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diff --git a/old/54091-h/54091-h.htm b/old/54091-h/54091-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a350b47..0000000 --- a/old/54091-h/54091-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8533 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of All But Lost, by G. A. Henty</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } - h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; } - h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; } - .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; - text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; - border: thin solid silver; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; } - p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; } - sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } - .large { font-size: large; } - .xlarge { font-size: x-large; } - .small { font-size: small; } - .xsmall { font-size: x-small; } - .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; } - ol.ol_1 {padding-left: 0; margin-left: 2.78%; margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .5em; list-style-type: decimal; } - div.footnote {margin-left: 2.5em; } - div.footnote > :first-child { margin-top: 1em; } - div.footnote .label { display: inline-block; width: 0em; text-indent: -2.5em; - text-align: right; } - div.pbb { page-break-before: always; } - hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom: 1em; } - @media handheld { hr.pb { display: none; } } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .table0 { margin: auto; margin-top: 2em; } - .nf-center { text-align: center; } - .nf-center-c1 { text-align: left; margin: 1em 0; } - .c000 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c001 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em; } - .c002 { margin-top: 2em; } - .c003 { margin-top: 1em; } - .c004 { margin-top: 4em; } - .c005 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; } - .c006 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; } - .c007 { vertical-align: top; text-align: left; padding-right: 1em; } - .c008 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; } - .c009 { margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c010 { text-decoration: none; } - div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA; - border:1px solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; } - .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; } - div.tnotes p { text-align:left; } - @media handheld { .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block;} } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of All But Lost Vol 1 of 3, by G. A. Henty - -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/license - - -Title: All But Lost Vol 1 of 3 - A Novel - -Author: G. A. Henty - -Release Date: February 2, 2017 [EBook #54091] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL BUT LOST VOL 1 OF 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>ALL BUT LOST<br /> <span class='xlarge'>A Novel.</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>G. A. HENTY,</span></div> - <div><span class='xsmall'>AUTHOR OF “THE MARCH TO MAGDALA,” ETC., ETC.</span></div> - <div class='c002'>IN THREE VOLUMES.</div> - <div class='c003'>VOL I.</div> - <div class='c002'>LONDON:</div> - <div>TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND.</div> - <div>1869.</div> - <div><span class='small'>[<em>The Right of Translation is reserved.</em>]</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>LONDON:</div> - <div>BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'>CHAP.</th> - <th class='c007'> </th> - <th class='c008'>PAGE</th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>I.—</td> - <td class='c007'>COLLEGE LIFE</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>II.—</td> - <td class='c007'>THE DUSTMAN’S FAMILY</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_22'>22</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>III.—</td> - <td class='c007'>BROKEN DOWN</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IV.—</td> - <td class='c007'>THE OWNERS OF WYVERN HALL</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>V.—</td> - <td class='c007'>A MODEST ANNIVERSARY</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VI.—</td> - <td class='c007'>THE BINGHAMS</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VII.—</td> - <td class='c007'>A STARTLING SUGGESTION</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VIII.—</td> - <td class='c007'>A SHATTERED HOME</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IX.—</td> - <td class='c007'>WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO?</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>X.—</td> - <td class='c007'>PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XI—</td> - <td class='c007'>AN EVENING AT THE HOLLS’</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_244'>244</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XII.—</td> - <td class='c007'>THWARTED PLANS</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_264'>264</a></td> - </tr> -</table> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>ALL BUT LOST.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I.<br /> <span class='large'>COLLEGE LIFE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>It is near the end of the Lent term at -Cambridge, a raw, damp day. The grey clouds -are drifting thick and low, over the flat fen -country, and a fine mist is falling steadily. But -for once no one seems to mind the weather. It -is two o’clock, and from all the colleges the men -are pouring out in groups, on their way down to -the river.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Hardly a soul in the University remains behind. -Even the reading men have closed their books -for the afternoon, have given up their daily -constitutional out beyond Trumpington, and are -going down to see their college eights row.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>It is the last day of the races. Along the men -tramp in little knots through the narrow winding -streets—talking excitedly as they go, and making -many bets as to the fortune of the day—and -then, across the wet grass, down to the water -side.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Here those who are to row cross the floating -bridge to the boat-houses, while the others walk -slowly along the banks, to see the boats as they -paddle by on their way down. Soon they come; -John’s in its blazing scarlet, Trinity in dark -blue, cherry-coloured Emanuel, chocolate Corpus, -and violet Caius; Trinity Hall in its sober grey, -Sidney in bright orange, and Queen’s in green.<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c010'><sup>[1]</sup></a> -These and many others sweep past, and the -narrow river seems alive with the flashing oars.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. </span>Many of the colours have since been changed.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The men on the banks hurry now, to be up at -the starting posts in time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some trot along for a little way, by the side of -the boat they are most interested in, watching -with anxious eye, the condition and form of each -man, and the regular swing of the crew. Now -they have arrived at the post-reach, and are -clustered along the towing path, while the boats, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>by this time empty, lie at their respective stations. -Their crews stand alongside, looking grave and -anxious, and receive the final words of advice -and admonition from their captains.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At length the last boat has arrived at its post, -and the first gun fires. There are three minutes -yet, but the men take their places in their boats, -strip off the upper jerseys and comforters in -which they are wrapped, and, amid a perfect babel -of last words, of little speeches of encouragement -and good will, from their friends on the bank, -push slowly off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The crowd on the towing-path clusters thickest -round the first three boats, but our place is by -the fifth, for that contains the men whose fortunes -will be the subject of this story. It is -Caius; before it lies Emanuel, behind it Trinity -Hall, confessedly the best crew of the three. -Another gun. The tumult on the bank is hushed -as if by magic, umbrellas are closed, coats buttoned -up, and all prepare for a start. The -boats lie out in the middle of the stream; -twenty of them in a long line; each with its -eight stalwart oarsmen, all in white, their caps -forming the only distinguishing badges. Each -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>of the coxswains holds in his hand a rope attached -to his post. These are forty yards apart, and -each boat’s bow is therefore only some sixty feet -from the rudder of the one before it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is a dead silence, broken only by voices -of men on the bank counting the seconds, and by -the short quick orders of the coxswains.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Fifteen seconds gone;”—“Paddle bow and -two;”—“Twenty;” “Thirty;” “Forty seconds -gone;” “Forty-five;”—“Pull half a stroke -bow;”—“Fifty;” “Fifty-five;”—“Forward -all;”—“Sixty.” As the word is heard, the gun -is fired; a hundred and sixty oars strike the -water as if by one impulse. At the same -moment a roar of exhortation and encouragement -breaks from the crowd on the bank; they -set off to run—a wild, pushing, shouting throng.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No easy matter is it to keep up with the flying -boats, jostled and pushed in that excited, eager -crowd. Woe be to him who falls,—fortunate by -comparison he who is pushed into the river. A -wild looking set are they: men in boating dresses -of every variety of colour, their arms waving -frantically; men in pea-jackets, and waterproof -coats and wraps of every description; sober -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>reading men, lost in the tumult, bewildered and -hustled, intent only on keeping their feet, all -shouting in voices which grow momentarily hoarse -and broken.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boats had got an equally good start, but in -the first few hundred yards Trinity Hall had -considerably lessened the gap between itself and -Caius, while the latter had gained but slightly -upon Emanuel. In this order they round the -post corner, and dash on through the gut to -Grassy. “Now bow and three, now bow and -three,” is the shout, and the boats sweep round -the sharp curve.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Here Emanuel steers rather wild, and her -pursuer has palpably gained upon her. The -shouting redoubles; men who have dropped behind -from the leading boats join the throng and -take up the cry, “Now, Caius, now; you’re gaining, -you’re gaining.” “Now, Trinity Hall, take -her along.” There are not thirty feet between -Emanuel and Caius, while Trinity Hall is not -twenty behind the latter. On they fly, the boats -leaping forward at each stroke like long hungry -water snakes after their prey, past the Plough, -and round Ditton corner. Here a fresh burst -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>cheering breaks out from the opposite bank, from -numbers stationed there;—dons too old and staid -to run along the towing path, and men on horse-back, -who start to gallop alongside. Many ladies -are there too; these wave their handkerchiefs -and parasols, and would like to run along with -the rest. On the boats dart; rounding the -corner the tired crews pull with renewed energy -and hope. It is straight home now; only another -half mile. They are nearing each other fast. -There is certain to be a bump: which boat will -make it? Nearer and nearer. Trinity Hall -overlaps Caius; but her bow has not touched -her flying adversary, and whenever it draws near, -the rudder of the Caius boat is slightly turned, -and a rush of water thrown against it. This -cannot last. Inch by inch they draw up, and -Caius is still three feet behind Emanuel. Her -chance seems hopeless. All at once, in a momentary -lull of the shouting, a well-known voice -from the throng, that of one of the college -tutors, himself once a famous oar, comes out -clear and strong—“Now, Caius, now—twenty -strokes, and you are in to them. One—two—three.” -The crowd take up the cry: “four”—“five”—“six;” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>and at each stroke the boat -seems to leap upon its adversary. “Seven”—“eight”—“three -more and you do it.” “Nine”—“ten”—“eleven;” -and a last wild cheer breaks -out as the nose of the Caius boat touches the -rudder of Emanuel, and the bump is made.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The two boats immediately pull aside to let -those behind them pass, and the gasping crews -lean on their oars, exhausted and breathless. -One or two get out, too done-up to pull farther, -while friends on the bank take their places. The -light University blue flag, with the Caius’ arms in -the centre, is hoisted triumphantly in the stern, -and the boat paddles quietly on again, saluted by -a burst of “see the conquering hero comes,” from -the band on the barge near the railway bridge. -The excitement is over, and the men on the -bank, awaking to the consciousness that they are -terribly wet, once more put up their umbrellas, -and make the best of their way back to college.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is evening now in the quiet courts of Caius. -The wind has quite dropped, the rain has ceased, -and the night is still and dark; but from some of -the windows the lights stream out brightly into -the gloom, and sounds of singing and loud -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>laughter at times break out across the deserted -court.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now a man crosses the court, smoking a short -pipe, with a very battered cap upon his head, and -a very short gown over his shoulders; goes up the -stairs to one of the rooms from which the -laughter and noise come loudest, stops at a door -over which the name of Grahame is painted in -white letters, opens it, and goes in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His arrival is greeted with shouts of welcome, -with a great thumping of tumblers, and cries of -“Hurrah, seven! Well rowed, old man!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come up this way, Frank,” a voice from the -other end of the room shouted through the -smoke; “I have kept a place for you here by -me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll come as soon as I can see my way,” the -new-comer answered; “but, upon my word, considering -that it’s barely nine o’clock yet, you have -managed to blow a very fair amount of tobacco -smoke between you.” Accordingly he made his -way up to the end of the room, and took his seat -by the side of his host, who was the captain -and stroke of the Caius eight, and had given -this party to celebrate the victory of the day, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>and the termination of the last month’s training. -The men round the table, by the unanimity -and earnestness with which they were smoking, -seemed determined to make up for their long -abstinence from the fragrant weed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank Maynard, the new comer, was a tall, -wiry man, lithe and sinewy, with broad sloping -shoulders. His face was long and narrow, still -whiskerless, or nearly so, and he would be probably -a much better-looking man in another -two or three years than he was now. But -he could never be handsome; his features were -by no means regular, and his honest eyes, -frank smile, and powerful frame, constituted at -present his only claims to attraction. He was -generally addressed by his Christian name, a -sure sign at the University of unusual popularity. -Upon Frank’s left sat his cousin, Fred -Bingham, and a stronger contrast could hardly -be imagined. Fred Bingham was under the -middle height, and his figure was extremely -slight, almost as much so as that of a boy of -fourteen, and his waist could have been spanned -by the hands of an ordinary man. Apart from -the extraordinary youthfulness of his appearance, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>he was good-looking, with well-cut aristocratic -features. His hair was very fair, and his face -had hardly a trace of colour. His voice was -high-pitched and thin, and his laugh especially -more resembled that of a girl than a man. He -had small and well-formed feet, but his hands -curiously were large, red, and coarse. Among a -certain set in the college with whom he cared -to make himself agreeable he was much liked, -but among the boating set he was intensely unpopular. -These big, strong men were antipathetic -to him, their powerful figures dwarfed his, -their deep hearty voices drowned his weak treble -and girlish laugh, and his disagreeable remarks -and cutting sneers frequently caused disputes -which it needed all his cousin Frank’s influence -to allay. Indeed, had it not been for Frank’s -popularity, the crew would never have retained -him for their coxswain, notwithstanding the fact -that he really was a most useful man, always -cool and collected, with a perfect knowledge of -the river, a good judge of rowing, and above all -a feather-weight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is unnecessary to enter into any details as -to the doings of the evening, the speech-making, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>the songs, the drinking, and the smoking. Every -one can imagine the scene for himself, and may -conceive the noise, the shouting and laughing -which twenty young fellows in full health and -spirits, highly satisfied with themselves and their -day’s work, would make upon such an occasion. -So great was the hubbub indeed that the dons -across the court began to think that even the -victory of the day, which they themselves had -discussed with great satisfaction over their wine -in the common room, could hardly excuse such -an uproarious meeting as this. About midnight, -however, the party began to break up, and the -men scattered over the college to their respective -rooms, singing snatches of songs as they -went. And then the courts were still again. -Frank Maynard, and a few of the quieter men, -sat for another hour smoking and discussing -the race, agreeing that the credit of the day -was mainly due to Crockford, the don who had -called upon them for the final ten strokes which -had effected the bump. After this they, too, -separated, and in a few minutes Caius was quiet -for the night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank Maynard had not been very long asleep -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>when he was awakened by a shouting, and the -sound of running in the street. He opened his -eyes—the room was lit up with a dull red light—and -he hardly needed the cry of “Fire! fire!” -to tell him what was the matter. He leaped from -his bed, threw up his window, and looked out. -There were no flames visible, but the fronts of -the houses on the opposite side of the road -were aglow with a dark fiery glare. It was -evident that the flames were behind him—that -one of the colleges was on fire. He ran into -the sitting-room—to the windows which looked -into the court, and there, through the trees before -him, across the court, was a great glare, and -sparks flying up. It was close—so close that he -could not tell whether it was in the next court -of his own college or in Trinity Hall, which -lies behind it, separated only by a narrow lane.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was the work of a minute to throw on his -clothes, and to run downstairs and across to the -gateway leading to the next court; and then he -saw that the fire was not there, but in Trinity -Hall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Turning back, he ran to the porter’s-lodge. It -was already open, and the porter, in answer to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>an appeal at the gate for assistance, had just -gone into the college to rouse the men.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank ran down the narrow lane between Caius -and the schools, and in another minute was in -Trinity Hall. From the rooms above the gateway -a volume of flame and red smoke was pouring -out. Not many men were as yet in the -court; those there were, belonged to the college -itself. They were looking on, ready enough to -assist, but helpless at present. The engines had -not yet arrived, and the flames were having it -all their own way, pouring out with a fierce -crackling from the windows of the first-floor. -The volume of red smoke, lit up by an occasional -tongue of flame, which filled the adjoining -rooms, showed that it was rapidly spreading. -Very soon a bright ripple of flame runs along -the ceilings, the window curtains catch, the glass -shivers into fragments at the fiery touch, and the -flames rush out with a roar of triumph. Now the -men from the colleges near, from Caius and -Trinity and Clare, are clustering in, together -with a few of the townspeople. Presently the -engines come lumbering up, and the handles are -seized by eager volunteers. But there is no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>water at hand, and the hose are not long enough -to reach to the river behind. So long lines of -men are formed down to the waterside, who pass -the buckets along from hand to hand, and in a -few minutes the engines begin to work. By this -time the fire has got a firm hold of the part -attacked, and the upper stories are one sheet of -flame. Dainty food do the old colleges, with -their rickety wooden staircases and wainscoted -rooms, dry and inflammable as so much tinder, -offer to the hungry fire. At last the engines are -in full play, and work at a speed at which engines -have seldom worked before. Most of those at -the handles are boating-men, who have been -for weeks in some sort of training. Beneath -their powerful arms the cranks work up and -down, with a rapid stroke, very unlike the usual -monotonous clank of a fire-engine. The men -encourage each other with cheering shouts and -boating cries of “Now then, all together!” -“Now she moves!” and the jets of water dash -eagerly in at the blazing windows. But the fire -still spreads. The roof falls in. The flames -mount up more fiercely and brightly than before, -with vast volumes of glowing smoke, and myriads -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>of fiery sparks. Day is dawning, and the crowded -court presents a strange sight as the grey morning -light breaks on the red flashing of the fire. -Some of the men are in pea-jackets with boating-caps -of every colour, others are in their caps and -gowns. Here a party is working its engine with -untiring vigour, there another group is impatiently -awaiting fresh supplies of water; long lines of men -are passing the buckets to and from the river. -Sober dons are as busy and excited as any; a -few are directing the operations, the rest are -hard at work among the undergraduates. In -spite of their exertions the fire still spreads. All -are anxious; for if the flames extend to the -adjoining wing of the court, Trinity, which is -only separated by a narrow lane, is certain to -catch fire. These old places are terribly inflammable. -Some of the dons therefore get upon the -roof, Crockford of Caius most active among them, -and direct the hose of the engines; not unfrequently -in their haste and inexperience deluging -themselves and each other with water, to the -amusement of the undergraduates below. No -attempt is now made to extinguish the fire in -the part it has already seized upon, every effort -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>being directed to prevent it from spreading. -Several times the flames break into the adjoining -rooms, but the dons with the hose, on ladders -at the windows, stand their ground and beat -them back. All this time the college servants are -moving about with cans of beer among the men at -work; the butteries of the colleges near are thrown -open, and refreshments served to all comers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last the efforts to check the flames are successful, -and they spread no farther. Another -hour passes, and it is evident that all danger is -over. The flames only shoot up at intervals -from the shell they have destroyed. The gown -then leave it to the firemen to pump upon the -ruins, and scatter to their homes to breakfast.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the time that Frank Maynard had changed -his things and was ready, a friend who had been -working next to him at the engine, and who had -agreed to come in to breakfast, arrived. Arthur -Prescott was a man with a short, thick-set -figure, and a kindly face with a quaint, old-fashioned -expression—one of those faces which, -on a boy’s shoulders, looks like that of an old -man, but which never alters, and in old age looks -younger than it had ever done before.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>Arthur Prescott—he had been always called -Old Prescott at school, and his intimate friends -never spoke of him as anything else even now—was -a general favourite. No one was ever heard -to say a bad word of him. He was one of those -men in whom all around him seem instinctively -to confide, and to make a depositary of secrets -which they would never relate to anyone else; -a straightforward, sensible, true-hearted English -gentleman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott and Maynard had been great friends -when boys together at Westminster; and, indeed, -it was principally the fact of the former’s coming -to Caius which had induced Frank to choose that -college in preference to any other.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Maynard greeted his arrival with, “That’s -right, Prescott, you’re just in time to help me; -there is the gridiron, put the steak on while I see -about the coffee.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For some time there was little conversation. -Prescott was fully occupied with his culinary -charge, and Maynard in the preparation of the -coffee; the apparatus being one of those beautifully-scientific -inventions, which, while they produce -no doubt an excellent result, demand incessant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>attention, and are liable, in the event of the -least thing going wrong, to explode with disastrous -consequences. At last all was ready, and they -sat down to breakfast. They had scarcely begun -when a new-comer entered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I thought I should find you at breakfast, -Maynard. Give me some, like a good fellow. -My fire is gone out, and I can’t find either my -gyp or bed-maker, although I’ve been shouting -from the window till I am as hoarse as a raven. -What are you eating? Steak, and mighty nicely -done too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Their hunger once somewhat appeased, they -began to talk over the events of the past night, -and of the boat supper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you know, Frank,” Teddy Drake said, -after a pause, “that cousin of yours—Bingham—becomes -more unpleasant every day. I thought -last night there would have been a row half-a-dozen -times. He is the most insufferable little -beggar I ever came across.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank laughed. “Bingham does make himself -disagreeable, Drake, I quite allow; but it -is really all manner, he is not a bad -fellow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“I only go by what I see and hear, Frank, -and I call him a cantankerous little vermin.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is all outside, Drake; he is a good-hearted -fellow in the main.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t think it, Frank. I tell you he is a -chip of the evil one.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Without going as far as Drake,” Prescott -said, smiling, “I confess, Frank, that I don’t like -Bingham. It is not that he is disagreeable, -although he certainly is that, but that I feel -instinctively repelled by him. Frankly, Maynard, -he gives me the impression of being bad -hearted. He is essentially a man I could not -trust.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh come, Prescott,” Frank said, warmly, -“that is not like you. I have known Fred for -many years, and I believe him to be a very -straightforward fellow. Disagreeable and cantankerous -if you like, but a good fellow in the -main. In his way he reminds me, although he -is as straight as an arrow, of deformed people. -They are generally kind-hearted, but they are -often extremely sensitive. They imagine all sorts -of slights where none are intended, and are not -unfrequently very bitter in their remarks on those -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>to whom nature has been more bountiful than to -themselves. So with Fred; I am sure he feels -it very much that he looks a mere boy, and it -makes him irritable and snappish.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have no doubt there is a good deal in what -you say, Frank; but I confess that somehow or -other I distrust as much as I dislike him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’s a chip of the evil one,” Teddy Drake -muttered to himself, “and there are no two ways -about it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, Drake,” Frank said, “help me to push -the table back, and let’s have a pipe. Another -fortnight and we shall be going down; now the -races are over I shall be glad to be away.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am going to stop up and read,” Teddy -Drake said, disconsolately. “My coach says -that I never open a book when the men are up, -and that my only chance is in the vacations, -when there is nothing to do. I am afraid he’s -about right; and I’ve made up my mind to stick -to it. I shall run up to town and see the -‘’Varsity,’ of course, but that’s all the holidays -I mean to take.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look here, Drake,” Frank said; “the best -thing you can do is to come and stay for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>week with me. My guardian is a capital old -fellow, and there’s lots of room in the house.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should like it of all things, Frank; but does -he object to smoke, because I couldn’t do without -that?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He wouldn’t like it in the breakfast-room,” -Frank laughed; “but he smokes himself in his -study, and I have a special smoking-room upstairs.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In that case, Frank, I shall be delighted. -That guardian of yours must be a trump. I wish -my father saw things in the same reasonable -light. He’s always down upon me about smoking; -but I am afraid he will never cure me of -it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am afraid not, Teddy. Well, you can -smoke as much as you like while you are with us.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II.<br /> <span class='large'>THE DUSTMAN’S FAMILY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Nearly three years have passed since the -night of the fire at Trinity Hall. It is a cold -wintry afternoon, not a clear frost, but raw and -foggy. The ice is forming rapidly, and the costermongers -are reaping a rich harvest. All the -ponds near London are centres of noisy groups of -men with carts, of all sizes and sorts, from the -large two-horse vehicle down to mere boxes -upon wheels drawn by diminutive donkeys. The -drivers are striving and quarrelling, and exchanging -volleys of abusive language with each -other, in their anxiety for priority of place and -right of filling their carts. Those next to the -water are engaged in breaking the ice with poles, -or with iron weights attached to cords. With -these they draw the ice to the shore, pulling it -up with rakes, and shovelling and lifting it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>into the carts. When they are filled they drive -off to dispose of their loads to confectioners -and fishmongers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Although it is nearly dusk there are still -a good many strollers by the banks of the Serpentine -looking at the state of the ice, and calculating -on the chances of skating. On the other -side of the bridge, on the long water, the ice -is already strong, and will probably bear after -another night’s frost; but the Serpentine itself, -from its greater breadth and depth, is still thin in -many places, and will require two or three days -more frost before it will be safe. The ice is -everywhere smooth and black, and it is agreed -that if the frost holds there will be capital -skating.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank Maynard is walking along the side of -the Serpentine with his friend Prescott. He has -been for two years upon the Continent, and this -is his first winter in England since he left -college.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It will be splendid ice for skating if the frost -holds, Prescott. I must certainly invest in a -pair of new skates. I have some somewhere, -but where I have not the remotest idea. You -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>must put by your books, and keep me company, -at any rate for a day or two.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t think I can do that, Frank. I don’t -like breaking in upon my regular work; and, -indeed, I don’t care very much for skating. It -must be very pleasant for a really good skater, -who can wheel about like a bird, and perform all -those intricate figures; otherwise, especially the -first day or two of the season, it is very fatiguing -and straining. If I could put by my books for a -month, I would devote myself to it with all my -heart, but for one or two days the pleasure does -not pay for the pain. Look, Frank! there is -something the matter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A knot of people were standing together at the -edge of the water, apparently watching some -small black object upon the ice, but it was -already too dusk for the friends, until they came -quite close, to see what was the matter. A small -dog had run out upon the ice, which was in most -places quite strong enough to bear it, but there -were many patches, over the powerful springs -which well-up in parts of the Serpentine, where -the ice had as yet formed a mere skin. On one -of these treacherous places the little animal had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>run, and had at once gone through. All round it -the ice was extremely thin, and, as the dog endeavoured -to scramble out, it broke under its fore-paws, -until a good-sized space of water was -cleared, round which the poor little animal kept -swimming. Had it continued its efforts only in -the line towards the shore, the dog would speedily -have broken its way to stronger ice. This, -however, it had not sense to do, although the -men called and whistled to it, and endeavoured -in every way to encourage it to swim towards -them. But the poor thing continued swimming -round and round in its narrow circle, -making occasional efforts to get out, but only -falling back again, and giving from time to time -a pitiful whimper. Its mistress, a little girl of -about ten years old, was crying bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is very painful, Prescott,” Frank Maynard -said, after looking on for some time in -silence; “the poor little brute’s cries go through -me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come away, Frank,” Prescott said, turning to -go. “I don’t know that I ever saw anything more -pitiful. Let us get away; it is impossible to do -anything for him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>Frank did not move, but stood looking on irresolutely. -At last he said—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s no use, I can’t help it. Here, Prescott, -take my coat and waistcoat, I must go in for it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nonsense, Frank. My dear fellow, it would -be madness!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank paid no attention to his friend’s remonstrances, -but sat down on the gravel, and began -to unlace his boots. He was however anticipated. -There was a movement among the crowd near, -and a lad of about fourteen, without jacket or -boots, stepped into the water, breaking the ice as -he did so, amidst a general cheer and some few -expostulations from the crowd. Frank Maynard -pushed forward impetuously to the spot.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Can you swim well, my boy?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ay,” the boy answered; “I bathe in the -Serpentine every morning, winter and summer, -except when it’s frozen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They’re gone to fetch the ropes,” a man said; -“you had better wait till they come back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no,” the lad said, “it will be too late—he’s -pretty nigh done already;” and he went -deeper into the water.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s right, my lad,” Frank called out; “lose -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>no time, or you will get numbed by the cold; and -don’t be afraid: if you want help, sing out, and I -will come in for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank unlaced his boots ready to kick them off -in a moment, unbuttoned his waistcoat, handed -his watch to Prescott, and stood with the rest -watching the boy’s progress.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was swimming now. It was slow work; -for as he advanced he had to break the ice, sometimes -by strokes of his arm, sometimes by trying -to get on it and breaking it with his weight. At -last he reached the thin ice. It gave way readily -enough before him; he gained the little open -piece of water which the dog had made, and then -turned to come back. It had not been far, not -more than twenty yards, but it had taken a long -time, and he was evidently exhausted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I must go in for him, or he will never get -back,” Frank said, pulling off his coat and -waistcoat; but just as he was about to plunge -in, there was a shout from the bystanders, and -a man came running up with a long rope which -he had fetched from the Humane Society’s -house. Frank took it from him and threw it to -the boy, who caught the end, and was drawn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>rapidly to the shore amidst the shouts of the -crowd, the little dog swimming behind with -sharp barks of pleasure. The boy was terribly -exhausted, and it was proposed to carry him to -the Society’s house; but while the matter was -being debated, he recovered himself a little, and -said—</p> - -<p class='c000'>Please would they leave him alone, he was -only out of breath, and would rather run -home, for he was late already, and mother would -be wondering what had become of him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Seeing that he really was coming round and -was anxious to be off, it was agreed to let him -have his way. Two men accordingly chafed -his arms and hands. When the circulation -was restored, his jacket was put on him, and -his hands encased in a pair of warm woollen -gloves, sizes too large for him, the gift of one -of the lookers-on. In the meantime another of -the bystanders took off his hat, and went round -among the crowd. He speedily collected a goodly -number of halfpence, sixpences, and shillings, -and a few half-crowns; Frank dropping in a -sovereign for himself and Prescott. By the -time that the boy had finished his toilet, such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>as it was, and had pronounced himself “all -right,” the man came up with the amount -collected.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boy opened his eyes in astonishment. -“Is all this for me?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, my boy, and you deserve it well.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But I did not do it for money,” he said; “I -only did it because I could not bear to hear the -dog yelp so.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We know that, my lad,” Frank said; “and -this money is not to pay you, but only to show -you how pleased we all are with your pluck. You -are a brave little fellow. What is your name? -and where do you live? for I should like to see -if anything can be done for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My name is Evan Holl, sir; and I live in -Moor Street, Knightsbridge.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shall not forget you,” Frank said; “there, -run along now, and don’t stop till you get -home.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>While they had been speaking, the man who -had collected the money had with difficulty put -it into the pockets of the boy’s wet trousers, for -his hands were quite useless in the big gloves -in which they were enveloped.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>“Thank you all kindly,” the boy said, when -the man had finished; and was preparing to -start at a run, when he exclaimed, “But where -is my tray?