young man, I 'll soon teach you how
-to know your betters.” And he strode towards Colin, with the apparent
-intention of practically illustrating the system he maintained. The latter
-instantly rose on his feet to meet him. All eyes were now turned towards
-these two, while the squabble with Hobson appeared for the time to be
-wholly forgotten.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Beg my pardon, sir!” bellowed Prince.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I shall beg no man's pardon whom I have neither injured nor insulted,”
- coolly answered Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I say, beg my pardon, sir!” repeated Prince. “Do you mean to take the law
-of me if I strike you? Say no, and I 'll knock you down.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No!” replied Colin, “I shall appeal to no law except that of my own
-force. If you strike me, I shall probably strike you again, old as you
-are.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Smash went Mr. Prince's fist at Colin's face; but the latter parried the
-blow adroitly, and by a cool “counter” succeeded in pressing Mr. Prince's
-nose very much closer to his face than nature herself had intended it to
-be. Cries of “Shame!” again arose against Colin, and some attempts were
-made to seize and turn him out. These, however, were prevented by other
-portions of the company, who exclaimed loudly in favour of fair play, and
-against any interference. In the mean time Mr. Prince grew furious, and
-raised his stick to strike Colin with the determination of a butcher about
-to knock a bull on the head. The youth again parried the intended blow,
-and turned the weapon aside by receiving it in a slanting direction on his
-right arm. In order to close with him on the opposite side, Prince now
-jumped on the table; but this manouvre the young man avoided, and at the
-same instant a shower of broken glass fell upon him. Colin's enraged
-assailant's stick had gone through the lid of the “city cucumber-frame,”
- and some half dozen fractured squares attested his powers of mischief. A
-loud laugh echoed from every part of the room, which put Mr. Prince in a
-perfect whirlwind of passion. He plunged at his young opponent as though
-he meditated crushing him by the mere weight of his body; but as the
-coolness of the latter enabled him to take advantage of the slightest
-circumstance in his favour, he slipped aside at the critical moment, and
-his antagonist's head went with the power of a paviour's rammer against
-the wall. This terminated the fight. Mr. Prince lay on the floor, and
-groaned with pain and vexation, until he was picked up, and placed, almost
-as inanimate as a sack of potatoes, in his chair.
-</p>
-<p>
-In an instant afterwards a gentleman, dressed in a dark-blue great-coat,
-and who, as Colin thought, was so very rich in that particular article of
-clothing as to lay himself under the necessity of having them numbered on
-the collar, made his appearance in the room; and at the instance of the
-landlord stepped forwards, and collared our hero, with the intention of
-conveying him to the station-house. Against this proceeding several
-friendly individuals protested, and joined vehemently in the opinions
-expressed by a stout young Welshman, who sat with a pipe in his mouth,
-that “Py cot! it was too bad to meddle with him instead of the old one.”
- This timely interference saved Colin for the present, and the policeman
-was obliged to retire.
-</p>
-<p>
-Deeply fatigued as our hero was from previous want of rest, he early
-retired to his apartment, and soon fell into a slumber of many hours'
-duration. On rising in the morning, what was his astonishment to find a
-roll of paper like bank-notes lying near him, for the presence of which he
-knew not how to account?
-</p>
-<p>
-After some hesitation he dressed, and rang for the servant.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That roll of paper,” said he, when she appeared, “lay on my chair when I
-woke. It was not there last night, and it does not belong to me. How it
-came there I know not. The papers appear to be bank-notes. You had better
-take them to your master, and inquire whether any person in the house has
-lost them.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The girl looked surprised; but took them up, and followed his advice.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very soon after Colin heard a hue and cry raised below-stairs; and after a
-few minutes, a rush of people towards his room.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is this him?” demanded a man, with a belt round his body, and a glazed
-rim on the edge of his hat-crown.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/168m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="168m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/168.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-“That's him!” replied the servant-girl. “He gave them to me.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Come, young man, I want you,” said the policeman, seizing Colin roughly.
-“Come along with me.” And, in spite of all his entreaties and
-protestations, he was harried away. It appeared that Mr. Prince, who
-occupied a room on the same floor as his young antagonist, had identified
-the notes as his own, and declared that Colin must have robbed him.
-</p>
-<p>
-After the lapse of a very short period, Colin stood before the grave
-magisterial authorities sitting at Guildhall, with Mr. Prince as his
-accuser. The charge having been heard, Colin replied to it with all the
-fearlessness, determination, and indignation, which the consciousness of
-innocence is sure to inspire. He related the occurrences of the previous
-evening, and concluded by expressing his firm belief that the money had
-been placed upon his chair in order to bring him into trouble. When
-searched, ten sovereigns and some silver had been found upon him. He was
-asked to account for the possession of so much money? To this question he
-flatly refused to answer, as well as those bearing upon his own character
-and employment; who he was; where he came from; and what place he had left
-when he arrived at the Yorkshire House.
-</p>
-<p>
-In this dilemma an idea struck the subtle brain of Mr. Prince. He felt now
-perfectly secure of his victim. He owned the sovereigns also, and declared
-they were part of the money which had been abstracted during the night
-from his pocket-book. Here, however, he overstepped the mark. Colin
-instantly requested that the landlord of the inn might be called to
-witness that the money was in his possession at the time he arrived there,
-and many hours before it could even be pretended that he saw the
-individual who now stood forwards as his accuser. To this fact the
-landlord honestly bore testimony,—a piece of evidence which caused
-the face of Colin's accuser to assume the tint of a thundercloud with the
-sunshine on it—he looked black and white at the same time. Boots
-also declared that on going up-stairs to leave the gentlemen's boots at
-their doors, he saw some person come out of the young man's room, who
-certainly bore very little resemblance to the occupant of that room
-himself. After some further investigation Mr. Prince was accommodated with
-a reprimand from the bench, and the case was dismissed.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XVI.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin makes an acquaintance, and is put in a way of being introduced to
-his sister, a “public singer.”</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE temptations of the Yorkshire House were not sufficiently great to
-induce Colin to remain in it after the conclusion of the foregoing
-adventure. Having returned to discharge his shot, he bade good b'ye to the
-place altogether, and again betook himself to the streets, with the double
-idea of looking about him, and of seeking out another home. In the course
-of the afternoon he contrived to pick up an acquaintance at a small public
-house where he called, in the person of a tall, thin young man, not unlike
-a pea-rod split half-way up: clad in a blue coat, partially out at elbows,
-and so short in the arms that his wrists and great red hands hung out full
-a quarter of a yard, like fly-flappers; while his trowsers,—an
-old-fashioned, striped, summer pair,—allowed his ankles to descend
-below them, in no contemptible imitation of a pair of stilts. His sallow
-countenance strongly resembled in shape a boy's humming-top. From certain
-conversations which Colin had with him, it appeared that this miserable
-being, whose name was Wintlebury, was but about two-and-twenty years of
-age, and had been brought up as assistant to a poor painter of
-window-blinds, scenes for licensed concert-taverns, and such like, then
-resident in some obscure back street near the Commercial Road. As his
-master was himself half-starved upon the productions of his genius, the
-lad—who came in but second—very naturally starved outright;
-and one night, in the mere desperation of hunger, fell upon some chops,
-which had been prepared for the family's supper, and devoured them. On the
-discovery of this atrocious act, he was turned out of the house at ten
-o'clock, and left to wander about the streets. His only friend was his
-sister, who sang and performed some minor parts at the threepenny tavern
-concerts, so numerous at the eastern end of the town; and whose finances,
-unfortunately, were not in a much better condition than his own. Sickness
-had ruined her; and she paid much more to keep herself alive, than her
-living ordinarily cost her: he therefore could not find in his heart to
-apply to her. That night he walked the streets, till, tired and worn out,
-he sat down about two o'clock on the steps of Guildhall, and fell asleep.
-Here he was apprehended and lodged in the watch-house; taken to the
-police-office the next day, and committed to prison for sleeping in the
-open air;—a sentence the term of which had expired but a short time
-before.
-</p>
-<p>
-As Colin had yet a round sum left, and, as the day advanced, began to feel
-something like the want of a dinner, he adopted the advice of Wintlebury,
-and walked with him into one of those bow-windowed shops in which a
-display of greasy-looking hams, varnished pork-pies, and dry boiled-beef,
-is usually made; while a savoury steam ascends through the bars of the
-area-gate, as a sort of hint to the nose of the 'passer-by that in the
-region above he may make his dinner. Having regaled himself and his
-companion with an ample repast, Colin discharged the bill, and they
-wandered into the town. As neither of them knew where to put up at night,
-Wintlebury, advised Colin, for economy's sake, to look out for a private
-lodging; and recommended him to apply at the identical house where his own
-sister lodged; as he thought the mistress most probably would have one
-sort of room or another unoccupied.
-</p>
-<p>
-To this proposal Colin consented. They walked in the direction of
-Shoreditch, and did not halt until they arrived at the door of a house in
-the Mile End Road.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All right!” said Colin's companion,—“there's a paper in the
-window.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Just as Wintlebury had ceased to agitate the knocker, Colin—whose
-eyes were downwards—saw a dirty face popped close to the panes of
-the low kitchen window, with a pair of white eyes turned up to catch a
-glimpse of the applicants.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Popple soon made her appearance; and having ascertained the object of
-the visit, proceeded to conduct them into the house. As the party ascended
-the stairs, Mrs. Popple informed Colin that he would find her upper room a
-most delightful retreat. He might there read his book in peace; or, if he
-were so disposed, might play his flute, violin, trombone, tambourine, or
-even drum, without fear of complaint from any of the other lodgers, who
-really agreed so well together, that it was almost like paradise itself to
-live in such a social community. The window of it also overlooked all the
-backs of the surrounding houses, while a skylight in front opened directly
-upon the heavens themselves. Colin replied, that he neither played on any
-musical instrument, nor did he particularly admire such heavens as he had
-hitherto seen over London. He did not think the attic was likely to suit
-him. As he threw a careless eye around, he observed a black
-stump-bedstead, one decent chair, and three rush-bottomed ditto; while in
-one corner stood an old oak chest, made, probably, in the early days of
-George the First, and large enough almost to be converted, if occasion
-required, into a family burying-place. On the whitewashed walls were
-scratched with the artistical finger-nails of previous occupants various
-ill-proportioned figures.
-</p>
-<p>
-Colin at length decided to become “the monarch of all he surveyed” for the
-space of one week. In the mean time Wintlebury had taken the opportunity
-of seeing his sister, and had received two free orders from her for a
-concert at the Condor Tavern that evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XVII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>A Peep at a Tavern Concert.—Colin falls in love, parts with his
-money, and gets into difficulties.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE entrance to the “saloon” of the Tavern where the Concert was to be
-held lay through a dram-shop. As Colin and his companion passed the bar,
-the latter familiarly recognised several shabby-genteel and
-dissipated-looking young men, who stood there drinking gin-and-water, and
-talking exquisite nonsense to a pretty-faced toy-like bar-maid, whose
-principal recommendation with her master consisted in the skill with which
-she contrived to lure and detain at the bar all such simpletons as usually
-spent the greater portion of their spare time amidst such scenes. By the
-side of the passage, and near the door of the saloon, was pasted up a
-small paper, on which was the following announcement: “On Sundays,
-sixpence, value given.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The “value given” consisted of about a dozen spoonsful of either gin or
-rum, with very hot water, to make it appear strong,—or of a pot of
-ale or stout, at the discretion of the customer.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very much to Colin's astonishment,—as well it might be, considering
-that he had never before seen aught of the kind more extensive than a
-country inn,—he was suddenly ushered by his companion into a
-“saloon,” containing about from three to five hundred persons, arranged on
-forms placed across the room, each form having before it a narrow raised
-ledge, not unlike those sometimes seen in the pews of churches, on which
-to lodge the respective pots, bottles, and glasses of the company. Down
-the avenues, which ran longitudinally, for the convenience of passage,
-certain individuals were calling shrimps, screwed up in conical white
-packages of one penny each; while the perfume, if such it could be called,
-from some scores of pipes and cigars, ascended in multitudinous little
-clouds above the heads of the company, and covered as with a filmy
-atmosphere the frescoed landscapes with which the walls above were
-bountifully decorated. At the remote end of the room appeared a stage and
-proscenium on a small scale, after the fashion of a Minor Theatre.
-</p>
-<p>
-Shortly after Colin and his friend had taken their seats, a gentleman
-commenced playing an overture upon an instrument which had been highly
-admired there ever since its introduction, as it formed within itself a
-magnificent combination of organ, piano, clarionet, and bagpipe, and
-possessed besides the additional advantage of occasionally producing tones
-at its own will and pleasure to which those of no other instrument in the
-world might be compared, and of which no adequate conception can be
-formed, unless the reader has enjoyed the exquisite delight of hearing a
-“fantasia extempore” played on the hinges of some unoiled door, as it
-gradually, and in varying time, declined from a wide open position to the
-door-cheek.
-</p>
-<p>
-As I have not the most distant intention of wearying either the reader or
-myself with a detailed description of the night's entertainment, I shall
-merely observe, that after the curtain drew up, a succession of songs,
-comic, patriotic, and sentimental, was introduced, and sung by various
-members of the professional company. Amongst these appeared one, on seeing
-whom Wintlebury exclaimed to his companion, “That's my sister!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin looked. A beautiful-complexioned girl was on the stage,—bright-eyed,
-lively, and attractively attired in the showy costume of a theatrical
-Neapolitan maid. After a brief prelude on the famous
-Orchestræolophonagpipe, she sung, apparently not without effort, but with
-the most bewitching assumption of modesty telling its troubles to the
-moon, a song the burden of which ran “<i>Too many lovers will puzzle a
-maid!</i>”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Encore!—encore!” enthusiastically cried a gentleman, who was
-sitting a few seats in advance, as he clapped his hands madly together,
-and tossed his legs at random under the seat before him, “admirable,
-bi'gar!—me quite consent vith dat. Too many <i>is</i> too much!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hangcoor!” repeated a young sailor, considerably more than half-seas
-over, as he unconsciously re-charged his pipe, as though he were ramming
-down the wadding of a gun, “hangcoor!—Go it agen, Bess, or whatever
-your name is. Hangcoor!”
- </p>
-<p>
-This word, under a dozen different pronunciations, ran round the room,
-while Miss Harriet Wintlebury made a profound courtesy, and proceeded to
-repeat her song.
-</p>
-<p>
-As Colin gazed, and gazed again, turned away his eyes, and as instantly
-fixed them upon the same beautiful object again, his bosom burned, and his
-cheeks grew flushed,—he felt as though in the presence of a being
-whom he could think scarcely inferior to the angels—at least, he had
-never in his life seen <i>woman</i> as she is before. For what were the
-simple beings under that name whom he had met in the out-of-the-way
-country nook he had so recently left? What was his late mistress, Miss
-Sowersoft?—what the maids on the farm?—what even Fanny
-herself?—mere plain, dull, plodding, lifeless creatures of the
-feminine gender, and nothing more. But this enchantress!—his heart
-leaped up, and in that one moment he felt more of the deep yearning of
-love than ever in the course of his whole life he had felt before.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let us go nearer,” he whispered to his companion; and in the next minute
-they were forcing their way down one of the passages between the forms
-towards the other end of the room. Before they had succeeded in obtaining
-a seat on the last form, close under the stage-lamps, Miss Harriet had
-concluded her melody, and retired amidst considerable applause. Until the
-period of her reappearance the time occupied by other performers seemed to
-Colin endless. Under other circumstances, the novelty and freshness of
-such an entertainment would have beguiled his attention deeply, and
-resolved hours into the seeming space of but a few minutes; but now the
-sense of pleasure derived from this source was rendered dull and pointless
-by comparison with that far keener delight, that tumultuous throng of
-hopeful passions, which had so suddenly and strangely taken possession of
-his bosom. At length she came again,—he started, astonished. Could
-it be the same? The clear bright complexion—(or what had seemed at
-the further end of the room to be so)—now looked opaque and earthy;
-the white was dead white, and the red as abruptly red as though St.