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Here it is, please,” the child to whom the dog -belonged said; “you gave it to me to keep; and, -oh, I am so much obliged to you, and so is -Bobby.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And here Bobby, who had up to this time -been shaking himself, frisking and yelping in -the most outrageous way, came up and began -to jump upon Evan, in evident token of his -gratitude.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The tray which the child brought up, was a -small wooden one, apparently at some time or -other the lid of a box. In it were arranged sticks -of peppermint, bullseyes, and brandyballs, in -which, during cold weather, Evan drove a brisk -trade on the ice. The contents were hastily -tumbled into a tin box, in which he carried them -when not exposed for sale, and with another -“Thank you kindly,” the boy started at a run, -and was soon lost in the darkness. This, in the -ten minutes which the incident had occupied, had -closed in rapidly, and the little crowd by the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>waterside speedily dispersed, talking over the -adventure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Evan Holl continued running, slowly at first, -for he was numbed and cold to the bones, but -gradually, as the blood began to circulate, at a -quicker pace. So along by the end of the Serpentine, -across Rotten Row, empty and deserted -now, through the narrow alley by the side of the -barracks into the main road, and then down by -the cabstand into Knightsbridge.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Knightsbridge may be described geographically -as the region bounded on the north by -Hyde Park, on the east by Apsley House and -St. George’s Hospital, and on the west by -Brompton and the cavalry barracks; on the -south-east by Wilton Crescent and Lowndes -Square, and on the south-west by an unknown -region of misery and want. A vast tide of -traffic runs through it, formed by the junction -of three considerable streams. Two of these are -from the west; the one rises in the distant region -of Richmond and Brentford, and increases greatly -in magnitude by tributaries at Hammersmith and -Kensington; the other has its source at Putney, -but receives its chief addition in its course -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>through Brompton. The third stream comes -north from Chelsea, and is poured in by Sloane -Street. This great tide commences early, and -sets eastward with great violence during the -early part of the day, beginning to ebb at about -two o’clock, and running west till past midnight, -after which it may be said to be slack tide until -morning.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The stream which flows in at Sloane Street -divides Knightsbridge into two portions, differing -more entirely in habits, manners, and almost in -language, than perhaps any similar division -which could be cited. St. George’s Channel, or -even the Straits of Dover, do not separate peoples -more alien in every thought and action than does -Sloane Street. It is, as it were, the great gulf -which divides wealth and luxury from poverty -and want.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Eastward are splendid shops, with their -plate glass windows, filled with costly and -elegant objects. Long lines of carriages wait in -front of them, while their owners expend sums -which would appear fabulous to the inhabitants -of the western side. On that side are small shops -crowded together, as if jostling for room, filled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>with the necessaries of life for the working -classes. Their customers do not arrive in carriages, -but, hurry up from obscure alleys behind, -hastily make their little purchases and -are gone. At no time of the week is this -difference so strongly marked as on a Saturday -evening.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Eastward the grand shops are all closed, their -customers are at dinner or the opera, and their -owners off to their snug suburban villas till -Monday.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Westward the flood of business is at its -highest. The bakers’ shops are so piled with -bread that it seems a wonder where it can all -go to, but they will be nearly empty by to-night. -The grocers’ windows are filled with sugar and -tea, with the prices marked on tickets of gaudy -colours, with the pennies marvellously large, and -the farthings microscopically small. At the doors -of the greengrocers are huge baskets heaped with -potatoes and vegetables. All are full of a noisy -busy crowd of purchasers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Across the pathway are the stalls of the -itinerant vendors, lit by candles in paper -lanterns. Wonderful are these, too, in their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>way—piles of vegetables, so large that it is a -marvel how the decrepit old women who look -after the stalls ever got them there; book-stalls -and picture-stalls; men with barrows covered -with toys of every conceivable description, and all -at one penny; men with trays of sweetmeats and -lollipops of the most tempting shapes and -colours; men with yards of songs, and packets of -infallible shaving paste; and men selling twenty -articles, among which is a gold wedding-ring, -for one penny;—all alike shouting at the top -of their voices, and expatiating on the merits -of their goods, and all surrounded by a -gaping crowd, consisting, of course, chiefly of -boys.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At some of these, wet as he was, Evan Holl -stopped for a minute. Had it not been for the -thick gloves, and the tray and tin box under his -arm, he would have certainly expended a penny or -two among all this tempting display. As it was, -after a brief pause, he hurried on past the bright -shops, and the crowded stalls, and the butchers’ -shops with their great gaslights flaring out, and -the women bargaining for their Sunday dinner. -He then turned down beneath an archway, and was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>soon in the labyrinth of small streets lying behind -this part of Knightsbridge. Now he has left -the whirl and confusion of business behind him; -he is among the homes of the poor. All is quiet -here. The children are indoors or in bed, the -mothers, mostly, are doing their shopping. A -few men stand about at their doors, smoke long -pipes, and chat with their neighbours. Here -and there the sounds of singing and noise come -through the windows of small public-houses. At -the doors of these, perhaps, pale women, in -thin torn clothes, stand waiting anxiously; entering -timidly sometimes, hanging on already -half-drunken husbands, and begging them to -come home ere their pay is all spent. Poor -things! well may they persist, for on their -success depends whether they and their children -shall have food for the next week or not. -They must not care for curses or an occasional -blow, they are accustomed to that, it is for them -a battle of life, they must win or starve. Through -all this Evan Holl goes. He takes but little -notice of it; not that he is hard-hearted, as -he has but now sufficiently proved; but he is -used to it, and knows that it will be on a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>Saturday night. A few more steps and he is -home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A shout greets his arrival, and some of the -children, of whom there are several in the room, -run up to relieve him of his tray, but fall back -again with the exclamation, “Why, Evan, you -are all wet!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wet!” Mrs. Holl said, hurrying up. “Drat -the boy! what has he been after now?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is all right, mother; you just wait till I -get these things off my hands; why, my pocket -is full of money.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bless us and save us!” Mrs. Holl ejaculated; -and then, maternal solicitude triumphing -even over curiosity, “Never mind that now, -Evan; why you are dripping wet, and your teeth -are all of a chatter; what on earth have you -been doing with yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have been in the Serpentine, mother.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mercy’s sake!” Mrs. Holl exclaimed, “the -boy’s mad! There, go upstairs and take off your -clothes, and get into bed at once.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Evan did as he was told, as far as going upstairs -was concerned, but he only changed his -things, and came down again.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>His mother, had it been her nature, would -have been really angry when she saw him reappear, -but as it was not, she contented herself by -telling him he was a wilful lad. She then bade -him sit down by the fire, and drink some hot -beer, with sugar and ginger in it, which she had -prepared for him while he was upstairs; giving -him strict orders not to speak a word till he had -finished it, and was quite warm again. Evan -accordingly drank his beer, not hurrying over it, -but pretending it was too hot to drink fast; -amusing himself with the openly expressed impatience -of the other children, who were eagerly -watching him, and by the less openly betrayed, -but not less real curiosity of Mrs. Holl, who -kept bustling about the room in apparent unconcern, -but really just as anxious as the others to -know what had befallen him. Mrs. Holl’s family -is evidently a large one, for there are four or five -now in the room, while occasionally a wail from -above proclaims that there is at least one little -one up there. They are all healthy looking and -clean, and their clothes are tidy and carefully -mended. The room itself looks bright and -cheerful. It is low and whitewashed, and ornamented -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>by sundry pictures in varnished frames, -principally brightly-coloured prints. The one -in the place of honour over the chimney-piece -represents a youth in an impossible attitude, -and a Scotch plaid of an unknown clan, beneath -a greenwood-tree, bidding farewell to a florid -young woman, with feathers in her hair; she is -attired in a white dress with Tartan scarf of the -most brilliant hues.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is a large chest of drawers, black with -age, which serves also the purpose of a sideboard; -many queer little mugs and ornaments -of various sorts and colours stand upon it, and -behind them is a large japanned waiter with -gaudy flowers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The irons and tins and candlesticks suspended -from nails in the wall, or standing on the chimney-piece, -shine till one can see one’s face in -them; so do the dark arm-chair and table, and so -does the old oak settle, in which Evan is sitting -by the fire.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Before Evan commenced his story, Mr. Holl -came in, and in the pleasure which his advent -occasions all thought of Evan is for a time lost, -and he gives up the post of honour by the fire to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>his father. John Holl is a dustman, and is a -sober and industrious man. He has his peculiarities—as -who has not?—but he is a good husband -and father, as it is easy to see by the pleasure -with which his return is greeted. He is a short, -stoutly built man, with shoulders rounded from -carrying heavy baskets up area stairs, and his -legs are bowed and clumsy. John Holl earns -good wages, for he has many a sixpence given -him in the course of the day, and he has no need -to spend money on beer, for he gets plenty of -that in the discharge of his avocation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mother is hurrying about now, laying the cloth -for supper, and taking the pot containing potatoes, -which form the staple of that repast, off the fire, -where they have been for some time boiling and -bubbling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Holl goes out charing; she is a large -woman with a hoarse voice, and her hand is -clumsy and hard, from washing and scrubbing -and polishing. She has a heavy tread, and is -considered by the servants generally at the houses -where she works to be a low person. Perhaps -she is, but her heart is in the right place. She is -a true, kind-hearted, tender woman; a very rough -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>diamond truly, badly cut and displayed to the -worst possible advantage, but a real stone of -the first water for all that. She is a foolish -person too, for as if her own children were not -enough for her to love and work for, she has -adopted and brought up an orphan, who had -none else to care for it, and must have otherwise -been taken to the workhouse. But, in spite of -her folly, her neighbours like her for it, and in -their little ways assist her, take the young ones -between them when she goes out charing, and -help her a bit with her washing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Holl can neither read nor write herself, -but she wants all her children to be able to do so. -She has managed to pay for their schooling at -the national schools, and has quite a respect for -their learning. She listens with breathless delight -and interest of an evening while they read aloud -by turns from that exciting periodical, the Red -Handed Robber of the Black Forest, published -weekly at one penny, and to be completed in one -hundred and twenty numbers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Until Mrs. Holl had placed the large dish of -steaming potatoes on the table, she was too much -absorbed in her occupation to give a thought to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>any other subject. But just as she had done so, -John Holl, who had several times taken his pipe -from his mouth, and looked round in a puzzled -way, said, “It is very strange, Sairey, but it -seems to me just as if some one had been a drinking -of spiced beer. Don’t take it amiss, old -woman, I don’t mean to say that I think you -have been a drinking of it, for you’re not that -sort. Still there is something that smells uncommon -like spiced beer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bless me,” Mrs. Holl said, “what a head I -have got, to be sure! I do declare I have not told -you a word about it, for it slipped clean out of -my mind. You are quite right, John, you do -smell spiced beer, for Evan has been drinking it. -The boy has been in the Serpentine, and came -home that wet you could have squeezed the water -out of him by the pailful.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In the Serpentine!” John Holl exclaimed; -“I heard that the ice was too thin to think of -going on it. Why, Evan, that was not like you, -not a bit, you are generally steady enough. How -did you get in? Some foolery, I’ll wager a pot of -beer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In answer to this appeal from his father, Evan -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>related what had happened; the others gathering -round him, and the young ones even leaving -off eating their supper to listen, and breaking in -with many exclamations of astonishment as he -proceeded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It was very wrong, Evan,” his mother said, -“you might have got yourself drownded, and -what should we have said then? Why, Lor, you -might have gone under the ice, and we should -never have known nothing about what had -become of you, till they brought your tray of lollipops -home. That would be all we should have -had left of you. What should we have done?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Holl began to weep aloud at the picture -she had raised; the younger children immediately -followed her example, and required so -much pacifying that it was some time before -quiet was restored.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lor bless you, mother,” Evan said, “there is -no call to take on about it. I was not going to -get drowned close to the shore; besides, there was -a gentleman, who got ready to come in for me, if -I had sung out for help; and he would have done -it too. I could see he meant it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It were a risky job,” John Holl said; “a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>plaguy risky job. I ain’t going for to say as -you are altogether wrong, Evan, but it were certainly -risky.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You were quite right, Evan,” a voice said -warmly, “quite right, and I would give a good -deal, if I had it, to have been in your place, and -to have done something one could look back -with pleasure upon, if only for once in my -life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The speaker was a lad of about seventeen, who -has not yet been described, and yet he was of all -these the person who would have first fixed the -attention of any incomer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He sat on the opposite side of the fire to John -Holl, in a sort of box with high wheels to it; by -turning these he moved himself about the room. -He had a very intelligent face, thoughtful but not -sad. His shoulders and the upper part of his -body were straight and well developed, and his -arms strong and nervous; down to his waist he -was a fine well-formed figure, but below he was a -helpless cripple. He had been injured as a child, -his legs had lost all power, and had become -perfectly drawn up and useless. He was a sad -spectacle, and yet he was not unhappy, and by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the little attentions which the children showed -him it was easy to see how great a favourite he -was with them. Evan now produced a handkerchief -from his jacket pocket, in which he had put -his money, and unfolded it and exhibited the -store.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was emptied on to the table, among the -shouts of the children, who evidently considered -that their brother had become the possessor of -boundless riches, and indulged in all sorts of -surmises as to what would be done with all this -wealth, while Evan counted up the amount. -There were twenty-five shillings in silver and -copper, and the sovereign Frank Maynard had -put in—two pounds five in all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Having counted it, Evan again took it up and -brought it to his father, but John Holl put it -aside. “No, lad, the money is thine, you have -fairly earned it, and it is yours to do as you like -with. Don’t fool it away, and think well over -everything before you spend it. You are getting -too old for your tray now; with that you might -buy a good barrow, and do a great deal better; -but there’s time enough for that. Give it to -mother; she will take care of it for you, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>you have but to go to her when you want -it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so it was arranged; and then Mrs. Holl -took the young ones off to bed, whither the -elders followed them very soon after.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III.<br /> <span class='large'>BROKEN DOWN.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Talking over their little adventure, Frank -Maynard and Arthur Prescott crossed from the -Serpentine to Albert Gate. The evening had -set in with a cold raw fog, which was momentarily -getting thicker.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One ought to be very careful at the crossings -such a night as this, Prescott. It is just -foggy enough to prevent the drivers seeing twenty -yards ahead of them, and yet not sufficiently -thick to make them go slowly. The road is very -slippery, too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they spoke a man who was standing at the -edge of the pavement near them, after peering -cautiously into the fog, started to cross. Frank -and his friend followed slowly, for it really required -considerable caution; as, from the constant -roar and rumble of the traffic it was difficult -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>to judge how far off an approaching vehicle -might be.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They had not gone half-way across the road -when there was a shout, and a rapid trampling of -horses, and an omnibus came out of the fog not -fifteen yards distant. It was driving fast, and -the friends stopped simultaneously to allow it to -pass in front of them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man who was crossing before them was, -however, exactly in the line of the omnibus as it -came out of the fog. He stopped, hesitated, and, -although three steps would have placed him out -of danger, he turned to go back. As he did so in -his haste and confusion his foot slipped on the -frozen road, and he fell. In another instant the -horses would have been upon him, when Frank -Maynard, who had at once perceived the danger -when he stopped, sprang forward, snatched him up -in his strong arms, as if he had been a child, and -threw himself forward. He was barely in time. -The shoulder of the off horse struck him, and -sent him staggering with his burden to the -ground, but fortunately beyond the reach of the -wheels. Frank was on his feet in an instant, -raised the man, who appeared to be confused and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>hardly conscious of what was occurring, to his -feet, and assisted him to the footpath. All this -was the work of half a minute, and they were at -once joined by Prescott.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Are you hurt, Frank?” he asked, anxiously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, nothing to speak of, old man; bruised -myself a bit, and barked my arm, at least I -should say so by the feel of it; but I think that -is about all the damage.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I thought you were under the horses, Frank; -you have made me feel quite sick and faint. My -dear fellow, this is the last walk I shall take -with you, if this is your way of going on.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank laughed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is all right, Prescott, there are no bones -broken. How are you, sir? not hurt, I hope,” he -asked the man he had picked up, who was standing -looking round in a sort of confused bewildered -way, as if he hardly yet understood what had -happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank repeated his question.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Eh? I beg your pardon,” the man said; “were -you speaking to me? No—no, I don’t think I -am hurt; indeed, I hardly know what is the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>matter. Let me see——;” and he passed his hand -helplessly over his forehead. “Oh yes, I remember -now. I was crossing, and I saw a ‘bus coming, -and somehow I slipped down. I shut my eyes so -as not to see it come over me, and then I felt -myself caught up, and then another great shake. -Yes, yes, I see it all now; and it was you, sir, -who picked me up, and saved my life? Dear -me—dear me—I do hope you are not hurt, sir. -I know I owe my life to you, for I must have -been killed, and then what would have happened -to Carry? I do hope you are not hurt.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank assured him that he was not.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, really, sir” (the man went on in a -rambling nervous sort of way), “really I can’t -thank you as I ought to do, but if you would -but kindly come in to see me, my Carry will -thank you for both of us. I am a poor nervous -creature at the best, and the whole place seems in -a whirl with me, but here is my card,” and he -produced a packet of cards from his pocket. -“It is a poor place, sir, but we should be very -glad if you will come in to see me; and will you -please tell me what your name is?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My name is Maynard, and I live in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Temple,” Frank answered. “Pray do not trouble -yourself about thanking me. I am quite content -to know that you have got off without more -harm than a few bruises. I will be sure to look -you up one of these days—yes, you can rely -upon it. Good evening, mind how you go home; -you are rather shaky still. Good night.” And, -shaking him by the hand, Frank moved away -with his friend.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man stood looking after them as they disappeared -in the fog, and then turned and walked -westward. Pausing sometimes, taking off his hat -and passing his hand across his forehead and -over his hair in a confused puzzled sort of way, -as if even now he were not quite clear what had -really happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the corner of Sloane Street he stopped, too -nervous to attempt to cross; others went over -quietly enough, but he could not summon up -resolution to follow their example. At last he -went up to a policeman who was standing at the -corner, and meekly requested him to be kind -enough to cross with him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man looked sharply and suspiciously at -him. Certainly, his appearance was against him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>One side of his face was much cut where he had -fallen the second time, and his hat was all -crushed in; altogether, he did not look a reputable -figure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You have begun it pretty early, you have!” -he said, sternly. “You ought to be ashamed of -yourself, a respectable-looking man to be about -the streets in this state before six o’clock in the -evening.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have not been drinking, indeed I have not, -policeman; but I have been knocked down by an -omnibus, or at least I was nearly knocked down; -at least—indeed I don’t quite clearly know how -it did happen; but I know an omnibus had -something to do with it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The policeman’s belief in the man’s state of -inebriety was evidently unshaken; however, he -took him by the arm and walked across the road -with him, and then dismissed him, telling him -that “he should advise him to go straight home, -or he would find himself in the wrong box before -long.” The man again attempted to expostulate, -but the policeman cut him short by turning to go -back to his former station, with a parting admonition: -“There, don’t you talk, it won’t do you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>any good; you go home; take my advice, and -don’t stop by the way.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man, shaking his head in feeble deprecation -at the policeman’s opinion, pursued his way -along the crowded pavement, past the bright -shops, and the stalls with their noisy vendors—through -which Evan Holl had passed a short -half-hour before. He went along quite unconscious -of the crowd and the bustle, getting frequently -jostled and pushed against, and receiving -angry expostulation and considerable abuse, to -none of which he paid the slightest heed. At -length he reached the end of the row where the -next street ran across it into the main road. -This, however, he had not to cross, as his way lay -up the side street, but not far, only past three or -four houses; then he stopped at the door of a -small shop, opened it, and went in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a small stationer’s shop, illuminated by -a solitary tallow candle standing upon the counter, -and whose long wick with its dull red cap -testified plainly that it had not been attended to -for some time. Round the shop were ranges of -shelves filled with dingy volumes, with paper -numbers pasted upon their backs. There were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>piles of penny periodicals upon the counter, and -a glass case with partitions containing cigars. -These, with the small pair of scales beside them, -and sundry canisters upon the shelves, showed -that its proprietor combined the tobacco and -literary businesses. The little parlour behind was -separated from the shop by a glass door, with a -muslin curtain drawn across it, and through -this the bright flickering light of a fire shone -cheerfully. The man opened the door, and -went in. It was a small room, but was very -snug and comfortable. The furniture and curtains -were neat and well chosen, and altogether -much superior to what would have been expected -from the shop and locality. The tea-things stood -upon the table, and a copper kettle on the -hob was singing merrily. On the hearth-rug a -girl was sitting reading a novel by the light of -the fire; a very pretty figure, light and graceful, -as could be seen in the attitude in which she half -sat, half reclined; a girl of some eighteen years -old, with a bright happy face. Her hair was -pushed back from her forehead, and fell in thick -clustering curls behind her ears. Her face was -very pretty, with an innocent child-like expression. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>About her mouth and chin there was some -want of firmness and character, but by no means -sufficiently so to mar the general effect of her -face. She had large blue eyes, over which she -had a little trick of drooping her eyelids, and she -had a saucy way of tossing her head. Altogether, -Carry was a belle, and was perfectly aware of it; -and indeed, to say truth, her head was a little -turned by all the nonsense and flattery that she -was constantly receiving; but she was a good girl -for all that, and devotedly attached to her father, -the man who now entered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stephen Walker was perhaps fifty years old, -about the middle height, but stooping a -good deal; evidently, by his manner, a nervous, -timid man. His address and way of speaking -unmistakably showed that he had seen better -days; but when he slipped down the rounds -of the ladder, he had lost any little faith he -might ever have had in himself, and was content -to remain helplessly at its foot, with scarce an -effort to try to regain his lost position. Stephen -Walker’s father had been a well-to-do City tradesman, -a very great man in his own eyes; an active -bustling member of the Court of Common -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>Council, respected but not much liked there for -the harsh dictatorial way in which he enunciated -his opinions; very great upon the inexpediency -of pampering the poor, a strict reformer of -abuses, and withal a harsh, vulgar, narrow-minded -man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stephen was a weakly child, and his mother, a -quiet timid woman, would fain have kept him at -home, and herself attended to his education until -he should be old enough to be sent to some -school down in the country; but his father would -not hear of it, and in his own house his will was -law. Accordingly, at the earliest possible age, -he was sent to St. Paul’s School, a timid, shrinking -child, and among the rough spirits there he -fared but badly. Cowed and kept down at home, -bullied and laughed at at school, Stephen Walker -grew up a nervous delicate boy. When he was -fifteen his father said that he knew enough now, -or if he did not he ought to, and that so he -was to come into the shop. Into the shop he -accordingly came, and when there his life was a -burden to him. His mother, who would have -softened things for him as far as she could, and -would at all events have been kind to him, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>have commiserated with and cheered him, had -been dead some three years, and his life became -one long blank of misery. He hated the shop, -he hated business, he almost hated his father. -Heartily did he envy his associates in the shop, -who at least, when the day’s work was over, -could take their departure and be their own -masters until the shutters were taken down in -the morning. His drudgery never ceased, for -when the shop was closed, his father, a great -part of whose daytime was occupied by City -business, would sit down with him at his desk -and go into the whole accounts of the day’s sales -until half-past nine. Then upstairs, where the -servants would be summoned, and his father -take his place at the head of the table with a -large Bible before him, which he would read and -expound in a stern harsh manner, eminently calculated -to make the Scriptures altogether hateful -to those who heard him. This with prayer lasted -for an hour. Then to bed; to begin over again -in the morning. Such was Stephen Walker’s life -for six years; and then, when he was twenty-one, -his father died suddenly. It was just in time -to save his son’s life; in another year it might -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>have been too late, for his health was breaking -fast; as it was, it was too late for him ever to -become other than he was, a nervous timid man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was some time before Stephen Walker could -come to understand that he was now a free agent, -and that he could really do as he liked. It was so -unnatural for him to be able to carry into execution -any wish of his own, that, after his father’s -funeral was over, he went back as regularly as ever -to his duties in the shop. At the end of a month -an old schoolfellow came in, told him he was not -looking well, and asked him to go into the country -with him for the day. Stephen was absolutely -startled, even the possibility of such a thing as -his leaving the shop had never entered his mind. -In the six years such an event had never happened. -He looked round frightened and aghast -at the proposition. As, however, he had no -reasons to adduce, beyond the fact that he never -did go anywhere, which his friend insisted was -the very reason why he should go now, he was -finally persuaded. Never did man enjoy his -first holiday less than Stephen Walker did. He -felt like a guilty self-convicted truant; he had -a constant impression upon his mind that he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>doing something very wrong, and on his return -entered the shop with a guilty air, and a conviction -that the assistants behind the counter -were eyeing him disapprovingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>However, the ice was broken. He began, at -first at long intervals, but afterwards, as he learnt -really to enjoy the sweets of his newly found -liberty more and more often, to absent himself -from the shop, until by degrees he discovered that -he really was his own master. The first time a -friend remarked that he rather wondered he did -not sell the business and retire altogether, it -seemed to him almost a profane suggestion. Still -in time it became familiar to his mind, and at -length, finding that no obstacle except that of his -own imagination stood in his way, he determined -to carry it out. Accordingly in less than eighteen -months from his father’s death he disposed of the -lease and goodwill of the business, and found -that he was master of £30,000. He then, acting -upon the advice of his physician, started for a long -tour upon the continent; not going alone,—he had -not sufficient confidence in himself for that, but -taking with him as companion a friend who had -been on the continent before, and who spoke -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>French, paying all his expenses, and a handsome -sum in addition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There he remained in all three years, and in -this time his health became re-established; but -although his manner greatly improved from his -mixture with travelling society, he still remained -a nervous timid man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the end of this three years he married a -very pretty ladylike looking girl, who was governess -in a family wintering in Rome. Her beauty -was her only redeeming point, for she was a silly, -vain, indolent woman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The newly married couple returned after another -three months wanderings to London, near -which they shortly after took a pretty villa.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They were unfortunate in their children, having -lost all they had when quite young, with the exception -only of their youngest daughter Carry. -Had Stephen Walker continued to live quietly -upon his income all might have gone well; but -his wife was an extravagant woman and a -miserable manager, and Stephen, who in money -matters was helpless as a child, soon found that -his expenditure was greater than his income.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The idea of remonstrating with his wife or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>endeavouring to curtail the household expenses -never entered his mind; the only plan which -presented itself to him was to increase his income. -To do this he took to speculation, and to the -most hazardous of all speculations, that in mining -shares; hazardous to anyone, but most of all to -a man like Stephen Walker. As might have been -anticipated, his operations were almost always unsuccessful. -Indeed in the way in which he conducted -them it was impossible that it could have -been otherwise. He bought shares in mines when -they were most prosperous, and stood at the -highest point in the market, and directly any -reverse or depression took place, although perhaps -only of a temporary nature, instead of holding -on and waiting until the mine recovered itself, he -would rush into the market and dispose of his -shares for what they would fetch. It may therefore -be readily imagined that Stephen Walker’s -fortune melted rapidly away, under his repeated -and heavy losses, and the extravagance of his wife. -The latter although she would peevishly remonstrate -with him, not as to his speculation, but on -his losses, had not the least idea of suiting their -expenditure to their decreased means. And so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>things went on from bad to worse, until at last -the end came. A mine in which he had invested -far more heavily than usual under the influence -of the brilliant prospects held out, and the advice -of a friend, collapsed, and that so suddenly, -that Stephen had no opportunity to dispose of his -shares. He was placed on the list of contributories, -and called upon for a heavy sum for the -winding-up expenses. Then the crash came, and -Stephen Walker found himself possessed of only -a few hundred pounds and the furniture of the -villa. This was sold, and he removed with his -wife and his child, then about seven years old, into -small lodgings. Here for a year his life was embittered -by the reproaches and complainings of -his helpless wife; at the end of that time she -died, and left a great blank in his life. He had -been blind to her faults, and had accepted her -querulous reproaches as deserved and natural; -besides, as long as she lived, he had had some one -to look to for advice, little qualified as she was to -give it. Now, excepting his little daughter, he -was quite alone. For another year, while his -little capital dwindled away, he tried in vain to -get something to do. This would have been in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>any case an almost hopeless task, and was rendered -still more so from his extreme want of confidence -in himself, which altogether prevented -his endeavouring to push himself forward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At length he took a resolution, one of the few, -and certainly by far the best, he ever had taken. -He determined to sink the few hundred pounds -he had remaining in buying a house and opening -a shop. After a considerable search, he found -the one in New Street; the former proprietor, who -was also in the tobacco and periodical line, had -died, and his widow was anxious to dispose of -the house; the goodwill, such as it was, of the -shop being thrown into the bargain. Stephen -Walker purchased it of her, furnished the lower -part, and let off the upper, and never regretted -his bargain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The profits of the shop were not large, but -having no rent to pay, and receiving a few shillings -every week from the tenants, he was able -to live comfortably, and with the company and -affection of his little daughter, found himself -really happier and more in his element than he -had ever before been in his life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry grew up in her humble home, a bright -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>happy child, very fond of her father, and very -fond, too, of all the admiration which the frequenters -of the shop bestowed upon her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, how late you are, father!” she said as he -entered. “Tea has been ready this half-hour at -the very least,” and she put down her book and -looked up at him. “Why, father, what has happened?” -she exclaimed in a changed tone, and -leaping hastily to her feet. “Your cheek is all -covered with blood, your hat is broken in, and -you look quite strange. Oh! father, what is the -matter? are you hurt?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Carry, I do not think I am, but I am -confused and bewildered.