-Anthony had been busy with his pencil, patching those cheeks with fire;
-while the substratum of bone and flesh looked worn into a shape of anxious
-pain, that gave the lie direct and palpable to the colourable pretensions
-of the surface. And then the handsome bust, which at a distance seemed so
-beautiful, now appeared a most miserable artistical mockery of nature; and
-the fixed meaningless gaze,—the mouth formally extended in order to
-display the teeth,—the dead lack-lustre stare at the remote end of
-the room, calculated to produce an impression on the more distant portion
-of the audience,—all combined deeply and strongly to impress the
-horrible conviction on the mind, that this poor creature, in spite of all
-assumptions and decorations to the contrary, was a <i>very poor</i>,
-worn-out, deplorable creature indeed! It forced upon the spectator
-something like the idea of a death's head endeavouring to be merry,—a
-skull fitted with glass eyes, and covered with a thin painted mask of
-parchment, striving to laugh and look happy, in order to be consistent
-with the laughter and the happiness around it. Add to this the hollow
-faint voice,—(the mere echo of the sound it once had been,)—pumped
-up from lungs that seemed to have lost all power,—to have decayed
-until scarcely any portion remained,—and we shall feel impressed, as
-Colin was, with a fearful, almost a terrible, sense of the poor uses to
-which humanity is sometimes put, and of the deep wretchedness often
-existing among those whose occupation in life is to <i>look</i> gay,
-whatever they may feel.
-</p>
-<p>
-In truth, consumption was feeding on her, seemingly deep and irremediable.
-Yet she struggled on: what else could she? Still she strove, still
-fulfilled her occupation every night, still sung, still tried to look
-merry, although her heart was all out of heart, and her bosom was filled
-with fear and anxiety from the dread sense of approaching death—too
-surely at hand—and she unprepared! Perhaps to come to her on that
-very stage,—perhaps <i>then!</i> And all this to gain a morsel of
-daily bread!
-</p>
-<p>
-Although reflections of this nature crowded on Colin's mind in a heavy
-throng, as he gazed on the poor made-up form before him, still he could
-not entirely free himself from the impression which her appearance had
-previously produced upon him. That which was artificial, and affected to
-others, was not so to his perceptions, for his inexperience would not
-allow him to see it. The appearance of modesty was to him real modesty; of
-grace, was grace; of lightheartedness and joy, as real as though a single
-care had never entered that bosom since the day it first stemmed the rude
-tide of the world. And as for the rest,—just as with every other
-imperfection which may exist in the object of any lover's hopes—so
-was it with hers. Through familiarity they were soon overlooked; and, like
-the shadows on the moon, though they chequered, they did not extinguish
-the general light.
-</p>
-<p>
-At the conclusion of the performance Mr. Wintlebury borrowed ten shillings
-of Colin,—promising to pay him again as soon as he could get into
-work,—and they parted for the evening. Our hero returned to his
-humble bed in Mrs. Popple's garret, to pass a restless night amidst
-strangely-mingled visions of tavern concerts and beautiful singing ladies.
-</p>
-<p>
-As, in his present state of feeling, there was nothing which in his heart
-Colin so much desired as an opportunity of obliging his second-floor
-neighbour, Miss Wintlebury, it luckily happened that in the course of a
-very short time she failed not to afford him various opportunities of so
-doing, having in all probability been taught her cue by the brother. After
-some trifling requests, such as borrowing tea, &c., she at last
-ventured, though very reluctantly indeed, to ask the loan, just for three
-days, of four pounds fifteen, if he <i>could</i> possibly do her that
-great obligation, in order to satisfy the impudent demands of the
-apothecary, the tea-dealer, the baker, and the butcher, who severally and
-respectively had peremptorily cut off the supplies.
-</p>
-<p>
-All these friendly applications Colin responded to with unparalleled
-promptitude, although the last one so very materially enlarged the hollow
-of his purse, that he began to marvel how he himself should contrive to
-clear his way as far as to the end of the next fortnight.
-</p>
-<p>
-This position of affairs somewhat aroused him from the idle day-dream in
-which he had been indulging. It was time, high time, that he set about
-doing something to earn a subsistence; for, besides the amount he had thus
-expended in supplying the wants of others, he had also lessened his stock
-very rapidly by attending nightly at the concert-room to hear his
-mistress's voice, which he thought the finest in the world, and to rejoice
-over the popular applause with which she there seldom failed to be
-greeted. For, singular as it may appear, he had never yet met with her in
-their own house, nor exchanged a single word with her in private upon any
-occasion whatever. His personal introduction yet remained to be made.
-</p>
-<p>
-Several subsequent days he spent in various futile endeavours to obtain
-employment. Some, who otherwise would have engaged him, wanted a character
-from his last place. He had none to give; and, therefore, was denied the
-opportunity of earning one. Others required a person partially acquainted
-with their business; and so his services could not be rendered available.
-Meantime he had not neglected to call once or twice at the Yorkshire
-House, and inquire whether any letter had arrived there directed for him.
-No. The Squire had not written in reply to the letter he had despatched
-from that place, and all hope of deriving assistance from that quarter
-seemed, of course, entirely banished. “Doubtless,'” thought he, “Mr.
-Lupton has heard some bad accounts of me, and has wholly given me up.” In
-this conjecture our hero was, however, totally mistaken. Mr. Lupton had
-not yet returned from the excursion of a few weeks' duration, of which he
-spoke when Colin was at the Hall; and, consequently, had not seen the
-letter in question. Neither, had he done so, would his return have been of
-any avail in this particular instance; since it most unfortunately
-happened for Colin that on the day but one following the arrival of his
-epistle, it so fell out that Doctor Rowel was called to attend the
-Squire's housekeeper upon the attack of a sudden illness. On this
-occasion, while left in the drawing-room alone, the doctor's eye chanced
-to alight upon a number of unopened letters lying on the table, in
-readiness for the owner of the mansion on his arrival; and amongst them he
-espied one, on the corner of which was written the name of “Colin Clink.”
- He hastily took it up; stole a glance at its contents by shining it
-against the sun; and, finding it to contain certain very serious
-statements touching himself, he took a bold step at once, and, regardless
-of consequences, put it into the fire. Before the servant returned to
-conduct him up stairs, every vestige of the letter had totally
-disappeared. Thus had Doctor Rowel not only for the time being saved
-himself, but also obtained that knowledge of which he stood in much need,—the
-knowledge of Colin's place of retreat and particular address. Of these he
-instantly resolved to make the earliest possible use.
-</p>
-<p>
-Disappointed in all his expectations, and defeated in every endeavour to
-obtain the means of making a livelihood, Colin returned to his little
-domicile, and on the spur of the moment wrote a very dolorous letter to
-his mother and Fanny, in which he set forth all his recent disasters, and
-the trouble he was now in, adding, that unless something or other to his
-advantage turned up very shortly he should scarcely know which way to turn
-himself for a living.
-</p>
-<p>
-And yet, when he thought the matter more calmly over again, after the
-letter was despatched, and could not be recalled, he plucked up heart, and
-for another evening at least drove away care by retiring to the Condor
-Tavern, and taking his accustomed place within easy sight of the adorable
-Harriet Wintlebury.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XVIII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin is pursued, and who his pursuer was.—A strange set-out, and
-a very pathetic parting.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>URING the time the transactions recently related were progressing, a
-strange hubbub had been raised at Whinmoor touching Colin s disappearance.
-Palethorpe waxed desperate, and Miss Sowersoft's temper curdled like an
-embryo cheese. Dire vengeance against him was threatened. York Castle and
-bread and water were the mildest things prescribed for him; although, in
-their opinion he well deserved a halter. Mrs. Clink and Fanny had been
-heartily abused by Palethorpe for having “backed him up in burglary, and
-afterwards connived at his running away from his work.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The fact was, this worthy felt doubly enraged because he had missed an
-excellent chance of having a shot at him, and now swore that, if ever he
-could lay hands upon him again, he would very nearly bray him into a pulp.
-</p>
-<p>
-At this portentous period it was that Dr. Rowel made his appearance at the
-farm, (after his discovery of Colin's letter at Kiddal Hall,) and by all
-the arguments in his power raised the wrath of its inhabitants still
-higher against the young man, and even went so far as to promise, that as
-he was himself also an injured party, he had no objection to pay half
-Pale-thorpe's expenses, if he would go after the culprit to London,—whither,
-according to certain private information he had received, Colin had
-directed his flight. Palethorpe snapped at the offer as a hungry wolf
-might at a bone. He had long wished to see London, and a capital
-opportunity was here presented. He vowed that he would ferret out the lad
-before he came back again, though he should dive to the bottom of the
-Thames for him; and proposed to set out on the following day, to avoid
-farther loss of time.
-</p>
-<p>
-This proposal being acceded to, nearly the whole night was expended by the
-attentive mistress in rigging him out for his journey. The chaise-cart was
-got ready early next morning to convey Palethorpe and his luggage to the
-coach-office at Leeds; and an old half-pint bottle filled with brandy and
-water, together with immense sandwiches, were secretly inveigled by Miss
-Sowersoft into his top-coat pocket.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having duly inquired whether everything was ready, Mr. Palethrope was
-called into the parlour by his mistress, who having shut the door, set her
-candle down on the table, (for it was not yet daylight,) and began to talk
-to him in a tone more than usually serious.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You are going,” said she, “a long journey,—a very long journey. I
-hope to heaven we shall see you safe back again. I'm sure I shall hardly
-sleep o'nights for knowing you are not in the house; but wherever you are,
-now do remember what I say, and take care of yourself. We don't know what
-different places are till we see 'em; and I'm sure I almost feel afraid—when
-it comes to this last minnit—” Here she tucked up the corner of her
-apron, and placed it in close proximity with the corner of her eye. “I
-raelly feel afraid of trusting you there by yourself.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Palethorpe was here about to explain at large his own capabilities for
-governing his own rampant self, had not Miss Sowersoft derived additional
-vigour from the attempted interruption, and proceeded:
-</p>
-<p>
-“I know you are plenty old enough to keep out of harm's way,—that is
-certain; but then there are so many dangers that nobody can foresee, and
-temptations hung out beyond any single man's capacity to resist—I am
-afraid. I'm sure it would take a great load off of my mind if I was going
-along with you,—a very heavy load, indeed. Ay, dear!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, never heed, meesis,” replied Pale-thorpe; “I shall get back as safe
-and sound as a rotten pear. A rotten pear, says I!—no, I mean as
-sound as a roach—trust me for that. I ar'n't going a-gate of no
-temptations, that's flat. Bless me! I should think there's both ale
-enough, and opportunities for folks to get married enough, i' Yorkshire,
-without goin' all the road to Lunnun for 'em!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well,” replied his mistress, “you are very discretionary at home. I say
-nothing about that; but perhaps, you know, when you 're surrounded by so
-many things to distract your considerations, you <i>might</i>—a—a—.
-I'm sure I hardly know how to express myself fully; but all I mean to say
-is, that after all, you know,—and do as we will to the contrary, yet
-somehow, as I was going to say, men will be men sometimes, and women
-women!”
- </p>
-<p>
-As Miss Sowersoft uttered this very sagacious remark, she began to sob
-rather hysterically, and seemingly to demand the support of Mr.
-Palethorpe's arm. This he promptly offered; a few more words in a
-consolatory tone escaped his lips; the maid in the passage outside thought
-she heard a sound something like a kiss; and in another minute the head
-farming-man hurried desperately out. He was afraid of being too late at
-Leeds, and in his hurry to rush through the dairy to get into the
-chaise-cart which stood in the yard, he kicked over a pan of new milk, and
-plunged his other foot into a tub of hot hog-wash, both of which had just
-before been placed upon the ground by the said maid.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dang your stuff!” exclaimed he, dashing his foot against the overturned
-vessel; “what, in the divil's name, isn't there room enough in Yorkshire
-to set your things down, without cramming 'em under people's feet like
-that?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The maid laughed in his face, and Miss Sowersoft called lovingly after him
-not to mind it; while Palethorpe leaped into the vehicle, and ordered Abel
-to drive as fast as he could into Briggate.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the following day he opened his wondering eyes for the first time upon
-London.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XIX.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Curiously illustrates the old saying, that a man may “go farther to
-fare worse.”</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O sooner had Mr. Palethorpe arrived, than following Dr. Rowel's
-directions, he marched off in a very business-like manner to the Yorkshire
-House, and inquired for Colin Clink. No such person was there; although
-one of the female servants told him she believed a young man of that name
-had made a short stay at the house some weeks ago, and had called once or
-twice since; but he had left long ago, and gone they knew not whither.
-</p>
-<p>
-This information brought the pursuer to a dead stop. His scent was lost
-all at once; and as he had not made provision out of the wits of other
-people for any disappointment of this kind, while his own were very
-backward in coming to his assistance, he suddenly felt that all was over.
-Moreover he found London to be a very different place to what he had
-expected; and for a stranger to set about finding a lost man there, seemed
-worse even than hunting for a needle in a bottle of straw. Instead,
-therefore, of troubling himself just then any farther about the matter, he
-thought he would first sleep upon it, and in the mean time go about and
-see the sights. First he wended his way to the top of the Monument, having
-previously very carefully perused the inscription as its base. After that
-he ascended into the lantern of St. Paul's. He then travelled down to the
-Tower, and very narrowly escaped walking into the ditch just where there
-chanced to be a rail broken, while his eyes were turned up in curious
-scrutiny of the White Tower. He much longed to go in, but dared not, for
-fear of the soldiers, as he was not hitherto aware that it was guarded so
-stoutly by a military force. When he got back into St. Martins le Grand,
-and looked up at the Post Office clock, he was about to pull out his watch
-and compare dials, but, to his dismay, found that somebody had saved him
-the trouble by pulling it out before him. In his confusion he
-instinctively endeavoured to wipe his nose, but discovered that one of his
-best handkerchiefs was gone too. In this double dilemma he stared about
-him some minutes very oddly, and not a little to the amusement of certain
-cabmen, who stood hard by observing his motions with visages wide awake.
-He began to be afraid of remaining any longer in the street, and
-accordingly hurried back to the Yorkshire House, where he endeavoured to
-console himself under his losses by taking an extra quantity of Burton ale
-and gin-and-water.
-</p>
-<p>
-These little bits of experience made him afterwards so very cautious, that
-whenever he walked out he was continually engaged in cramming his hands,
-first one and then the other, into his coat-pockets, then into his
-breeches, in order to be assured that his money was safe; for he held it
-as a maxim, that no man who knew what he was about would leave his cash in
-a box which anybody might unlock, at a public house where strangers were
-running in and out, and up and down stairs, all day long. He accordingly,
-for the greater safety, carried his whole stock about with him.
-</p>
-<p>
-In this manner he wiled away nearly a week, waiting chances of meeting
-with Colin accidentally, and hoping that he might luckily call again at
-the Yorkshire House; in which case he had made provision for securing him,
-by leaving word that, if he <i>did</i> come, he was to be told that a very
-well-known acquaintance from the country had arrived, who wished to see
-him upon most particular business. But time passed on, his trap caught
-nothing, and, after eight or nine days' stay, he found himself no
-forwarder, save in the amount of wonderful things he had seen, and the
-quantity of money he had expended, than he was when he parted with Miss
-Sowersoft. Disastrous as all this was, it is not to be wondered at that
-his courage evaporated very rapidly, and, in fact, became so very nearly
-dried wholly up, that he made up his mind, after many efforts, to sneak
-back again into the country, invent the best tale he possibly could, in
-order to satisfy his “meesis” and the doctor, and sit down once again to
-his beer and bacon on the quiet farm, renouncing London, and every attempt
-to catch Colin Clink, at once and for ever.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fortune, however, which, as we are told, ever watches over the brave,
-would not suffer him to go thus far, and undergo the fatigues and dangers
-of such a journey, merely to come to such an inglorious conclusion. And as
-Palethorpe manfully determined to have a good last night of it before he
-left town, and see for himself what life in London really was, the frail
-goddess took that favourable opportunity of adding a striking incident to
-the tailpiece of his chapter of accidents,—an incident which, as it
-brought him very unexpectedly into the presence of Colin, and otherwise is
-worthy of particular note, I shall give in a chapter by itself.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XX.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>The singular meeting of Colin and Palethorpe.—A jolly night, and
-the results of it, with one of the most remarkable discoveries on record.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the last afternoon of his intended stay in town, Mr. Palethorpe rambled
-as far as Regent's Park, and into the Zoological Gardens, where he amused
-himself some time by tempting the bears with a bit of bun, without
-allowing them to get near enough to lay hold of it; a piece of dexterity
-on his own part which made him laugh heartily twenty times over; for the
-cleverness of it seemed to him excellent.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
-</p>
-<div class="fig" style="width:60%;">
-<img src="images/208m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="208m " /><br />
-</div>
-<h4>
-<a href="images/208.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original Size</i></a>
-</h4>
-<p>
-When weary of that, he repaired to the monkey-cage, in anticipation of
-some excellent sport; but there he found many much more able fellows than
-himself; and, in endeavouring to outwit a great baboon with a walnut, got
-one of his ears nearly twinged off, highly to the delight of a whole
-company of boys who stood by, and whose laughter and jeers eventually
-caused him to beat a retreat out of the gardens.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having taken a pretty accurate survey of the West End, he descended Regent
-Street in the evening, and about nine o'clock might have been seen wending
-his way with indecisive step down Coventry Street, from the Piccadilly
-end, with a considerable amount of Barclay and Perkins's stout in his
-head,—porter being such a rarity to him, that he thought it as well
-to make the best of it while he enjoyed the opportunity.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the right hand side of Coventry Street he accidentally espied a
-fishmonger's shop. Palethorpe always enjoyed a good appetite for oysters
-whenever he could get them, and, as he had fixed his eyes upon a leaden
-tank full, he walked into the shop aforesaid, and requested the man to
-open him a lot. As fast as he opened them, Mr. Palethorpe swallowed them;
-while, as long as he continued to swallow, the man continued to open,
-keeping silent count of the number taken all the while, until in a loud
-voice he at last proclaimed a numerical amount of five dozen. Mr.
-Palethorpe then bid him desist, and, with great reluctance at the moment,
-paid the demand of a crown for his supper. Somehow, however, his stomach
-raised certain very cogent objections against thus suddenly being
-converted into an oyster bed, and demanded the instant administration of a
-dram. This, however, he could not procure there, but was invited to walk
-into the room behind, where he might take wine at his leisure. Although
-Palethorpe did not much relish the notion, he did not feel in the best
-possible condition for quitting the shop and going elsewhere; and
-therefore, almost as a matter of necessity, adopted the waiter's
-suggestion. Pushing open a door, therefore, with an oval glass in it, he
-found himself all at once in one of the finest public apartments he had
-yet entered.
-</p>
-<p>
-At first he felt almost doubtful whether he had not made a mistake, and
-walked into a chapel,—the gallery round the walls and the pew-like
-seats very strongly favouring the idea. This notion was, however, very
-soon put to the rout by an individual, whom he had mistaken for a
-pew-opener, approaching him with the polite inquiry, what wine would he
-please to take.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, ony'll do. One sort is just the same as another to me, for I know no
-difference,” replied Palethorpe.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Pint of sherry, perhaps, sir? Very well, sir.” And before the
-Yorkshireman could find time to express either his acquiescence or his
-dissent, the waiter had disappeared to execute the order of his own
-suggestion.
-</p>
-<p>
-When he returned, Palethorpe took the wine in silent dudgeon. Of course he
-had the appearance of an animal too remarkable not to attract attention
-anywhere in London, but especially so in the particular region where
-fortune had now condescended to cast him.
-</p>
-<p>
-As far as he could discern anything of the matter, the company appeared of
-the highest respectability, if not, in fact, almost too good for him. But
-then, as everybody conducted themselves in the most free and easy manner
-possible, he was not long in making himself perfectly at home. The ladies,
-who were beautifully dressed, and decorated with various sorts of flowers,
-struck him with particular admiration. All that disagreeable crust of
-reserve, in which country people are so very prone to encase themselves,
-was here worn quite clean off; and he found no more trouble in entering
-into conversation with these ladies than he did at home in talking to his
-horses. Two of them politely invited themselves to his wine, and, without
-waiting permission, drank it off to his good health, and suggested to him
-to call for more. They playfully tweaked his nose, put his hat on their
-own heads, and invited him to partake of his own drink so very kindly and
-pressingly, that at last it would scarcely have been known whether they or
-he had in reality paid for it.
-</p>
-<p>
-About midnight, and at the particular request of a young lady who was
-taking leave, Palethorpe was prevailed on to escort her home; a piece of
-politeness which he felt most competent to discharge by calling a cab, as
-his own legs had by this time in great part lost the faculty of carrying
-the superstructure of his body writh that precise degree of
-perpendicularity which is commonly considered essential to personal
-comfort and safety.
-</p>
-<p>
-From that moment up to the occurrence of the following incident, his
-history is wrapped in the most profound and mysterious darkness.
-</p>
-<p>
-On this eventful night, the intended last night of all Mr. Palethorpe's
-experiences in the metropolis, as fortune would have it, Colin had treated
-himself with a sight of Vauxhall Gardens; and, as he remained to see the
-fireworks at the conclusion, he did not get away very early. Add to this
-the time necessarily occupied in taking refreshment, and walking all the
-way from the Gardens towards London Bridge, and we shall not expect to
-find him at the top of Newington Road, on his way home, earlier than
-between one and two in the morning. As our hero walked rapidly down
-Blackman Street, he observed a man, clothed in a short, square-lapped
-coat, of a broad country-cut, staggering along before him very much as
-though he meditated going head foremost at every object that presented
-itself on either side of the road. Occasionally he came to a full stop,
-and see-saw'd his body backwards and forwards, until the impetus gained
-one way either compelled him to recede a few paces, or plunged him again
-desperately forwards. Now he seized a lamp-post, as though it were some
-dear, newly-recognised friend; and then made a furious sally to reach some
-advanced point of the wall on the other hand. Altogether his motions were
-so whimsical “that Colin slackened his pace in order to keep behind, and
-thus enjoy the fun. The street was perfectly silent; not a soul besides
-themselves was about, and he had the farcical performer therefore
-altogether to himself. He did not enjoy the spectacle, however, very long.
-Scarcely had the man staggered a hundred yards farther before he went down
-on all fours; and, as he found himself incapable of rising again, he
-seemed by his actions, as though he finally submitted to fate, and made up
-his mind to nestle there for the remainder of the night. Since, however,
-Colin never was the lad to leave a fellow-creature helpless, without
-offering his assistance, he hastened forwards, and taking him by the
-shoulder, bade him get up and go home.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Where's meesis?” demanded the sot. “I want a posset, and a posset I 'll
-have, or be dang'd to me!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin immediately recognised the voice. Bursting into a loud laugh, he
-raised the prostrate man's face towards the light, and beheld the features
-of his old and inveterate enemy, Palethorpe. What in the world could have
-brought him to town? Although Colin more than half suspected the real
-occasion, he determined to ascertain the truth.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And, where have you come from, my man?” demanded Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Come from!” repeated Sammy. “I'll tell you where I come from. I co—co—come
-from Whinmoor—Whinmoor, I say, in Yorkshire. Miss Zowerzoft's my
-meesis—and a very good meesis she is, I am happy to say. She knows
-me very well, and I know her. I wish she were here!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well—well!” cried Colin; “but what have you come to London about?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, what do you think, now?” asked Palethorpe, with a peculiarly knowing
-look. “What <i>do</i> you think? Just guess. I'll bet a shilling you can't
-guess, if you guess all night. No—no; no man knows my bizziness but
-myself. My name's Palethorpe, and I know two of that. Can you tell me, do
-you know anybody named Colin Clink here i' Lunnun?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I do,” said our hero. “I know him well.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You do!” exclaimed Samuel, trying to start up and stare in his face, but
-sinking again in the effort; “then yo 're my man! Gis hold on your hand,
-my lad. Dang his carcase! I 'll kill him as sure as iver I touch him! I
-will—I tell you. I 'll kill him dead on th' spot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But you mean to catch him first,” said Colin, “don't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What do you mean? Catch him! I mean to catch him! Be civil, my lad, or
-else I shall put a spur in <i>your</i> sides afore you go.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You brute!” exclaimed Colin, seizing him by the collar on each side of
-his neck, and holding his head stiff up with his knuckles,—“look at
-me. I am Colin Clink. Now, you cowardly, drunken scoundrel, what have you
-not deserved at my hands?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh! what, you are he, are you?” gurgled
-</p>
-<p>
-Mr. Palethorpe. “Just let me go a minnit, and I 'll show you!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Come, then!” said Colin, and he pulled the said Mr. Palethorpe to the
-edge of the causeway. In the next moment he deposited him in the middle of
-a large dam which had been made in the gutter close by for the convenience
-of some bricklayers, who were repairing an adjoining house, telling him to
-“sit there, and sober himself; and the next time he tried to catch Colin
-Clink, to thank his stars if he came off no worse.” So saying, he left him
-to the enjoyment of his “new patent water-bed,” and his meditations.
-</p>
-<p>
-Near the Borough town-hall Colin met a policeman, whom he informed of the
-hapless condition of a poor drunken countryman some distance down the
-street, and requested him to go to his assistance. He then made off at the
-best speed he could, and soon baffled all pursuit amidst the intricate
-turnings of the city. True, he lost his way; still he reached his lodgings
-before four o'clock.
-</p>
-<p>
-To return to Mr. Palethorpe. He had not yet seen even a tithe of his
-troubles. The sequel of this last adventure proved richer than all the
-rest. Between two and three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day
-he crept very stealthily into the parlour of his inn, as “down in the
-mouth” as a beaten dog. He called for writing materials, and addressed a
-strange scrawl to the Commercial Bank in Leeds, where it was known he had
-deposited about three hundred pounds. He afterwards retired to his
-bed-room, from which in a short time he issued with a bundle in his hand;
-and, after making certain confidential inquiries of the shoe-black, walked
-forth in the direction of Rosemary Lane. It seems pretty certain that John
-Boots directed him thither as one of the most eligible places in the City
-for the disposal of all sorts of worn-out or superfluous wearing-apparel,
-and one to which poor gentlemen in difficulties not unfrequently resorted.
-However that may be, the fact itself is positive, that on the evening of
-the second Saturday after his arrival, Mr. Palethorpe was seen in a very
-dejected mood, pacing along Rosemary Lane, towards Cable Street, with a
-bundle tied up in a blue and white cotton handkerchief, under his arm.
-</p>
-<p>
-As his eyes wandered from one side of the street to the other, he
-observed, idling at doors, or along the footway, a generation of low, dark
-men, who, by the peculiar cut of their countenances might readily have
-been mistaken—especially by lamplight—for lineal and
-legitimate descendants of the old race of Grecian satyrs. Inhabiting
-places in which no other description of person could breathe, and carrying
-on their congenial trades in “Clo'—old clo'!” these people, with
-their families, live and thrive on the filth of all the other parts of the
-unapproachable city. Nothing comes amiss to them: the oldest garment has
-some profit in it, and the merest shred its fractional value. Their
-delight seems to be in a life amidst black bags, and the rags of every
-other portion of the great community; while the aspect of the region they
-inhabit—as if to keep all the rest from being put out of countenance—is
-desolate, dark, slimy, and enveloped in an atmosphere of eternal smoke.
-The very air seems pregnant with melancholy reminiscences of the faded
-glory of by-gone men, women, and times. The tarnished embroidery, the
-sooty red suits, the flabby old silks, the vamped-up hessians, what
-spectres do they not evoke as they dangle (ghostly mementos of departed
-greatness) beside the never-washed windows; or flap like an old arras,
-with every gust of wind against the besmeared and noxious walls! Where,
-perhaps, the legs of some gallant captain once found a local habitation,
-there the dirty Israelite now passing along feels ambitious to encase his
-own. The handkerchief of a bishop invites a “shopb'y's” nose; the last
-rejected beaver of the Lord Mayor awaits the acceptance of some rascally
-cranium, which the Lord Mayor would give half his dignity to “nab,” and
-“pop in quod.” Even some vanished great one's walking-stick, now sticks in
-the black corner of the Jew's shop, waiting to be once again shaken by the
-handle, even though it be but during a brief proud hour on Sunday, by the
-lad who yesterday hawked cedar pencils through the streets at a halfpenny
-a piece.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Buy, sir?—buy?—buy?” Mr. Pale-thorpe replied in the negative
-to a man who thus addressed him, but volunteered to sell. He produced the
-contents of his handkerchief; and before ten minutes, more had elapsed his
-best blue coat with gilt buttons, and a second pair of corduroys, became
-the property of the Jew, at one-third less than their value. The reason of
-this strange proceeding was that during the preceding night's
-glorification the Yorkshireman had,—in some way totally
-incomprehensible to himself,—been eased of absolutely every farthing
-he possessed. He had, therefore, no alternative but to raise a little
-ready cash upon his clothes, until he could receive from the bank in
-Leeds, where he had deposited his scrapings, enough to set himself
-straight again and pay his passage home.
-</p>
-<p>
-Several times had the sun rolled over the head of this side of the world
-after the scene above-described, when, one rainy evening, about dusk, as
-Miss Sowersoft was casting a weary and longing eye across the soddened
-fields which lay between Snitterton Lodge and the high road, to her
-inexpressible pleasure she beheld the well-known figure of Mr. Palethorpe
-making its way towards the house.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well, here you are again!” she exclaimed, as he flung down his top-coat,
-and demanded a jack to get his boots off. “How have you gone on? I see you
-hav'n't brought him with you, at all events.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Although Miss Sowersoft had made an inquiry the moment Mr. Palethorpe
-entered the house, she now refused to hear him talk until he had satisfied
-his appetite. This achievement occupied, of course, considerable time. He
-then, in the midst of an open-mouthed and anxious rural audience,
-consisting of every individual, man, maid, and boy, upon the farm, related—<i>not</i>
-his own adventures, but the imaginary adventures of some person very
-closely resembling himself, who never lived, and whose peregrinations had
-only existed in the very little world of his own brain.
-</p>
-<p>
-His expedition had been most successful; for, although he had not exactly
-succeeded in discovering Colin's retreat,—a mishap attributable to
-the enormous extent of London, and not to his own want of sagacity,—yet
-he had astonished the natives there by such specimens of country talent as
-they were very little prepared for. He pulled out a new watch. “Look
-there,” said he. “I got that through parting with the old 'un, and a
-better than that niver went on wheels. I bought some handkerchers for
-about half-price, and see'd more of Lunnun in ten days than many folks
-that have been agate there all their lives.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then you went 'top o' th' Moniment?” demanded old George.
-</p>
-<p>
-“To be sure I did!” exclaimed Palethorpe, “and St. Paul's Cathedral as
-well.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I hope you did not get dropped on, anyhow,” remarked Miss Sowersoft,
-inquiringly; for she really burned to know whether any of the fears she
-had expressed at his setting out had been realised.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, dang it! not I,” replied Palethorpe, in a misgiving tone, though with
-a great assumption of bravery. Yet upon that subject, somehow, he could
-not expatiate. He felt tongue-tied in spite of himself; and then, as if
-desirous of escaping any farther explanation touching what he had
-individually done or not done, he got up and went to the pocket of his
-great-coat, from which he drew a Sunday newspaper that he had purchased as
-the coach was starting, and presenting it to Miss Sowersoft—“Here,”
- said he, “I've brought you th' latest news I could lay my hands on, just
-to let you see what sort of things they do i' th' big town. I hav'n't
-look'd at it myself yet, so you 've the first peep, meesis.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Miss Sowersoft took the newspaper very graciously, and opened it. Strange
-news indeed she very soon found there. While Palethorpe was yet
-maintaining all the dignity of a hero, and stuffing his audience with
-marvellous accounts of his own exploits, Miss Sowersoft's eye fell upon a
-report under the head of “Police Intelligence,” entitled, “A Yorkshireman
-in London.” She read it; but with such avidity and such a sombre
-expression of countenance, that the eyes of every one present were
-irresistibly attracted towards her, and even Mr. Palethorpe's efforts to
-speak passed almost unobserved. At length Miss Sower-soft uttered a loud
-hysterical shriek, and fell back in her chair.