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sit down in the chair by the fire, then; now -give me your hat and coat; that’s right, and your -comforter, dear old father; now wait and I will -get warm water and a towel, and bathe its dear -old face. There, now you look nice; now tell -me all about it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man submitted himself to the girl’s hands -in the helpless way natural to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Carry, I hardly know myself what has -happened. I was crossing at Albert Gate when -I saw a ‘bus coming. It was very foggy and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>slippery, and I did not see it till it was quite -close, and then somehow I fell. I tried to shut -my eyes, but I could not, and then I felt the -horses trampling upon me, and the wheels came -crushing down upon my body. Oh, it was terrible, -Carry!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, oh, father,” the girl said faintly, and the -bright colour was quite gone from her cheeks now, -“you must be terribly hurt; some of your ribs -must be broken; why did not you say so at once? -Please sit quiet while I put on my bonnet, and -run round to fetch a doctor,” and she turned to do -so, but she was trembling so much that she had -to sit down in a chair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Carry, you do not understand me. I do -not mean that the ‘bus absolutely did run over -me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But you just said it did, father; you said -that you felt the wheels crush your body.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did I, Carry? Well, I did not mean it. Oh -no, I was not run over after all.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What a dear, silly old father you are, and -how you frightened me!” the girl said, laughing -and crying together. “I have a great mind to -be very angry with you in real earnest, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>not to speak another word to you all the -evening.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am very sorry, Carry. I did not mean it, my -child. I only meant that I felt it was going to -run over me, and I am sure I suffered quite as -much as if it had. No, just as the horses were -quite close to me—certainly within a yard or -two, for their heads looked to me almost over -mine—I felt myself caught up by some one, like -a baby, carried a step or two, then there was a -great shake, and down we both went with a terrible -shock, then I was picked up again, and -found myself safe on the pavement.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, father, what a narrow escape! you might -really have been killed, and it was very very -serious after all, so I will forgive you for frightening -me so much. And who was it saved your -life?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hardly remember rightly, my dear, my head -is quite in a whirl still. I remember, though, there -were two gentlemen waiting to cross just as I -started, for I heard one of them say we ought to -be careful, and so I was, my dear, very careful, -else I should not have slipped. I suppose they -were just behind me, and one of them caught me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>up just as the horses were going to trample on -me. He was not quite in time, for the horses -caught him and knocked us both down, only I -suppose it was out of reach of the wheels, at any -rate they did not go over us; and really that is -all I know about it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, father, how brave of him! Who was -he?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am sure I don’t know, Carry. He did tell -me what his name was; but I am sure I forget -it. Let me see—no, I don’t remember it at all; -but I know he said he lived in the Temple—or, -no—let me see, perhaps it was in Lincoln’s Inn, -either that or Gray’s Inn—anyhow I am nearly -sure it was one of the three.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, father, I am so sorry you do not recollect -his name, I should so have liked to thank -him, and it will seem so ungrateful if you never -go near him to tell him how much obliged you -are. If it had not been for him what would have -happened to you? I am very sorry.” And the -girl’s eyes filled with tears again. “Did you tell -him where you lived, father?” she asked presently, -as her father sat gazing dejectedly into -the fire.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“I think I did, Carry; yes, I do think I did. -By the way I have some recollection that I gave -him my card, and I fancy that he said he would -call upon me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But can’t you remember for certain, father, -whether you gave him your card? surely you -must remember such a thing as that,” Carry -persisted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stephen Walker passed his hand vaguely across -his forehead.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Really, my dear, I can’t help thinking that I -did, although I can’t be sure. Ah!” he exclaimed -suddenly, “I have it now. I know I had -twelve cards in my pocket. I know that, because -when I went to the printer for them the fresh lot -were not ready, but as I wanted some to go on -with, he struck off a dozen while I was waiting. -Look in the breast-pocket of my great coat, the -cards are there. Count them, and if there is one -short I must have given it to him, for I am sure -I spoke to no one else on my way home.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry eagerly took the cards and counted -them; to her delight there were only eleven.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did he say he would come, father?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It seems to me that I have a distinct remembrance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>that he did, Carry; but, there, I may be -wrong. I am a poor nervous creature.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a dear, silly old darling,” Carry said, -kissing him, “and I shan’t be able to trust you -out by yourself in future. The idea of slipping -down in the street like a little baby! I have a -great mind to scold you dreadfully. But there -you have had fright enough for once; and now I -will make tea for you, and that always does you -good.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>While they were at tea Carry asked, “Do you -think you should know the gentleman again if you -met him, father?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, my dear, I am nearly sure that I -should.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What was he like, father?” Carry asked, -“do try and think what he was like.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He was a young man of four or five and -twenty, I should say, and he seemed tall to me, -and he must have been as strong as a giant, -for he picked me up as easily as you would a -kitten.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Was he good-looking, father?” Carry asked, -a little shyly, this time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should say he was, my dear; but my head -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>was in such a swim that I did not notice much -about his face; but I certainly think he was good-looking. -There, my dear, there is some one just -come into the shop.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>After this several customers came in, and -Carry was pretty well occupied for the rest of the -evening. She did not renew the subject of her -father’s preserver. Stephen Walker lit a long -pipe and smoked thoughtfully beside the fire. -Once or twice he went into the shop, but he was -not of much use to Carry, and received orders to -sit quiet and smoke his pipe, for that he had -given her quite anxiety enough for one day. At -ten o’clock the shop was shut, and they went up -to bed, Stephen Walker to sleep fitfully, waking -up with great starts, under the idea that the -omnibus wheels were passing over his body. -Carry lay awake for a long time, trying to -picture to herself her father’s preserver, and -wondering whether he would ever come to see -them.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV.<br /> <span class='large'>THE OWNERS OF WYVERN HALL.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Frank Maynard and Arthur Prescott, after -leaving Stephen Walker standing bewildered -upon the pavement, did not pursue their way -along Knightsbridge, but turned at once into -Lowndes Square. They walked the length of -this, and stopped at one of the three or four -houses which form the end of the square, or -rather oblong. It belonged to Captain Bradshaw, -Frank’s uncle, with whom the young men were -going to dine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Harry Bradshaw was the younger of two brothers, -sons of Reginald Bradshaw, of Wyvern -Park, in Oxfordshire. It was a fine property. -Indeed, there were not many finer in the county—with -its noble old mansion, its wide park, and -its stately trees—and had been in the family for -centuries. During all this time—if tradition is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>to be believed—the Bradshaws had been a hearty, -honest, hard-riding, and deep-drinking race; and -Reginald did not belie his ancestry, but drank as -deeply and rode as hard as the best of them -could have done.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But stately as was Wyvern Hall, and wide and -fair as was its park, the Bradshaws were by no -means a wealthy race. Previous to the rebellion -they had been so, but the Bradshaw of that time -had thrown himself heart and soul into the -Royalist cause. He had lost everything but life, -and lived abroad with his Prince in France, until, -at the death of Cromwell, men once more shook -off the iron Puritan yoke from their necks, and -welcomed their King home again from his long -exile. With him returned Marmaduke Bradshaw. -More fortunate than many, he succeeded -in regaining his family estate, and in ousting the -pious corn-factor of the neighbouring town, who -had, by the fervour and lengthiness of his prayers, -and the strength of his right arm, fought and -prayed himself into possession of the domain of -the malcontent and godless follower of the man -Stuart. But although Marmaduke succeeded in -thus regaining possession of the mansion and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>park, he was not so fortunate as to the various -outlying farms and properties. Some, indeed, -he recovered, but the greater part were in the -hands of surly iron-fisted men, who had won -them on the fields of Marston and Naseby and -Worcester, and who were by no means men to -unclose their hands upon what they had once -grasped. Force was not to be tried. The King -was engaged in endeavouring to make himself -popular to all parties, and had very difficult cards -to play between them, Marmaduke Bradshaw, -therefore, settled down in the family mansion -with a greatly diminished rent roll, but still -thinking himself lucky in comparison to many -others, whose devotion in times of adversity to -their King was but ill rewarded on his return to -power.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The mansion and estate were strictly entailed, -and the Bradshaws had hard work, with their -horses and their hounds and their lavish hospitality, -to keep up their establishment in accordance -with their apparent wealth, and to hold -their own among the county families, with perhaps -far larger means and less expensive domains. -Nor indeed could they have done so, had it not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>been the rule and habit of the family to marry well. -They were a good-looking, fine-grown race; and -to be mistress of Wyvern Park was no unenviable -position; consequently the Bradshaws had -nearly their choice among the county heiresses. -Thus by constant additions of fresh property -the lords of Wyvern Park were able to maintain -their position and reputation. Reginald Bradshaw -had, in accordance with the family tradition, -married a neighbouring heiress, and for some -years kept almost open house. But by the time -that his eldest son came of age, and Harry was -seventeen, money began to run short with him. -The property his wife had brought him was -mortgaged nearly to its full value. To his -grievous dissatisfaction and disgust, therefore, -he found that he could no longer retain his -mastership of the hounds, and that it was -absolutely necessary considerably to retrench -his expenditure. Harry was offered a choice -among the professions; the church, the army, -or navy, or an Indian cadetship. He selected -the latter, and started a few months -later, with his father’s blessing, a light heart, -a hundred pounds in his pocket, and permission -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>to draw for two hundred a year as long -as he required it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The times were troublous and promotion rapid; -and when at the age of six-and-twenty he heard -first the news of his father’s death, and, four -months later, of that of his brother, who was -thrown from his horse returning from a hunt -dinner, he was already a captain. He returned -to England at once; for his brother had died -unmarried, and he was now therefore the owner -of Wyvern Park. In another year he married -a pretty, quiet girl, possessed of considerable -property; with this new accession, and under -his auspices, the property improved greatly. -Although he had been only eight years in India, -the climate had during that comparatively short -residence sufficed to ruin his constitution, and -to send him home a confirmed valetudinarian. -He found himself therefore, to his great disgust—for -he was passionately fond of field sports—obliged -to give up all horse exercise. Fortunately -he was not prevented from shooting, and -in the season would spend all his time in the fields -with his dogs and gun; but he was entirely debarred -from the hunting field, and was forbidden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>to indulge to any extent in the pleasures of the -table. But although all this was an intolerable -grievance to the master of Wyvern Park, yet -Wyvern Park throve upon it greatly. In a -few years, instead of mortgaging his property as -his ancestors had done, Harry Bradshaw found -himself in a position to clear off many old -standing liabilities on the outlying properties, -and to be able to add others to them. Although -unable to join in the hunting field, or -in the deep-drinking bouts and jovial meetings -of the period, there was hardly a more popular -man in the county than Harry Bradshaw. He -was by no means of the ordinary big burly -Bradshaw build, but was a light active figure, -with an open kindly bronzed face, clustering -black hair, a merry infectious laugh, an inexhaustible -fund of fun and anecdote, an inveterate -habit of swearing—then a far more common -habit than now—a very quick fiery temper, and -an intense objection to anything like dictation on -the part of others.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Generally popular in the county as he was, -there were yet some by whom Captain Bradshaw -was looked upon with an eye of extraordinary -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>disfavour. Foremost among them was the Earl of -Longdale, the patron, and, as he considered, the -owner of the little borough of Longdale, which -had been an hereditary appanage of his family -from time immemorial. Very aggrieved and -highly indignant therefore was he when Harry -Bradshaw—whose estate adjoined the earl’s, and -who had had a dispute with his lordship respecting -the right of shooting over a small piece of -waste land which lay wedged in between the -properties—brought down from London an unknown -barrister of Conservative opinions, and at -every election contested the borough with his -lordship’s Whig nominee. His candidate never -polled a dozen votes certainly, for as nearly the -whole property belonged to the earl, and none of -his tenants dared to record their votes against -him, it was a hopeless struggle; still, it was none -the less provoking to the earl to read, in the -county papers, the fulminations against himself -with which Harry Bradshaw wound up his -speeches on proposing his candidate, or to hear -of the cheers with which these orations had been -greeted. For if his lordship’s tenants were compelled -to vote one way, they considered that they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>had at least the right to shout as they pleased. -And Harry Bradshaw’s speeches were exactly -of the sort to carry an audience away with him,—full -of biting truths, interspersed with humorous -appeals and broad fun, dashed here and -there with bitter personal invectives, and spoken -with a thorough enjoyment and zest, and an -earnest conviction of truth and right.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the great climax of Harry Bradshaw’s -offences was when the earl shut up a public -footpath leading across a pretty corner of his park.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The town of Longdale, although indignant at -losing its prettiest walk, would yet have sullenly -acquiesced in it, had not Harry Bradshaw -taken the matter up, and with some of his -labourers levelled the barrier which had been -erected. He then at his own expense fought -the case from court to court, until at last the -right of the public to the walk was triumphantly -established, and the earl’s pet project defeated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw had two sisters, both very -much younger than himself. The eldest, Alice, -after she came of age, when on a visit to some -friend in London, met and fell in love with -Richard Bingham, a young civil engineer.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>Very indignant was her brother when informed -of what he considered such an extremely derogatory -proceeding. “The Bradshaws had -always married well, and why she should want -to make a fool of herself he did not know.” -Alice appeared to give way to the storm, but -when a few months later she repeated her visit -to London, she one day went out, was quietly -married to the man of her choice, and only -returned to her friends to bid them good-bye, -and inform them that she was now Mrs. Bingham. -The first notification which her brother -received of it was on reading the notice in the -columns of the “Times;” and had the feelings of -society permitted a man to fight a duel with -his brother-in-law, Harry Bradshaw would most -unquestionably have called him out. As it was, -he was forced to content himself with solemnly -denouncing his sister, and writing a letter to her -husband, expressing his sentiments towards him, -and these sentiments were of such a nature that -no future communication ever passed between -them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shortly after, his younger sister married, -with his consent, if not with his absolute approval. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>Percy Maynard was a barrister, with -a fair practice and a moderate fortune, and -although Captain Bradshaw had rather that his -sister had fallen in love with one of the neighbouring -proprietors, still, as he really liked the -man she had chosen, he made no serious objections -to the match.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He himself had at that time been for some -years a widower, having lost his wife after only -four years of happy married life, leaving him one -little girl.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Two or three years later he married again, -but his second wife bore him no children. His -daughter, Laura, grew up a spoilt child, very -loveable in her happy home, but with more than -all her father’s fiery temper, and an almost -sullen obstinacy, which was certainly no ingredient -of his disposition. So she grew up until -she was eighteen, and then an event occurred -which changed all Harry Bradshaw’s hopes and -plans, and embittered his whole future life. -Laura followed her aunt Alice’s example. She -formed an acquaintance with a lawyer’s clerk, -who sometimes came down instead of his principal -to transact business with her father. How -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>Laura met him, what opportunities there were -for their first casual acquaintance to ripen into -intimacy and then into love, Captain Bradshaw -never knew and never inquired. Undoubtedly -their interviews had taken place almost entirely -during the three or four months of each year -which the family spent in London, where Laura -was in the habit of frequently going out attended -only by her maid. However, by some accident -he discovered it, a stormy scene followed, -Laura’s temper rose as quickly as her father’s, -she openly declared she had been for some -weeks secretly married, and was not ashamed to -own it. This brought matters to a climax, and -Laura, half an hour afterwards, left the house -never to return.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw’s anger was seldom very -long-lived, but on this occasion he was far -longer than usual before he got over it. However, -at the end of some months, he came to the -conclusion that it was quite time to forgive her, -that is, to forgive her sufficiently to allow her -a sufficient income to live upon in comfort. He -accordingly wrote to the solicitors—with whom -he had quarrelled, taking his business from their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>hands immediately he had heard of Laura’s -marriage—and requested them to send him the -address of their clerk. The answer he received -was that he had left their service in the same -week that the exposure had taken place, and -that they had not seen or heard of him since.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw advertised, and tried every -means to discover them. He at last put the -matter into the hands of the Bow Street authorities, -but months elapsed before any news whatever -was obtained. When he did hear, it was the -worst news possible. His daughter was dead; -had died in want and misery, after surviving her -husband two months. Harry Bradshaw was -fairly broken by the blow. He never inquired -more. He shrunk from hearing any particulars. -She was dead. That was pain and grief sufficient. -Any further detail could but add to his -remorse. He withdrew from all society, and after -a few months went abroad, where he remained -some three years, returning once more a widower. -Then he again entered the world, but as a -changed and saddened man. The world, however, -saw nothing of this, it was only when alone -that he gave way; with others he was the same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>lively, amusing man as ever, his laugh gay and -infectious as of old,—it was his nature, and -he could not be otherwise. He entirely gave -up country life now, closed Wyvern Hall, left -the Earl of Longdale in undisturbed possession -of the borough, and took up his residence -permanently in London, spending most of -his time at his Club—the Oriental.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The younger and favourite sister lived near -him. She had only one child, Frank, to whom -Captain Bradshaw took greatly, and came to -look upon almost as his own son. Under the influence -of his present softened feelings, he after -some years made advances to young Frederick -Bingham, which, however, he could not bring -himself to extend to the father and mother.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lad responded readily to these overtures, -called at the house, and was soon as much at -home there as his cousin Frank. He spared no -pains to ingratiate himself with his uncle, who, -although he still preferred Frank, took a warm -liking to him, and when the time came for his -going to the University, made him a handsome -allowance to pay his expenses there. When -Frank was about seventeen he lost his father and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>mother within a few weeks of each other, and -after that, until he left College, his uncle’s house -was his home, and he spent his vacations entirely -there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Frank Maynard and Arthur Prescott -arrived at the house in Lowndes Square, they -found Captain Bradshaw in the drawing-room. -He was still a light active figure, although he -walked rather bent; his hair and whiskers were -nearly white, and, until he spoke, he looked an -old man; but when he did so, his face lit up, his -eyes sparkled, and his lip played in a smile, and -in the manner of his talk he was as young again -as ever. There was a fourth person present, of -whom no mention has yet been made. Alice -Heathcote was a niece of Captain Bradshaw, the -daughter of his second wife’s sister, and to whom -he was guardian. The mother had died ten -years before, and Alice, except when away at -school, had lived with him ever since. A tall -girl, with a thoughtful face, and good features; a -broad rather than a high forehead, light grey -eyes, a profusion of brown hair, and a slight -figure, which almost leant back in its lissome -grace. Her age was about twenty.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>“That is right, Frank,” Captain Bradshaw -said, as the young men entered. “I am glad -to see that all this wandering about over the -continent has not destroyed your habits of -punctuality. Mr. Prescott, I am glad to see -you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What on earth have you been doing with -yourself, Frank?” Alice Heathcote said. “Your -hand is all cut, and you have a great scratch on -your cheek.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank glanced at his hand. “Really, Alice, I -did not know it. I tumbled down, crossing -Knightsbridge. It is a mere trifle: only the -skin off. I will run up to your room, uncle; I -shall not be a minute.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Frank has just been doing a very gallant -action,” Prescott said, when his friend had left -the room; “he saved a man’s life, at the risk of -his own, and a very near thing it was, too.” And -he then related what had taken place.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw listened with eager interest, -and Alice, whose cheek had paled when she first -heard Prescott’s announcement of the risk Frank -had run, flushed up with pleasure and excitement -at the particulars. The story was just finished, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>and the questions which arose from it answered, -when Frank came downstairs again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Frank, Prescott here is telling us that -you have been risking your life in the most reckless -way, and becoming an amateur member of -the Humane Society. Joking apart, my dear -boy, it was a very plucky thing, and the speed -with which it had to be done shows that you -have a cool head as well as a strong arm and -good pluck.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What a fellow you are, Prescott!” Frank said, -in a tone of indignant remonstrance, and colouring -up as a girl might have done. “Prescott has -been making a mountain out of a molehill, uncle. -A man slipped down, and I picked him up. It -was a mere impulse; nothing could be simpler -or more natural.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stuff and nonsense, Frank! you saved the -man’s life; it showed pluck and presence of -mind, and the fact that you were knocked down -speaks for itself what a very near thing it was. -I am proud of you, my boy, and so is Alice, ain’t -you, Alice?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I think it was very brave of Frank,” Alice -Heathcote said, quietly—much more quietly, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>indeed than might have been expected from -the previous glow of enthusiasm upon her face. -“Who was the man you picked up, and did he -tell you his name?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He seemed a poor nervous sort of creature, -and hardly knew whether he stood upon his head -or his heels, after he was safe on the pavement. -As to who he was, I have got his card; here it -is—</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>STEPHEN WALKER,</div> - <div>TOBACCONIST,</div> - <div>Stationery of all kinds at the lowest prices.</div> - <div><em>Newspapers and periodicals punctually supplied.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>“Stephen Walker!” Captain Bradshaw said, -“there was a man of that name, a major in my -regiment, when I first joined. He was killed in -a skirmish, I remember quite well.” And here -the captain’s reminiscence was cut short by the -servant announcing dinner.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Alice, take my arm. These two young fellows -are neither of them strangers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should think not, sir,” Prescott said, “considering -that it is eight or nine years since I first -used to come here from Westminster to spend -Saturdays and Sundays with Frank.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>The dining-room was a large well-proportioned -room, with a dark red paper; and with large -prints of Conservative statesmen, in heavy oak -frames, looking down at the proceedings. In the -daylight it was an undeniably gloomy room, imperfectly -lighted, and very dark; but with the -curtains drawn, and in the warm soft light of the -wax candles, it was a very snug room indeed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is a mere form my sitting down to dinner,” -Captain Bradshaw continued, when they had -taken their seats, “for I dare not eat anything.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are not worse than usual, I hope, -uncle?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am as bad as I can be, Frank; my liver is -all but gone. I can’t last much longer, my boy, -quite impossible; I am going as fast as I can.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hope not, uncle,” Frank said, gravely; but he -was not much alarmed, for he had heard nearly the -same thing almost as long as he could remember.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I tell you, Frank, it is impossible. I have no -more liver than a cat. I can’t understand why I -have gone on so long. Damn it, sir, it is flying -in the face of Nature. I was down at the Club, -to-day, and met Colonel Oldham, who was a -youngster with me in India. I told him that as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>he was going away for three or four months upon -the continent, I would say good-bye to him for -good, for it was quite impossible I could hold out -till he came back again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What did Colonel Oldham say, uncle?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Frank, between ourselves, the old fool -said that he should say nothing of the sort, for that -I had made him the same speech ten years ago.” -Captain Bradshaw joined merrily in the laugh -against himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should not be surprised, uncle, if you make -the same speech to him ten years hence.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stuff and nonsense, Frank, the thing is impossible. -Damn it, sir, I am a living miracle as -it is—a man living without a liver. I intend -leaving what there is left to the College of Surgeons, -that is, if they can find it. It won’t take -up much room, for I would lay odds that a half-ounce -phial will contain it, with room to spare.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear uncle,” Miss Heathcote said, “pray -do not talk so very unpleasantly. You have gone -on as you are for a very long time, and we all -hope that you will for a long time more.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Harry Bradshaw shook his head, and went on -with his dinner. He really believed what he said; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>and yet he had uttered these forebodings with a -cheerful voice, a merry laugh, and a sparkling -eye. He could not speak seriously upon any -subject, even such an one as this, unless he was -in a passion, and then he could be very serious -indeed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Dinner passed off cheerfully. The principal -part of the talk was supported by Frank and his -uncle. The latter, indeed, kept up a steady -stream of chat, mingled with many anecdotes of -his Eastern experience, most of which the other -had heard before, but they were always fresh and -amusing from the humour with which they were -told, and the glee with which the old officer related -them. After dinner, they drew round to the fire. -The servant placed a small table before them, to -hold decanters and glasses, and Miss Heathcote -took out some fancy work, as it was a rule of her -uncle’s that unless strangers were there she -should remain with them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t spare the wine, boys, I must not drink -more than a glass or two myself, but I may at -least have the pleasure of seeing you do so. And -now, what have you been doing with yourselves -this afternoon?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>Frank, in reply, related the episode of the saving -the dog’s life at the Serpentine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By Gad, Frank, that must have been a fine -little fellow. I should like to have been there. I -would have given a five-pound note to have seen -it. Did you say you took his address?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, uncle; I thought I might have an opportunity -of doing the boy a good turn some day -or other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then, Frank, when you go to see him, I -should be glad if you would give him that sovereign -for me. Poor little brute! I mean the dog, -not the boy. It must have been a painful scene. -I never shall forget a thing which happened to -me on my way home from India. Your saying -how pitiful it was to see the dog drowning and -being able to do nothing for it, reminded me of it. -There was a little cabin boy on board, I should -say he was about twelve years old, one of the -sharpest and jolliest little fellows I ever saw. He -waited on us at mess, and we all quite took to -him. Well, sir, we were becalmed down near the -Cape. It was very hot weather, and the crew -asked permission to bathe. Of course it was -given, and in five minutes half the men were in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>the water, among them Curly Jack, as we used -to call the boy, who could swim like a fish. Well, -sir, they had been in the water some time, when -the mate gave the word for them to come out, -and most of them had climbed up the side, but -there were still a few in the water, and all were -close to the ship’s side except little Jack, who -was some distance off, eighty yards or so. Suddenly -a man called out, ‘A shark!’ Where he -came from or how he got there I don’t know. He -had no right to be there at that time of year, and -we had not seen one before. However, sure -enough, there he was. Of course it was only his -back-fin that we saw, cutting along the surface, -but there was no mistaking that. He might have -been two hundred yards off when we saw him, -and he was making directly for the boy. What -we all felt I cannot tell you. My heart seemed to -stand still, and a deadly feeling of faintness came -over me. I would have given worlds to have -looked away, but I could not if my life had -depended upon it. There was a shout of ‘Swim, -Jack, swim for your life!’ and then a great -splashing in the water, and I believe that every -man who had been bathing jumped in again and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>swam towards him, splashing and hallooing in -hopes of frightening the shark. But he gave no -signs of hearing them, and the black fin cut -through the water in a straight line towards poor -Jack. The boy knew his danger, and I could see -that his bright ruddy face was as pale as death. -He never said a word, but swam as I never saw a -man swim before, and for a moment I hoped he -might reach the men who were swimming in a -body towards him, before the shark could overtake -him. But I only hoped so for a moment, -the beast came nearer and nearer, he was close -upon him. I would have given worlds to have -been able to shut my eyes, but I could not. Suddenly -I saw the boy half leap out of the water -with a wild cry, which rang in my ears for weeks, -and then down he went, and we never saw a sign -of him again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How dreadful, uncle! how shocking! Please -never tell me that story again,” Alice Heathcote -said. “I shall dream of it. Poor little boy!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That was a most horrible business,” Frank -said. “By Jove! I would not have seen that for -any money that could be given me. I do like a -row, or danger of any sort if one’s in it oneself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>but to stand quiet and look on is more than I -could do.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let us go upstairs, if you will not have -any more wine; Alice will sing you a song or -two before you go.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so they went upstairs. Alice Heathcote -took her place at the piano, and glanced for an -instant towards Frank to see if he were coming to -choose a song. Seeing, however, that he was telling -his uncle an alligator adventure he had met -with up the Nile, she took the first which came to -hand, and opened it before her. Prescott, seeing -that Frank was making no sign of going towards -the piano, took his place by the side of her, and -turned over the leaves. She sang one song, and -then, getting up, said that she was quite out of -voice, and could not sing any more, that story of -the sailor boy had, she supposed, upset her. -Then, taking her work, she sat down by her -uncle and worked quietly, joining very little in -the conversation, and only glancing up occasionally -at the speakers. Soon after tea the friends -took leave, and, lighting their cigars, walked -back to the Temple.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V.<br /> <span class='large'>A MODEST ANNIVERSARY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>A quarter past eight o’clock on Monday -morning; a clear, sharp, frosty day; the shutters -are down and the shop open at Stephen Walker’s. -From eight to ten is the busiest part of the day -with them. Carry, looking very bright and -pretty, is counting a number of the morning -papers, which have just come in and are lying -in a pile, damp and flabby, in front of her. -Stephen Walker is standing beside her occupied -in folding them, a task which, from long practice, -he performs with wonderful quickness and exactitude. -On the other side of the counter a -small boy, with a good-humoured face and a -merry impudent eye, with his hands in thick -knitted gloves, and a red comforter round his -neck, is waiting, stamping his feet to warm them -and swinging his arms for the same purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“Here is your lot,” Carry said, when she had -finished; “twelve ‘Times,’ two ‘Posts,’ and three -‘’Tisers.’ Now mind, Tom Holl, no stopping -about or playing at marbles.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As if it were likely, Miss, that one would -stop to play at marbles such a morning as this—oh -yes! very.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, take the papers and run off then.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boy put them under his arm, and went off -at a brisk trot.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What are you doing, father?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am trying to put the books into proper -order, Carry. Dear, dear, what terrible confusion -they are in! Here is 55 next to 4, and -the next to that is 87.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh please, father, do leave them alone. I -shall never be able to find anything. I know -now exactly where they all are, and could put -my hand upon any book that is asked for in the -dark; but if you once meddle with them I shall -never find them again; the numbers don’t go for -anything.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just as you like, Carry. When do you suppose -breakfast will be ready?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am sure I don’t know, father; I must attend -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>to the shop at present, and I do think the very -best thing you could do would be to go in and see -about it. Now that would be really very useful; -besides, you are such a figure that I don’t like you -to be seen here. That great cut and swelling upon -your cheek make you look as if you had been fighting -on Saturday night. Why, those two gentlemen -who came in just now, and asked what you had -been doing, when you said you had slipped down, -looked at each other and winked and laughed. I -could see they did not believe you a bit—and no -one else will.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you really think so, Carry? Dear me, -dear me! that is very wrong of them, and will get -me quite a bad name. Be sure to tell them when -they call to-morrow how it happened. But perhaps -you are right, my dear, and I had better -keep as much as I can out of the shop of a morning -till my face has got quite right again. I will -see about breakfast: but, be sure, if you really -want me, to call, and I will come in at once, -whatever they may say about me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In truth, Carry was by no means sorry for an -excuse which would keep her father out of the -shop of a morning, at any rate for a week or so, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>a result which sometimes took her some little -scheming to attain. For at that time a good -many clerks were in the habit of coming in to -buy tobacco, before they took ‘bus for the city; -not perhaps that Stephen Walker’s tobacco was -unusually good, but then certainly his daughter -was uncommonly pretty. Those who did not -smoke bought the “Times” for the use of their -office there, which gave them the double advantage -of having it to read on their way up, and of having -a chat with Carry Walker before starting. So there -were quite a number of men came in of a morning -from half-past eight to half-past nine; and Carry -who, as has been said, was in no ways loath to be -admired, had a bright smile, and a laughing -remark ready for each. So Stephen Walker’s -shop was quite a well-known rendezvous, and the -young men would stand there chatting with -Carry till the ‘bus came along past the end of the -street, where the coachman would regularly stop -for them. Carry very much enjoyed all this. -Her head was somewhat turned perhaps; but, in -spite of her little vanities, she was a shrewd, -sensible girl, and took all the nonsense talked to -her at pretty nearly what it was worth. She had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>always an answer for every remark, and in the -little wordy passages generally managed to hold -her own; and yet, although full of fun and life, -she never for an instant forgot herself, or allowed -her fun to carry her away. Her numerous admirers -felt and respected this, and consequently -the little war of words never exceeded anything -that the father might not have listened to. At -the same time there were unquestionably more -fun and talk on those mornings when he did not -appear in the shop. Some of these admirers -of Carry were really in earnest, and would -gladly have shared their homes and salaries with -the tobacconist’s pretty daughter; but she gave -no encouragement to one more than another, and -to the two or three who, in spite of this, had endeavoured -to persuade her to unite her lot with -theirs, she had very decidedly intimated that she -had at present no idea whatever of changing her -condition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By half past nine her work was nearly over. -The last batch of her visitors was off to town; -the last “Times” was sold out, and in those days -there were no penny papers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the shop was empty Carry went into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>little parlour, and found that her father had got -the breakfast ready, and was sitting by the side -of the fire waiting patiently till she should come -in. Stephen Walker was no more sorry than his -daughter was that he should have some excuse for -leaving her alone in the shop during the busy -time. He was perfectly aware that a large proportion -of his customers came more for the purpose -of seeing and talking with her than to buy -tobacco or papers. And as he felt perfectly -assured of Carry’s discretion and self-respect, he -was not at all afraid of leaving her to take care of -herself. At first it had not been so, and he had -been very loath to leave her in the shop alone, and -had, when he went into the parlour, been in the -habit of leaving the door ajar, so that he could -hear what went on. When he found, however, that -the conversation never surpassed the limits of fair -badinage, and that Carry turned aside all the compliments -paid to her, with a merry laugh, he grew -confident, and was quite content to leave her to -herself, especially as he could not but feel that -his presence was a restraint both to them and her. -He was quite sensible of the fact that in the two -years which had elapsed since she first took her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>place in the shop, that the business had trebled, -and that his and her comforts were proportionately -increased.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They had scarcely sat down to breakfast before -they heard some one come into the shop. Carry -got up with a little exclamation of impatience, -opened the door, and looked out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good morning, Evan, what is it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good morning, miss. Could I speak to Mr. -Walker?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come in Evan, we are at breakfast; that is -right; now shut the door.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What do you want, Evan?” Stephen Walker -asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you please, sir, I wanted to ask you, if -when you go up to town, you would get me some -books for James to read.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What sort of books, Evan?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not story books sir, but clever books about -mechanics, and that sort of thing; not easy ones, -sir, he is a wonderful chap at ‘rithmetic, James -is, and can do any of the sums in the one we have -got at home; but I have heard him say he should -like to learn mathematics. I would go myself -sir, and not trouble you, but Lor, I should not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>know which was which. I don’t want new ones, -but books from the old stalls; I have heard tell, -they are very cheap there. Here is ten shillings, -sir; would you kindly choose as many as you -can get for it, and please keep them here for -me, ‘cause I want to surprise him with -them?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But gracious, child!” Carry said, “where on -earth did you get ten shillings to spend on old -books?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you please, miss, it were given to me, and -more too, for picking a little dog out of the -Serpentine, and I thought that I couldn’t do -better with it than get some books for James. -He is mighty clever, and he has nothing to amuse -him, poor fellow, except his flowers, so he will -have plenty of time to think over all these hard -things.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a good boy, Evan,” Stephen Walker -said, “and I will do my best, and ten shillings -will go a good way. That sort of book is always -to be picked up very cheap. I can get an algebra, -Euclid, and trigonometry, anyhow, and perhaps -a book on conic sections, and it will take your -brother some time to master them. But, Evan, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>does your father know what you are spending -your money upon?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh yes, he knows,” the boy said; “besides, -he told me that the money was mine, and I could -spend it upon what I liked. And please, Mr. -Walker, father told me to give his respects, and -would you go in and smoke a pipe with him this -evening?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Will you tell your father from me,” Stephen -Walker said, “that he may rely upon my coming. -And where are you going now, Evan?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am going down to the Serpentine; I hear -they are skating there this morning, and I have -got a new tray, and such a lot of bull’s eyes and -peppermints, rather. Will you have some, miss,” -and the boy took out a handful and put them -down by Carry’s plate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank you, Evan, I will take two or three, -not more; I could not eat them—that will do, -thank you; I hope you will do a good day’s -work.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No fear of that, miss; I just shall do this -week if the frost goes on. Good bye, miss. -Good bye, sir, and thank you; please don’t forget -the books,” and Evan Holl was gone.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>“Do you know, father, I think it’s lowering -yourself going into John Holl’s, he is a very good -sort of a man, but he is only a dustman. I think -you ought to look higher than that, if only for my -sake.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“John Holl is a very decent man, my dear,” -her father said mildly, “and he always treats me -with proper respect. There are not many places -I do go to; but I esteem John Holl to be a very -respectable man in his sphere of life, and I do not -think it can do me any harm.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry pouted a little, but made no further -remark. She had very little knowledge of her -father’s past life. She could remember vaguely -that as a child she had lived in a much better -house, but that was all. Stephen Walker had -never spoken of earlier times, beyond telling her -that he had formerly kept a much larger shop, -which had been his father’s before him; but that -he had been unfortunate, and had therefore settled -down into a place more suited to his means. -More than this he had never told her, for he -thought it better for the girl’s happiness that she -should remain in ignorance of what the past -had been. He thought that if she had known -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>in what a different station she might have moved, -it might tend to make her discontented with her -state. For himself, he accepted his lot cheerfully, -and was on the whole far happier than he had -ever been before, and he judged her by himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stephen Walker really liked these little evenings -with his humble friends. When he went in -there to smoke a pipe he was always treated with -a certain deference which gratified any lingering -feelings of personal pride he might have, and -made him flatter himself with the idea that in so -doing he was really conferring a favour instead of -accepting one.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Anyone entering John Holl’s at seven o’clock -that evening would have seen at once that -something very important was about to take place. -The floor had been evidently recently scrubbed, -and in those parts not covered by the square -patch of drugget in the middle of the room, was -so clean and white that it almost seemed a pity -to tread upon it. The chairs and table absolutely -shone with the amount of rubbing and polishing -which had been bestowed upon them, and the -ornaments on the chest of drawers had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>arranged upon a spotless white cloth to the best -possible advantage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mother had just come down from upstairs, -where she had been engaged in tidying herself, -and looked red and hot from the hard work and -excitement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>John Holl himself was sitting in his usual -place by the side of the fire, smoking his long -pipe with his accustomed air of thoughtful -gravity. James was in his box on wheels opposite -to him, but not immediately so, the chair -next to the fire being, as the place of honour, -reserved for Stephen Walker.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The younger children are seated upon the -stairs as being quite out of the way, and are from -that post of vantage viewing all the preparations -with an air of extreme interest, passing away the -time the while, by munching apples and cakes -which have fallen to them as their share of the -feast.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently Evan returns, and the cause of his -absence is at once apparent, for he is followed by -a potboy from a neighbouring public-house, -carrying in one hand a large can of beer and in -the other three empty pewter pots, which he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>places upon the table in company with several long -clay pipes which are lying upon it ready for use. -He then takes from the pockets of his jacket -two black bottles which he places beside them, -and with a brief “good-night” takes his leave. -And now when Mrs. Holl has placed some tumblers -upon the table, the preparations for the feast -are complete.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For even the Holls have their feasts—not often -and not great ones. In no single respect resembling -those banquets which a city alderman pictures -to himself at the word feast, where turtle -soup with its lumps of green fat mingles if not -harmonises with venison and truffles, the whole -crowned with that wonderful institution—the -loving cup.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the Holls have none of these things, nor -perhaps would be able thoroughly to appreciate -them if they had. The contents of the black -bottles and battered pewter pots form the great -staple of the entertainment. Strange stories, -could they speak, might these pewters relate of -those who have drunk from them, and curious -would be the history of each of their numerous -dints and bruises. That one was crushed only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>last Saturday night by being thrown by a drunken -husband at his wife; the symmetry of the next -was spoilt against a navvy’s skull in an English -and Irish row; for stealing the third, Daniel -Crinky, alias the Ferret, was sent on a long sea -voyage; and many another tale of drunkenness -and crime.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This is one of the pewter’s innocent uses, and -they seem to have been specially cleaned and -brightened up in honour of the occasion. It is -the twentieth anniversary of John and Sarah -Holl’s wedding-day. The guests soon begin to -arrive; there are not many of them—half-a-dozen -or so. In the first case, as he is a public character -should be mentioned A 56. For he is -a public character, and his place can by no means -be termed a sinecure. Far from it, for A 56 has -plenty of hard work and not over much pay in -return. He must make up his mind for hard -knocks, and occasionally in the discharge of his -duty to be nearly killed, perhaps in the open day, -with dozens of bystanders looking on, too -cowardly or too indifferent to lift a finger in his -defence. He will have some unpleasant duties, -too, such as keeping the line all day in the rain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>at Chiswick Fête, and is expected to be within -a few yards of every irascible gentleman who is -overcharged by a cabman, or who imagines himself -to be in any way aggrieved. He must make -up his mind to being a pretty general object of -dislike among the lower orders, and to be taunted -and chaffed and groaned at on all public occasions, -he being at those times considered a fair -subject for sport. All this and much more -must he bear with perfect equanimity and good -temper, for if he should ever get a little crusty, -and hit rather harder then the occasion appears -to warrant, he knows that “Mentor,” and “Censor,” -and “Civis,” and many others will be -down upon him at once in the columns of -the daily papers. But to their credit be it -spoken, it is very seldom that A 56 and his -brethren from A 1 to the end of the alphabet -ever give an opportunity for a charge against -them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next to A 56 must be mentioned Perkins. -Perkins is not a handsome man, in fact the -reverse. He is rather tall and strongly built, -with high cheek bones, small sunken eyes, and -a broken nose. He wears a groom’s waistcoat -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>with a heavy steel watchguard, and a gaudy -scarf round his neck with a showy mosaic gold -pin. From these tokens it may be at once seen -that Perkins is or has been a prize-fighter. A -nasty customer was Perkins in his time, and -many a victory has he won, from his first appearance -as Harry Parson’s novice, to the time -when backing himself to fight Unknown for 200<em>l.</em> -a side, he was nearly killed. It was in that celebrated -conflict that his nose was broken; and he -then retired from the ring, and was established -by his admirers in the snug Public, known as -“The Lively Stunners,” where every Wednesday -evening a select harmonic meeting is held, at -which good humour and fisticuffs prevail, as see -“Bell’s Life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Between Perkins and A 56 a species of feud -exists, for Perkins cannot disguise that he objects -to A 56. Not on personal grounds, far from it; -but as being one of the body who are constantly -on the watch to interrupt and put an end to the -noble art of which he, Perkins, is a professor; -and he attributes to A 56 and his fellows the -disrepute into which that noble science has -fallen. Of the others present, as they will not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>appear again in the pages of this history, no -description need be given.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After the first guest had arrived the rest soon -came in, entering generally with a rather awkward -air, as if impressed somewhat with the -gravity and importance of the occasion, but -thawing rapidly when they had once seated themselves -and had each got one of the long pipes -into full operation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently Stephen Walker arrives, and is inducted -in the post of honour. His being thus -late was caused by his desire to see the shop -closed, and Carry comfortably seated at the fire -with a novel, before coming out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As was but natural the weather was the first -object of discussion, but this did not last long, it -being unanimously agreed that the frost was -likely to last any time. After that, various other -topics are introduced and discussed gravely, and -generally with a fair knowledge of the subject. -At last, as all conversation among working men -at that period was sure to do, their talk turned -upon the Chartist movement which was agitating -the lower classes of the metropolis.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wish the Charter had never been heard of,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>John Holl said, “I’m sick of it. Look at my -brother Bill. A better workman never stepped -in shoes, always at work, always on the best -wages, and look at him now, never doing a -stroke, but wasting his time going about talking. -It’s been a weary time for Bessy since he took -up with it. But, Lor bless you, to hear him -talk you would think that we were all black -niggers. It sounds all very fine, and though I -know I aint a black nigger, I can’t say anything -against it. But, Lor bless you! you should hear -James, he ats him, and he gives him word for -word, and line for line, and Bill gets hit pretty -hard, I can tell you; you do slap it into him, -James, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lad, who had been very quiet, only putting -in a remark occasionally, laughed merrily.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I like arguing with Uncle Bill, he is so accustomed -to have it all his own way, and he does -not half like it sometimes when I come down -upon him. I am very sorry for him though, -and I do wish I could convince him. He is so -honest, and he believes in what he says so much, -that it is a pity to think that it will lead him into -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>“Why did he not come here to-night, John?” -Stephen Walker asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He has got what he calls a ‘committee’ on, -and, bless you, he wouldn’t miss a committee, he -wouldn’t, not if he knew he should find us all -dead when he came out.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Here Mrs. Holl, who had been upstairs putting -the younger children to bed, came down -again, and began to bustle about, and lay a -cloth for supper. She then brought out a huge -pie from the cupboard, and in a few minutes the -whole party drew round the table and set to. -When supper was over, Mrs. Holl cleared the -table, put the black bottles and tumblers upon it, -poured out a large jug of boiling water, and each -mixed himself a glass.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was then a little pause, and Stephen -Walker, finding that the eyes of the company -were directed generally towards him, said—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gentlemen, we are met here to night to -celebrate a very happy occasion. Twenty years -ago to-day, my friends, John and Sarah Holl were -married. How happy they have been they best -know, but from what I have seen of them, and I -have known them for some years now, I should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>say that they are as happy a couple as any in the -town, and I think you will agree with me when I -say that they well deserve to be. John, I drink -your health and your good wife’s, may you continue -for another twenty years to be as happy as -you have been up to this time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His speech was received with murmurs of -applause, and with thumping of glasses from those -seated near enough to the table to be enabled to -indulge in that evidence of their approbation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then all nodded to John and Sarah over their -glasses, and said, “Here’s to ye,” and there was -a pause of silence for John Holl’s reply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then John, wiping his mouth with the -back of his broad, brown hand, and clearing his -throat, said—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mr. Walker and friends all, speaking ain’t -in my way much, but for Sairey and self, I -must tell you how much I feel obligated for all -your kind wishes. Mr. Walker, and friends all, -I thank yer kindly. Sairey here and I have -been married twenty long years now, and we ha’ -been very happy together. It don’t seem twenty -year, but I know it is. Sairey, she were a tall, -shapely lass, and I were an active, young chap -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>then; as you may see, friends all, we ha’ changed -rarely since then. But I don’t think we ha’ changed -other way. I do believe, Sairey an’ me are just as -fond o’ each other as we was this day twenty year -back. Mr. Walker, and friends all, my wife Sairey -has been a good wife to me. I can’t say rightly -how good, but I feel it. I know well that I -ain’t made Sairey as good a husband as I might -ha’ done—hold your tongue, Sairey—but as you -see, friends all, I don’t think she likes me any -the less for it now. We aint lived just an idle -life all these years, and we didn’t expect to when -we got married. We have had our hardish times, -too, but nothing not to say to grumble about. On -the whole we have got on pretty fair, and ha’ -laid up a few pound for a wet day. Mr. Walker, -and friends all, thank ye kindly. Sairey, old girl, -here’s to ye,” and John gave his wife a loud-sounding -kiss, and Sarah, although she was a -low person, and hardly knew what nerves meant, -wiped away a tear unobserved amongst the -thumping of glasses, and stamping of feet, which -greeted the conclusion of John Holl’s speech. -After that there was a greater appearance of -general ease, and of a determination to enjoy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>themselves. Presently they began to sing. A 56 -sang, principally comic songs, and sang them -with so much spirit, that it was evident that -under the rather stolid demeanor, and close -cut regulation whisker, A 56 concealed a strong -sense of humour. The crippled lad sang, and -with considerable taste and feeling, and Perkins -favoured the company with some of the songs of -the “Lively Stunners” in his best style. And the -others sang; but the most marked feature about -their songs was the almost entire absence of any -appreciable air, and that they all had a chorus -apropos of nothing, of ri tiddy ti tiddy <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad libitum</span>. -The singers too seemed continually striving to -get up to some imaginary note, about two octaves -above the normal compass of their voices, and as -their eyes moved in accordance with their voices, -at these times only the whites were visible; the -entire effect to any one unaccustomed to it being -extremely painful.</p> - -<p class='c000'>However, all seemed satisfied, and when the -party broke up, which they did a little before -twelve, as several of them had to be at their work -early, they expressed themselves as greatly delighted -with their evening. And so they went off, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>the others to bed, but policeman A 56, who had -only got leave in honour of the occasion, went off -to the station to report himself, and then to -relieve the comrade who had taken his place on -his beat. Tramp, tramp, with his slow, heavy, -regular tread all night, up and down many a quiet -street, where his heavy foot-fall seems to echo -strangely; steadily on, with once or twice a pause, -and a sound of voice in remonstrance and dispute, -and then a little scuffle as some drunken man -is either persuaded to go home or else taken off -to the station. Down many an area does the -bright eye of his lantern pry; now it dances along -a wall, now ‘tis on the ground, now it flits into a -window. Loudly the bells chime the hours in -the still, starlight night—two—three—four—London -is at its stillest, the last carriage from -the latest party is back now, the last straggling -foot passenger in bed. Five—six—and now there -are some signs of life and movement again. The -workmen are beginning to start to their distant -places of work, stamping their feet, and swinging -their arms, to warm themselves in the keen morning -air. Had it been market-day, long ere this -the light carts would have been rattling into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>Covent Garden, to purchase a supply of vegetables, -and be back again before the earliest customers -are awake. Now it approaches seven, -and the grey morning light begins to break over -London, and to dim the brightness of A 56’s -lantern. The streets are busy with men hastening -to their work. Seven—and it is comparatively -quiet again. Half-past—and sleepy-looking housemaids -begin to draw up blinds, and to open -front doors, and sweep down the steps. And now -the milk-carts drive up, and as the clock strikes -eight, London seems to wake with a start. The -‘busses rattle off with their loads of men for the -early offices, foot passengers muffled to the -throats, cabs and carts; day has fairly begun. -And now A 56 is relieved, and goes home and -sleeps long and soundly.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI.<br /> <span class='large'>THE BINGHAMS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Behind Sloane Street lie the quiet and secluded -regions of Hans Place. Very respectable, and -intensely dull is Hans Place, looking more like a -portion of some sleepy little cathedral town than a -corner of busy moving London. The rush and the -roar of traffic pass it afar off, sounding like the -murmur of the distant ocean. Were it not that it -happens to be a short cut from Brompton to the -upper part of Sloane Street, it is probable that -not five vehicles or ten foot-passengers, beyond -the inhabitants themselves and the tradespeople -who supply them, would ever pass through it. -Little groups of children, indeed, from the small -streets lying between it and Knightsbridge, come -up into it, and the elders sit down on door steps, -and discourse soberly and gravely together, while -the younger ones play on the deserted pavement, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>fearless of interruption. But these seem the -only signs of life. It can hardly be that Nature -made an exception in the case of Hans Place to -her general laws, and that no children are ever -born to any of its inhabitants; but it is believed -that, in the memory of man, none were ever seen -at play in the dismal piece of ground in its -centre, known as the garden. Indeed, the only -denizens of the place which seem endowed -with life and vitality are the sparrows. These -twitter and fight noisily in the dusty trees, or -hop about on the wide road, heedless of interruption, -hardly moving even when a passing -vehicle drives by, but, standing with their heads -on one side, watching it inquisitively with their -bright fearless eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In Hans Place reside the Binghams. Mr. -Bingham is a civil engineer, and dabbles generally -in building operations. He is a man of about -middle height, spare, and active; very careful as -to his attire, and of a mild conciliatory address; -a pleasant, well-informed man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Bingham, the sister of Captain Bradshaw, -is the picture of good temper. Short and -stout, as such women generally are, devoted to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>her husband and children, having no thought, -no care, no object in life unconnected with -the narrow circle of her own family. Not a -clever woman—that is, not a clever woman of -the world. As a painter and musician, she -was really talented; but to have heard her talk, -no one would have given her credit for being -anything of the sort. And yet, in any point unconnected -with her own family and belongings, -she was shrewd and sensible, with a little touch -of satire; but the affection and admiration of the -mother of the Gracchi for her children, were as -nothing to the feelings with which she regarded -her progeny. Terrible indeed was Mrs. Bingham’s -house to visitors when the children were young. -She would dilate upon their affectionate dispositions, -their extraordinary cleverness and precocity. -Their sayings and doings would be rehearsed at -length, and the children themselves brought in, -exhibited, and praised, Mrs. Bingham taking it -for granted that all this would afford at least as -much pleasure to her visitors as to herself. It -was fortunate that this idea was so thoroughly -rooted in her mind, that she required very little -active acquiescence. A general smile, an “indeed,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>and “dear me,” thrown in from time to time, was -sufficient to satisfy her; but even with this, it was -universally agreed among Mrs. Bingham’s friends -that a visit to her was a very dreadful affair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The children were by no means bad children -in themselves. Frederick, the eldest, has been -already spoken of, and, as a boy, was a pleasant -and quiet, but hasty tempered lad. The two -daughters were quiet, simple girls, taking much -after their mother in her home tastes, and affectionate -disposition. They were, at this time, of -the ages of sixteen and fifteen respectively. Fred -Bingham was in no way changed by the three -years which had passed since the night of the -boating party at Cambridge. He did not look -one day older; there were no signs of whisker on -his smooth fair face; a slight moustache of light -hair had grown upon his upper lip; this, contrary -to the usual custom in the year ‘48, he -assiduously cultivated, although with small success, -but if constant stroking could have conduced -to its growth, it would have been a very -much more important affair than it was.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Binghams had nearly finished breakfast. -Mr. Bingham had quite done, and was looking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>out of the window at a solitary foot passenger -who was in sight, when his wife asked him,</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Are you going up to your office this morning, -my dear?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No; I am going over to Bayswater, to value -a house, but I dare say I shall be in town in the -afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then I suppose you are going to the office, -Freddy, dear?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, look here, Venerable,” Fred Bingham -said, “I suppose you want something; if you do, -say it out, and don’t be beating about the bush, -and asking questions about things which don’t -concern you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, Freddy, that is so like you. No, I -don’t want anything at all. I was only thinking -what a treat it would be to take the poor children -to a pantomime.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, you were thinking what a treat it would -be to take the poor children to a pantomime,” -Fred mimicked. “Well, supposing that it -would, I really don’t see what connection that -has to my going to office.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, Freddy, how you do take me up. I -was only wondering whether you would be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>doing anything to tire yourselves, because if -not——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, because if not, I suppose you wondered -next whether you could do me into buying -tickets for them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Freddy, I did not wonder anything of -the sort. I am sure your dear papa would do -that.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know, my dear,” Mr. Bingham said, -standing on the hearth-rug, and jingling the -money and keys in his trousers pockets, as was a -favourite habit of his. “I don’t know, my dear, -that their dear papa will do anything of the sort. -He is peculiarly short of money at present.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, Venerable,” Fred said, “don’t look so -downcast. I will get tickets for the poor things, -and as I suppose you will be wanting to go too, -instead of staying quietly at home, as an old lady -of your age should do, I must get one for you, -too. Make up your minds which theatre you -will go to, but don’t talk about it now, as you will -all talk together, and then I shan’t get you the -tickets at all. Settle it among yourselves out of -the room, and let me know before I start.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There’s a dear, kind Freddy,” Mrs. Bingham -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>said, admiringly: “he is always such a good, -kind fellow.” And she looked round proudly -upon the girls, who purred acquiescence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, that will do, Venerable, a very little -of that goes a long way; besides, I believe I have -heard you say as much before. And, look here, -girls, I shall expect you both to practise that -glee we were singing last night, to-day and to-morrow, -so as to be perfect in the evening, and -not make such an exhibition of yourselves as you -did last night. And now, all three of you take -yourselves off at once, and make up your minds -about the theatre; I want to have ten minutes talk -with the pater upon business before we start.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Bingham rose without a word, and went -out accompanied by the girls, with the parting -remark, given in a decided tone, which defied -contradiction, that “there never was such a dear -fellow in the world.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Fred Bingham was very kind to his mother -and sisters. He was liberal in the extreme with -his money, and they deservedly doted upon him. -He was, it is true, excessively dictatorial in his -way of speaking to them, but they obeyed all he -said unquestioningly, taking it partly as fun, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>partly his right, the due of his extreme kindness -and cleverness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When they had left the room, Frederick Bingham -turned to the father. The smile had gone from -his face now, and he spoke in a cold hard business -way, very different from the light jesting tone he -had used to his mother.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How long shall you be at Bayswater?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should think two hours will be quite sufficient; -it is not a large house.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Those Biglows have not paid their rent yet. -I think you had better go up to St. John’s Wood -and see about it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will go if you think so, Fred, but it will be -of no use.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Give them to the end of the week, and if -they don’t pay on Saturday, put a man in the -first thing on Monday morning.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You see, Fred, they said last week when I -saw them,” Mr. Bingham said hesitatingly, “that -Biglow had been ill for months, and had been -too weak to touch a brush.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is their business,” the son said harshly, -“not ours. Let them go into a smaller house. -There will be enough furniture left, after paying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>us our half-year’s rent to furnish that. The -furniture is very good. I took particular notice -myself last time I saw them. Anyhow, the -dining-room alone is worth fifty pounds at a sale. -You can tell them that you don’t want to do anything -unhandsome, but that you must have the -forty pounds they owe; and that rather than sell -them up, if they like to leave the dining-room -and drawing-room furniture, we will let them -take the rest out and cry quits. That will suit -both of us; it will save them being sold up, and -it is worth a good hundred pounds to us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, Fred, he might easily borrow the means -to pay the half-year’s rent on the furniture by -merely giving a bill of sale.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nonsense, father; the man’s an artist, and -knows no more of business than a child. Do as -I advise you, and you will see he will jump at -the offer, and be grateful besides.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Fred, you will never die a pauper, -that’s pretty certain,” his father said, admiringly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have no intention of doing so,” Fred said -drily. “That is settled then. I don’t know -that there is anything else to arrange. Call -round at the office if you have time; but I shall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>leave early myself. I suppose we shall dine at -five, to give us plenty of time for the theatre -business”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Fred then went to the door, and shouted for his -mother, who came with the information that they -had decided upon the Princess’s.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, Venerable, I will get the tickets as -I go up. I am off now. Have the girls got my -hat and gloves, and brushed my great coat?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The girls had; and now brought them to him. -It took him another five minutes getting them -on—especially the gloves—for Fred Bingham -was, like his father, extremely careful about his -personal adornment, especially in the matter of -gloves—which he was never without—wearing -them upon every possible occasion; for if there -was one thing which galled Fred Bingham more -than another, it was those unfortunate great unshapely -red hands of his.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Binghams lived on the side of Hans -Place nearest to Knightsbridge. The shortest -way, consequently, into the high road, was to -cut down through the small streets instead of -going out into Sloane Street. Fred Bingham, -however, after turning out of Hans Place, did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>not take the most direct way, but turning through -two or three narrow lanes, he came out into New -Street, which he followed till he came to Stephen -Walker’s shop, where he turned in. Carry was -alone in the shop, and it was at once evident -by the girl’s manner that Fred Bingham was a -regular customer; and by her slightly heightened -colour that he was by no means an unwelcome -one.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good morning, Carry; looking as bright and -pretty as ever, I see.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What nonsense you do talk to be sure, Mr. -Bingham!” the girl laughed. “I shall certainly -give up coming into the shop altogether, and put -father in here from half-past nine till you are -gone, if you don’t give up talking rubbish.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Give me a cigar, Carry. No, not those -things; one out of my special box; thank you. -Now you would not be so cruel as that, Carry, I -am quite sure. I should pine visibly if you hid -your bright face. I am almost as thin as I can -be now, but I should become a candidate for the -at present vacant situation of walking skeleton, -in no time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh! I dare say,” the girl retorted, “you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>would not eat a mouthful the less at your dinner, -I’d wager, whether you saw my bright face or -not.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are quite wrong, Carry, I can assure -you. What are you working at so industriously?