-</p>
-<p>
-Palethorpe instinctively snatched at the newspaper; but, as Abel had
-seized it before him, only a portion of it reached the fire, into which it
-was instantly hurled. The part remaining in the grasp of the farming-man
-contained the awful cause of Miss Sowersoft's calamity. A fight might have
-ensued for the possession of that fragment also, had not Abel dexterously
-slipped round the table before Palethorpe could reach him, and, snatching
-up a lighted lantern that stood on the dresser, escaped into a hayloft;
-where, having drawn the ladder up after him, he sat down on a truss, and,
-while Palethorpe bawled and threatened vainly from beneath, deliberately
-read as follows:—
-</p>
-<p>
-“A Yorkshireman in London.—Yesterday a stupid-looking 'son of the
-soil' from Yorkshire, whose legs appeared to have been tied across a
-barrel during the previous part of his life, and who gave his name Samuel
-Palethorpe, was brought before their worships, charged by policeman G. 95,
-with having been found dead drunk in Blackman Street, Borough, between one
-and two o'clock that morning. When found he was sitting bolt-upright in a
-pool of lime-water about twelve inches deep, which had been made in the
-gutter by some bricklayer's labourers employed in mixing mortar near the
-spot. His hat was crushed into the form of a pancake, and was floating
-beside him; while he was calling in a stentorian voice for assistance.
-From the very deplorable statement he made, with tears in his eyes, it
-appeared that, after rambling about town the greater part of the previous
-day, in search of the 'lions' of London, during which time he had imbibed
-an immense quantity of heavy-wet, he repaired to a well-known house in the
-neighbourhood of the Haymarket, and regaled himself until midnight with
-wine and cigars. While there he picked up an acquaintance in the person of
-a 'lady,' (as he described her,) 'with a plum-coloured silk gown on, and
-one of the handsomest shawls he ever saw in his life.' As the 'lady' was
-very communicative, and was very polite, and told him that she wished to
-marry, he naturally concluded she might entertain no very deeply-rooted,
-objection to himself. In order, therefore, to make a beginning in his
-courtship, he eventually consented to accompany her home. He believed her
-to be what she appeared, 'a lady,' and was over-persuaded by the hope of
-marrying a good fortune. One of the magistrates here expressed his
-astonishment that any man arrived at the age of the prisoner, (he appeared
-nearly forty-five,) even though brought up in the veriest wild in England,
-could possibly be such a fool as the individual before him represented
-himself. Mr. Palethorpe replied that he had several times read of ladies
-falling in love with cavaliers, and he thought such a thing might happen
-to him as well as to anybody else. (Laughter.)
-</p>
-<p>
-“'And what happened afterwards?' asked the magistrate.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Palethorpe.—'I don't know very well, for I'd a sup too much. I
-ar'n't used to drink sich strong wine: but we went over a bridge, I think,
-becos I remember seeing some lights dance about; but where we went to I
-know no more than this man here' (pointing to the policeman).
-</p>
-<p>
-“'How much money did you spend?'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Whoy, unfortinately, I 've lost every farthing I had.'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'And how much had you about your person when you set out?'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Please, sir, I had seven pounds in goold, and about twelve shillin's in
-shillin's, besides some ha'pence.'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Do you think you've been robbed, or did you spend it on the lady?'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'I don't know, sir,—but it's all gone.'
-</p>
-<p>
-“'Well, as you seem to have paid pretty dearly for your pleasure, I shall
-not fine you this time, but I should advise you to take better care the
-next time you come to London.'
-</p>
-<p>
-“The prisoner left the court very chop-fallen, while one of the spectators
-as he passed whistled in his ear the tune of
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-'When first in London I arrived, on a visit—on a visit!'”
- </pre>
-<p>
-Before Abel had perused half the above extract he was in ecstasies: and
-when he had done he cut it out of the paper with his pocket-knife, in
-order the easier to preserve it for future use. The story soon became
-known throughout the country side, as Abel made a point of reading it
-aloud at every public-house he called at, and on every occasion when the
-hero of it chanced to displease him.
-</p>
-<p>
-The gist of the joke, however, seemed, in the general opinion, to consist
-in the fact that Mr. Palethorpe himself had unwittingly brought it all the
-way from London in his own pocket, for the edification and amusement of
-the community. In fact, from that day until the end of his life, that
-worthy never heard the last of his expedition to London.
-</p>
-<p>
-But, how did he settle matters with his mistress? That question may be
-solved when other events of greater importance have been described.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXI.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Something strange on the staircase, with a needful reflection or two
-upon it.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>Y this time Colin's resources had become so low that but thirteen
-shillings remained to him of all he had brought from home; and of that
-small sum about one-half would be due to his landlady in the course of a
-few days. Yet he continued his kindness towards the poor singer on the
-second floor, and only the day previously had exchanged his last sovereign
-on her account. The feelings with which her appearance had first inspired
-him he could not wholly shake off; although he had since become acquainted
-with various circumstances which pointed out to him imperatively the
-necessity of at once setting such a connexion aside, and forgetting even
-that it had ever existed. He half formed a resolution to do so; and, in
-order to carry it the better into effect, made up his mind to quit the
-house altogether—a step he could the more readily take now, as he
-had not hitherto so much as even seen Miss Wintlebury except on the stage;
-and she, on the other hand, could know no more of him than his ever-ready
-and unassuming kindness might have informed her of. These thoughts crowded
-his mind as he sat at breakfast, and during several hours subsequently
-presented themselves under every possible phase to his review. About
-twelve o'clock in the day, as he was descending the stairs to the street,
-his sight was crossed on the first landing he reached, by a kind of vision
-in a white dress, which flitted from Miss Wintlebury's chamber to her
-sitting-room. Its hair was tightly screwed up in bits of newspaper all
-over its head, very strongly resembling a clumsy piece of mosaic. Its face
-was of a horrible cream-colour, and as dry as the hide of a rhinoceros.
-Its eyes dim and glazy. Its neck and shoulders—with respect to the
-developement of tendons and sinews—not greatly unlike an anatomical
-preparation. This surprising appearance no sooner heard Colin's footsteps
-approaching than it skipped rapidly into the sitting-room, and without
-turning at the instant to close the door, sat hastily down at a small
-table, on which stood a black teapot, and one cup and saucer, as if with
-the intention of taking its breakfast.
-</p>
-<p>
-Somewhat alarmed, Colin hastened down, and was very glad to find Mrs.
-Popple on her hands and knees at the door, applying pipeclay to the step.
-Of her he immediately inquired the nature of the apparition he had seen;
-and was most shocked indeed when he found by her reply, that he had
-actually mistaken Miss Wintlebury herself for her own ghost. Still the
-fact was scarcely credible. Surely it was not possible to patch up such a
-shadow, into the handsome figure which had first inspired him with love;
-and the recollection of whose seeming beauties still attended upon his
-imagination with the constancy of a shadow in the sun.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Popple; “but you ain't any conception what a
-poor creatur' she is. I can carry her about this house like a doll, she's
-so light and thin. She walks about more like a sperit than anything
-substantive—that she do. I often think of turning her out of house
-altogether, for I 'm afraid I shall never get my rent of her; but then,
-again, when I 'm going to do it, a sum mut seems to whisper to me, and
-say, 'Missis Popple—Missis Popple, let her alone a bit longer.' And
-that is the way we go on.” Saying which, with a heavy sigh, she scrubbed
-away at the stones. Colin stood mute.
-</p>
-<p>
-“She's dyin', sir, as fast she can,” added the landlady. “I niver see an
-indiwidiwal in a more gallopin' consumption in my life. I expect noat no
-less than having her corpse thrown on my hands every week that goes over
-my head.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Could he altogether give up the poor creature of whom this was said? And
-yet, was it possible he could love her? Colin felt perplexed, puzzled.
-Like many other gentlemen, therefore, when placed in a similar
-predicament, he parted company with Mrs. Popple, without saying anything
-in reply, lest by speaking he should possibly chance—to say worse
-than nothing.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the strange shock his feelings had sustained gradually wore off, his
-previously formed resolutions as gradually grew weaker. Irresistibly
-inclined to look on the best side only, he began to reason himself into
-the belief that the lady was not so bad as his own eyes, and Mrs. Popple's
-tongue, had represented. He had seen her, unluckily, under circumstances
-sufficiently disadvantageous to reduce to a very ordinary standard even
-one—as was not very unlikely of the greatest beauties living: and,
-as for his landlady's remarks, what did they amount to in fact? Since
-people always magnify what they talk about into a ten times more hideous
-affair than, according to the natural size of the subject, it would
-otherwise appear, just as our opticians exhibit monsters a foot lone on
-paper, which on closer inspection are found too insignificant in reality
-to be even visible to the unassisted eye. Perhaps Miss Wintle-bury might
-soon be recovered—soon grow strong again, and eventually be enabled
-to make a fortune by that voice which now scarcely found her in bread.
-Thoughts of this nature occupied his mind all day, and until his return
-home, at about six in the evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-Shortly afterwards a circumstance occurred no less unexpected on his part
-than it will prove surprising to the reader; and which, as it finally
-settled the question of his love for the public singer, as well as another
-question of great importance to an individual in whom we have felt some
-concern during the previous part of this history, I shall lose no time in
-proceeding to relate.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>A most uncommon courtship, a bit of jealousy, and a very plain
-declaration.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>OT long had Colin been at home before a message was sent up by Miss
-Wintlebury, begging the favour of a few minutes' conversation with him as
-early as it might be convenient to himself. Poor Colin blushed to the eyes
-as he heard the request, and in a manner so hurried that he scarcely knew
-his own words, replied that he would wait upon her immediately. He took
-some time, nevertheless, in adapting and adjusting his dress to his own
-taste, which he now discovered had suddenly become very particular; but,
-at length, when he grew ashamed of hanging back any longer, he summoned a
-desperate resolution, and, like the leader of a forlorn hope, went on to
-his mistress's door as though on an expedition of life or death.
-</p>
-<p>
-For the fourth time he found Miss Harriet's appearance changed; though
-this fourth appearance seemed the most true one. She was yet young, and
-had been handsome; just as a primrose cropped a week since, and dangling
-its head over the side of a jar has been handsome, but is so no longer.
-Her cheeks were slightly—very slightly painted; for custom is custom
-still, even by the coffin side. Her countenance was naturally intelligent,
-and had been improved in expression by indulgence in the love of
-literature. The proportions of her figure were comely enough, and such as
-would not have matched ill beside even so well-formed an one as was
-Colin's.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I am afraid you will think me very bold, Mr. Clink,” observed Miss
-Wintlebury, after the first forms of their meeting had been gone through;
-“but I wished to thank you personally for your exceeding kindness towards
-one who is a mere stranger to you. I feel it the more because,
-unfortunately for me, I have so rarely met with anything of the kind. I
-think my poor mother—and she has been gone these many years—was
-the only creature that ever loved me in this world!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Here her voice grew tremulous, and her utterance half convulsive.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I do not scruple to say so much now, because in the condition in which I
-am—I know I am—I am dying, and that is all about it;—in
-that condition, I say, no scruples prevent me uttering what otherwise I
-should be ashamed to own, because, with my feet almost in the grave, I
-feel secure against any imputations which else the world might bring
-against me. But, having almost done with the world, and feeling under no
-apprehension that anybody will look upon me in any other light than as a
-departing guest about to close the door upon her own back for ever, I am
-not ashamed to speak as a woman openly: for openly I must shortly speak
-before a far greater Being than any here.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin sat, with his eyes fixed on the ground, mute and motionless,—striving
-to divert his feelings by counting the pattern flowers on the carpet; but
-he could scarcely see them, his eyes were full. With difficulty he
-swallowed his grief as Miss Wintlebury continued, “To-night, now, I am
-unable to go through the exertion of pleasing those drunkards yonder, as
-usual. Nor is this the first warning I have had that the poor concert of
-my life is close upon its finale.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Accustomed as the young woman appeared to be to contemplate her own death
-within the little oratory of her own bosom, she yet displayed that
-feminine weakness of being unable to allude to it in words before another
-person without shedding tears.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I hope, Miss,” began Colin, but he could not get on,—“I hope, ma'am———”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is not for myself!” she exclaimed resolutely, and as though determined
-to outface those tears,—“no, not for myself. That is very little
-worth crying for, indeed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-She smiled with a ghastly expression of selfcontempt, and continued, “It
-is, sir, because I have it not in my power to repay you for your kindness
-to me. I must die in the debt of a stranger, for all help is now going
-from my hands. These few dresses and trinkets——”
- </p>
-<p>
-And as she sobbed out the words she placed her hand upon a small heap of
-theatrical robes and decorations which lay beside her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“These are all—and a very poor all they are—I have to repay
-you with, besides a buckle that I have here upon my band, which my mother
-gave me; and that I wish you to take off and keep when I am dead: but I
-must have it till then. I cannot part with it before.”
- </p>
-<p>
-She paused, and gazed upon the trinket of which she spoke as though the
-thoughts it awakened congealed her into stone; for not a muscle of her
-countenance moved, and nothing showed she was alive save the rapid tears
-which dropped in painful noiselessness from her eyelashes to the ground.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, that is not quite all,” she resumed, almost in a whisper; “there is a
-necklace that was given me at school one Midsummer holiday: you shall have
-that, too. And I should like you to give it—I know you will forgive
-me saying so, won't you? Give it—if she be not too proud—give
-it—if there be any one in the world you love, give it <i>her</i>,
-and ask her to wear it for my poor sake!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin was unused to the great sorrows of the world; his nature would have
-its way; he could contain his heart no longer, and burst into an agonizing
-and audible fit of grief. When his words came he begged her to desist; he
-refused to take anything from her as a recompense for what he had done;
-and, in as encouraging a tone as he could assume, he bid her cheer up, and
-hope for the best. He said she might yet recover, and be happy, why not?
-<i>He</i> would be her friend for ever, if she would but pluck her heart
-up, and look on things more cheerfully.
-</p>
-<p>
-And, as he said this,—he knew not how he did it, or why,—but
-he kissed her forehead passionately, and pressed her hand within his own,
-as though those fingers might never be unclenched again.
-</p>
-<p>
-At that moment the room door was very unceremoniously opened, and two
-persons stood before him.
-</p>
-<p>
-Mrs. Popple had entered first, leading forwards Fanny Woodruff!
-</p>
-<p>
-“Colin!” exclaimed the latter in a tone of mingled astonishment and
-reproach, and at the same time retreating precipitately from the room,
-while Miss Wintlebury sharply reproved her landlady for this rudeness, and
-Mr. Clink himself as suddenly assumed much more of the natural aspect of a
-fool than any person would have believed his features at all capable of.
-At length he spoke; and, rushing out after Fanny, exclaimed, “You shall
-not go! I have done no wrong! Come back—come back!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sir!” replied Fanny, with the determined voice of a highly-excited
-spirit, “I have not accused you of anything, and, therefore, you need not
-defend yourself. But, indeed, Colin, I never expected this!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What—what have I done?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Nothing, perhaps, that you have not a perfect right to do if you think
-proper; but, however, I will not be troubled about it—I will not!”
- She applied her handkerchief to her eyes. “I am sorry for having
-interrupted you; but, since you are so much better engaged than with me, I
-will never trouble you again as long as I live!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Will you hear me?” demanded Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It is of no use. I am satisfied. You have a right to do as you think
-proper.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Of course I have, so long as I do right?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Right!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, right. I have not injured you. I never told you I loved <i>you</i>—never!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Those words startled Fanny as with the shock of an earthquake; shattering
-to fragments in one instant that visionary palace of Hope, which her heart
-had been occupied for years in rearing. She looked incredulously in his
-face, as though doubtful of his identity, and then burst into a flood of
-tears.
-</p>
-<p>
-“True,” she murmured, “you never did—never! I have betrayed myself.
-But here, sir,” and she assumed as much firmness of manner as possible,
-while she held a small packet out for his acceptance. “Take this; for I
-came to give it you. It is all your mother and I——” Her
-breathing became heavy and convulsive. “We read your letter, and—Oh,
-save me! save me!” She fell insensible into the arms of Mrs. Popple, who
-instantly, at Colin's request, carried her into Miss Wintlebury's room,
-and placed her on the sofa.
-</p>
-<p>
-The packet had fallen from her hand. It contained the three guineas which
-Colin had formerly given to her, besides two from his mother, and the
-whole amount of Fanny's own savings during the time she had been in
-service, making in all between eight and nine pounds.