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Never mind,” the girl said, laughing. “Never -ask questions about things which don’t concern -you. You know the rest of it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite well, Carry. But that appears to me -to be a masculine garment, and therefore it is -possible that it may concern me; because if it is -intended for a favoured swain, I shall infallibly -slay him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You need not do that, it is only a shirt for -father. Besides, I have told you fifty times I -have no favoured swain, as you call it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh yes, I know you have; but you see I -have a great difficulty in believing you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, Mr. Bingham, really if you go on like -that, I shall go into the next room,” the girl said, -making, however, no effort to rise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Really, Carry, it is very hard on a man that -he may not say what he thinks.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, but you don’t think it”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>“I do think it, Carry; on my honour I think -you the very prettiest girl——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There now, sir, you see I am obliged to go,” -Carry said, really getting up this time. “But -then that’s fortunate; I can hear a ‘bus; so I am -well rid of you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bye bye, Carry; I must be up in town this -morning in good time, or I would stay for the -next hour, if it were only to plague you.” And -so he was gone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry did not take up her work again for some -time, but sat thinking quietly, till her father -came into the shop from the room behind, when -she began to work assiduously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Carry, you have not been out for the last two -days. Put on your bonnet, child; I will mind -the shop for a while. A little fresh air will do -you good.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, father, I will go out for a little -time; and I shall look in and have a chat with -James Holl. I don’t suppose I shall be more -than an hour gone.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a few minutes, Carry came down dressed -for her walk; and with a parting nod to her -father, went out. First down into Knightsbridge. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>Here she spent some little time in looking -at the tempting displays in the shop windows. -Oh that she had but money that she might go in -and make unlimited purchases! Fancy, too, how -exactly that bonnet would suit her complexion, -and how well she should look in that Indian -shawl! And so Carry walked up the hill as -far as the Duke’s. Turning here she retraced -her steps to Sloane Street, and thence, striking -into the narrow streets, was soon at the Holls’ -door. After a preliminary knock with her hand, -she lifted the latch and entered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were only three persons in the room. -The crippled lad was at the window, to which he -had wheeled up his box, partly to enable him to -see out, partly for the benefit of the light for his -work. On a table in front of him were a number -of thin sheets of wax of various colours, a few -paints and brushes, some wire and modelling -tools, and some exquisite wax flowers which he -had finished, with others in different stages of -progress, upon which he was still engaged. -Two little girls were standing beside him, with -books in their hands, and one of them was -reading aloud, while he listened and corrected her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>as he worked. A little impatiently, perhaps, -which was very unusual for him, but on the table -near him was an algebra, part of Evan’s present, -which he had only received the day before. -It was open, but was lying with its face downwards, -and it was evident, by the glances which -he cast in that direction, that he was longing to -continue his study. He looked up when his -visitor entered, and a bright flush of pleasure -came across his face.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How do you do, Miss Carry? It seems -quite a time since you were here last.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not more than a week, James; and how are -you, and where is Mrs. Holl?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am quite well, Miss Carry. Mother has -gone out for the day; but please sit down for a -little while, you know what pleasure a talk with -you always gives me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The girl kissed the children, and then drew -up a chair and sat down by him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank you,” he said, “You see I am hearing -Jessie and Loo their lessons. There, children, -that will do for this morning; put away -your books and go and play, but don’t make a -noise.” The little girls gladly did as they were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>told, and were soon sitting on two low stools in -front of the fire, busy playing with two dolls, so -old and battered that their clothes might be put -on at pleasure either way, there being no distinguishable -difference between their faces and -the backs of their heads.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What lovely flowers, James! I can’t think -how you can do them without a copy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No more I could, Miss Carry. Father knows -one of the men in the flower shop just as you get -into Hans Place from Sloane Street, and he -often brings me one, and I copy it at once and -put it by till I want to make some of that -sort.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It must be very interesting work, James, -especially when you get to make them as beautifully -as you do. What a lovely spray of roses -and buds that is!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you think so, Miss Carry? Yes, they -are very pretty. It is a copy of a bunch my -friend the gardener brought me in last summer, -and I liked it so much that I copied them just -as they were. Will you accept that one, Miss -Carry?” he said timidly; “I should be so glad if -you would.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>“Oh, I could not think of it, James; it must -have taken you an immense time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My time is of no great value,” the lad said -rather sadly; “besides, it does not take nearly as -long as it looks. I cut all the petals out with -stamps. Please take it, Miss Carry. It would -give me so much pleasure if you would.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, if it would, James, I will certainly -accept your offer, and thank you very much for -them. They are really lovely. I have got a -little Parian marble vase under a glass shade, -father bought me my last birthday; they will keep -under that beautifully.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lad took a sheet of silver paper from a -drawer of the table, and watched her with a -pleased face as she very carefully enveloped -them in it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When I think how slowly the days used to -pass,” he said, “I don’t know what I should have -done without my flower making, I had nothing -to do but to sit here, and hear the people walking -past, and the children at play, and wonder why it -should be that I was to be cut off from playing -or walking as long as my life should last, -and be a helpless burden upon other people all my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>life. I shall never forget what I felt, when your -father said to me one day, ‘I wonder you don’t -try and do something, James.’ Although I might -have known that he was the last man to hurt any -one’s feelings, Miss Carry, for a moment I did -think that what he said was without thought. -The tears came up into my eyes, and I said, I -dare say bitterly enough, ‘God knows I should be -only too glad, Mr. Walker, but what can I do?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Do,’ said your father, ‘plenty of things; -make wax flowers, for instance.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Oh, I should be so glad, but how am I to -learn?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘I’ll tell you what, James,’ your father said. -‘I will get you a book to teach you all about it, -and all the things you will want. You must -get some flowers to copy—easy ones to begin -with, and if you are sharp, you will find in a very -short time you will be able to earn money, besides -keeping yourself employed. I will lay out a -pound, James, in the materials, and you shall pay -it out of your first earnings.’ That’s three years -back now, Miss Carry, and I was not much more -than fourteen. But I had thought a good deal, -through sitting here all day with nothing to do, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>but to think, think all the long hours, and I had -read a great deal too, for Mr. Walker has always -lent me what books I liked. But, boy as I was, -my heart was too full of delight and hope to say -one word. To think that I was not to be all my -life without an occupation or an aim, that I was -not always to be a burden to others! It was almost -too much; for now for the first time your father’s -words seem to point out that it might be so -different to what I had thought. I have read in -books, Miss Carry, of what a man condemned to -death feels when he is reprieved upon the scaffold, -but I am sure he could not feel more than I -did. I had so often wished to die, and had -thought it would be so much better for me, so -much happier than my life could be, that it -seemed as if more than fresh life was given me. -Oh, how anxious I was till your father brought -the things, how I learnt the book by heart before -I ventured to begin, how nervous I was with my -first attempt, and, above all, what joy I felt when -mother took out a box of my flowers, and brought -me back far more than I had ever dreamt they -would have fetched, and the news that at the -shop where she had sold them, they had said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>they would take as many more as I could make. -I soon paid your father back his pound, Miss -Carry; but as long as I live I can never repay -him for the benefit he did me. What a different -life mine has been since—always busy and happy, -with a feeling that I am no longer a burden but -a help to father and mother; and all this I owe -to your father.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dear father,” Carry said softly, “he is always -good and kind. That puts me in mind that -he is all alone in the shop, and that I must be -going home, to see after the dinner. Good bye, -James, and thank you for your flowers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good bye, Miss Carry, you are heartily welcome -to them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so shaking hands cordially with the -crippled lad, and kissing the children, Carry went -back to relieve her father in the shop; while -James’s studies at his algebra made but small progress -that morning. For a bright face, which -certainly Colenso never thought of inserting -there, would keep intruding itself between the -figures and his eyes, and making a terrible confusion -of + and – and of “a’s” and “x’s.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII.<br /> <span class='large'>A STARTLING SUGGESTION.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Frank Maynard, on his return from the Continent, -had taken rooms close to those occupied -by Arthur Prescott, in the Temple. An arrangement, -which although in itself very pleasant for -both, by no means conduced to the promotion of -the latter’s legal studies; for Arthur had been -lately called to the bar, and was working really -very hard at his profession. For the first -week after his friend came back to town, he -had put by his books, and given up his time to -him entirely, but after that he had been obliged -to enter into a compact with him. First, that -Frank should on no pretence whatever come to -his rooms before one o’clock; and second, that -although he might pass the afternoon with him, -he should be bound to occupy himself in -reading, and was on no account to enter into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>long conversations. After four o’clock, Prescott -put aside his law books, and was at his friend’s -service for the rest of the day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first part of the condition Frank found it -easy enough to observe. He did not rise until -late; and after he had finished breakfast, the -“Times” occupied him pretty well till it was the -hour for going into Prescott’s. After lunch he would -take up a novel, light his pipe, make himself comfortable, -and read for an hour or so. But presently -he would put his book down, and begin to ask -Prescott questions, and to entrap him into lengthy -conversations, till Arthur became quite desperate; -when Frank would leave him and sally out to -make a round of calls, returning at six to go out -to dinner with his friend. In the evening, Prescott -was safe from interruption, as Frank was -almost always out at dances and balls at the -houses of the numerous friends he had met -during his travels.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a week after the party at the Holls’. -The frost had broken up, but the weather was -raw and cold. Arthur Prescott was studying, and -occasionally looking over, with a rather amused -glance, at his friend. Frank having in vain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>tried to interest himself in his novel, had thrown -it down in disgust, and was gazing disconsolately -out of the window, upon the green lawn below, -and at the leaden-coloured river beyond, with its -black drifting barges, and its busy little steamers -hurrying past.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By Jove, Prescott,” he broke out at last, -“this is a beastly climate of ours.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As how, Frank?” Prescott asked quietly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As how?” Frank repeated irritably. “Why -in its wind, and its rain; and its damp, and its -cold. It’s detestable. Last winter I was in -Rome.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, and were you there in summer, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course not, Prescott. One might as well -live in an oven, with an air blowing in from a -fever-den.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite so, Frank. You see other places have -their detestable points as well as ours.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank Maynard gave a grunt of discontent, -and again looked out of the window. At last he -turned round again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What on earth am I to do with myself, -Prescott?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear Frank, I am afraid that question is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>likely to bring on a long discussion; but in consideration -of the day, and the more especially as -I see you do not mean to let me read, I will put -away my books for the afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There’s a good fellow,” Frank said, brightening -up greatly, and wheeling the fellow arm-chair -of the one he had been sitting in, up to the fire, -while Prescott put his books back into their -places on the shelves. That done, he opened a -bottle of beer, poured it into a large tankard—a -college trophy of his prowess in boating—and -lit his pipe.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, that’s comfortable,” Frank said. “The -climate has its advantages after all. Now let us -talk seriously. What in the world am I to do? -Here have I been back in England little more -than three months, two of which I have spent -shooting, and now after a month in London, I -am bored out of my life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is a hard case, Frank; a man with eight -hundred a year, and nothing to do but to spend -it; and you are out nearly every evening, -too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s all well enough for the evening, -Prescott, but I can’t spend the day thinking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>whom I am going to meet in the evening; and -whether the pretty girl I danced with the night -before will be there, and so on.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why not join a club, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am down for the ‘Travellers,’ but it may be -years before I am elected, and I don’t believe I -shall care for it when I am. I have been into -several clubs with men I know, and they seem to -me the slowest places going. Men look in, and -moon about the room, and take up a paper, and -then throw it down again, and go and look out -of the window, and then order their dinner, and -grumble over it when they have got it. My dear -fellow, it’s well enough for old fogies, but I can -see no pull in it at all. Of course, in the evening -one can play billiards, but as I am out nearly -every night, I don’t see that I shall gain much -by that.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why don’t you keep a horse, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, I might do that, Prescott; but I don’t -think I should ever go out on the beggar if I -had one. I don’t care much for riding at the -best of times; and as to going up and down -Rotten Row, it would drive me out of my mind -in a week. No; when summer comes I shall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>buy a yacht of about twenty tons, and cruise -about; but the question is the winter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Frank, as you do not care, I have -heard you say, for country sports, I really -think it would be worth your while to think -seriously of entering yourself at the bar, or of -taking to literary work; or in fact making some -sort of aim for yourself. I confess that, as a -busy man myself, I can hardly conceive a man -having the whole day on his hands, with nothing -definite before him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear fellow,” Frank said despondently; -“what on earth would be the good of my entering -at the bar? I should never read—you know -that as well as I do; and consequently I should -have no more to do than I have now, with the -additional disadvantage of being obliged to dine -so often in Hall, instead of being able to get -my dinner where I like. As to literary work, -the thing’s simply absurd; what on earth should -I write about? And when I had fixed on a -subject, what in the name of goodness should I -have to say about it? Upon my word, Prescott, -your suggestions are positively childish.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott shrugged his shoulders, and smoked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>for some time in silence. Presently he took his -pipe from his mouth, and asked suddenly—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why don’t you get married, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Married! My dear Prescott, I wish you -would not talk in that light way of such a serious -business. I should as soon think of flying up -to the moon. Besides, whom in the world should -I marry? I go out to parties and balls, and -flirt with dozens of girls, but I never think any -more of them, nor do they of me. Just imagine -one of their faces, if I were to say, ‘Madam, your -obedient servant is on the look-out for a wife; -will you supply the deficiency?’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank laughed loudly; Prescott smiled, and -then was quiet for some time. At last he said, -with a sort of effort—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There is one young lady with whom you -are at any rate on intimate terms. I mean, of -course, Miss Heathcote.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Alice!” Frank exclaimed in great surprise; -“now that is about the very last suggestion I -should have expected to hear from you; for, -upon my word, in the three or four times we -have been down there together, since I came -back, you were so quiet, and—you know what I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>mean—that I had a sort of suspicion that you -were spoony there yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott coloured up hotly. “My dear -Frank,” he said, gravely, “I have a very great -esteem for Miss Heathcote; I think her a very -loveable woman, but had I any deeper feeling for -her, I should only endeavour to lay it aside as -quickly as possible, because I know that I -should not have the remotest chance in the -world.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my word now, Prescott, I don’t see -why; Alice is an heiress, but I don’t know that -her money would be a serious obstacle. She -has no one to consult but herself, and if she -fancies you, why should she not have you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am not speaking of money, Frank. If Miss -Heathcote loved me, she would think nothing of -her money; and I—although I would far rather -bring wealth to my wife than that she should to -me, still that would be no great obstacle. I am -speaking of herself. I know that she would -never care for me. So please do not let us -discuss that part of the question. We were -speaking of her in reference to yourself. Unless -I am greatly mistaken, your uncle would be very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>pleased if you were to marry her. Why should -you not do so?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, he has thrown out some hints, but I -only laughed, thinking it was a joke. Upon my -word now, Prescott, this is too bad!” Frank went -on with an air of great perplexity, “It seems to -me that my uncle and you have entered into a -sort of plot to marry me to Alice. Thank goodness, -though,” he said, cheering up, “Alice is not -in it, for she has quite changed since I came back -again. We were awful friends formerly, I used -to kiss her regularly, and we were as jolly together -as possible. When I came back from -abroad, after being away two years, of course -I kissed her when we met, but next time I -offered to do so, she would not have it, and said -that she was a great deal too old for that sort of -thing. I said that we were cousins, and therefore -it was all right and proper, but she answered -quite sharply, that we were, indeed, nothing of -the sort. Altogether she has been at times quite -stiff and formal, and not a bit like what she was -before I went away to the Continent. No, no, -she is not in the conspiracy. Upon my word, -Prescott, you quite frightened me. We like each -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>other very well—very much perhaps, but there is -not the slightest risk of either of us going -further.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott shrugged his shoulders with an -irritable impatience which was very unusual to -him. He was angry with Frank for his careless -indifference, and yet, although he told himself -over and over again that he was sorry to see that -his friend was so blind, how could he help -being glad? To him this was no new subject. -He had thought it over and over till his head -ached with the thought many a time. He had -seen, years before, how the girl had looked up to -Frank, had listened to his schoolboy stories, and -his college tales, how she had submitted to all -his boy’s humours, and had made a hero of him -to herself. He had noticed in the last year -before Frank went abroad, how the girl’s feeling -had grown and intensified with her own -growth towards womanhood; how she flushed up -when Frank paid her little attentions; and how -quickly she resented it whenever he still treated -her as a child. He had noticed how eagerly she -listened to all that was said about Frank when he -was away, and, at the same time, how she shrank -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>from appearing to pay any but the most ordinary -attention. And more than ever, since Frank’s -return, was Prescott sure that Alice Heathcote -loved him. Another, a less close and less obtrusive -watcher, would not have seen all this, but -Prescott had a deep stake in the matter. He -knew that he loved Alice with the whole strength -of his nature. Had he believed that he had the -slightest chance of success, he would have -yielded no point of vantage, even to his friend -Frank. Had both entered for the prize, and -had Alice been neutral, Prescott would have -told his friend frankly that they were rivals, and -fought the matter out to the last. But here he -could do nothing. The prize was given away, and -the winner was too indifferent to stretch out his -hand for it. True, he did not know that it -might be had for the asking, and Prescott, as he -sat quietly for a few minutes after Frank had -spoken, was thinking very deeply with himself -whether he ought to tell his friend that he was -sure that he was mistaken. He was interrupted -by Frank’s saying irritably, “I wish to goodness, -Prescott, you had never put such a notion into -my head. I was comfortable and at home with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>Alice before, as I had no more idea of marrying -her than I had of flying, and now I shall never -get the idea out of my head. I wonder whether -my uncle has ever thrown out any hints of his -idea to Alice. I should not be surprised if he has. -That would account for what I was saying about -her being cold and stiff to me; naturally she -supposes that I want to make love to her, and -she tries as plainly as she can to show me that -she will have nothing to say to me. I tell you -what, Prescott, you and my uncle, with your -plans and ideas, will end by making Alice and -me hate each other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank got up, and walked up and down the -room, smoking his pipe in short puffs, with an -air of extreme vexation. Prescott said nothing -in reply. He was actually far more irritated and -much more puzzled than Frank himself was, but he -could show neither his irritation nor the conflict -of thoughts and feelings which was agitating him. -Presently Frank stopped and said, “There -is only one thing in the world I do think would -induce me to marry Alice.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What is that, Frank?” Prescott asked, -looking anxiously up at him.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>“I would marry her rather than that she -should marry Fred Bingham. He is constantly -there, and I think he is trying to make up to -her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I do not think that he has any chance whatever,” -Prescott said quietly; “but you were -always an upholder of your cousin—what has -changed your opinion of him?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t think that anything has changed it -as far as I am concerned, Prescott,” Frank said, -sitting down again; “you know he is not my -sort of man. I believe just as much as I did that -he is not a bad-hearted fellow—far from it; -that is, I have no reason for believing otherwise. -But you see I have been away for some time, -and his cantankerous way comes upon me fresh. -I never know whether he is making fun of me -or not, and he does try my temper, which is, -you know, none of the best, most amazingly. -Although I know it is only prejudice, I own I -do not like to see him hanging over Alice, turning -over the leaves of her music for her, and that -sort of thing; it makes me somehow feel cold and -uncomfortable all over, and as I have said, rather -than that he should marry her, I would save her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>from it by marrying her myself. Of course supposing -that she would have me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There is no fear, Frank, that you will be -called upon to sacrifice yourself to prevent that -contingency happening. Whatever Miss Heathcote -may do, be assured she will never fall in love -with Fred Bingham. As for what you say -about your feelings towards him, it is not a prejudice -against which you are struggling, it is a -natural antipathy; one of those instincts which -nature gives us against what is dangerous and -bad. You know what we all felt about him at -Cambridge; you would not agree with us, you -fought against the idea, but your instinct is too -strong for you, and you will end by thinking like -the rest of us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no, Prescott, I will not allow that; I -grant that he irritates me more than he did, and -that somehow, although I have no idea why, I -should not like to see Alice marry him; but I -have not the least reason for changing my -opinion that he is a good fellow at heart.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is a bad egg,” Prescott said, dogmatically. -“A bad egg, Frank; do what you will -with him, he is bad to the core. His shell is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>white enough, but some day when you crack it, -and find what a rotten inside it’s got, you will -regret deeply enough that you ever took it in -your hand.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a prejudiced beggar, Prescott,” -Frank said, laughing; “but I know it is no use -my arguing the point with you. Time will show -which is right.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott nodded, and there was a short -silence, when Frank rose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The sun is shining, Prescott, the afternoon -is quite changed; suppose we go out. Oh, nonsense, -you said you would give me the afternoon. -Where shall we go?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s all the same to me, Frank.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wish to goodness it was not, Prescott; you -give me all the trouble of thinking—there now, -I’ve got another idea—let’s go and see the boy -that picked the dog out of the Serpentine.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What are you going to say to him when you -do see him, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In the first place I’m going to give him the -sovereign Uncle Harry gave me for him; and in -the next place—what a fellow you are, Prescott, -in the next place—well, I suppose I shall tell him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>he is a fine little chap. No, I’ve another idea. -By Jove, I will make a Buttons of him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But what on earth do you want a Buttons for, -Frank?” Prescott said, laughing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, hundreds of things. He will be very -useful in my chambers, go messages, and all sorts -of things. I never can find that old bed maker -of mine. My dear fellow, I can’t make out how -I have done without one so long. A Buttons will -be just the thing; besides, if I get a horse, look -how useful he would be. I will make him cabin -boy on board the yacht—hundreds of things; my -dear fellow, my ideas come so fast, I think I shall -take up the literary line, after all. There, get -your hat and coat on, Prescott, and we will -charter a cab, and be off at once to get Buttons.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The afternoon had come out clear and fine; so -they went out through Essex Street into the -Strand, and took a cab, which soon set them down -at the end of Sloane Street. Here they discharged -it; and inquiring of a policeman where Moor -Street was, received the intelligence that it lay -down behind, but that they had better take the -first turning to the right, and then inquire again. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>Accordingly they turned off from Sloane Street -and entered the network of small lanes lying -between Hans Place and Knightsbridge. Densely -populated as the neighbourhood was, there were -few signs of business, or the bustle of every day -life. The place seemed entirely deserted by -grown up people, and handed over bodily to -children. The fathers were away at work, the -mothers busy within the houses, but children -swarmed everywhere; boys and girls of all ages -and sizes, from the little baby set down upon a -door step—sitting contentedly there, sucking a -piece of rag, and gazing with a quiet old-fashioned -look at the world around it, while its elder sister, -a staid little woman of some seven years old, -gossipped with another of the same standing—to -lazy, hulking fellows of sixteen or seventeen, -lounging idly at the corners of streets, smoking. -Everywhere children engaged in every game -which the youthful mind was capable of devising -from the very limited materials at hand. Boys -playing at hop-scotch, and tip-cat, and ball, with -much shouting and rushing about, and danger to -passers-by; boys playing at marbles, and games -with buttons, and flat stones, and halfpence. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>These amusements constantly gave rise to great -squabbling and disputes, in which one of the -great idle fellows before mentioned was usually -called in as umpire, although like umpires -in general, he always failed signally in giving -satisfaction to either party. Girls sitting on door -steps working; girls playing at shuttlecock; little -things of five or six years old in strange garments -and vast bonnets, staggering along with babies -nearly as big as themselves; grave little parties -of nurses sitting on door steps—while the babies -under their charge made dirt pies—and amusing -themselves relating stories to each other,—not -fanciful Arabian nights’ tales, but real histories -of life:—“How father had come in on Saturday -night drunk, and when mother had asked for -money, how he had knocked she down.” Or, -“how put about father was when he came home -last night, to find that mother had been and -pawned his Sunday clothes, and got drunk on it.” -Many a similar tale do these little people relate -gravely to each other. Poor little prematurely-old -things, with their babies under their charge, -and their cares already sitting heavily on their -young shoulders, and such a life before them!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>Sometimes, but not often, a cart comes along, -and the games are stopped, and the marbles -scattered, and the little nurses snatch up their -charges; doors open hastily, and women rush out -into the road and seize their little ones by their -dress, or an arm, or a leg, or anything that comes -handy, and carry them off into their houses, with -much shaking and scolding, and through the -closed doors come out sounds of slapping and -cries.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Through all this, Frank Maynard and his friend -make their way. They easily find Moor Street, -but, not knowing the number, have some difficulty -in discovering the Holls’ abode. However, after -inquiring of some twenty children, they light -upon one who is able to point out the house. -Mrs. Holl herself opens the door in answer to -their knock. Mrs. Holl is engaged in washing, -and her arms to the elbows are white with soap-suds. -Greatly surprised is she at seeing two -gentlemen standing at the door. Finding however, -by their inquiry if she is Mrs. Holl, that -there is no mistake, she wipes her arms hastily -with her apron, and asks them to walk in, apologizing -as she does for the state of the room. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>There was no occasion for that, for it was beautifully -clean. The washing-tub stood upon a low -bench in one corner; there were some cords -stretched across the ceiling, but the clothes were -not yet suspended upon them, and except that -there was a warm steam in the room, which made -everything look clammy and moist, it was neat -and tidy as usual. Mrs. Holl placed two chairs -for her visitors, giving them a preliminary polish -with her apron, and then waited in silence to hear -the reason of their coming. But they were too -much surprised at the conduct of the fourth -inmate of the room to be able for a time to pay -her any attention. He had at their entrance been -sitting at work at his artificial flower making near -the window. On seeing two gentlemen enter, and -supposing that they wished to speak to Mrs. -Holl, he had wheeled his box to its usual place -by the fire, where there was a ladder fixed at a -considerable angle and reaching to the ceiling. -Under this he pushed his box, and then taking hold -of its rungs he pulled himself up hand over hand -to the ceiling, to the rafters of which were fixed -a line of large open iron handles. Along these he -swung himself to the staircase, and then away out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>of sight by similar handles; the whole being done -apparently without the least effort, and as if it -were a perfectly normal method of progression.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By Jove!” Frank exclaimed, when he had -disappeared up the stairs, “that’s wonderful. I -am pretty good at gymnastics, but I could no -more do that than I could fly, and it did not seem -the least effort to him; and it is so much the more -difficult that I see the poor fellow has lost the use -of his legs.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“James is wonderful strong, sir, in the arm,” -Mrs. Holl said, “wonderful strong. He began -that clambering work when he was about twelve -year old. He was pale like and thin, and the -doctor said he ought to go out in the air, and not -always sit indoors. Well, sir, James he could -not abear the thought of going out much, being -drawed about in a cart, but he thought if father -could put up a pole, across over his head, he might -make a shift to draw himself up and down, and -so exercise himself a bit. Well, sir, father he put -up a pole, and in time James he got to be like a -monkey, he could swing himself up with one arm -and hang ever so long. After a bit, father he -got the thought of setting some handles in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>beams there, and the ladder to get up to them, -and it were a great amusement for James; I have -seen him go right round the room ten times; as -for the stairs, that were James’s own idea. He -were then about fifteen, and father used to carry -him up to bed, and all at once it came to him, -that if he had handles put on the top of the stairs -and along his room, and then a ladder to get down -by, he might make shift to go up and down of -himself. Father went out that same night and -got a blacksmith to make the handles, and that -very night James went up to bed by himself. -Lor, how pleased the poor lad were, to be sure. -But I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for running -on so—what can I do for you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“About ten days since, Mrs. Holl,” Frank said, -“my friend and I were at the Serpentine, and -your son—he said his name was Evan, I believe—went -into the water to fetch out a dog.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He did, sir; are you the gentleman, sir, who -was going in to fetch him out?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just so, Mrs. Holl. Now I was very much -pleased with him, and I have come here for two -things to-day: the one to give him a sovereign -which a friend of mine, to whom I was speaking of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>your boy’s pluck, gave me for him. Here it is; -will you lay it out in something useful to him? -The other reason was, I want a boy to be a general -useful sort of lad—messenger or domestic, in fact -for all sorts of things. Now it seems to me -your son would be just the thing for me. I -don’t of course know anything of him, but from -what I have seen I have no doubt we should get -on very well together, and I think he would be -very comfortable with me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am sure you are very good, sir,” Mrs. Holl -said, gratefully, “very good, and I should think -Evan very lucky to get such a place. I can’t -answer for him, sir, but I should say he would -jump at it”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let him think it over, Mrs. Holl, and let him -come up and see me any time before Thursday -evening, when I may be going out of town for a -week. Here is my card. By Jove! what beautiful -wax flowers; look, Prescott, are they not -exquisitely made?” and Frank went across the -room to look at James Holl’s handiwork.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They are beautifully made,” Prescott said, -examining them; “I saw your son was at work at -them when we came in.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>“Yes, sir, he mostly is at work at them. He -is very clever, James is, awful clever, and he earns -a good deal of money at it too, besides its being -a great amusement to him. Poor boy, it’s a -heavy life, sir, always to sit in that box of his, -with no hope of ever getting any better.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It must be, indeed, Mrs. Holl. Why, what -is this—Colenso’s Algebra—does he read that?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He do, sir, while he is at work; and when he -ain’t he never puts it down.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He must be fonder of it than I ever was,” -Frank laughed. “But this is very interesting, -Prescott, is it not?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If your son is so fond of study, Mrs. Holl,” -Arthur said, “I have a number of my old college -books. I shall never touch them again. They -only block my place up, and he is perfectly -welcome to them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lor, sir, it would be just a godsend to him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will look them out, Mrs. Holl, and send -them down to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should take it very kind of you, sir—very -kind; and James will be delighted.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And, Mrs. Holl, I should like some of those -wax flowers amazingly; will you ask him to make -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>me some?—a basket of them. Eh, Prescott, -don’t you think a basket of wax flowers would -be just the thing for my room?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know that they would be altogether -in strict keeping with its general contents,” Prescott -said, smiling, “but no doubt they would -look very well.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just so,” Frank said. “Will you ask your -son to make me a basket, Mrs. Holl? I suppose -he can buy a basket and a shade, and all that -sort of thing? and you know I will pay him for -it all when he sends it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“James will be very glad, sir; and thank’ee, -but he is not my son.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is he not, Mrs. Holl? If it is not an impertinent -question, what relation is he of yours?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He ain’t no sort of relation, sir,” the woman -said. The young men looked surprised, and -Prescott asked—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then how did you come to bring him up, -Mrs. Holl?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, sir, it was a very simple matter; but if -so be as you care to hear it, I will tell you just -how it happened;” and leaning against the mantelpiece, -with the red light of the fire thrown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>up into her face, Mrs. Holl went on, very slowly, -and speaking as though she almost saw what she -was relating. “Well, sir, it were an evening in -April—a cold, bitter day—I was sitting here -between light and dark, drinking my tea with -John, who had just come home from work—John -is my husband, you see, sir—when we heard a -noise outside in the street. We went out to see -what was the matter, and we found a poor young -creature, with a baby in her arms, had fallen -down in a faint like. She was a pretty young -thing, sir; and though her dress was poor and -torn, she looked as if she had not been always -so. Some one says, ‘Take them to the workhouse;’ -‘no,’ says I—for my heart yearned towards -the poor young thing—‘bring her in here; mayn’t -we, John?’ says I. Well, sir, John did not say -nothing, but he took the baby out of her arms, -and gived it to me, and then he upped and took -the poor young creature—she were no great -weight, sir—and carried her into the house, and -laid her on the bed, as it might be by the window -there. Well, gentlemen, that bed she never -left; she came round a little, and lived some -days, but her mind were never rightly itself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>again. She would lay there, with her baby -beside her, and sing songs to herself, I don’t -know what about, for it were some foreigner -language. She were very gentle and quiet like, -but I don’t think she ever knew where she was, -or anything about it. She were very fond of -baby, and would take it in her arms, and hush it -and talk to it. She faded and faded away, and -the doctor said nothing could be done for her. -It made my heart ache, sir; and if you will -believe me, I would go upstairs and cry by the -hour. The thought of the little baby troubled -me too. I had just lost my first little one, sir, -and I could not abear the thought of the little -thing going to a workhouse, so one day I says -to John, ‘John, when that poor mother dies, for -God’s sake, dont’ee send the little baby to the -workhouse; He has taken away our own little -one, and maybe He has sent this one for us to -love in his place. Let us take him as our own.’ -John, he did not say nothing, but he up and -gived me a great kiss, and said, ‘Sairey, you’re -a good woman;’ which of course, gentlemen,” -Mrs. Holl put in apologetically, “is neither here -nor there, for any mother would have done the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>same; but it’s John’s way when he’s pleased. -That very same night the baby’s mother -died.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The young men listened in silence as Mrs. -Holl told her story; standing, with her rough -honest face lit up in the bright fire-glow, she -related it simply, and as a matter of course, all -unconscious of the good part she had taken in -it, assuming no credit to herself, or seeing that -she deserved any. When she had finished, there -was a little silence; Frank passed his hand -furtively across his eyes, and then Arthur sprang -up and shook Mrs. Holl warmly by the hand, -saying, “Your husband was right, Mrs. Holl; -you are a good woman.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Holl looked completely amazed, and -stammered out, “Lor bless you, sir, there weren’t -nothing out of the way in what I did, and there’s -scores and scores would do the like. Having -just lost my own little one, my heart went out to -the poor little thing, and it seemed sent natural -like to fill the place of the little angel who was -gone from us. Bless your heart, sir, there -weren’t nothing out of the way in that; nothing -at all; and we have never had cause to regret it. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>The boy’s a good boy, and a clever boy; and he -is a comfort and a help to us. A better boy -never lived; but we have always grieved sorely -over his accident.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then he was not originally lame, Mrs. Holl?” -Prescott asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dear me, no sir, not till he were six year -old. It happened this a way: I were laid up at -the time; I was just confined of Mary—she’s my -eldest girl—and somehow, James he were out in -the streets playing; I don’t rightly know how it -happened, but never shall I forget when they -brought him in, and said that a cart had run over -him. John, he was in, which was lucky, for I -think I lost my head like, and went clean out of -my mind for a bit, for I loved him just like my -own. They did not think he would have lived -at first, for the cart had gone over the lower part -of his body, and broke one of his thigh bones, -and the other leg up high. It was a light cart, -I have heard tell, or it must have killed him. He -were in bed for months; and if you will believe -me, if ever there was a patient little angel on -earth, it was surely James. He never complained; -and his chief trouble was for my sake. At last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>he got well, but the doctors said that he would -never walk again, for they thought there were -some damage done to his spine; and sure enough -he never has walked. He is always cheerful, -only he never likes going out; and never would -go at all, if we did not almost make him; he -thinks folks look at him. Then he took to the -climbing work, and that did him good; and the -last three years he has taken to making them -wax flowers; and it has been a wonderful thing -for him, that has. He has always been given to -reading. John made a shift to teach him his -letters; and then the children of the neighbours, -they lent him their school books, and taught him -what they knew; and in a short time, bless you, -sir, he knew more than them all. He would sit -and read for hours together. He is wonderful -clever, James is.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Mrs. Holl,” Frank said, rising, “we -are very much obliged to you for your story, but -we must not keep you any longer. We will call -again and arrange matters with you when -Evan lets me know whether he accepts my -offer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>“And I will be sure to forward the books -to you to-morrow. Good bye.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And greatly to Mrs. Holl’s astonishment, the -two young men shook hands warmly with her, -as they took their leave.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> <span class='large'>A SHATTERED HOME.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>“Bill, dear Bill, I do wish you would give up -these Chartist goings on. No good will come of -it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The speaker was a pretty young woman, who -would have been prettier, had not premature care -traced deep lines on her forehead, which Time, -more gentle, would not have done for years to -come yet. Her dress was very poor, and the -scanty furniture of the attic in which she and -her husband lived, and the small embers of the -fire over which a few potatoes were boiling for -their meal, seemed to say that want had helped -care in its work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bessy White had been the belle of her native -village down in quiet Hampshire. A wilful, merry, -coquettish little beauty, knowing her power, and -using it; with a bright, fresh colour, and a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>happy ringing laugh. It seemed hardly possible -that four years could have changed her to the -thin, pale, careworn woman she now was. Yet -it was only four years since William Holl, a -journeyman joiner, had on his wanderings passed -through the village, and had stopped to do some -work at the Squire’s, which had occupied him -for several weeks. There he saw her, fell in love -with her, and carried her off in triumph from his -rustic rivals, who, with the village in general, -had marvelled much what pretty Bessy White -could see to fancy in the pale, quiet, young carpenter, -when so many stout young fellows were -laying their hearts at her feet. However, Bessy -had laughed at their wonder and their warnings, -had gaily married, and gone off with her husband -to busy London. For the first two or three -years of her marriage her life was as happy as -she had hoped that it would be. About eighteen -months after she had come up to London, she -had a baby, which only lived a few weeks; but -this had been the only cloud to her happiness. -Her husband earned good wages, for he was a -capital workman, and was sober and industrious. -He loved his wife fondly, and was very proud of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>her, and of the prettily-furnished neat little -rooms which constituted his home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But after a while, strange murmurs of discontent -buzzed about among the workpeople of the -metropolis, and William Holl, with his talent and -enthusiasm, threw himself heart and soul into -the movement, and soon became one of its recognised -heads.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then came Bessy’s evil days. Her husband, -who had been considered one of the best and -steadiest hands at the shop where he worked, -was now constantly away, and at last lost his -place altogether. The pretty furniture they -once had, had gone piece by piece. They had -moved from the snug lodgings they formerly -occupied into the bare garret they now lived in. -The rent even of this was frequently in arrear, -and a crust of dry bread was often all the food -they had. William Holl was ready enough to -work now, but he had great difficulty in getting -employment. Good workman as he was, masters -looked shy at a man whom they considered as a -sort of firebrand among their men, and it was -only now by doing jobs at home for other hands -that he earned even the most scanty living. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>Still his heart was in the cause, and although he -acutely felt his changed position, and his wife’s -altered looks, he never wavered for an instant in -his course. For himself, indeed, he hardly felt it; -the applause which nightly greeted his impassioned -speeches at the club to which he belonged, was -enough for him, and he would return to his -wretched home with a flushed cheek and a proud -bearing. He was a pale, sickly-looking man, -with a high intellectual forehead, and a clear and -expressive eye. Few who saw him at ordinary -times would have supposed him capable of filling -a large hall with his voice, pouring out bursts of -real eloquence, and moving hundreds with his -impassioned utterances.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To his wife he answered with a faint smile, -“It is too late, Bessy; it is too late, my girl. I -must go through with it now; I cannot draw -back, and I would not if I could. We have the -right with us, Bessy, and we have the strength; -we must triumph in the end and get our -Charter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His wife shook her head sadly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My poor Bessy,” he went on, “my poor -girl. It is hard on you, you had better have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>stayed down in Hampshire, quiet and happy. It -was a sore day for you when ever I saw you. -But yet, Bessy, I can’t help it. I must -struggle for our rights even if I die for it. But -I am sorry for your sake, Bessy, that I feel as I -do.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Never mind me, Bill,” his wife said, “I can -bear it if you can, but I am so afraid it will -never come right. I do so fear the future—I am -so frightened lest you should get yourself into -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Never fear that, Bessy, we are sure to win. -We must get our Charter, and then things will be -all changed again, and we shall be better off than -ever.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Again his wife shook her head doubtingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, Bill, if they were all like you, I should -not fear—no, not one bit—but they are not. Look -at the men you take up with now—men you -would have been ashamed to be seen walking -with in the old days; men who spend half their -time in the public-house, who are seen drunk in -the middle of the day—men who beat their wives, -and let their children go about in rags. Oh, -Bill! with such men as these you will never make -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>things better than they were before. I have no -doubt you are right, Bill, and that things ought -to be changed, but, for my part, it seems to me -we were very happy as we were before, when we -never thought that we were, as you say, only -slaves.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You women don’t understand these things, -Bessy,” her husband said, a little impatiently; -and then, with a slight shade on his face, went -on, “I know that the men I work with are not -the sort I should choose, but for a cause like -ours we must work with the tools which come to -hand. The better sort will soon come. Let them -only hear the truth, and they will join us. They -are doing so now—every day we get stronger, the -Charter receives thousands of fresh signatures, -and the Government, which grinds us down, -trembles. Yes, Bessy, we are sure to succeed, -and then, my poor girl, your troubles will be -over. But it is nearly time for me to be off, let -us have our potatoes. I must not miss our -meeting to-night, for I expect we shall have an -important discussion.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The scanty meal was eaten in silence, for -William Holl could not help comparing it in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>mind with the snug, cheerful tea which he had -always found waiting for him at the end of his -day’s work in the old times.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he had gone out his wife sighed heavily, -and then continued the work at which she was -engaged, and on which indeed their scanty living -at present greatly depended.</p> - -<p class='c000'>William Holl lodged in a small street in -Pimlico, close to Vauxhall Bridge, across which -his shortest route lay. But a penny now was a -serious matter, and he accordingly kept along -Millbank, in front of the maze of scaffolding of -the new Houses of Parliament, and over Westminster -Bridge, straight on to the Elephant and -Castle. Then turning off from the bustle and -roar of traffic in Newington Causeway, he passed -into the heart of Bermondsey.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At first his way was through narrow streets -inhabited entirely by the working classes. -The clocks have just struck six, and the men -are turning out from the neighbouring tan-yards -and skinneries. Women are standing in front of -their houses talking to each other, and looking -out for their husbands’ return, and through the -open doors can be seen the tables laid with white -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>cloths, and the little trays with the tea-things -standing there, and the bright fires with the -kettles singing upon them. The men come -trooping along boldly, and lustily whistling -snatches of popular airs, laughing and joking -together. All is bustle and cheerfulness. Now -William Holl has turned off into a narrow -lane, and has at once entered another atmosphere. -There is no sound of whistling and light -laughter here. Heavy surly men lean against -door-posts and look sullenly out—men with heavy -eyebrows and low foreheads, square jawbones and -bull-necks—men on whom crime seems to have -set a stamp, and whom instinct would lead you to -avoid as you would a wolf or a tiger. Through -some of the windows come sounds of quarrelling -and blows, and foul imprecations of unspeakable -horror, but no one heeds this; the men at the -doorways do not even turn their heads to listen. -The few women who are about, have for the -most part an air of boldness and degradation -indescribable. They are dressed in dirty tawdry -garments, their faces show deep marks caused by -misery and drink; whilst their mouths are full -of language even fouler and more horrible than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>that of the men. The men seemed all of one -stamp, but of the women there were two distinctly -marked classes. A few were very different -from those just described. Poor creatures, timid -and shrinking; wretched worn-out women, who -only a few years before had been bright happy -girls in some quiet country village far from the -misery and crime of London. They had seen -their husbands, originally perhaps honest and industrious, -go with rapid steps down the social -ladder, beginning with drink and ending in a life -passed in violence and crime. Through all this -the wives had never once thought of leaving -them, but had clung to them through good report -and evil report, through curses and blows, through -desertion and shame, through want and misery. -These women looked with trembling and horror -upon the life they were bound to. To them -death would have been a relief, oh, how welcome! -Their early life seemed to them now a glimpse -of some far off, long lost Paradise upon which -they hardly dared even to cast a thought back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were a few children, precocious and old-looking, -treading rapidly in their father’s steps, -born to people these wretched dens, and to fill -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>the reformatories and gaols of their native land. -These nests of crime, these social ulcers, which -eat into the heart of this London of ours, -defy alike the efforts of benevolence and the -sword of the law to cure or eradicate them. -But one hope, one resource remains—to cut off -the springs by which they are fed, to send the -children to schools and reformatories before they -are utterly hardened and debased, to make them -useful, industrious men, and to show them the -happiness of honest labour, and the inevitable -misery of crime. Thus, and thus only, can the -evil be reached. For the men, reformation is -hopeless. They must be treated as savage beasts, -and caged as such. And that not merely till the -first paroxysm of rage and evil is past, to be then -turned loose under the protection of a ticket-of-leave, -to prey upon society. The tiger who -appears to sleep in his cage, with his glossy paw -extended and these terrible claws folded up, is -the same tiger who in his native wilds slew men -and beasts and drank their blood. Who would -think of letting him loose again, to range with -unrestrained freedom? Why, then, should these -men-tigers be permitted to work their savage -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>wills? Should they not rather, when once, by -repeated crimes, they have shown that their nature -is thoroughly evil, be taken for ever from the -world, of which they are scourges, not to be confined -for life in a cell, but only until they learn that -labour is a boon. Then they should be put to pass -their lives in labouring for the good of that society -to whom their existence has hitherto been a curse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Through this den William Holl went. Beyond -it the dwellings became, scarcer; but the -lanes were bounded by high walls, or large rambling -buildings, the odour of tan and hide from -which sufficiently indicated the trade carried on -within them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a lonely corner of one of these lanes stood a -public-house. It seemed at first sight a strange -position for it, but doubtless the landlord knew his -own business. It was a quiet out-of-the-way spot -for men who did not care to enter the full light -of more-frequented houses; besides, being in the -midst of the tan-yards and skinneries, it obtained -a fair share of custom from the men working in -them. When William Holl passed the door he -glanced in. A solitary gaslight was burning in -the bar, but the place seemed entirely empty and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>deserted, and no lights in the upper windows -betrayed any signs of life and activity. There -was a small court by the side of the house; -down this he turned, stopped at a door, and -knocked in a quiet and peculiar way. The door -was opened a little, and some one behind it -asked, “Who knocks?” to which he answered, -“The People and their Charter.” The door was -then opened wide enough for him to enter, and -he passed through into a small court behind the -public-house. This he crossed, lifted the latch of -a door, and went into a small passage with a staircase -leading up from it. He mounted this and -knocked at a door, and the same question and -answer were exchanged before it was opened for -his admission.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The room which William Holl entered was a -large one, and had probably been used at one time -for a penny concert room or singing hall, for at -the end was a sort of raised platform. The roof -was black from the smoke of years, and from it -hung two chandeliers for gas. Neither of these -however was now in use, as the room was lit -by some candles fastened to a hoop hanging -immediately over the table, at which fourteen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>men were seated. The shutters were closed, and -strips of paper pasted over the cracks to prevent -the light within being seen from the street. To -these men there was an indescribable charm in -all this mystery, in these closed windows and -secret passwords, this obscure meeting place, and -this rough illumination. It seemed to raise them -to the grandeur of conspirators. They pleased -themselves by imagining themselves watched and -tracked by the agents and spies of Government. -While Government, secure of the unanimous -assistance of the middle classes and the fidelity -of the troops, troubled itself little with the ramifications -of the plot, although it looked with -some little anxiety upon the increasing murmurs -and disaffection of the working classes, stirred up -as they were by the violent orations of their demagogue -leaders. These men, for their own selfish -aims and ends, assured them that they were -down-trodden slaves, pointed to the scenes then -enacting on the other side of the water, and -called upon them to make one united effort for -their freedom.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The present meeting was composed of some of -the most influential and violent of the agitators of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>the time, being, some of them, members of the -central committee, the rest delegates from various -parts of London. They were, as in the French -Revolution they aspired to imitate, divided into -two distinct classes. A small minority were -men like William Holl, intelligent and enthusiastic, -to a certain extent theorists and dreamers, -but actuated only by a sincere desire of ameliorating -and raising the condition of their fellow-workmen—men -with pale faces and lustrous -eyes, animated with ardent hopes and pure intentions. -But the vast majority, had very different -aims and notions. They desired in the -first place to pull down all above them, under the -conviction that, in the confusion and anarchy -which would follow the carrying out of their -plans, they would somehow or other better their -own condition. These men cared but little for -the nominal objects of their schemes, but to -secure their personal aggrandizement would not -have hesitated at a reign of terror. They hated -work, and, lived upon the contributions wrung -from their dupes, and took up politics simply -because they were selfish and indolent. The -general end for which all alike professed to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>be agitating was manhood suffrage and political -equality; their secret hopes and wishes differed -greatly. Some would have been satisfied with a -change of Government, and a House of Commons -in which the democratic element thoroughly preponderated; -others would have abolished the -House of Peers, and have ruled only by an assembly -chosen from the people; some, again, -openly advocated the establishment of a republic; -while a few went in for universal equality and -a community of goods. The men present were -composed principally of the working classes, but -there were some few who by their attire belonged -to a higher class, clerks and small tradesmen, -who, either from interest or ambition, had joined -the movement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The chairman was evidently a man of a considerably -higher social grade than most of his associates, -and was elevated to the position he at -present occupied for that reason, and not for any -mental superiority. Indeed, among all the faces -present, his was the most strikingly distinguished -for an entire absence of any intellectual expression. -An elderly man, with white hair, whiskers, -and hair under his chin, with a look of self-importance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>which was laughable in its inordinate -vanity. He was a bad speaker, and delivered his -harangues with an exaggeration of attitude, and -an inflated pomposity of manner, at which even -his associates had difficulty in restraining their -laughter. And yet their chairman was a useful -man to them, and the LL.D. after his name -threw a sort of halo of respectability over the -cause. Next to him sat a man who differed in -appearance yet more strongly from the remainder -of those present. He was a tall man, very carefully -dressed, and with a military bearing. Captain -Thornton had been an officer in the army, -but had been put upon half-pay, and considered -himself hardly used. He resembled the chairman, -only in being inordinately and absurdly -vain. His personal vanity it was which had -urged him to take part in the present movement, -and made him delight to march at the head even -of a mob from St. Giles’s. He was one of those -men who would fain be king, but would otherwise -be content to act the part of king’s fool, as being -the next most conspicuous personage. He loved -being looked up to as a man of consequence by -the mechanics and roughs with whom he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>associated. It tickled his consuming vanity, -when he was saluted in the streets with the cry -of “Bravo, Thornton!” To obtain popularity, -even among the lowest class, he would have -done anything, short of disturbing the set of -his coat or the arrangement of his hair. Had -there been no other way of making himself conspicuous, -he would have done it by wearing a -feather in his hat, or painting his boots scarlet. -Not the least gratification which Captain Thornton -derived from his prominent position in the -ranks of the Chartists was the belief that he was -revenging himself upon the authorities for the -manner in which they had treated him. He was -a more dangerous man than the chairman, for -although equally vain, he was not equally weak, -and would have gone any lengths, even to deluging -England with blood, if he could have increased -the notoriety of his name by so doing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such were some of the nominal leaders of the -Chartist movement of ‘48. William Holl took -his place at the lower end of the table by the side -of a few others who were, like himself, animated -by a really disinterested and lofty spirit. A -whispered conversation was kept up for a few -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>minutes, and then the chairman rose. He accompanied -his speech by swaying his body backwards -and forwards, and by striking one hand in -the palm of the other. He spoke very slowly in -broken sentences, pausing between each, as if he -expected applause to follow every utterance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My friends, the glorious moment when we -shall shake off the yoke under which we have for -a thousand years groaned, is at hand. The aristocracy, -who batten on your sweat and blood, -tremble. The Government are preparing for flight. -The great cause gains ground daily. Ten thousand -signatures have been added to the Charter of the -people during the last three days. The moment -of freedom is at hand! We agreed, at our last -meeting, that we would this evening discuss what -our course of proceeding shall be, when the -Charter of the people is presented to the House -of Commons. In that House we have no confidence; -it is composed of the enemies of the -people,—of the very men who are the worst -oppressors,—who lay the taxation of the nation -on the shoulders of the working men, while they -enjoy their iniquitous wealth scot-free! They -are the ravening lions who lay wait to devour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>the poor! Yet to them must we, in the first -place, submit our cause. We have now to consider -what is the course it behoves us to adopt.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a slight silence, and then William -Holl said, “It appears to me that the question -resolves itself into two sides. If the House -receive our petition, and act in accordance with -it, our object will have been gained, and our -course then will be to strain every nerve throughout -the country to return men of our own views. -Every working man in the kingdom must be -pledged to vote only for the members selected -for them by a central committee, and as we shall -be in a majority of twenty to one everywhere, -we shall return exactly such a House as we desire, -and can pass laws which will put an end to the -injustice and anomalies of which we complain. -But this is for after consideration, and the machinery -can be arranged at a future time. The -other alternative is, if the House refuse to receive -our petition, or if they accept it, to carry it into -force. The question then arises, and should -now be determined upon, what shall be our -course? Shall we submit to the refusal, or use -force?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>Each man looked at the other. This was palpably -the question upon which the whole of their -plans depended, and although nearly all were of -one opinion on it, none liked to be the first to -propose violence. At last Captain Thornton said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It appears to me, gentlemen, that we must -be all of one opinion. The voice of the people -is the voice of God; we must compel the Houses -of Parliament to pass our Charter. We compelled -them in ‘32 to pass the Reform Bill, and -the same means must be used now; but if those -means fail, we must follow the example of the -people of Paris. We must march our tens of -thousands down from Manchester, and the manufacturing -towns. We must fill the galleries of -the House; we must compel them to sit until -they have passed it; we must awe them into -submission.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Right, Thornton,” another said. “We must -render refusal out of the question; we must -make them carry our wishes into effect.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But force will be opposed to us,” one of the -others remarked, doubtingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then,” William Holl said, resolutely, “it -must be met by force. Are we greater cowards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>than the working men of the other capitals of -Europe? and yet in the last month or two we -have seen them carry their way against Despots, -with armies of ten times the force of ours to -back them. Are we greater cowards than the -French, who in ‘87, in ‘30, and again now, have -insisted on their will being respected? The -working men of London may be put down at -five hundred thousand; and to oppose us, are -only the handful of troops now in it; for none -will be spared from other parts. Manchester, -Birmingham, Sheffield, Leeds, all the great -manufacturing towns are with us, and there are -not thirty thousand troops in England, and these -are of ourselves. Let us always, when interrupted -by the police, beat them off. When the -soldiers come against us, cheer them and fraternise -with them. If the worst comes to the worst, -let us defy them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a general sound of applause when -he ceased.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But,” said the man who had before objected, -“we are not in the same position the French -people were; we are quite unarmed.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are always timid, Wilkins,” one of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>others said; “and timid counsels have had their -way long enough; it is the time now for action. At -any rate there are paving-stones, and a good -supply of paving-stones on the tops of the -houses make a street nasty walking for the best -soldiers in the world. Besides, there are the -gunsmiths’ shops; our first move will, of course, -be to possess ourselves of the contents of them, -and then to take possession of the arsenal in the -Tower; it is not half so strong as the Bastile -was.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Woe be to London if they try and oppose us -by force,” a man at the other end of the table -said. “We shall only have to call for our friend -Turner’s lambs; and it will take more troops -than London can bring to keep down St. Giles’s -and Westminster.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man to whom he alluded was a powerful -man, with a ruddy face, a low forehead, overhanging -eyebrows, and a coarse sensual mouth; -he was a butcher of Clare Market, and might -have been well drawn for his prototype the -famous butcher Lepelletier, the leader of the -faubourgs of the French Revolution. He smiled -significantly.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>“Ay, ay,” he said, “if you once let my -lambs loose, the devil himself would not chain -them up, as long as there is a shop ungutted in -London.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>William Holl, and several others of the same -class, made a movement of disgust and dissent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I trust to God it will never come to that.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hope not, too,” another speaker said, -“but we must not blink the fact; we must -let those who would keep us down know, that -we have it in our power to compel them to assent -to the popular will; and that unless they obey it -we will use that power. By so doing we shall -gain the support to a certain extent of all the -shop-keepers, who are at heart our most bitter -opponents, for, rather than have their shops -sacked, they will be glad enough to help us to -put a pressure upon the Houses to do us justice.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I agree with you there,” William Holl said; -“as a threat they will be useful, but I for one -will never consent to invoking riot and robbery -for our aid. In the French Revolution, anyone -caught with plunder about him was hung up -instantly, and I should vote that we did the -same; as far as ourselves go, I should not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>hesitate, if necessary, to resort to arms, and -would fight to the last with my fellow-workmen -in an effort for liberty, but not by the side of -St. Giles’s. But I do hope, and I believe, that -it will never come to that. I trust that Parliament -will quietly yield to the wishes of the -nation.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A significant look passed between two or three -of the more advanced party. A peaceful solution -would have ill suited their plans and schemes; -and had William Holl’s wishes been carried into -effect, he would have found, as his predecessors, -the Girondists, had done, another Mountain to -oppose him, and perhaps met with such a fate as -them in the end.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I should say,” another man said, “that the -whole of the working classes in London—every -man—should be agreed to meet at three or four -centres, such as Primrose Hill, Hyde Park, and -Kennington Common, and that they should go in -procession to Westminster to present our petition, -and should call upon the House to name -an early day for its consideration. That on that -day we should again assemble, and march to the -House; that we should fill the galleries, and sit -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>there till it had passed. That we should have -everything prepared in case of refusal; the men -all told off in companies under officers, and their -work given to each; so many to the gunsmiths’ -shops, so many to the Tower; the rest to throw -up barricades. That an agreement should be -made with the northern towns to rise simultaneously; -and that we should then as a people -declare Parliament dissolved, and proclaim a -Republic. That we should disarm the troops -when they did not resist us, annihilate them when -they did, and then proceed all over the country -to elect a house of representatives by universal -suffrage.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The speech was received with loud applause, -and they proceeded to discuss the details of -the undertaking. Many of the speeches were -really brilliant, and the assembly was perfectly -in accord on the main points. It was nearly one -o’clock when they separated. As they were -breaking up, Thornton spoke aside to a small -malignant-looking man, who had taken a very -prominent part in the debates. This man was -the editor of an obscure paper, which pandered -to the passions of its readers, by pouring out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>the foulest abuse on all who were above -them,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Everything goes on well, Hausford; don’t -forget your part of the work. We depend greatly -upon you, you know. Be sure you keep them -up to boiling point.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man replied by a meaning nod, and then -quietly one by one, to avoid attracting attention, -the council took their departure.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX.<br /> <span class='large'>WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>At about seven o’clock on the next evening, -Arthur Prescott was sitting smoking in his -friend’s room, which was immediately under his -own. The two apartments were similar in size, -but this was the only resemblance that existed between -them. Arthur’s was strictly a student’s -room, plain and neat, half office, half sitting -room, with a few bookshelves filled with plain, -legal-looking volumes. Stiff dining-room chairs -with leather-covered seats, a horsehair sofa at -the hardness of which Frank was constantly -grumbling, and two easy chairs of questionable -comfort, nearly made up the inventory of the -contents. Frank’s room was in strong contrast to -this; it was handsomely, indeed luxuriously, furnished. -The walls were wainscoted with dark, -or rather black oak, on the panels of which hung -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>a few really good pictures, which Frank had purchased -during his rambles in Spain. The -curtains were green, and the floor covered with -a rich Turkey carpet, in which the same colour -predominated. In the centre of the mantelpiece -stood a bronze statue from Herculaneum, flanked -by two real Etruscan vases, and a pair of magnificent -Venetian goblets. Crossed above these -upon the wall were two long Turkish jasmine -pipe-stems, with their red bowls and amber -mouth-pieces; and higher still, two swords, -Toledo and Damascene, bought in the countries -where they were manufactured. On brackets -round the room were a few Parian marble statuettes. -On a small round table stood a large -Turkish narghile, with its long tube of green and -gold coiled round it like a glistening snake. In -the recess on one side of the fire-place was a -really good library of choice standard works; in -the other was a perfect confusion of boxing-gloves, -single-sticks, foils, masks, heavy clubs, -and dumb-bells, with which, as Frank said, he -kept his hand in for a quarter of an hour before -breakfast. The chairs were covered with furniture -to match the hangings, but this was their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>only point of mutual resemblance. They were -all of different shapes; most of them being of the -sort coming under the general term of easy, while -the two large ones by the fire, in which the occupants -of the room were seated, were of a particularly -comfortable and luxurious appearance. -It was about these very chairs that the young -men were speaking.