-</p>
-<p>
-Her unexpected appearance is readily explained. On perusing the melancholy
-news contained in that letter of Colin's, to which Fanny had alluded, she
-and his mother instantly formed the very natural conclusion that, bad as
-he had described his situation to be, he would endeavour to make the best
-of it to them; and that, therefore, to a positive certainty it was very
-much worse than his description would literally imply. A thousand
-imaginary dangers surrounding him, thronged upon their minds, which, they
-concluded, nothing short of a personal visit could modify or avert.
-Nothing less, indeed, could satisfy their feelings upon the subject; and
-hence it was agreed between them that, instead of writing to him, Fanny
-should undertake the journey, carrying with her all the money for his use
-which their joint efforts could procure.
-</p>
-<p>
-The attentions of Mrs. Popple and Miss Wintlebury soon brought the young
-woman again to herself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let me go!” said she. “I will return home to-night! I cannot stay here! I
-cannot bear it!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, Fanny,” observed Colin, “that you shall not. You have mistaken me
-much—very much; when, if you knew all, you would be the first in the
-world to applaud me for what I have done.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I shall never be happy any more!” sighed Fanny almost inaudibly.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I hope, young lady,” said Miss Wintlebury, addressing her, “that <i>I</i>
-have not been any cause of unhappiness to you? Because if so, perhaps it
-will be some comfort to you to know that I cannot continue so long. Look
-at me. Surely this poor frame cannot have excited either man's love or
-woman's jealousy; for no one could be so weak as to dream of placing his
-happiness on such a broken reed, nor any one so foolish as to take alarm
-at a shadow, which a few days at most—perhaps a few hours—must
-remove for ever.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Fanny heard this discourse at first with indifference; but now she
-listened earnestly, and with evident surprise. Miss Wintlebury continued,
-“If—for so it almost seems—you foolishly imagine that I stand
-between that young gentleman and yourself, be assured you are deeply
-mistaken. Death, I too well know, has betrothed me; and I dare not, would
-not, accept another bridegroom. Now be at peace, and hear me but a moment
-longer. I know not who you are, though you and Mr. Clink are evidently
-acquainted; but if there be anything between you both,—if you love
-him, or he you,—all I say is, may Heaven bless you in it,—bless
-you! With one like him you could not fail to be blessed. A nobler, or a
-more generous and feeling creature never looked up to heaven.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Overcome both by her bodily weakness and her feelings the poor girl sat
-down, and covered her face with her hands as she sobbed bitterly. During
-some minutes not a word was uttered; nor until the last speaker again
-rose, and took Fanny's hand, and led her across the room towards Colin,
-who stood by the fire-place, looking as grave and immoveable as though he
-were cast in lead.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Come,” said she, “forget me, and let me see you friends.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Suiting the action to the sentiment expressed, she placed Fanny's hand in
-Colin's. He gazed on her a moment, then clasped her in his arms, and
-kissed her a thousand times.
-</p>
-<p>
-That night the three supped together, and were happy. And, as Fanny had
-not as yet taken any place of abode, she shared Miss Wintlebury's
-apartments; while Colin passed, amidst endless anxiety and excitement, an
-almost totally sleepless night.
-</p>
-<p>
-Fanny did not choose to remain in town much longer than the occasion of
-her visit rendered absolutely essential; but during that time she related
-to Colin everything that could possibly interest him respecting the home
-he had left behind.
-</p>
-<p>
-Amongst other matters of less importance, she surprised and astonished him
-with the information that, shortly after his own flight from Bramleigh,
-her father had been removed by Doctor Rowel from Nabbfield, and carried by
-night to a distant part of the country. But, as some particulars of this
-movement will require to be laid before the reader in the course of some
-subsequent chapter, I shall not trouble him with Fanny's statement, or Mr.
-Clink's remarks in reply, here; merely observing that the latter earnestly
-impressed upon her the necessity, both on her father's account, and his
-own too, of her applying at Kiddal Hall, and informing Mr. Lupton of the
-whole circumstances of the transaction at as early a period as possible.
-</p>
-<p>
-All this Fanny promised to perform immediately on her arrival at
-Bramleigh. But when the period of departure came she returned thither with
-a heavy heart. The declaration made by Colin that he had never loved her
-(for so she interpreted it) still weighed heavily upon her bosom; nor did
-his subsequent kindness of behaviour, although it pleased for the moment,
-tend to any permanent alleviation of her feelings of sorrow derived from
-that source. The difference between her visit to town and this departure
-seemed to her like that to one who goes out in sunshine, with a glad day
-before her, but returns under clouds, and with no prospect but that of
-darkness at night. While, perplexed as Colin had partially felt between
-what he thought to be his duty, and his inclination, he so far discovered—if
-not to his positive satisfaction,—at least the entire absence of
-anything like real regret at Fanny's departure. In the mortification and
-agony of spirit consequent on her discovery of that fact, Fanny determined
-resolutely to banish Colin from her mind in every shape, save as a friend,
-for ever.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXIII.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>The reader is courteously introduced into a bone and bottle shop, and
-made acquainted with Peter Veriquear and the family of the Veriquears. A
-night adventure.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N a bye-lane leading out of Hare Street, which, as my readers must be
-informed, is situated about the middle of the parish of Bethnal Green,
-there resided a certain tradesman, one Peter Veriquear by name; into whose
-service, as a man of all work, our hero, Mr. Clink, may now be supposed to
-have entered. By the recommendation, vote, and interest of Mistress
-Popple, who had some acquaintance with the Veriquears, it was that he
-obtained this eligible situation; a situation which found him a sort of
-endless employment of one kind or other, day and night, at the rate of six
-shillings per week, bed and board included.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Colin first applied about the place, Mr. Veriquear replied, “If you
-want a situation, young man, that is your business, and not mine. If I
-have a place to dispose of, I have; and if I hav'n't, why of course I
-hav'n't. That is my business, and not yours.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin hinted something about what Mrs. Popple had said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well!” exclaimed Veriquear, “if Mrs. Popple told you so, she did. That is
-Mrs. Popple's business, and neither yours nor mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then I am mistaken, sir?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I did not say you were mistaken. But, if you think you are, that is your
-own business, and not mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then what, sir,” asked Colin, somewhat puzzled, “am I to understand?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why,” replied Veriquear, “I shall say the same to you as I do to all
-young men,—understand your own business, if you have any, and, if
-you hav'n't, understand how to get one,—that is the next best
-thing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And that,” rejoined our hero, “is exactly what I am desirous of doing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, if you are, you are; that is your own concern.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You seem to be fond of joking,” remarked Colin, as the blood mounted to
-his cheeks.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, sir,” answered Veriquear, more sternly, “the man is not born that
-ever knew me joke in the whole course of my life. I have my own way, and
-that is no business of anybody's. Other people have theirs, and that is
-none of mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But can you give me any employment, sir?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, I suppose young men must live somehow, though that is their own
-concern; and I must find 'em work if I can, though that is mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-After some further conversation, in which Mr. Veriquear's character
-displayed itself much as above depicted, he arrived, through a very
-labyrinthine path, at the conclusion that Colin should be employed upon
-his establishment according to the terms previously stated.
-</p>
-<p>
-Though Mr. Veriquear's premises stood nominally two stories high, and
-occupied a frontage some forty feet long, the roof scarcely reached to the
-chamber-windows of certain more modern erections on either side. The front
-wall,—a strange composition of timber, bricks, and plaster mingled
-together in very picturesque sort,—had in times gone by partially
-given way at the foundation, and now stood in an indescribably wry
-position. Having forcibly pulled the whole mass of tiling along with it,
-the ridge of the roof resembled the half-dislocated backbone of some
-fossil alligator, while a weather-beaten chimney, with great gaps between
-the bricks, which stood at one end, leaned sentimentally towards a dead
-gable, like Charlotte lamenting the sorrows of Werter. The windows, which
-were small and heavy, seemed to have been inserted according to the
-strictest laws of chance; for, exactly in those places where nobody would
-have expected them, there they were. By the side of the door Haunted some
-yards of filthy drapery, which flapped in the faces of the passers-by
-whenever they and a gust chanced to meet near the spot; and old bottles,
-secondhand ewers and basins, bits of rag, and various other descriptions
-of valuable “marine stores,” decorated a window which might, without much
-injustice, have been supposed to be glazed with clarified cow's-horn.
-Above, a huge doll, clad in long-clothes of dirty dimity, and suspended to
-a projecting iron by the crown of the head, swung in the blast like the
-effigy of some criminal on a gibbet-post. At the edge of the causeway,
-which had never been paved, and directly opposite the entrance to Mr.
-Veriquear's establishment, was placed a board elevated on a moveable pole,
-on which was painted, in attractive letters, “Wholesale and retail Rag,
-Bone, and Bottle Warehouse.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Into this miserable den Colin permanently introduced himself for the first
-time one night between eight and nine o'clock. Some portion of that
-evening he had spent with Miss Wintle-bury, and had taken his adieu of her
-and the habitation she was in together, only after he had prevailed upon
-her to accept one of three sovereigns which alone he had retained out of
-the larger sum brought for his use by Fanny.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was dusk when he arrived at his new abode. There was no light in the
-shop, save what little found its way thither from the fading heavens,
-which now were scantily spotted with half-seen stars. Peter Veriquear
-stood solemnly against the door-post, staring into the gloom, and blowing
-through his teeth a doleful noise, compounded both of singing and
-whistling, but resembling neither, either in tone or loudness. Colin felt
-low-spirited, though he strove to seem joyful.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It grows dark very fast, sir,” said he, addressing Mr. Veriquear as he
-entered.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” replied that gentleman, “it does; but I can't help that. What
-Nature chooses to do is no businesss of ours.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Certainly,” rejoined Colin; “but I said so only because it is customary
-to express some kind of opinion.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, that, of course, is your own concern; but, for my part, I never
-make it my business either to damn or praise the weather. Nature knows her
-own affairs, and manages them just the same without my meddling.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As Peter said this, he turned and led into the shop his new assistant.
-Groping his way along in the direction of a distant inner doorway, through
-which the dim remains of a fire were visible, Colin first jostled against
-a stand, which rattled with the concussion as though all the bottles in
-the United Kingdom had been jingled together; and then, in his endeavour
-to steer clearer on the contrary side, fell prostrate on to a prodigious
-heap of tailors' ends, strongly resembling in size a juvenile Primrose
-Hill.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I think it's my business to get a light,” observed Veriquear. “Stop where
-you are till I come again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin wisely maintained his position, in accordance with the sensible
-advice given him, lest, by making another endeavour in the dark, he should
-fall foul of a stack of bones, and thus exchange for a less comfortable
-anchorage. In cases of this kind, he well knew that a soft bottom is the
-best.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Peter returned with a candle, Colin obtained a dim vision of the
-objects about him. The place was so black, for want of whitewash, that its
-limits seemed almost indefinable every way, save overhead, and there the
-close proximity of his crown to the rafters reminded him that no less care
-would be required in humouring Mr. Veriquear's house than in pleasing its
-master; while the quality and amount of its contents almost led him to
-believe he had entered some grand national closet, in which was deposited
-all the unserviceable stuff, the scraps, odds and ends of the general
-community. The reason of this was, that Peter Veriquear dealt in almost
-everything he could turn a penny by, and, being somewhat large in his
-speculations, always had a vast mass of property in substance upon his
-premises. 4 As a new emigrant to the wilds of North America betakes
-himself to an accurate survey of his locality before he pitches his tent,
-and commences operations, so, wisely, did Peter Veriquear conduct Colin
-over the whole of his territory that night, in order that he thereby might
-become acquainted early with the wide field of his future labours, Through
-a dirty unpaved yard behind, he conducted him over various shed-like
-warehouses, stored with every imaginable description of rags, sorted and
-unsorted, with bottles of all degrees of bodily extension, from the
-slender pale-faced phial to the middle-sized “mixture” and the corpulent
-“stout;” and on the ground-floor, into a deathly region of bones, which
-made the moveless air smell grave-like, and stored the prompt imagination
-with as many spectres of slaughtered cattle and skeleton horses, as might
-garnish the magic circles of twenty German tales.
-</p>
-<p>
-In a wide rambling loft, accessible through this place by a step-ladder,
-and open to the laths of the roof on which the tiles were hung. Colin
-observed a small bed and a chair or two, with a broken piece of
-looking-glass fixed on the wall with nails, in order, as it might appear
-from the deserted character of the place, that the tenant, if weary of
-being alone, might contemplate a representative of himself, in lack of
-better company.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is this room occupied?” asked Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“When there is anybody in it,—as there ought to be every night,”
- replied Veriquear. “It is my business to keep these premises safe, the
-same as it is other people's to rob them if they could.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, surely, sir,” objected Colin, with some slight astonishment, “nobody
-would think of stealing such things as there are here!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What is worth buying and selling is worth stealing. <i>I</i> should think
-so, if it were my affair to rob; just as I think it worth guarding, being
-my business to hinder robbery.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then, shall I sleep here?” demanded Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well,” responded Mr. Veriquear, “I suppose you will, if you can. You want
-sleep, like me, I dare say; but that you must manage yourself. <i>I</i>
-can't make you sleep,—so it's no concern of mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Our hero said nothing, but he thought the Fates could not have been in one
-of the most amiable of humours when they delivered him into the hands of
-Mr. Peter Veriquear.
-</p>
-<p>
-Returning from this dim perambulation, the merchant led his assistant down
-a flight of brick steps into an underground kitchen, where a supper,
-consisting of a round mahogany-coloured cheese, which Colin mistook for a
-huge cricket-ball, three gaunt sticks of celery, and a brown loaf was
-placed upon a small round oak table, having one stem in the centre, and
-three crooked feet at the bottom, after the fashion of a washerwoman's
-Italian iron. The family of the Veriquears was here assembled. Mrs.
-Veri-quear, a sharp-nosed pyroligneous-acid-looking woman, sat on a low
-chair by the fireside, nursing a baby; a child of eighteen months old
-slept close by her in a wicker basket, which served at once for cradle and
-coach-body, as occasion might require, it being ingeniously contrived to
-fit a frame-work on four wheels, which stood up stairs, and thus served to
-carry the children about on a Sunday; while two other youngsters were
-squabbling on the hearthstone about their respective titles to a
-threelegged stool; and another, the eldest, was penning most villanous
-pot-hooks on the back of a piece of butter-paper, under the casual but
-severe superintendence of his worthy mother. Farthest removed from the
-fire, as well as the candle-light, sat one who was <i>in</i> the family,
-though not of it, a maiden of nineteen, Miss Aphra Marvel, a niece of Mr.
-Veriquear, who had been bequeathed to him by her father upon his
-death-bed, along with a small tenement worth about fifteen pounds a-year,
-the income from which was considered as a set-off against the cost of her
-board and bringing up. But could her departing parent have foreknown the
-great and multifarious services which his daughter was destined to perform
-in the family of his wife's brother, it is more than probable he would
-have acknowledged the propriety of charging fifteen pounds per annum as a
-compensation for her labour, rather than have left that sum in yearly
-requital of her cost. From twelve years of age to the present time, her
-duty it had been to make the fires, sweep the house, wash and nurse the
-babies, as they successively appeared upon the Veriquear stage of the
-world, wait on Mrs. Veriquear, prepare meals, make the beds, mend all the
-little masters' clothes, and, in short, do all and everything which could
-possibly require to be done; and yet she was regarded by her mistress and
-the children (whom she industriously instructed to that end) as an
-interloper, who was partly eating the bread out of their mouths every day,
-and consequently contributing to the eventual diminution of that stock
-which ought to be applied exclusively to the advancement of their own
-prospects in after-life.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Colin entered, Miss Aphra cast her eyes momentarily up, and half
-blushed as she resumed her sewing. The children stared in wonder at him,
-as they might at the sudden appearance of a frog in the kitchen. The baby
-caught sight of him, and began to squeal like a sucking pig; while Mrs.
-Veriquear cast an ill-tempered eye upon him, as much as to say she wanted
-none of him there; and then shook her infant into an absolute scream with
-the exclamation,—“What are you crying at, you little fidget! <i>He's</i>
-not going to hurt you, I'll take care of that. Hush—hush—hush-sh-sh!”
- And away went the rocking-chair at a rate quite tantamount to the extreme
-urgency of the occasion.