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is quite a treat to sit in them,” Prescott -said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes,” Frank answered, puffing out his smoke -with an air of extreme contentment. “I flatter -myself that they approach as nearly to perfect -comfort as it is possible for anything earthly to -do. I do love an easy chair. I remember when -I was a child I used to be tortured, not as a -punishment, mind, but as a regular thing—tortured -by having to sit on a high-legged, straight-backed -chair, with a seat no bigger than a cheese-plate, -so that you could neither lean forward nor -backward. How my unfortunate little back used -to ache! I really wonder that my spine ever -grew straight. At other times, when not in that -terrible little chair, I had to sit bolt upright, -and it was a penal offence to loll, as my grandmother -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>called it, or in any way to approach a -comfortable attitude.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It was nearly as bad in my case, Frank,” -Prescott said. “I believe our fathers had a vague -idea that unless we sat perfectly upright, our -spine would become irretrievably crooked, whereas -I really believe the reverse to be nearer the -fact. I feel certain that many a man and woman -with a curved spine and broken health has nothing -but those atrocious chairs and the miserable stiff -attitudes they had to sit in as children to thank -for their misfortunes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If our ancestors had but used their common -sense,” Frank said, “which with respect to the -treatment of their children they never seem to -have done, they would have seen that the -straightest and best formed people in the world, -the Arabs of the Desert, and I may add the -North American Indians—as they used to be, -before they were improved off the face of the -earth—never sat on a chair in their lives, but -always either lay at full length, or squatted on -the ground with their backs in a bow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Halloa!” he broke off; “there’s a single -knock at the door; I wonder who that can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>be, I have not ordered anything that I know -of.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So saying he got up and went to the outer door. -A boy was standing there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, I want to see Mr. Maynard.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am Mr. Maynard,” Frank said; “what do -you want?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, my name is Evan Holl.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, is it you, Evan? Come in, it is so dark -out here I did not know you again. I am glad -you have come.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank led the way back again into the sitting-room, -followed by Evan, greatly abashed at the -splendour of its belongings.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Evan, my lad,” Frank said, leaning -against the mantel, “I suppose your mother has -told you what I said to her. Mr. Prescott here -and I were so much pleased with your pluck the -other day at the Serpentine, that I thought we -should get on together capitally, for if there’s -one thing more than another I like, it is pluck. -What do think of it; would you like to come?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, I should like it very much.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s right, Evan. Now you understand you -are to be my man of all work—errand-boy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>footman, valet, groom, coachman, gardener, -butler, sailor, steward and cook—in fact, general -factotum.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott laughed, and Evan opened his eyes in -astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lor’ bless you, sir, I don’t know nothing about -driving coaches, or gardening, or cooking.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No!” Frank said in a tone of great surprise. -“Of course in that case I shall not be able -to trust either my coach or my garden into your -charge at present. As to cooking, I should advise -you to commence as soon as possible; and I -should recommend you to go through a course -of study: begin, say, by boiling a potato in its -skin; next endeavour to reach perfection with an -egg; proceed gradually to a rasher of bacon; -and after that, master the intricacies of chops -and steaks. I think that will do for the present; -my little favourite dishes I will myself instruct -you in afterwards.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What nonsense you do talk, Frank!” Prescott -said, laughing; “the boy does not know - whether you are in earnest or not.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Which, indeed, was the truth, for Evan was -standing shifting uneasily from one foot to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>other, and twirling his cap between his hands -with a look of considerable embarrassment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Evan,” Frank went on, “as Mr. Prescott -seems to think that at present we had better -leave these matters alone, I suppose we must -postpone the cooking part of the business, as -well as the driving and gardening, and hope that -it will all come in time. And now, Prescott, -about his dress; what do you say to a neat thing -in green, picked out with scarlet?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nonsense, Frank! I don’t see that you want -to put him in livery at all.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear Prescott,” Frank said, plaintively, -“you have no idea of the fitness of things. You -destroy all my illusions. I did think that green -picked out with scarlet would have harmonised -well with the room. Do you not agree with -me, now, that a Turkish dress with a fez, and -especial instruction as to cleaning and lighting -pipes and making black coffee, would have a -good effect;—a sort of Nubian slave attire, only -he would have to black his face to be in keeping? -You would not mind that, Evan, would you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Evan had by this time an idea that his new -master was only joking, so he answered more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>briskly, “I don’t know that I should mind it -much, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is right,” Frank said, approvingly; -“but I foresee a difficulty in the matter. You -see, Prescott, if he blacks his face, of course -his hands must be blacked, too, and that would -be disagreeable, for it would be sure to come off. -I wonder, now, whether I could get a good receipt -anywhere. I should say that a gipsy would -be a likely person to apply to. They say, you -know, that they steal children and dye them -brown, and perhaps they could do rather a darker -shade if they liked. However, till I find a gipsy -the matter must stand over.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, Frank, do stop talking nonsense, and -let the boy go.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, Evan, that will do for to-night. -You understand, there will not be much for you -to do for the present. Keep yourself clean and -tidy; lose no time when I send you on messages; -and, above all—and this I feel sure I may trust -you in from what your mother says of you—above -all, never tell me a lie; whatever may happen, -tell me exactly the truth, and I have no question -that we shall get on capitally together. I will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>give you a line to my tailor, and tell him to fit -you out with a suit of plain undress livery. And -now, here are three sovereigns, take them to your -mother, and ask her to get you shoes and everything -you may want, and then you will start fair. -I have arranged nothing about your wages, but -we shall not differ about that. There, good night, -Evan; go with the note at once to the tailor’s; I -have told him to get, at any rate, some of your -things ready by the day after to-morrow, and -when you have got them come here at once. You -will sleep in the little room off the passage. I -will get a bed and things for you to-morrow. -Good-night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Evan took his leave, highly contented with his -visit, and went home in great spirits, and related -to his brothers and sisters what had taken -place at the interview. The little ones were -so amused at the idea of Evan dressed up as -a black boy, and having his face painted, that -Mrs. Holl had the greatest difficulty in getting -them off to sleep, their laughter bursting out -afresh again and again; so that at last father -himself had to halloa at the foot of the stairs, that -if they were not quiet he should have to come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>up to them, a threat which they knew meant -something, whereas all mother’s scolding went for -nothing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After Evan had left, Prescott announced his -intention of going up to read, and asked Frank -what he intended to do with himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What time is it now?—half-past seven. Tomorrow -evening I am engaged out. I think I -shall go down and see my uncle.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank, in accordance with this intention, proceeded -to change his coat, Prescott waiting while -he did so. He took a quantity of letters from -his pocket.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How terribly letters do accumulate, and I am -afraid that most of them want answering. Put -me in mind of it to-morrow morning, Prescott, -and I will do a regular batch of letter writing. -What’s this? Ah! Stephen Walker—by the -way I promised to look him up, and see how he -is after his shaking. It is somewhere down -Knightsbridge way, so I may as well do it -while I think of it. As he is a tobacconist, I -will go in and get a cigar, and if he recognises -me, well and good; if not, I shall not introduce -myself. Good-bye, old man, take care of yourself. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>Mind, you breakfast with me in the -morning.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank Maynard found the shop of Stephen -Walker without much difficulty. The solitary -candle burnt on the counter, but no one was in -the shop. However, on hearing the door open, -Carry came out of the back room, where she had -been sitting reading, bringing another lighted -candle in her hand. Frank, who had fully -expected to see an elderly man make his -appearance, was not a little surprised at seeing -such a remarkably pretty girl come out. He -asked for some tobacco, which Carry, who had -noticed at the first glance that he was not a -regular customer, gave him in silence; for, indeed, -at the moment he entered, she had been -engaged in a most interesting chapter of her -book, and she was longing to get back to it -again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Have you any good cigars?” Frank asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Almost mechanically she drew back the glasses -from above the cigars upon the counter. Frank -glanced at them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, thank you,” he said. “I mean, have you -any really good ones?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>Carry looked fairly up at Frank for the first -time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, now,” he urged, “I have no doubt but -that you have a box of good ones which you keep -for your favoured customers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry smiled, and brought out the box which -was usually reserved for Fred Bingham’s smoking. -“I believe these are good, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes,” Frank said, examining them, “these -look the right thing, I will take half a -dozen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now Frank had entered the shop with his -mind perfectly made up, that unless he was -recognised, he should go out again without -saying who he was; but Carry looked so very -pretty and bright, that he thought it would be -very pleasant to sit down and have a chat with -her, and to do so there was no other way than to -say who he was. So he began,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mr. Walker—your father I presume—has he -quite recovered from the fright and the shock he -got the other day?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The bright eyes glanced up inquiringly at him -now, and a flash of eager colour came across her -face.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>“How did you know my father was hurt, -sir?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I saw him fall,” Frank said; “indeed I was -fortunately close to him at the time, and helped -him to pick himself up.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did you indeed, sir?” Carry asked earnestly, -“and was it you really who saved his life?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I do not know that I actually saved his life,” -Frank said, smiling, “but I certainly helped him -up.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Father! father!” Carry cried, flying into the -next room and calling up the stairs. “Come down, -come down at once; here is the gentleman who -saved your life.” Then she rushed back into the -shop, but this time to the same side of the -counter as that on which Frank was standing, -seized his hand in hers, and looked up into his -face with those large eyes of hers. “Oh, I am so -glad you have come, I wanted so much to thank -you; so, so much. Father has told me all -about it, and I know that I owe his life to -you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t say anything more about it,” Frank -said; “I saved your father’s life by the simple -accident that I happened to be close to him when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>he fell, and fortunately having my wits about me, -picked him up in time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is very well for you to say so, sir,” Carry -said, “but you will never make me feel differently -towards you; you saved father’s life at the risk -of your own, and how can I ever thank you -enough?” And Carry looked up so gratefully -and earnestly, that Frank did as most other young -fellows would have done in his place, bent down -and kissed the bright face lifted up to his. Carry -returned the kiss as an impulsive child might -have done; it was the saviour of her father’s life -that she thanked, not a good-looking young man, -and flushed and excited as she was, the colour -hardly deepened upon her cheek.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There, we are quits now,” Frank said, “so -the burden is off your mind.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this moment Stephen Walker entered. He -was evidently even more nervous and embarrassed -than usual.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, sir,” he began, when Frank interrupted,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Pray say no more about it, Mr. Walker. I was -lucky enough to be close to you, and did what -any one else would have done under the circumstances. -Your daughter has already thanked me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>most amply for you both,” and he glanced for a -moment at Carry, who this time coloured up -hotly; “so please let us say no more about it,” -and he shook Stephen Walker warmly by the -hand. As he did so, Stephen Walker, by a great -effort, overcame his habitual nervousness, and -said, quietly,</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My life, sir, is of no great value to myself or -to any one else except to my daughter here, but -for her sake I thank you very much for saving it. -And now, sir, it is very long since any gentleman -has honoured my roof with his presence, but if -you will come in for half an hour, and smoke a -cigar, I shall take it as a favour.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank willingly accepted the invitation, and -rather surprised at the manner in which it was -given, went into the little parlour, Stephen Walker -pausing for a moment to speak a word or two to -his daughter. He then produced his best cigars, -lit one himself instead of his usual pipe, and -when Carry came in with two bottles of spirits, -she was surprised to find her father and his guest -talking together like old acquaintances.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stephen Walker seemed for once to have laid -aside that nervous timidity which had cost him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>so much during his life, and which had become -almost a part of his nature; he chatted with -Frank quietly and cheerfully, as one gentleman -with another. The conversation turned upon -travels, and Frank found to his astonishment -that there was hardly a place he had visited in -Europe that his host did not know as well as he -did himself. As for Carry, she could hardly -believe her senses. Was this her dear, nervous -old father? She had heard him say incidentally -that he had travelled when he was a young man, -but she had had no idea of the extent of his journeyings. -As the conversation went on, her blue -eyes opened wider and wider, and at last she was -so convinced that she must be dreaming, that she -ran the needle, with which she was pretending to -work, into her finger, to assure herself that she -was awake. Frank remained for about an hour -in conversation with Stephen Walker, and then -took his leave, promising that he would call -again. With Carry he had hardly exchanged a -word after his first entrance; indeed he had been -so much interested in his conversation with her -father that he had quite forgotten the motive he -had in first declaring himself. As for Carry, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>she was far too much surprised at her father’s -change of manner, to think of speaking at all. -After Frank had gone, Stephen Walker went -back into the little parlour, while Carry locked the -door and closed the shop for the night. When -she had done this, she went into the other room, -and found her father sitting in his chair with -his head bent down, and his empty pipe, which he -had mechanically taken down, lying across his -knees. Carry paused a little, and then seeing -that he did not raise his head, she went up to -him, laid her hand upon his shoulder, and said, -“Who is this person? Have I been dreaming, -or has this been my old father who has been -talking here for the last hour?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For more than a minute her father did not -answer. His fingers played nervously, with his -pipe; then he looked up and said, hurriedly,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Carry, no. It was not your old father -who was speaking then. Not his real self, but -quite another being. It was one who might have -been me, but not myself as I am. No, no, child, -don’t think it, don’t think it.” And he moved his -hands nervously, as if to wipe away the thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t think what? pappy dear,” she said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>coming closer to him and putting one arm round -his neck, while with her other she stroked his -thin grey hair. “I only am thinking what a bad -naughty pappy it has been, when it could talk like -that, and knew all these things, never to let poor -little me know anything about it. To think that -all these years this bad thing should have hidden -what it really was, and let me have my own way, -and be mistress, and scold it and talk to it as if it -were a child, when it was all the time so clever and -wise. Naughty, naughty pappy.” Carry talked -playfully, but it was evident that she was -very much in earnest, for the tears stood in her -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no, Carry, whatever you do, do not think -that I was ever as I was to-night; do not think -that the one you have always known is a pretence, -and that this one was the real thing. I was never -like that. Do not think that misfortune,—you -know I was better off once—has so changed me -that I have become what I am from that. I -never was so, dear; I might have been so, but I -never was. Had I always been as you just saw -me we should not be here as we are now, and all -would have been quite different; but that other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>nature went away when I was quite little, scared -by harsh treatment, and never came back again -except for a little little time till to-night. Why it -did come back to-night I cannot say, only to raise -doubts between my child and me,” and Stephen -Walker wrung his hands in feeble despair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no, father dear,” Carry said, throwing -her arms round his neck and kissing him, “not -doubts. I was very pleased and proud, but very -surprised too, to hear my old pappy talk like -that, and a little ashamed when I thought -how much I had underrated you. Not that I -should have loved you more, had you been the -cleverest man in the world, not one bit more; -but I should have looked up to you more, and felt -somehow differently towards you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is just it,” Stephen Walker said, helplessly; -“she would have felt differently. She is -not going to be my little Carry any more. That -other one has come in between us, and frightened -her away.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no, pappy,” Carry said coaxingly, and -seating herself upon his knees, “this is your -little Carry, is it not? There, look up, and -don’t hang your naughty head down. Is not this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>little Carry? Come, speak, sir, or I shall scold -you dreadfully.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, yes, my darling,” the old man said, -“you are my own little Carry. And now listen, -dear, and I will tell you in a few words the story -of my life. My father was a tradesman well to -do, but he was a stern man, and took a mistaken -view of his religious duties. I was a poor weakly -delicate child; at school I was beaten and worried; -at home lectured and preached at; my life -was a misery and a burden; and even at that -young age, all hope of my ever being what I -otherwise might have been, had I been differently -brought up, was lost. After some years I became -my own master, but it was too late then, my -child; too late. For awhile I travelled, as you -have heard this evening. Then I married; -things went badly with me. I am, as you know, -from my nervous timidity, a poor hand at business. -So I lost, as might have been expected, -what little I had; and here I am a poor, but, -I thank God, a far happier and more contented -man than I had ever hoped or deserved to be. -Happy in having enough to live upon without -anxiety, and in having my own little Carry -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>to love and pet. And now, Carry, light my -pipe, and try and forget what has taken place -to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carry never spoke of it again, but she did -think of it a good deal. Only to think that if -that dear old father of hers had not lost his -money, she should have been rich, and perhaps -riding in a carriage instead of selling periodicals -and cigars behind a counter. Her father had -certainly spoken of losing what little he had, -but that could only have been his way of talking; -for did he not travel about everywhere, and did -it not cost a good deal of money to travel; and -was it not only rich people who travelled about -in that way? Oh! he must have been rich; -and how nice it would have been to be rich, and -to do what one liked, and to buy beautiful dresses -and things, instead of merely looking at them in -the shop windows. And Carry pictured herself -in all sorts of pretty dresses, and tasty little -bonnets, and thought she should certainly look -very nice. Then she sighed a little, and wondered -whether she should ever be rich. Who -could say? The gentlemen who came to the -shop all paid her compliments, and some of them -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>were real gentlemen, not mere clerks; and Carry -resolved in her mind to be rather more distant -in her manner to these last than had been her -custom. Besides all this, she thought a good -deal of Frank Maynard, so brave and strong and -good-looking, but very impertinent—not, perhaps, -that she liked him any the worse in her -heart for that, girls seldom do—and to think of -her kissing him, too. How could she have done -such a thing? He must think her very bold and -forward; and even when alone, Carry coloured -up at the thought, as she had not done at the -time when, in the fulness of her gratitude, she -had kissed Frank Maynard.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That gentleman, after leaving the shop, had -gone straight to Lowndes Square, where he found -only his uncle at home, Alice having gone out, -under the chaperonage of a neighbour, to a ball.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Frank, where do you come from? -You do not often drop in so late as this.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, uncle; but I have just been making a -call.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Making a call, Frank? You have chosen -rather a curious hour for visiting. Who is your -friend?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>“Stephen Walker, uncle.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stephen Walker!” Captain Bradshaw said, -in a puzzled tone. “I seem to remember the -name, but damme if I can recollect who it is.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is the man I picked up at the crossing -last week, uncle Harry.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, yes, I remember now,” Captain Bradshaw -said, laughing; “periodicals punctually supplied. -And how long did your visit last, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Better than an hour, uncle. I went into his -room and smoked a pipe with him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, indeed. And has the excellent newsman -any family, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He has one daughter, and she is without -exception one of the very prettiest girls I ever -saw.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, indeed,” Captain Bradshaw said, drily; -“that accounts for the length of your visit. I -suppose she was very grateful to the preserver of -her father’s life, and that sort of thing? I -should not be surprised now if she threw herself -into your arms and kissed you—eh, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, uncle,” Frank said, laughing, “I shall -think you are a conjurer, for I confess that I did -kiss her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>“Just what I guessed,” Captain Bradshaw -said, even more drily. “And the father, Frank? -I suppose he is a very superior sort of man?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very much so, uncle; I can assure you, -although you are laughing at me, he is quite a -gentleman; has travelled all over Europe, and -has evidently mixed in good society there.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look here, Frank” Captain Bradshaw said, -very gravely; “this is exactly the sort of thing -which is sure to end badly. Here we have all -the elements: father a decayed gentleman; -daughter a lovely and accomplished girl, gushing -over with gratitude to the preserver of her -father’s life. I should advise you very seriously -not to go there again. I have known these sort -of things over and over again, scores of times, -and they end in nine cases out of ten in a man’s -making either a fool or a rascal of himself.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, uncle,” Frank broke out hotly——</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Pooh, pooh! Frank, don’t tell me,” the captain -said. “Damme, sir, do you think I have not -heard it over and over again? Of course you -have only been there once; you have found a -pretty, grateful girl, and you have given her a kiss, -as was only right and natural that you should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>do under the circumstances. There is no harm -in these first meetings—there never is. A man -seldom goes into these things with his eyes open—very -few men are scoundrels enough deliberately -to plan these things—but he calls again and -again. He still finds her very pretty, and her -gratitude gradually grows into a warmer feeling; -he has kissed her once, and of course it would -be absurd for her to make any objection when -he does it the second time; and so these things -go on, until the man, as I have said, either -makes a fool of himself, and marries her, or -makes a rascal of himself, and does worse. I -know, Frank, that such an idea is at present as -far from your head as it is from mine; but as a -man of the world, I ask you, ask yourself, if you -were to go there often—sometimes, of course, -finding her father away, and having a half -hour’s chat with her all to yourself—would you -not end by feeling that you had very much better -have left the matter alone? Honestly, now?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, uncle, honestly, now you put it in that -light, very likely I should. But I think you -know me well enough to feel——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite so, Frank,” the captain said, taking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>his hand; “quite so. I believe you to be an -honourable, upright young fellow. I believe you -to be more free than young men in general from -this sort of thing, but for that very reason more -likely to make a fool of yourself. Now you -have my opinion of the affair. If you are wise -you will take my advice, and not go there again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>As Frank Maynard walked home that night, -thinking over what had happened, he took his -cigar from his mouth, and said to himself, “By -Jove, uncle is right; she is a wonderfully pretty -winning little thing; and if I were to go there -often, and find, as he says, her father out, I -should be very likely to get spoony, and make -in the end, as he prophesies, either a fool or a -rascal of myself; so I will take his advice, and -go there no more. Prevention is better than -cure.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X.<br /> <span class='large'>PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Mr. Barton is at breakfast in his snug little -house down Brompton way. Mr. Barton enjoys -his breakfast, and eats largely. Mrs. Barton does -the same. It may be here observed that Mr. -Barton enjoys all his meals, and that Mrs. Barton -in this particular strictly follows his example. -And yet there was nothing in Mr. Barton’s appearance -to lead an observer to believe that -he cared particularly for his meals or was a -great eater. He was a large boned, ungainly, -awkward man, with long ill-shaped limbs; he -carried himself stiff and upright, and moved his -head as if his gaunt long neck were encased -in a stiff military stock. His hair had been -black and bristly, but it was now thin and -grey; his cheeks were closely shaved, and his -face was hard and passionless. Altogether, Mr. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>Barton’s appearance was not prepossessing. He -was a man whose age it would have been next -to impossible to guess, but he really was about -fifty-five. Mr. Barton was a Scotchman. He -had come up to London young, and had, through -the interest of some relations, obtained a situation -in the Detective Police, at that time known -as the Bow Street Runners; and a sharp, active, -intelligent detective he turned out. The stiffness, -which he had now so long put on that it -had become a second nature to him, was originally -assumed when engaged in London upon -ordinary duties, in order to render detection -the more difficult when he was in disguise. -Although somewhat heavy and uncouth in appearance, -he was a young man active and lissome, -and, as he had shown on several occasions when -he had been found out, and had been obliged to -fight for his life, was possessed of great strength -as well as activity. But situations like these -were not Mr. Barton’s forte; he could, if necessary, -fight desperately for his life, but he was by -no means fond of putting himself into positions -where such an eventuality was probable. The -authorities at Bow Street were well aware of this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>weakness, and generally selected him in researches -in which shrewdness and patience were -required rather than courage. In these they -knew he was to be thoroughly relied upon, and -would hunt down his game with the unerring -sagacity of a hound. Even here he failed sometimes, -losing his clue unaccountably, and that -just at a time when success seemed certain. -The authorities happened upon one of these -occasions to obtain proofs that it was not his -sagacity but his honesty which had been at -fault, and that a heavy purse had proved sufficient -to render his eyesight temporarily defective. -Thereupon Mr. Barton was dismissed the -force in disgrace. This was fifteen years back; -soon after that time he had married.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Barton’s figure was in the strongest possible -contrast to that of her husband. She was a -large woman and enormously stout. Mrs. Barton -was a Jewess, the widow of a Hebrew clothier -in Houndsditch, who had left her a small fortune. -She had been very handsome when -young, but not the slightest trace of her good -looks remained in her fat, coarse face. She -was nearly as old as her husband, but there was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>not a white hair in the black bands on her low -square forehead. What had induced Mrs. Barton -to marry her present husband was a riddle -which none of her friends could solve. It -seemed, however, that he had been employed -in some enquiry in which her late husband was -interested, and she was a woman who could -keenly appreciate the shrewdness and energy -of the rather uncouth Scotchman. At any rate, -when the days of mourning had expired, the -widow signified her willingness to lay aside her -weeds in his favour. As Robert Barton had -just left the force, and was looking out for a -fresh opening, he gladly accepted her offer, -although even at that time, at five-and-thirty, -the widow was, to say the least, large, and her -good looks had completely flown. Indeed, he -hesitated not a moment. He had saved up some -money, and with that and the widow’s fortune -and connection, he thought he saw his way very -clearly before him. It is true that her friends -were extremely angry with her for marrying a -Christian; she became as it were excommunicate, -and cut off from all participation in the -service of the synagogue. This feeling, however, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>in no way interfered with their willingness to -work with her in business, and as she had been -a popular woman among her class during the -lifetime of her first husband, her connections, -with the exception of a few of the strictest set, -soon forgave her her marriage out of the pale. -A few weeks after his marriage Mr. Barton -opened an office in the City, which he entitled -“Barton’s Private Research and Detection Office.” -In a very short time he began to do a good -business, and once or twice made especially -happy hits—succeeding in tracing stolen property, -and in ferreting out an absconding clerk—when -the regular detective force had given up the task -in despair. After this his success was a certainty, -and it was soon apparent that he had -means of obtaining information altogether beyond -the ordinary police sources of intelligence. Here -it was that Mrs. Barton’s connection came into -play. The whole of the agents he employed -belonged to her persuasion, and so numerous and -active were they, that scarce an attempt was -made to pass a stolen note without Barton being -informed of it. Even on the Continent, at Hamburg -and other places where Jews congregate, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>he had numerous correspondents; and as most of -the stolen property was likely, sooner or later, -to find its way there, the information with which -he was furnished enabled him frequently to -make the most surprising captures in England. -It must not be supposed that these men betrayed -themselves or each other, or that they restored -stolen property which they had purchased. They -simply let him know that they had become possessors -of it, and gave him such clues as would -enable him to trace the thief. Besides this they -arranged through him the terms for restoration -of bills, and various other securities, and even for -the recovery of bank-notes. There were, indeed, -occasional murmurs heard against him. It -seemed, men said, that although Barton was -certain to bring the guilt home to the smaller -class of delinquents, pilfering shop-boys, forgers -for small amounts, or defaulting collectors, yet -in cases of great importance, where perhaps -the absconding clerk had made off with very -large amounts, his zeal in following upon the -scent, though apparently very great, was rewarded -with singular ill-success.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Robert Barton’s business was not confined to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>the discovery of frauds; many of his researches -were of a far more complex and delicate nature. -Wives who sought missing husbands; broken-hearted -fathers, missing daughters; claimants to -property, who set him to work to find the lost link -in their chain of evidence; husbands and wives -who sought proofs of each other’s infidelity:—all -came to Mr. Barton, and on the whole they were -well satisfied with him. In these researches he -seldom took any active part, contenting himself -with sitting in the office, holding the threads of -all the nets which his active subordinates were -spreading round their victims. Occasionally, -however, when the fit took him, or the affair -was too important to be trusted to any hands but -his own, he would put on a disguise, lay aside his -stiff carriage, and transforming himself so completely -that no one would recognise him, sally -out upon his search.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What have you got to-day, Barton—anything -important?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Robert Barton took out his pocket-book and -examined the entries.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Marriage certificate between John Rogers and -Mary Hare, somewhere about 1792, probably in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>London. That’s a mere matter of sending circulars -to all the parish clerks, offering a reward.—Register -of baptism of William Pollard, 1822. -Liverpool or Manchester.—Trace and recover -notes and bills in Borough Bank robbery. That, -of course, I cannot move in at present. It is a -large sum, and I have no doubt, from the lot I -believe are in it, that the notes will go over to -Hamburg. I must write to Levy there to get -hold of them and hold them for a time, and then -I must find out how much they will give for -them.—John Bell, cashier, Latham and Prodgers’, -defaulter; determined to punish; offer £400. -I shall soon lay him by the legs.—Evidence -against Mr. Halfall, Bristol. That is rather a -delicate matter. I must send Isaacs down, he is -just the man for that; the fellow is so good-looking, -he gets round the servant girls in no -time. It is just nine, I must be off.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mind, Barton, don’t forget sharp six is -the dinner-hour; you were ten minutes -late yesterday, and the joint was overdone.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a few minutes Mr. Barton was on the roof -of his ‘bus on his way to the city. As he went -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>along he sat grave and immoveable, scrutinizing -the passers-by, as if he considered they all possessed -secrets he might be some day called -upon to investigate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton’s office was in one of the narrow -streets leading off Cheapside, and consisted of -two rooms on the first floor, the one a general -waiting-room, the other his private office. In the -former two lads were at work at a desk, copying -from the “Gazette” the bankrupt and insolvent -list.