-</p>
-<p>
-When they sat down to supper, it was discovered that Master William had
-picked out the hearts of two sticks of celery, and extracted a plug three
-inches long, by way of taster, from the Dutch cheese. This being a case
-that imperatively demanded the application of summary punishment, Colin
-got nothing to eat until Mr. Veriquear had risen from the table, and
-applied a few inches of old cane to the lad's shoulders, which he did with
-this brief preparatory remark, “Now, my boy, as you have made it your
-business to pull that plug out, it becomes mine to try if I can't plug
-you.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Master William howled like a jackal before he was touched; his younger
-brother Ned cried because Bill did; and Mrs. Veriquear stormed at her
-husband, because he could not thrash the lad without making noise enough
-over it to wake the very dead. Miss Marvel looked as solemn during this
-farce as though it had been a tragedy; while Colin squeezed his nose up in
-his handkerchief as forcibly as though a lobster had seized it between his
-nippers, in order to prevent Mrs. Veriquear seeing how irreverently his
-fancy was tickled at this exhibition of domestic enjoyments.
-</p>
-<p>
-Uninviting as his dormitory over the warehouses had previously appeared,
-the character of the kitchen and its inhabitants seemed so much more so,
-that it was with comparative delight he heard the clock of Shoreditch
-church strike ten, as a signal for him to take possession of a tin lantern
-provided for the occasion. Accordingly, carrying a bunch of keys in his
-hand, wherewith to lock himself in, he strode across the yard to his
-solitary and comfortless chamber.
-</p>
-<p>
-During the first few hours which had elapsed after Colin had retired to
-his ghostly-look-ing dormitory, it was in vain he tried to coax and
-persuade himself to sleep. That fantastical deity, Somnus, seemed
-determined to contradict his wishes; and therefore he lay with his eyes
-wide open, counting how many chinks he could see between the tiles over
-his head, and listening to the musical compliments which passed between
-some friendly tom and tabby cats, whose tails and backs were evidently
-elevated in a very picturesque manner outside the ridge above him.
-</p>
-<p>
-It could not be far off one o'clock, when a very distinct sound, as of
-something stirring below stairs, reached his ears. Though by no means
-naturally timid, the young man's heart suddenly jumped as though taking a
-spring from a precipice. Possibly the noise might be occasioned by the
-rats taking advantage of this untimely hour of the night to make free with
-Mr. Veriquear's bones; or the cats outside were in pursuit of the
-aforesaid rats; or the wind was making itself merry somehow amongst the
-bottles; or the doors or the shutters were undergoing a process of
-agitation from the same cause. Whatever might originate the sound,
-however, it was now repeated more distinctly. There was evidently on the
-premises something alive as well as himself. Was it possible that he could
-have got into a wrong place, and that they meditated murdering him for the
-sake of his body? He thought of a pitch-plaster being suddenly stuck over
-his mouth by some unseen hand, as he lay there on his back in the dark. It
-was horrible, and the conceit aroused him to determination. He cautiously
-slipped out of bed, and, clad in nothing more than his stockings and
-shirt, groped his way blindly to the step-ladder, which he silently
-descended.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having reached the floor of the room below, he for the first time
-bethought himself that he had no weapon of defence, not even a common
-stick. But the great bone-heap was hard by, and from such armoury he soon
-possessed himself with the thigh-bone of a horse, which he contrived,
-without material disturbance, to draw out from amongst a choice collection
-of other similar relics. Again the noise which had alarmed him was
-repeated, and carried conviction to Colin's mind that Mr. Veriquear's
-precautions against robbers were more needful than he had previously
-believed; for that there were thieves about the premises he now no more
-doubted than he doubted his own existence. Determined to resist the
-knaves, and, grasping his bony cudgel with uncommon fervour, he placed
-himself in an offensive attitude, and stood prepared for he knew not what.
-</p>
-<p>
-Not the famous fighting gladiator of antiquity, nor yet the modest statue
-dubbed Achilles in Hyde Park, the admiration and delight of our astonished
-countrymen and women, looks more threatening and heroic than did Colin,
-as, clad in the simple but classic drapery of his under-garment, he
-brandished a tremendous bone, and defied his unseen foe.
-</p>
-<p>
-At that moment the fragmentary skull of some old charger, which lay on the
-windowsill at the farther end of the warehouse, seemed to become partially
-and very mysteriously illuminated, while the shadowy form of a man
-standing hard by became also indistinctly visible amidst the gloom. Colin
-maintained his standing in breathless silence, with his eyes steadily
-fixed upon the figure.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the course of a few moments it turned slowly round, and began to
-advance gravely towards him, but whether or not with any intention of
-accosting him either by word or blow, he could not yet divine. Shortly it
-reached within arm's length of him, and was about to address doubtless
-some very mysterious speech to his ear, when the thought flashed on the
-young man's mind like lightning that now or never was the time; so raising
-his drumstick of a bone, he took aim, and, before a single protest against
-his measure could be entered, nearly felled the intruder to the earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't strike!—don't strike!” cried the individual thus unexpectedly
-attacked. “I'm Veriquear!—I'm Veriquear!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Certainly,” thought Colin, “you <i>are</i> very queer indeed!”—for
-he instantly recognised the voice as that of his employer, “I'm very sorry—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“All right!—quite right!” said Veriquear, drawing a dark-lantern
-from a pocket behind him, and throwing a <i>bundle</i> of rays like a
-bunch of carrots on the figure of his assistant. “It was decidedly your
-business to do as you have done; and I'm very much obliged to you—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You are very welcome,” interrupted Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“For if you had not made it your duty to defend the place, I should have
-turned you away at a minute's notice to-morrow morning. I have done this
-on purpose to try your courage a little; only I meant to catch you in bed,
-instead of where you are.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But I regret having struck you,” protested Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“As to that,” replied Peter, “that, you know, is <i>your</i> business; and
-if I like to run the risk of getting a beating, why, that, of course, is
-mine. Only I never yet had a man in my employ that I did not try in the
-same way; and many a one have I discharged because they would not turn
-again. It's no use having a dog that won't bark, and bite too, if he is
-wanted; so I always put them to the proof in the first instance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-His hearer did not particularly admire Mr. Veriquear's sagacious method of
-trying the mettle of his men; but, inasmuch as it had so far ingratiated
-him into the favour of his employer, he did not lament the occurrence of a
-rencontre which, though it had promised seriously at the outset,
-terminated so harmlessly. He accordingly betook himself again to his
-pallet, and slept out soundly the remainder of the night; while Mr.
-Veriquear departed by the same way he had come, highly gratified with the
-courage of Colin, and rejoicing in the hard blow that he had so ably
-bestowed upon his shoulders.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXIV.
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>A Sunday sight in London.—Colin meets with his best friend, and
-receives a heart-breaking epistle from Miss Wintlebury.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not during the six days only, but on Sundays also, that Colin found
-employment at Peter Veriquear's. As regularly as the Sabbath came, he was
-converted into an animal of draught and burden, by being placed at the
-pole of that cradle-coach already alluded to, and engaged during stated
-hours in giving his employer's young family an airing amongst the
-delightful precincts of Hoxton New Town and the Hackney-road. On one of
-these occasions he very luckily, though accidentally, met with a gentleman
-whom he very much wished to see, and to whom, also, I shall have much
-pleasure in re-introducing the reader.
-</p>
-<p>
-The day was uncommonly cold, considering the time of the year. Colin's
-face, as he breasted the blast, strongly resembled a raw carrot; while
-behind him sat four little red-and-blue looking animals, muffled up into
-no shape, and each “tiled” with an immense brimmed hat, which gave them
-altogether much the appearance of a basket of young flap-mushrooms.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't cry, my dear!” said Colin, as he suddenly caught hold, and half
-twinged the cold button-like nose off the face of each in succession,—“Don't
-cry, dears,—and you shall have some pudding as soon as the baker has
-baked it. We shall soon be at home, Georgy. There, wrap your fingers up.
-See what a big dog that is!”
- </p>
-<p>
-A tap on the shoulder with the end of a walking-cane interrupted his
-string of exclamations, and at the same moment a voice, which he had
-somewhere heard before, addressed him with—“And do not you remember
-whose dog he is?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin turned hastily round, and beheld Squire Lupton standing on the edge
-of the curb-stone. If his cheeks were red before, they became scarlet now;
-for, though his occupation involved nothing censurable, he blushed deeply,
-and for the moment could not utter a word.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What!” exclaimed Mr. Lupton, as he gazed in admiration on the contents of
-the four-wheeled basket, “so young, and such a family as that? God bless
-my soul!—why, surely they are not all your own?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin did the best he could to clear himself of such an awful
-responsibility, avowing that he had no participation whatever in the
-affair, beyond what his duty in drawing them about might be considered to
-involve. Of this, indeed, the Squire did not require any very powerful
-proof, as he had given utterance to the remark more as a piece of
-pleasantry, than with any idea that it would be considered as meant in
-earnest.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the streets of London do not at any time offer any very peculiar
-facilities for private conversation, and especially upon such important
-matters as those which both the Squire and Colin felt it necessary to be
-discussed between them, a very brief colloquy was all that passed on the
-present occasion, though sufficiently long to inform Mr. Lupton how poor a
-situation the young man had been obliged to accept since his arrival in
-town, merely to find himself in the most common necessaries of life. On
-the other hand, Colin ascertained that the Squire's absence from Kiddal,
-just after his last singular interview with him there, was in consequence
-of a visit which he was under the necessity of making to the metropolis,
-and to which was entirely owing his very fortunate, but accidental,
-meeting with him at the present moment. Before they parted, Mr. Lupton
-charged him, on his return home, to give Mr. Veriquear immediate warning
-to quit his service the following week, or as early as possible, as he had
-another mode of life in view for him, which he hoped would tend much more
-materially to his comfort and future happiness.
-</p>
-<p>
-In the mean time, he requested him to wait upon him the following evening
-at a certain hotel at the west end of the town which he named, and where
-they might discuss all necessary matters in quiet and at leisure.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Colin informed his employer of his adventure, and the consequence to
-which it had led in rendering it necessary that he should quit his
-service,—“Very well,” said Veriquear, “if you wish to leave me, that
-is no business of mine. As you came, so you must go. I am sorry to part
-with you; though I don't know what business it is of mine to grieve about
-it. You have your objects in the world, and I have mine; so I suppose we
-must each go his own way about them. Only if you consider yourself right
-in leaving so suddenly, I shall make it my duty not to pay you this week's
-wages.” Colin protested that as circumstances had altered with him, he
-considered that a matter of very little consequence, and would willingly
-forego any demand which otherwise he might make upon him. Mr. Veriquear
-felt secretly gratified at the sacrifice his man thus frankly volunteered
-to make; and, by way of requital, told him not only that he might consider
-himself at liberty to depart on any day of the ensuing week that he
-pleased, but also added, “And if at any time it should so happen that I
-can be of any service to you, apply to me; but mind you, it must not be
-about other people's business. If it is any business of mine, I 'll
-meddle; but your business, you know, is your own. Other people's is
-theirs; and mine <i>is</i> mine, and nobody else's.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Most probably Colin would that evening have called at Mrs. Popple's and
-communicated the agreeable intelligence, of which his head and heart were
-alike full, to poor Miss Wintlebury, had he not been arrested, just as he
-was on the point of setting out, by a small packet addressed to himself,
-which some unknown hand had left at the door, and within which, on
-opening, he found a trifling article or two of remembrance, and the
-following note:—
-</p>
-<p>
-“My dear friend,
-</p>
-<p>
-“It is with great satisfaction I sit down to write these few lines,
-informing you of the good news, that yesterday my father arrived from the
-country, bringing the intelligence that a comfortable small fortune had
-been left him by my uncle very unexpectedly, and that he has this day
-taken my brother and myself back again to our native place to pass the
-rest of our lives, and in hopes that thereby my own may be prolonged. But
-my poor dear father will be deceived! He knows not what anguish I have
-gone through, and he never shall know. Nevertheless, the country will be
-to me like a new heaven for the short time I am permitted to enjoy it;
-though the horrors of my past life will never cease to darken the scene.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I can scarcely express the delight I feel in being enabled, through this
-reverse in our condition, to enclose a sum which, I trust, will leave me
-your debtor only in that gratitude which no payment can wipe away.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The other trifles perhaps you may keep, if not too poor for acceptance;
-but as I know that our continued acquaintance could end only in deeper
-misery to us both, I deem it the only wise and proper course to withhold
-from you all knowledge of our future place of abode; and if you will in
-one thing more oblige me, never attempt to seek it out. I am bound
-speedily for another world, and must form no more ties with this.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Heaven bless you and yours! And that you may be lastingly happy, as you
-deserve, will be the prayer, to the end of her days, of
-</p>
-<p>
-“Harriet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-A ten-pound note, a ring, and a brooch were enclosed.
-</p>
-<p>
-Colin immediately repaired, on reading this, to his late lodgings, in
-hopes of seeing the writer before her departure; but he was too late. The
-contents of the letter were verified; and he could not obtain from the
-landlady the most remote information as to what part of the country she
-had retired.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXV
-</h2>
-<p>
-<i>Colin's interview with Squire Lupton, and what it led to—A bait
-to catch the Doctor.</i>
-</p>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N reaching the hotel, according to appointment, Colin found Mr. Lupton
-seated in a private room up-stairs, with a table neatly spread for two
-beside him, but as yet containing nothing beyond the requisite materials
-for handling that dinner, which was brought up at the Squire's summons
-very shortly after his arrival. During their repast the young man could
-not avoid being continually reminded with what kind familiarity he was
-treated by his wealthy entertainer,—a degree of familiarity which
-seemed the more unaccountable to him, perhaps, simply because all his
-previous ideas of the manners of the higher classes of society had been
-derived almost solely from casual observation of that high bearing and
-seeming austerity of feeling, which sometimes exists in their common
-intercourse with the rustic inhabitants of a country district.
-</p>
-<p>
-To be sure, he had once rendered the Squire an essential service, by
-saving him from severe personal injury, if not possibly from a premature
-death; but that service he thought might be equally well rewarded without
-all this personal association with, and condescension to, one who
-possessed no qualifications save those which nature had given him, for
-admission into a kind of society of which, up to this time, he could not
-possibly know anything. But Mr. Lupton seemed to take pains even to render
-him easy in his new situation,—to make him at home, as it were, and
-cause him to feel himself as essentially upon a level in all things with
-himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-Though Colin could not account exactly for all this, it had its due effect
-upon him. By the time their meal was over, and at the Squire's most
-pressing solicitations he had imbibed various glasses of sherry during the
-repast, he found himself as much at liberty, both in limb and tongue, as
-though he had been seated in Miss Sowersoffs kitchen, with no higher
-company than herself and Palethorpe.
-</p>
-<p>
-As Mr. Lupton evinced considerable anxiety to know what had brought him to
-London, and Colin himself on his part felt no less desirous to explain
-every circumstance connected not only with himself, but also those bearing
-upon the infamous conduct of Doctor Rowel, touching the affair of Lawyer
-Skinwell and James Woodruff, two long after-dinner hours scarcely sufficed
-for the detail of a narrative which, in all its particulars, caused in the
-mind of Mr. Lupton the utmost astonishment.
-</p>
-<p>
-The freedom with which Colin expressed his own sentiments respecting the
-death of the lawyer, and the hand which he firmly believed Doctor Rowel
-had had in that event, somewhat raised the Squire's doubts of the young
-man's prudence, though at the same time it went far to convince him of the
-propriety, if not the absolute necessity, of placing the Doctor himself in
-some place of security, until a more full and searching investigation
-could be gone into. That he was open to a serious charge was evident; and,
-supported as that charge was by the corresponding conduct he had pursued
-with respect to James Woodruff, the Squire could come to no other
-conclusion than that it was his clear duty, both as a man and a
-magistrate, to have the Doctor apprehended as soon as possible.
-</p>
-<p>
-While Colin related in quiet and unassuming language his own scarcely less
-than heroic attempt to set Woodruff at liberty, together with the
-disasters which had pursued him afterwards in consequence thereof, Mr. Lu
-ton's countenance grew now grave, now expressive of admiration, and anon
-slightly and apparently involuntarily convulsed with emotions which he
-would not express, though he could not conceal. His lips quivered, and his
-eyes were occasionally forcibly closed, as though to force back the
-generous tears which were welling up from his bosom. In truth, the <i>father's</i>
-heart was touched. <i>He</i> felt where another man would not, and admired
-as the height of nobleness and magnanimity what other men might barely
-have commended merely as a good action, which anybody else would have done
-if placed in similar circumstances.
-</p>
-<p>
-All this time, too, he kept supping his wine and cracking his walnuts,
-picking his almonds, and demolishing his dried fruit with a degree of
-unconscious industry, that could not but have proved highly interesting
-and edifying to any observing spectator.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Colin had concluded, the Squire looked earnestly in his face during a
-few moments; he cast them to the ground again, and said nothing; he filled
-his glass, and Colin's too, but with an effort, for his hand slightly
-trembled as he did it; again he looked at him, and again his eyes were
-earthwards.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My dear boy!” said he, but the words faltered on his lips,—“my dear
-boy! I am proud of you; but your presence makes me ashamed. I bitterly
-regret it—deeply and bitterly—and yet I ought not, when it has
-given me such a noble mind as this!”
- </p>
-<p>
-He paused a moment, and then, as though with some sudden determination to
-shake off certain unwelcome and misplaced reflections, observed—“But,
-come,—drink your wine. I was not thinking much what I was talking
-about. Let us to business. I told you some time ago I should do something
-for you. What I have heard to-night has not lessened that determination.
-In the first place, have you left that vagabond place you were living in?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin replied, that he had informed Peter Veriquear of his intention to
-leave, and was at liberty to take his departure at any hour.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then leave to-morrow,” observed Mr. Lupton. “I will find you fitting
-apartments elsewhere. Do you like reading?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Much more,” replied the young man, “than my opportunities have enabled me
-to gratify.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am glad to hear it. You shall have books, and fit yourself for better
-things than you seemed to be born to. But never mind that,—never
-mind that. And money? I suppose the bottle-merchant has not filled your
-pockets to the neck.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin observed in answer, that he had ten pounds in his pocket, though not
-through the hands of Peter Veriquear. At the same time he related to the
-Squire in what manner he had come by it, and how Miss Wintlebury's conduct
-on this occasion had convinced him she was a most worthy and estimable
-young woman.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Have nothing to do with a girl like that,” said Mr. Lupton. “I have seen
-similar things before now, and known many a man pay d—d expensively
-for a poor and frail commodity. No, my boy; take my advice, and think
-nothing more about her. She may be all very well, perhaps; but many others
-are better. I like charity; but the world renders it needful for people to
-hold their heads on their own level. As I shall make something of you, you
-must look higher. There is more in store for you than you can anticipate.
-I have no other than—Well, never mind. But the law knows me, my boy,
-as the last of my family; for, unluckily, my marriage has been like no
-marriage. Did you ever see Mrs. Lupton at Kiddal?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Never, that I am aware of,” answered Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Squire fell into a fit of musing, during which he beat his foot upon
-the ground abstractedly, as though all things present were momentarily
-forgotten.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Well!” he again exclaimed, as if starting afresh to life, “there is that
-Doctor. We must catch him somehow. He is a scoundrel after all, I am
-afraid; though it seems a pity to hang the poor devil, too. I should like
-to lay hold of him without any trouble, and I 'll tell you how we will do
-it. I will write down to him in the course of a day or two, inviting him
-here on especial business. He will suspect nothing, and come up of course.
-You shall have an opportunity of meeting him face to face. We will hear
-what he has to say for himself, in contradiction of your statement; and if
-I find him guilty, means shall be provided beforehand, and kept in
-readiness to seize him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-This excellent proposition, then, for entrapping the wily Doctor having
-been finally decided upon, with the understanding that Colin should early
-be apprised of his arrival in town, in order to have an opportunity of
-reiterating his statement to that gentleman's face, he received a hearty
-shake of the hand from Mr. Lupton, and took his leave.
-</p>
-<p>
-In accordance with the Squire's wishes, Colin took his leave the very next
-day of the Veri-quear family, and repaired to a comfortable suite of
-apartments in the neighbourhood of Bedford Square, which Mr. Lupton had
-engaged for him. Neither did that gentleman forget to despatch him to a
-tailor's, for the purpose of being, like an old vessel, thoroughly
-new-rigged.
-</p>
-<p>
-Some few days afterwards, a note from the Squire informed him that Rowel
-had taken the bait, and would be at his hotel at seven in the evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-Elated with the hope not only of now securing Woodruff's liberation, but
-also of getting the Doctor punished as he deserved, Colin set out at an
-early hour on his expedition, and arrived at the appointed place some
-twenty minutes before the time fixed for Rowel's appearance.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXVI.
-</h2>
-<h3>
-<i>The Doctor caught, and caged.—Woodruffs removal, and where to.</i>
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>OT long did they wait. Scarcely had the clock struck seven before the
-professional gentleman of whom they were in expectation was introduced
-into the room.
-</p>
-<p>
-He addressed himself very familiarly to the Squire, but scarcely cast a
-look upon Colin, whom, “disguised as a gentleman,” he did not seem to
-recollect, until such time as Mr. Lup-ton formally introduced him to the
-Doctor by name. Then, indeed, he started, and looked perplexed in what
-manner to regard the young man, whether as friend or foe.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Happy to see you, Mr. Clink,” said he. “I have been anxious to meet with
-you now for some time past. If I am not mistaken, you are the same
-gentleman who did me the honour to climb the wall of my premises by night,
-a while ago?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The very same, sir,” replied Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ah!—indeed! Well, that's plain, at all events. You hear that, Mr.
-Lupton?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The Squire assumed an air of astonishment at the scene before him, in
-order to encourage the Doctor in what appeared likely to prove a somewhat
-ludicrous mistake. It was evident he fancied he had unexpectedly got Colin
-“on the hip,” and was drawing from him a confession of his guilt before
-the very face of a witness and a magistrate; while the well-played
-expression of Mr. Lupton's countenance tended powerfully to confirm the
-notion.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But, sir,” said the Doctor, very blandly addressing the last-named
-gentleman, “you have business with me, which I will not interrupt. Only,
-as I have a serious charge to make against this young gentleman, and have
-most unexpectedly met with him here—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I beg by all means you will proceed,” objected the Squire; “and be
-assured, if you have any charge to make against him, I shall most gladly
-hear it; for I have taken him into my confidence, in consequence of
-certain good qualities which seemed to be displayed in him. And if I am
-deceived—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sir,” said the Doctor, gravely, “I deeply fear you are. You know who he
-is, of course?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Why, sir, who is he?” demanded Mr. Lupton, with feigned amazement.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Who is he, sir! I 'll tell you, sir, who he is. That young man, sir,—he,
-sir,—he is neither more nor less, sir, than the son of a little
-huckster woman in your own village, sir. I know it for a fact; for I
-attended his mother myself.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And what then, Doctor?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Besides that, Mr. Lupton, he is an incipient housebreaker. I charge him
-with having made a burglarious attempt on my premises at Nabbfield, for
-which he was obliged to fly the country; and you, sir, with all due
-deference, as a magistrate, will see the propriety of putting his person
-in a position of security.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then you feel convinced his intention was to rob you?” asked the Squire.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Nay, sir,” replied the Doctor, “the thing speaks for itself. A young man
-forms a plan to enter my premises: comes at ten o'clock at night,—a
-burglarious hour, according to law; climbs my outer wall by a rope-ladder—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It seems more like a love affair,” interrupted the Squire.
-</p>
-<p>
-“So I thought myself,” answered Rowel, “at first; because I found some
-fragments of a letter, which had previously been thrown over the wall; but
-I could make nothing material of them.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Have you those fragments by you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I have a copy of them, which I kept in case of need,” said the Doctor.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Perhaps you will read it, Mr. Rowel, for my satisfaction,” observed Mr.
-Lupton.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Certainly,” replied he; and drawing from his pocket-book a paper
-containing some scattered portions of the letter which Colin Clink had
-addressed to James Woodruff, and the torn fragments of which Rowel had
-detected after James had buried them in the earth, he handed it in the
-following shape to the Squire:—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“The young woman—is necessary—in your yard until ten o'clock at
-night.—If you should—try — ——until you do succeed———stand——
-thickest———in the corner. Colin Clink—will do his best to get—
-Fanny will be able——any night—at ten o'clock.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-No sooner had Mr. Lupton perused this precious fragment than he pronounced
-the whole to have been unequivocally a love affair. There could be no
-doubt about the matter remaining in the mind of any commentator of
-ordinary sagacity who weighed well the general drift of the text in hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-Rowel objected to this interpretation, and persisted in expressing his
-opinion that, the young man harboured no good motives; although, in fact,
-he felt secretly as assured of the real object of the attempt as was Colin
-himself.
-</p>
-<p>
-“But perhaps,” said he, addressing Colin, “perhaps you will so far oblige
-Mr. Lupton as to explain what really were your motives on that occasion?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“He need not be at that trouble,” observed Mr. Lupton, “or at least not
-until I have asked you, Doctor, a few questions which, I dare say, you can
-readily answer if you please.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Oh, yes; certainly, sir. Ask anything you think proper. I shall have
-great pleasure indeed in affording you every information in my power. And
-allow me to add, my good sir, how deeply I feel the honour you have done
-me in demanding my attendance, while you are surrounded by so much of the
-first talent, knowledge, and experience that the profession can boast of.
-I trust the case is not a very serious one. Allow me, sir.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And the Doctor drew up his chair near that of Mr. Luptons, and
-solicitously extended his fingers in order to feel his pulse. The
-last-named gentleman pretended not to observe this invitation, as he
-remarked, in reply to the Doctor's concluding words.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I am afraid, Mr. Rowel, the case <i>is</i> a very serious one indeed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Indeed! Let us hope for the best. It is of no use to be down-hearted.
-Now, sir, explain the symptoms, if you please.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The first symptom, then,” replied the Squire, “is this:—that youth
-with whom you have been talking appears to have well founded reasons for
-believing, that for many years you have kept imprisoned in your house, as
-a lunatic, a man of perfectly sound mind, who never ought to have been
-there.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The Doctor's countenance underwent a sudden change, as this remark came so
-unexpectedly upon him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sir!” he exclaimed, “you are not serious?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I certainly am not joking,” replied Mr. Lupton.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Then am I to believe it possible,” rejoined the Doctor, “that you, sir,
-can have <i>descended</i>, I may say, so far as to listen to the idle
-tales and ridiculous nonsense which such a boy as this may have picked up
-amongst the gossips and old women of a village, about matters of which
-they cannot possibly know anything? It surely, sir, cannot be needful for
-me to disabuse your mind of prejudices of this kind,—to inform you
-how the suspicions and conjectures of the ignorant and vulgar are apt to
-attach to any professional man, associated so peculiarly as I am with a
-very unfortunate class of patients.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I anticipate all you would say,” observed the Squire, “and sufficiently
-appreciate the force of your remarks. At the same time I should be glad to
-know whether you have or have not a patient named Woodruff confined on
-your premises?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Emphatically, then, sir,” replied the Doctor, “I HAVE NOT.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And never had?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That I will not say.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You have removed him?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“There is no such individual in my care.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Is he at liberty?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I think, Mr. Lupton,” replied the Doctor, very smoothly, “you will allow
-that, without offence, I may decline, after what has been said, to give
-any farther explanation of a purely professional affair, for which I do
-not hold myself responsible, save as a matter of courtesy, to any man or
-any power in existence.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Sir,” replied the Squire, more seriously, “where any reason exists for
-even the slightest suspicion,—I do not say that wrong <i>has</i>
-been done, but that it <i>may</i> possibly exist,—I beg to state,
-that the responsibility you disclaim cannot be set aside, and, if need be,
-must absolutely make itself be felt; and that some suspicion I <i>do</i>
-entertain, it is needless to scruple at avowing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Did I not feel assured,” answered Rowel, “from the many years during
-which I have enjoyed the honour of Mr. Lupton's acquaintance, that he can
-scarcely intend to offer me a deliberate insult, the course I ought to
-adopt—”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Whatever course you may think proper to adopt,” interrupted the Squire,
-“will not alter mine. A very remarkable disclosure has been made to me
-respecting a patient in your keeping, as well as regarding the death of
-the late lawyer of Bramleigh.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Those words startled and excited the Doctor in an extreme degree. They
-seemed to strike him as might a sudden sickness that turns the brain
-giddy; and starting from his chair, with his eyes fixed fiercely on Colin,
-he advanced towards him, exclaiming, “What other falsehoods, you villain,
-have you dared to utter concerning me or mine? If there be law, sir, in
-the land for such infamous slander, such base defamation as this, I 'll
-punish you for it, you rogue, though it cost me my very life! Have you
-dared to say that <i>I</i> had anything to do with Skinwell's death, sir?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I have said to Mr. Lupton, what I will say again,” replied Colin,
-“because I believe it to be true, and that is, that you helped to kill
-him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's a lie!—a lie!—a d—d lie! you slanderous vagabond!”
- </p>
-<p>
-The Doctor would inevitably have committed a personal assault upon Colin
-of a very violent nature, had he not in the very midst of his rage been
-still restrained from so doing by certain prudential reasons, arising from
-the evident strength and capability of the young man to turn again, and,
-in every human probability, convert the chastiser into the chastised. He
-therefore contented himself with fuming and fretting about the room as
-might some irritated cur, yet haunted with the spectre of a tin-pot
-appended to his tail. In the midst of this, the “very whirlwind of his
-passion,” he snatched up his hat, as though unexpectedly seized with an
-idea of the propriety of taking his leave; but Mr. Lupton had kept an eye
-upon him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Not yet, sir, if you please,” observed the Squire, interposing himself
-between the Doctor and the door. “I must perform an exceedingly unpleasant
-office; but nevertheless, Mr. Rowel, it has become my duty to tell you
-that, for the present, you are my prisoner.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I deny it, sir!” exclaimed the Doctor. “I am no man's prisoner!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That we will soon ascertain,” replied Mr. Lupton, as he rapped loudly on
-the table, while the Doctor used his best endeavours to force his way out.
-</p>
-<p>
-Before he could resort to any violence in order to effect this object, the
-door was thrown back, and two servants of the law entered. A warrant,
-which Mr. Lupton had taken care to have prepared beforehand, was produced
-by one of them, and in the course of a very comfortable space of time the
-Doctor was placed in a coach, and driven on his way to certain
-particularly appropriate lodgings, which the country has provided for
-ladies and gentlemen who chance to have been so unlucky as to be inveigled
-into the commission of offences of a criminal nature.
-</p>
-<p>
-The removal of James Woodruff from the Doctor's establishment at Nabbfield
-has been before briefly alluded to; while the declaration made by that
-worthy to Mr. Lupton that he had no such person confined on his premises,
-has borne evidence to the fact.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was quite true. For, after the attempt which Colin had so
-unsuccessfully made to effect Mr. Woodruff's escape, Doctor Rowel became
-convinced—as the secret was out—that his troublesome charge
-would no longer be safe within the precincts of the asylum at Nabbfield.
-He therefore seized the earliest opportunity that the needful arrangements
-would permit, to convey him secretly by night from thence to the residence
-of the Doctor's own brother,—an old-fashioned brick mansion of very
-ample dimensions, which stood upon the borders of a heathy waste, which
-formerly constituted one of the finest portions of the old forest of
-Sherwood, in the northern part of Nottinghamshire.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was even still studded with the dying remains of ancient oaks, which
-had sheltered many a bold archer in times gone by, but which now sufficed
-only to give additional dreariness to the solitary landscape, that
-stretched in picturesque undulations, but open as the ocean north and
-eastwards for many miles.
-</p>
-<p>
-The removal, however, of James Woodruff from his previous confinement to
-this place had not been effected without Fanny's knowledge; and, for the
-possession of this fact, it is believed, she was indebted to the friendly
-agency of Mrs. Rowel. Not knowing in her present dilemma what other step
-to take, Fanny was no sooner made acquainted with the removal which Rowel
-contemplated, than she forthwith communicated it to her master, the young
-man who had succeeded to the business of the deceased Mr. Skinwell, one
-Sylvester by name; and a man who, though but a crest-fallen looking affair
-outside, had yet, when occasion needed, a pretty considerable amount of
-spirit at command within. No sooner was he informed of the particulars of
-the affair than he volunteered his immediate assistance. He and Fanny were
-fully prepared on the intended night of Woodruff's removal, quietly to
-follow the vehicle that contained him until it should arrive at its
-ultimate destination; after having ascertained which, they would be
-prepared to take the most prompt steps within their power to insure his
-restoration to his liberty, property, and friends. In accordance with this
-arrangement they had acted, and at a convenient distance had followed in a
-gig, and, as they thought, unobserved. On Sylvester's subsequently making
-application at the house already described, and to which he had seen the
-carriage containing Woodruff driven, he found Doctor Rowel there, who
-expressed great surprise at seeing him, and on being informed of the
-nature of his mission, at once frankly declared that Mr. Sylvester was
-totally mistaken. In proof whereof, and to establish his own innocence the
-more completely, he conducted him up-stairs into a chamber where lay a
-gentleman sick in bed, and who the Doctor averred, was the identical
-person he had brought in his carriage the night before, and whom he had
-thus removed to his brother's for the benefit of the purer air of the
-forest. Beyond this Sylvester saw nothing to warrant Fanny's suspicions;
-while the girl herself declared on seeing him that that man certainly was
-not the father of whom they were in search. In fact, so admirably had the
-Doctor managed matters, that Fanny began to think herself that she was
-labouring under some very strange mistake; more especially when, on the
-question being put to him, the sick man himself concurred in the statement
-made by the Doctor, and solemnly averred that he had, as previously
-stated, been brought from Nabbfield the preceding night. And so far he
-spoke the literal truth; for, in fact, the sick man was no other than
-Robson, the Doctor's assistant, fitted with a very consumptive and
-deranged-looking night-cap, a bedgown slipped over his shirt, and a big
-bottle of hot water at his heels to make him look like an invalid; while
-James Woodruff himself, very shortly after his arrival, had been again
-removed—in consequence of the Doctor's suspicions that he was
-followed—to another and a more secret place in the very heart of the
-waste, where, it was confidently trusted, he might be safely kept the
-remainder of his days, beyond the possibility of human discovery.
-</p>
-<p>
-In consequence of the success of the Doctor's stratagem, Fanny and Mr.
-Sylvester returned disappointed and out of spirit to their home.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such, in substance, was the brief story related by Fanny to Colin on the
-occasion of her visit to town; and which he had a few days before
-communicated to Mr. Lupton.
-</p>
-<p>
-Whether the arrest of Doctor Rowel, when it became known amongst his
-friends, and to the brother, of whom we have above spoken, might not have
-precipitated some tragical conclusion or other of Woodruff's life,—is
-doubtful, perhaps highly probable; had not a singular and very mysterious
-communication concerning him been made to Colin, and from a quarter
-equally mysterious, some month or so after the occurrences above
-described.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-CHAPTER XXVII.
-</h2>
-<h3>
-<i>London Bridge, and an unexpected scene upon it.</i>
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was about four o'clock—sometime before daylight—one
-morning, nearly a month after the events last described, that Mr. Lupton
-and Colin might have been seen wending their way along the chilly and
-silent streets, in the direction of London Bridge. Saving the deliberate
-footfalls of the night-watch, the far-heard rattle of some early carriage
-over the resounding pavement, or perhaps now and then the smothered
-asthmatical cough of some poor old creature or other turned out thus
-early, in cloak and covered chair, to sit with charcoal fire and coffee in
-the streets, there were no audible signs that any soul existed there
-besides themselves. London was asleep. This Goliah of earthly cities had
-lain itself down wearied, and for a time lost itself in forgetfulness of
-all the world. Its labours suspended, its pleasures wearied into pains,
-and laid all aside, its virtue dreaming innocently, its vice steeped
-painfully in the burning phlegethon of disturbed stupor, like a
-half-dreamed hell; its happy, hopeful of the morrow; its miserable,
-dreading the approach of another sun. While itself, the carcass of the
-great city, lay stretched athwart the banks of the broad river, as,
-overpowered with the mighty labours which it had achieved within the last
-four and twenty hours, and unconsciously receiving strength from repose
-for that additional exertion, whose repetitions day by day, year by year,
-and age after age, no man can count to the end.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Five o'clock exactly,” said Colin, “is, I think, the time appointed, and
-on the city side of the bridge.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As he said this he drew from his pocket the communication to which
-allusion was made at the conclusion of the last chapter, and again perused
-it.
-</p>
-<p>
-The reader must here be informed that the letter now in Colin's hands had
-been addressed to him in the first instance at Mr. Veriquear's, and thence
-had been forwarded to his present residence. It came from some anonymous
-correspondent, evidently residing not far from the place to which James
-Woodruff had been carried; but as its contents will perhaps better explain
-themselves than would any description of mine, I will give it:—
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sir,—I am given to understand that you feel some interest in the
-fate of a Mr. James Woodruff. That man is now in my power, either to
-liberate or to detain for life, according as you may answer this
-favourably or unfavourably. You HAVE AN OBJECT TO CARRY OUT, SO have I. If
-you are prepared to serve me, I will put this Woodruff into your hands in
-return: if not, neither you nor his daughter may ever see him more. Meet
-me <i>alone</i> at the north end of London Bridge, at five o'clock on the
-morning of the —th, and I will explain particulars. At that time it
-will be as secret there as in a desert, and you will feel more secure. You
-will know me to be the writer of this when you see a man make a cross with
-his finger in the air.”
- </p>
-<p>
-This strange communication Colin had laid before Mr. Lupton; and the only
-probable conjecture they could form respecting it was, that it had been
-written by Doctor Rowel's brother, who,—having heard of the
-imprisonment of that gentleman,—had resorted to this expedient in
-the hope of compromising the matter by, as it were, exchanging prisoners,
-and perhaps stipulating for all farther proceedings against the Doctor
-being stayed. To be sure, there were objections to this interpretation,
-but, nevertheless, it seemed altogether the only plausible one they could
-hit upon.
-</p>
-<p>
-However, as Mr. Lupton suspected that very possibly some treachery might
-be concealed under this uncommon garb, and that it was a plot on the part
-of the Doctor's friends to be revenged on Colin,—he himself
-determined to accompany him; but on their arrival near the place appointed
-to fall back, in order to avoid suspicion, though still keeping
-sufficiently near to distinguish a preconcerted signal which Colin was to
-give in case of need.
-</p>
-<p>
-The bridge was now at hand. Over the parapet to the left, and considerably
-below them, long rows of lights, illuminating the walls and doorways of
-life-deserted warehouses, filled with merchandise from all parts of the
-world, pointed out the site of that thronged and noisy gully Thames
-Street. Before them, farther on, lost in mist, and yet lingering smoke,
-which gave to sky, buildings, and water, one common neutral colour, rose
-beyond the water one solitary tower, looming darker than all around it,
-but relieved still farther back by a flush of dull, mysterious light,
-which, though it showed nothing distinctly, yet emphatically marked the
-existence, to an undefined extent, of many an unseen mass of building like
-that by which they were immediately surrounded. And now they are on the
-bridge alone. It is not yet five. The sight is magnificent. Behold these
-two sides of a mighty city separated by a scarcely-seen gulf, on which
-streams of light, reflected from night-lamps afar off, ripple as though so
-many of the pillars of fire that lighted the Israelites of old were on the
-waves. Up the great stream, or down it,—the uprear-ing of men's
-hands,—house, church, and palace appear alike illimitable. All those
-mean and minor details, which confound the eye and distract the attention
-during daylight, are now swallowed up and resolved into one broad whole.
-The dense and unmeasured mass of building which meets the sight every way,
-seems resolved into a solid. Line on line and height on height extending
-away till lost utterly in the far obscurity of the void horizon. Without
-any great strain of the imagination this scene might be mistaken for a
-splendid dream of Tyre or Palmyra, or of Babylon on the Euphrates, great
-cities of old, whose giant memories loom in the mind as images that cannot
-be fully compassed from their very vastness. While under our feet flows
-the ghastly river, the dull, deceptive stream that has borne on its bosom
-the wealth of kingdoms; that has found in its bed a thousand last
-resting-places for human misery, when the link that bound unhappiness and
-life together became too galling to be any more endured; and that in its
-stormy wrath has swallowed happiness suddenly, when jollity forgot in its
-temporary delirium that boats are frail, and that but a slender plank,
-which a wave might founder, stood between itself and a deep grave.
-</p>
-<p>
-As Colin cast a scrutinizing eye around, in the hope of meeting with his
-appointed and unknown correspondent, the city clocks far and near, some
-together, and some after each other, chimed five. Almost with the last
-stroke of the bell footsteps were heard rising upon the city side of the
-bridge. A bricklayer s labourer, with a short pipe in his mouth, passed
-by; and then a woman,—if woman she could be called,—torn,
-dirty, and deplorable to look upon, staggering forwards under the
-influence of the last night's excesses: but neither made a sign. Behind
-them followed an old man, roughly clad in the costume of the poorer
-classes of the residents of our country villages, saving that a long coat
-supplied the place of smock-frock, while his nether extremities were
-finished off with quarter boots, tightly laced up to the ankles with
-leathern thongs.
-</p>
-<p>
-An unaccountable feeling, which displayed itself in his flushed features,
-shot through Colin's veins as the first momentary sight of this man came
-across him. Had he seen him before? It almost seemed so; but when? where?
-on what occasion?
-</p>
-<p>
-The old man hesitated a moment or two as he gazed on Colin, and then cast
-a searching glance around, in order to ascertain whether he was alone. The
-figure of Mr. Lupton was dimly visible at some distance. Colin leaned idly
-against the wall with his eyes fixed intently on the old man, who now
-again approached him. In another moment the sign was made—the cross
-in the air—and our hero advanced and accosted him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I believe, sir, you wish to speak to me: you sent a letter addressed to
-me a short time ago.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Nay—nay, now!” replied the old man, “what occasion have you to tell
-<i>me</i> that? If I wrote you a letter I know it without your
-explanation; and your appearance here is a sufficient assurance to me that
-you have duly received it. Do you know who I am?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I do not,” said Colin, “though it seems to me as though I had seen you
-before somewhere or other.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Humph! well—well!” exclaimed the old man, “then you are now talking
-to old Jerry Clink, your own grandfather.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Your name Clink!” ejaculated the young man, astonished, “and my
-grandfather!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Now, why ask me again? Hav'n't I just now answer'd 'em. And if you can't
-believe me the first time, I 'm sure you won't on a repetition.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But is it possible? I never knew I had a grandfather.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Ay, ay, I see how it is,” replied Jerry; “I'm a poor man, and you are
-apeing the gentleman. But I risked my life once to be revenged for you,
-only some busy meddler came across and baulked me. I'll do it yet though;
-and I want you to help me. The cause is yours as well as mine; for the
-injury is of a mother to you, though of a daughter to me: and the man who
-will not defend his mother's honour, or revenge her disgrace, ought to be
-cast into the bottomless pit for everlasting!”
- </p>
-<p>
-Colin stood astonished at this speech. He scarcely knew what he said, but
-faltered out, “Who, sir, has dared to say anything to my mother's
-dishonour, or to bring her into any disgrace?”
- </p>
-<p>
-The old man tapped him with serious significance on the shoulder as he
-replied, “Your father, my boy,—your father!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“How!” exclaimed the young man in a tone of deep excitement: “who is he?
-for I never knew who was my father.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You!” replied Jerry bitterly, “ought never to have been born!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What can you mean, man, by all this?” demanded Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I tell you,” answered the old man, “your father is a villain, and you—you
-are—but never mind. Since you <i>are</i> born, and <i>are</i> alive,
-show that you are worthy to live by properly resenting your mother's
-everlasting injuries. <i>My</i> vengeance has been untiring, but it has
-not succeeded yet. Together we can do anything. True, the man must be
-called, as he is, your father. What then? The punishment of such fathers
-cannot come from better hands than their own sons. As they sow the wind,
-let them reap the whirlwind.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What is it?” demanded Colin, interrupting him, “that you would propose to
-me?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“See you,” said the old man, drawing closer, “you are in love with a girl,
-named Fanny Woodruff. Nay, nay, do not interrupt me, I know better than
-you do. I tell you you love her, and can never marry any one else. Her
-father is confined as a madman. He is now in my power. I am his keeper.
-You want to liberate him, and rightly too. <i>He</i> has told me all about
-it, and I believe him. Now, let me see the spirit of a true man in you;
-take up your mothers cause, and never forgive till you are revenged, and
-he shall by me be set at liberty. Join hand and heart with me against the
-villain called your father.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Who is he?” again demanded Colin.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lupton of Kiddal,” answered Jerry.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Lupton my father!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“The same. I shot at him once.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I, with this same right hand.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And I,” added Colin, “prevented it, and saved you from the gallows.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The old man stood mute—confounded. His whole countenance changed
-with deadly fury, and in the next moment he rushed upon Colin with
-apparently the desperate intention of forcing him over the balustrades of
-the bridge.
-</p>
-<p>
-A moment sufficed for his signal call, which brought Mr. Lupton instantly
-to the spot. The mutual recognition between Jerry and himself was but the
-process of a moment; and, while the latter strove all in his power to
-secure the former without violence, Jerry as desperately and madly aimed
-to bury in his bosom a long knife, which it was now discovered he held
-opened in his hand. The combined exertions of Mr. Lupton and Colin were,
-however, too much for him, and would eventually have achieved his capture,
-had not Jerry, with a degree of reckless desperation and agility, which
-struck both his assailants with momentary horror and astonishment, leaped
-the wall of the bridge on finding himself at the point of being taken, and
-casting his knife and coat from him, in an instant plunged headlong from
-about the centre of one of the arches into the Thames.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was a wild leap, an insane flight into the arms of death. There was no
-splash in the water, but a dull, leaden sound came up, as when a heavy
-weight is plunged into a deep gulf. It was as if the water made no
-aperture, and threw up no spray; but gulfed him sullenly, as though such
-prey was not worth rejoicing over.
-</p>
-<p>
-Father and son seemed petrified into mere statues; not more from what they
-had seen than—in the case of the latter, at least—he had heard
-from the lips of the suicide. For that a suicide he was who could doubt?
-Who might take that giddy leap, and live?
-</p>
-<p>
-During a brief space they dared not even cast their eyes down the fearful
-height; the deed had paralysed them. But, as Colin's eyes were fixed
-intensely on the waves, a something living seemed to struggle through and
-across a ripple of light. Could it indeed be the old man? He dared not
-hope, and could say nothing.
-</p>
-<p>
-Boats were subsequently got out, the river was traversed, and both banks
-were searched, in hopes of finding him; but all the efforts of the boatmen
-proved ineffectual.
-</p>
-<p>
-The cause of Mr. Lupton's kindness was a secret to Colin no longer. But in
-how different a relative position did he seem to stand to that gentleman
-now to what he had done formerly; so recently, even, as one brief hour
-ago! Within that space what painful truths had passionately been cleared
-up to him; what difficulties and embarrassments thrown on almost every
-hand around his future conduct towards nearly every person with whom he
-was connected, and in whose fate his heart was most deeply interested! But
-the case of his old grandfather, so resolutely bent on spilling the blood
-of his own father, out of a stern principle of mistaken justice, seemed to
-him the worst. He foresaw that, unless it <i>had</i> so happened that
-Jerry was drowned,—an event which he scarcely knew whether to feel
-satisfied under, or to regret,—all his address would be required in
-the time to come to settle the hostility between that man and his father,
-without the bitter and ignominious consequence resulting, which would doom
-him to behold his mother's parent expiate upon a public scaffold his
-double crime of having twice deliberately attempted the assassination of
-Mr. Lupton. So deeply was he overwhelmed with the fearful transactions of
-the morning, that he begged the Squire to allow him a day or two's quiet
-and reflection before he undertook the duty of explaining to him what had
-passed between the old man and himself. But it was on one condition only
-that Mr. Lupton consented to acquiesce in this request. That condition was—to
-be then and there told who his assailant could possibly be. Colin
-hesitated awhile, but at length burst into tears as he uttered the words—“My
-mother's father!” The Squire turned pale as ashes when those words reached
-his ear, while a very sensible tremor shook his whole frame. He grasped
-Colin's hand, but said nothing. Those words called up something in each
-mind, which now made both dumb. They shook hands repeatedly, and parted.
-</p>
-<h3>
-END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
-</h3>
-<div style="height: 6em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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