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Has any one been here?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One gentleman, sir; he left his card.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton looked at it. “Did he say he -would call again?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He left word would you go round directly -you came in.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The card was that of the manager of a large -banking firm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ask any one who calls to wait, I shall not -be gone many minutes,” and Mr. Barton took -his way to the Bank.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On his sending in his name, he was at once -shown into the manager’s room. The manager, -an elderly man with spectacles, was evidently at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>the present time considerably ruffled and put -out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Take a seat, Mr. Barton. A very unpleasant -business has taken place, very much so, indeed. -One of our clerks has made away with a great -deal of money; we do not yet know the particulars; -we only found it out yesterday afternoon. -We sent for one of the books which he -kept, as we wished to compare it with another; -on doing so we discovered some extraordinary -discrepancies; we sent down to him, but he was -gone—had left immediately the book was taken -up to us. We sent up to his house, but of course -he had been in and gone out again. We put the -police on his scent last night, but as I was -coming up to town this morning, I remembered -that you knew his face, as he was several times -at your office about that case of forgery you -followed up for us; his name was Symes—David -Symes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I remember, sir, a fair young man.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just so; we shall offer two hundred pounds -reward for his capture.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, sir,” Mr. Barton said, “I will -lose no time. I will telegraph down to my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>agents in Liverpool and Southampton. The police -are sure to watch Dover and Folkestone, and -I will myself see about the London shipping. -If he is still in the country, depend upon it we -shall catch him, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Reuben,” Mr. Barton said to one of the -lads in his office, upon his return, “go at once -and see Jonah Moss and Levi, and tell them to go -to all the slop shops in Houndsditch and eastward, -and find out if a young man of about -thirty, fair, with bluish eyes, and very little -whisker, looking like a gentleman, bought any -sea clothes down there last night. If so, bring -me a description.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Barton,” -a man said, coming into the office. “Perhaps I -can give you the information you want.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton looked at him steadily, then -opened the door leading into the inner office, -motioned to the man to enter, followed him in, -and closed the door carefully after him. -He then took another steady observation of his -visitor. He was dressed as a sailor, with a few -little bits of finery, a chain and rings, such as -foreign sailors affect. He was swarthy and dark, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>with black hair falling in little curls. He was -the beau ideal of a sailor from the shores of -the Mediterranean.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A very good get-up, Mr. Symes,” Mr. -Barton said quietly, “really very creditable; pass -muster very well in the street, but would hardly -deceive anyone on the watch for you. Don’t you -think it is just the least bit rash for you to come -here?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Rash! not a bit of it,” the man laughed; -“the very best thing I could do.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I suppose you know I have just come from -the Bank.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite so, Mr. Barton, I was watching for -you. I felt sure they would put you after me, so -I waited till you had been there and got instructions, -and then I thought I would come in and -hear all about it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a cool hand, certainly,” Mr. Barton -said, in a tone of admiration.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, you see I have been for some time -looking things in the face and making my calculations. -I knew, of course, that it must come -out, sooner or later, and I think I have made -myself pretty well master of everything which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>could bear upon my chances. As I felt sure they -would put you on me I inquired all about your -way of doing business.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And what was the result of your investigation?” -Mr. Barton asked, rather grimly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, you see,” the man said, carelessly, -“here I am. And now to business. How -much have they offered you?—a hundred -pounds?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Two hundred,” Mr. Barton said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am sure I feel it a compliment. Two hundred -pounds! Well, now look here. I have -taken a big sum altogether, but it has been over -a long time, and has gone pretty nearly as fast as -I got it. My luck on the turf has been really -a caution. So I don’t get off with much in the -end, only a few hundred pounds, but I tell you -what, I will give you five hundred pounds to let -me go.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton hesitated, and sat thoughtfully for -nearly a minute, and then he said, “The three -hundred you offer me more than they do is not -sufficient to cover the risk.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nonsense, man, there is no risk in the -matter, as you know as well as I do.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>“But suppose, Mr. Symes, that the police -catch you, how then?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah! but the police must not catch me. It’s -precisely for that that you are going to take the -extra three hundred. It will be your part of the -business to throw them off the scent, you will -find that an easy job enough.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How am I to be paid? that is, supposing I -agree to this?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will tell you. I have five hundred and fifty -pounds standing as a deposit in the Joint Stock -Bank, in the name of Rogers; here is the pass-book. -When I paid it in, a year ago, I said that I -should probably draw it out in a lump for investment. -I have written a letter here to the -manager, saying that I have given a cheque for -five hundred—at least I have left the figures -blank at present, and that I shall be obliged if he -will fill up and return my pass-book, and let me -know the amount remaining to my credit. So -that he will be prepared for the cheque when it -is presented. In what name shall I fill it -in?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton thought for a minute, and then -said, “John Halfourd; he is a lawyer, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>will be better through him, we do business together.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>David Symes filled up the cheque.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have dated it the day after to-morrow,” he -said. “I sail to-morrow in the ‘Louisa,’ for -America. She warps out of the docks this -evening. Put the police on the track of the -Australian ships. I depend on you to do this. -If I am taken, I shall, of course, stop the payment -of the cheque. Good-morning, Mr. -Barton.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-morning, Mr. Symes, a pleasant -voyage.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And the ex-clerk went down the street, -whistling gaily.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is a monstrous clever fellow,” Mr. -Barton said, admiringly; “cool as a cucumber. -It is as well, before I do anything else, to see if -this money really is at the Bank. There, -Reuben, run round with this pass-book to the -Joint Stock, and ask them to be good enough to -see if it is all right, and then bring it back here. -Don’t say who you come from, but do it in a -regular way of business.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>While the boy was gone, Mr. Barton sat thinking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>deeply, till he returned with the message that -the book was correct with the exception of the -interest, which could not be added unless the -book was left.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is Aaron Solomons here, the man who came -from Liverpool yesterday?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, sir, he is in the outer office. And am I -to see about what you told us before, about the -buying the outfit?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Reuben, that matter is arranged. Tell -Solomons to come in here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man entered. He was a well-made, good -looking fellow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Solomons, when are you thinking of going -back to Liverpool?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To-night, Mr. Barton.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You have never been much in London -before, have you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, sir, I only came up for a week at the -time——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, Solomons, at the time you assisted at -that little affair at the goldsmith’s—there, don’t -look nervous, man. I have kept your secret as -long as this, and you may rely upon it, that as -long as you remain faithful to my interests, I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>shall continue to do so. Then you are sure that -the police don’t know you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite sure.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, then I will tell you what I want. -Get yourself up as a gentleman; have you -clothes?” The man nodded, and Mr. Barton -went on. “Put on moustaches if you like; don’t -put on any jewellery about you, but look plain -and straightforward. Drive in a Hansom to -Clinton’s Bank, and ask to see the manager. -Introduce yourself as Mr. Herbert Parker, of -25, Sloane Street, Knightsbridge. The house is -really empty at present, but I have got the name -put into the red books; it is useful having a -name or two which no one else can claim. Say -to the manager that you have been intimate for -some years with David Symes, a clerk in their -Bank, and that some time since he borrowed a -hundred pounds of you; mention that you called -at his house this morning, and found him gone, -and the place in confusion, and that you heard a -rumour that he had absconded.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man had been taking notes as Mr. Barton -went on. He asked now, “What was Symes’s -address?—you have not told me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>“123, Brompton Square. Say you came down -to the Bank at once, to inquire if anything was -really wrong with Symes; mention that you have -heard him say that he intended to go out some -day to his friends in Australia. Do you quite -understand all that, Solomons?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Quite,” the man said, repeating from his -notes the instructions he had received. “After -that?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“After that, the manager is pretty certain to -ask you if you would be so good as to go round -to the police-station, and tell them what you -think are the reasons why Symes will make for -Australia. Get him to give you his card, and -then go to the police-station, and tell them you -have been to the Bank, and, at the manager’s -request, came round to give them the information.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is that all, Mr. Barton?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, I think so, Solomons, except that you -had best go off by the first train after you leave -the police-station. Here are fifteen pounds for -your trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man hesitated a little. “One question, -Mr. Barton. Does the man Symes really go to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>Australia?—I suppose you are working to get -him away?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why do you ask, Solomons?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I ask because, if he is not going to Australia, -I do not think you have hit on the safest plan.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Solomons?—what is your idea? I -know you are a sharp fellow, let me hear it, -man.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Mr. Barton, I should think that in any -case the police are safe to have a strong suspicion -that it is a plant. Now, if I just get up a little -bit flashy—not too strong, you know—they will -suspect it still more, and they will be sure to -send down to Sloane Street, and find out that -No. 25 is empty, and Mr. Herbert Parker is -unknown. Now, where does Symes sail for—America?” -Mr. Barton nodded. “Very well, -if I go and tell the same story, only putting in -America for Australia, they will be safe to think -that it is a plant, and that I have been sent down -to put them on to the American ship while he gets -off in an Australian.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very good, indeed, Solomons; very good. I -shall double what I promised you, and make it -thirty pounds, and if you are inclined in a month -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>or so to come up here from Liverpool, I will -promise you a good berth. But it is time -for you to be at work. Remember, you are very -likely to be closely watched when you leave the -police-station, so take a four-wheel cab, and leave -your bag in it, and change your things as you go -to the station. Don’t take the cab all the way, -but pay him beforehand, and tell him to stop -whenever you get into a lock, so that you can -slip out and join in the crowd without being -noticed; then take another cab to the station, -and take your ticket only as far as Crewe: get -out there, and go on by the next train.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Events turned out as Solomons had predicted. -The police had been all day closely watching the -ship “Louisa,” which, with several others, was -lying in the stream ready for a start in the morning; -but in the evening word came down that -from information obtained during the day, there -was no doubt that David Symes was not going to -America, as had been supposed, but to Australia -or some other part. Consequently, the sharp -watch which had been kept up over the “Louisa” -all day was relaxed, and the vigilance of the -police was directed to the other vessels preparing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>for a start. The foreign sailor, therefore, who -was going out as a passenger in her to New -York to take command of a French vessel lying -there, passed under their eyes almost unheeded, -and by eight o’clock next morning, the “Louisa,” -with all sail set, and a strong ebb tide underneath -her, was running past Woolwich, to stop no more -till she furled her sails in New York harbour.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Barton was very busy all day, sitting like -a spider in his den, and throwing his threads -skilfully abroad to entangle the human flies; -which, some buzzing gaily in the sunshine unsuspicious -of danger, some hiding in nooks and -corners, were yet equally sure, sooner or later, -to be caught in the meshes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At a quarter to five Mr. Barton left his office -and took his way homeward, in great content at -the day’s proceedings.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Rachel,” he said to his wife, on entering, -“we will have a bottle of that old crusted port -to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That means you have done a good day’s -work, Robert?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, indeed; the best I have done this many -a month. Five hundred pounds clear.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>“That is good indeed, Robert. What was -it—a cross, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just so, Rachel. One very seldom makes -five hundred in a day’s work by working on the -square.” And Mr. Barton told his wife with -great glee the day’s incidents. “Four more -years, Rachel, and we shall give it up. By the -way, that puts me in mind of something,” and he -consulted his pocket-book. “It is rather more -than six months since I called to see that boy. -I will go in there to-morrow night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I suppose, Barton, you cannot do anything -with him till he gets of age?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing, Rachel; there are only four more -years to wait now. That pulled off, we shall be -able to retire comfortably.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We should not do badly if we gave it up -now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By no means, Rachel; but as he will be -worth to us at least ten thousand pounds, it -will pay very well to go on another four years. -Of course I shall make my bargain with him, and -get a deed drawn up and signed, before I tell him -who he is, and I am sure he would give his ears -to be a gentleman.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>“It was certainly a good idea of yours, -Robert, and does you great credit. Suppose, in -honour of the occasion, we have two bottles of -that old port, instead of one.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI.<br /> <span class='large'>AN EVENING AT THE HOLLS’.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>It is evening at the Holls’. The children are -in bed, the place is, as Mrs. Holl says, “tidied up,” -and John is smoking his pipe with several visitors -who have dropped in. There is policeman -A 56, and Perkins; William Holl, and his wife -too, have come over, for this does not happen to -be one of his nights at the meeting. Lastly, -there is Mr. Barton. That person, however, -was certainly a less welcome guest than the -others, for John Holl did not like the man; why -he could hardly say, but he knew he did not, -and was at no particular pains to conceal his -aversion. Mr. Barton never seemed to notice -John’s rebuffs, but periodically, perhaps once in -six months, would come in and smoke a pipe -with him. John Holl had very often asked his -wife, on whose good sense he much relied, What -that chap Barton meant by coming to see them? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>He seemed comfortably off, and why he should -come in twice a year to smoke a pipe was a thing -he could not understand. But for once, Sarah -was quite unable to enlighten her husband. -The matter had fairly puzzled both John and -his wife. Many years had passed since John -Holl first made Mr. Barton’s acquaintance. -It happened thus: John had no children then, -and was much younger and not quite so steady -as he had since become. John’s temptations, -too, were many; for in the discharge of his -occupation as dustman, he had sundry mugs of -beer offered to him in the course of the day. -So it chanced that one particularly warm -summer afternoon, being oppressed by the heat, -John accepted several of these offerings, and had -felt his thirst noways abated thereby. After his -work was done, therefore, he went into a public-house, -to endeavour still further to wash the -dust from his throat. Here, somehow or other—he -never could exactly recall the cause—he became -involved in a fierce dispute with a man who -was also engaged in quenching a devouring -thirst. To settle this difference of opinion, they -adjourned into the back-yard. The end of this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>was, that John Holl, who had drunk more than -his opponent, got considerably the worst of it. -The first thing he remembered afterwards was, -that he was sitting on the ground, supported by -Mr. Barton. This good Samaritan had entered -the public-house just after John himself, had espoused -his side in the argument with great zeal, -and now sprinkled water in his face, and endeavoured -to pour brandy down his throat. -When he had partially recovered, Mr. Barton, in -the kindest manner sent for a cab, drove John -to his house, and there delivered him over to -the tender care and pity, mingled with upbraidings, -of his wife. After this he came in several -times to see how John was getting on, but, when -he had as it were got a footing in the house, -his visits gradually became less frequent, and -at last months passed by without their seeing -him. Then, greatly to their astonishment, he -had dropped in again; and from that time, -every six months or so, Mr. Barton would pay -them a visit; greet John and Sarah as if he had -seen them only the day before; reach a long -pipe down from the mantelpiece, seat himself -in his usual place next to James, and begin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>to smoke tranquilly. Husband and wife had -often wondered and discussed much what could -be his possible motive in thus, for seventeen -years, continuing his periodical visits. They did -not like the man; still they had no reason for -telling him so, more especially as he tried to -make his visits as acceptable as possible, never -failing to produce a small bottle of spirits, remarking—with -an immovable face, which it was -impossible to question—that he had in his -pocket by accident, and to insist that it should -be drunk then and there. For the children, too, -he always brought a bag of cakes or lollipops, so -that to them his visits were noteworthy affairs. -Indeed they served Mrs. Holl as a species of -calendar, and she reckoned the date of all her -household events for years past by them. -Baby had been born about a month before -Barton’s fourth visit back. James had the -measles just about the time of his sixth visit, -and so on; and, indeed, Sarah would sometimes -greatly mystify her neighbours by this method of -reckoning. It was not till many years after the -commencement of this disjointed intimacy that -John Holl had found out who his visitor really -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>was. He had always supposed him to be something -in the city—for Barton occasionally mentioned -his office—but he did not even know in -what part of London he lived, and put him -down as being a close man, not given to talking -about his affairs. Four years ago, he had -made the discovery in this wise. A 56 -happened to be spending his evening with John -when Mr. Barton had come in. A 56 had -said rather respectfully, “Good evening, Mr. -Barton,” and Mr. Barton had looked for a -moment decidedly taken aback, but recovering -himself had said, “We are both off duty together -to-night, Brown;” Brown being the name -by which A 56 was known in private life. After -this Mr. Barton had sat smoking and talking for -a time as usual, and when he was gone, A 56 -told them that Mr. Barton was a sort of private -detective, at which John and Sarah had -been astonished, and indignant.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What,” John said, “a detective! and what -does he mean by coming spying here? I hain’t -nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Brown; he may spy -as much as he likes in my house, but he won’t find -nothing but what is honestly paid for. I ain’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>no thief, Mr. Brown. If I find anything in the -bins—and many a silver spoon and fork, and all -sorts have I found there in my time—when I -finds them I gives them up. Why, Lor, what -good would it be if I didn’t? Sairey would not -so much as look at them. Next time Mr. Barton -comes here he’ll see what he’ll get for his -peeping and spying. Just to think of it, Sairey, -to think that while I thought everyone knew -John Holl was an honest man, that all this time -I have had a policeman—no offence, Mr. Brown—but -a private policeman a spying into my -doings.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t think—do you know, John,” A 56 said, -after smoking meditatively for some time, “I -don’t think you need trouble yourself about -Barton’s suspicions of your honesty. If there -had been any great robbery of plate, and they -could not make out how the stuff had gone, and -you had taken away the dust, say early in the -morning, I don’t know that they might not -suspect you, and keep you under their eye; but -Lor bless you, it would not have lasted more -than a few weeks at most. It ain’t nothing of -that sort, you may take your solemn Davey. It -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>is a rum start surely. I have often heard you -talk about a Mr. Barton, who came in twice -a year, but it never entered my head as how it -were Barton the private detective.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, but what does he come here for, -Mr. Brown? Just tell me that,” John Holl -said, bringing his heavy hand down upon the -table. “I’ll find out next time he comes, or my -name’s not John Holl. I will punch his head -for him, Mr. Brown, detective or no detective; -there’s no law against that I expect, if he comes -into my house without even saying by your -leave.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A 56 smoked thoughtfully, not paying much -attention to what John Holl said; then he remarked, -“It is certainly strange, John. Barton -is a deep one, there’s no doubt of that, and not -a bit the sort of chap to waste a minute of his -time without some good reason for it, but I can’t -see what his game is here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What was this Mr. Barton?” Mr. Holl -asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He was a Bow Street runner,” A 56 said, -“but he was turned out of the force some twelve -years back. He calls himself a private detective -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>now, and does all sorts of things in that way. -They say he is as sharp as a needle. He’s got to -the bottom of several jobs which have beaten our -people, but I have heard, though I should not -say so to every one, that he plays double sometime. -But there, that mayn’t be true, and you -see our people are rather jealous of him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s right enough, Mr. Brown, but still -I can’t see what he has been spying about here so -long for—twelve years—no, more—nigh upon -thirteen, it were just about the time when James -and his poor mother came here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Was it though?” the policeman said; “then -you may take my word for it, John, he comes to -keep his eye on the boy. I’d bet a gallon to a -pint he knows who the boy is, and is paid by his -friends to let him know if he’s alive, and how he -is getting on; yes, you may depend upon it, that’s -about the mark.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>John Holl and his wife looked at each other in -astonishment. Sarah was the first to speak.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s it, John, sure enough. Like enough -he’ll turn out some rich man’s son, and get all his -money yet.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I would not think that, Mrs. Holl; no, not if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>I was you,” policeman Brown said; “I should -say his chance now is worse than it was before. -Then some day, I don’t say it was likely, still -there it was, it might have been found out by -some accident who he was, but now it seems as if -they must know where he is, and all about him, -but don’t want to acknowledge or do anything -for him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then they’re a bad, unnatural lot, whoever -they are,” Mrs. Holl said, indignantly, “and the -poor lad a cripple too. But any ways, John, if he -comes to look after James, we must speak him -fair, for who knows, perhaps some day when they -are dying they may be sorry for what they have -done all these years, and turn round and send -for him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is so,” the policeman said; “let him -come and go just as if you thought nothing more -of him than before; if any good come of it, so -much the better. If not, his visits won’t have -done you any harm.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so it was settled. Since that conversation -Mr. Barton had paid his seven visits with -his usual punctuality—this was his eighth. No -hint was ever given by John and Sarah that they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>suspected the cause of his coming, and to James -they had never spoken of what had passed, for -he had gone to bed at the time when their -discovery of Mr. Barton’s occupation was made, -and they agreed that it was much better to say -nothing to him on the subject.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For some time the little party talked on indifferent -matters, and then the cripple boy, who -was rather fond of attacking William Holl, -brought up the question of politics. James -had read much, and variously. All these -years that he had been crippled, he had had -no other occupation, and he had thought as -well as read; at ordinary times his diction, -although better, still resembled that of those -around him, but when he warmed into a subject -he dropped this altogether, and spoke in the language -of those in the world, of which he had -seen so little and read so much. “Well, Uncle -William, and how go on the Chartists?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The great cause goes on well, James, as well -or better than we could hope. The working -classes are everywhere moving, and a deep feeling -of discontent at their condition is fast gaining -ground among them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>“And a great pity too, William,” Sarah Holl -said; “we have always done very well before we -got these Chartist notions into our heads, and for -my part I can’t see what we want with them, or -what good they are to do us, when we do get -them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>William Holl smiled pityingly, his wife sadly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sairey is right,” her husband said. “We -have done very well, and I for one don’t want no -change. I should like to own my horse and cart, -but I don’t see that the charter is going to give it -me. So let well alone, says I.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Anyhow, William,” Sarah said, “it has done -neither you nor Bessy any good. When I think -of what you both were two years ago, and what -you are now, it makes me sick of the very name -of the Charter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The first disciples of a cause always suffer,” -William Holl said earnestly, “and Bessy and I -must be content to do the same. When we look -back some day upon our success, we shall be -rewarded.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The success you will have to look back -upon some day, William Holl, if you don’t -watch it,” A 56 said, “will be finding yourself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>some fine morning shut up between four -walls.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The voice of the million cannot be put -down!” William Holl said, sententiously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, it can, Uncle William,” James said, -“when the million don’t happen to be united, -and the two or three hundred thousand who -are their masters, and who have an armed -force at their command, are perfectly unanimous.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The history of the world says otherwise.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In some cases, uncle, I grant you, where the -million are really ground down, as you are so -fond of saying, or are crying for bread, their -voice is, I allow, irresistible, but unless their -grievance is a real one, and their hearts are in it, -it may be very loud, but no one cares for it. -Your opponents have strength, and perfect -unanimity; they have the law on their side, the -troops and the police, and against all this your -mere mob is a wave against a rock.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The French Revolution, James, has taught us -the power of the people.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The French Revolution!” James laughed. -“You will never play that game over here, nor is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>it the slightest criterion for you. The French -people had reason on their side, they had justice -if not law. The people were tyrannised over to -an extent we can hardly understand; they groaned -under an overbearing nobility with feudal power, -who looked upon them as hardly human beings; -their condition was dreadful, and they were -nearly starving. They had something to fight -for. But we are not mere slaves as they were, -nor are we starving. The French people groaned -under so terrible a tyranny, that the whole of the -middle classes, the great proportion of the clergy, -and a good many even of the nobles were at first -with them—in fact were the Revolution, although -in the end the people turned upon their benefactors, -and destroyed nobility, clergy, and middle -class. The people there were at the commencement -united with the middle class, and at any -rate knew what they were fighting for, and were -sufficiently in earnest to be ready to give their -lives for their cause. You stand alone; the -middle classes are more bitterly opposed to you -than even the upper, you have no unity among -yourselves, and lastly, you are fighting for you -know not what—for a chimera.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>“I beg your pardon, James,” William Holl -said, hotly, “it is no chimera. Universal suffrage -is Nature’s law; every man has a right to a voice -in the Government.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, my dear uncle, that is so like you. -You see you get together, and you dogmatise, -and agree with each other, till you lay down -things as law, which have no existence except in -your own brain. What do you mean by that -great sounding phrase,—‘universal suffrage is -Nature’s law.’ It sounds well, but what does it -mean? Has it any meaning at all—and if so, is it -true? Let us go back to a state of nature—savage -nature, and what will you find? Chiefs or -governors are elected to rule the nation; but I -will venture to say, in no tribe or race of which -there is any history, were they chosen by the vote -of man, woman, and child; they were elected and -are now elected among savage tribes by the wise -men of the nation, the object being to choose the -men most fitted for the place. And so with this -Government of ours; when Parliament was established, -it was proposed that the men most suited -to rule the nation should be chosen. There were -various ways in which this might have been done, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>but the way selected was that boroughs and -counties should each send so many members, -which members were in those days unquestionably -selected by the leading men in such boroughs -and counties. Since its foundation the number -admitted to the privilege, or to speak more correctly, -the number of those upon whom the -responsibility of selecting the representatives -devolves, has largely increased, until nearly every -man of intelligence or energy, having a house, can -vote. The object of it all is to obtain a good -Government. Is not that object attained? Do -you mean for an instant to say that a Parliament -such as would be elected under a system of -universal suffrage would be equal in intelligence, -in character, or in any single point, with the -present one? Failing to prove that, your whole -argument falls to the ground. If under the -present state of things you found Parliament -legislating entirely for the benefit of the rich as -against the poor, taking burdens off their own -shoulders to lay them on yours, you might well -complain. But it is not so. The burdens on -property are very great, the burden on you very -slight. Every question which comes before them -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>which can in any way benefit the working classes -has always its full share of attention. What -reason therefore have you to complain? Of those -who have the vote, not one half exercise the inestimable -privilege you make so much fuss about; -not one quarter would do so unless canvassed and -worried and bribed. My dear uncle, as father -says, we are very well as we are; let well alone.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There is something in what you say, James; -but unquestionably a republic in which each man -has a voice is the happiest form of government.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Theoretically it may be, uncle, although I -should doubt it. The Jews tried it, and fell back -upon a monarchy. The Athenians tried it, and -there it lasted till the time of their fall; but you -will find that the house of assembly, so to speak, -in Athens, was chosen by a more limited proportion -of the people than have the vote here; -besides, if you read their domestic history, I -don’t think you will conclude that it was a happy -or reputable one. Rome tried it; but in her -earlier history the real power was always in the -hands of the patricians, who chose consuls, who -were kings with another name. And in Rome, -as the popular element became stronger, so was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>the government worse, until the nation took -refuge under an emperor. England tried a revolution, -and fell into the hands of Cromwell, -who, although he ruled them wisely and well, -was far more despotic in his power than any king -who preceded him. France tried it, and you -can’t say much for the conduct of King Mob -there; and at last they came to the conclusion -that an emperor was better than mob-law. Yes, I -see, uncle, America. America is a young country. -She has had, since her formation, no enemy near -her to try her; she started with every advantage, -and what is the result? She has pretty nearly -universal suffrage—that is, every man has a vote—but -what is the consequence? he finds it of no -use voting independently, and he therefore binds -himself to a party, and has a ticket given him -with a list of names, which he is bound to vote -for. Look at Congress, no sane man could compare -it, either for intelligence, eloquence, statesmanship, -or conduct, with our own House of -Commons; besides, above all is the President, -who is really very nearly independent of Congress, -and is, indeed, as despotic as any European -monarch.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>While James had been speaking, the others had -been smoking in silence. Mr. Barton was surprised, -although he said nothing, and the others -were accustomed to his talk, which was indeed far -beyond his age and station. When he ceased -there was a moment’s silence, and then John -Holl said,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well spoken, James, spoken out like a man, -ay, and a clever man, too. I don’t quite know -all you were saying, not having learning myself; -but I am proud to hear you, James, and I feel -more than repaid, if it were only to hear you -talk like that, for any trouble we may have had -with you, my boy. Now, brother Will, you ain’t -got nothing to say to that; give it up, man, for -Bessy’s sake if not your own; give it up, and go -to work again like a man.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have plenty to say against it if I choose, -John,” William said. “James talks very well, -looking at it in the light he does, and, I will say -fairly, puts his side stronger than I ever heard it -put before; but he talks from books, and not -from real life. He does not know how we are -put upon—how should he?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, that’s what you always fall back upon, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>uncle,” James said, laughing. “You are put -upon; it is very vague, and therefore, unsupported -as it is by a single fact, very difficult to -disprove. How I wish I was like other people. I -should like to go to one of your meetings, and -speak there. You get together, you are all the -same side, and you talk and talk, and back each -other up, till you think there is nothing to be -said on the other side of the question.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lor bless you,” Perkins said, “they wouldn’t -let you speak; don’t you go to think that; if you -didn’t agree with them they wouldn’t hear a word -you had to say, and you might think yourself -very lucky if you got out of the place as whole as -you went in. I’ve been to some of these sort of -places, but the more I find they talk about -liberty, the less they will give it to any one else.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you know, Perkins, I should like to go to -one of these Chartist meetings. I have heard -James talk it over so often, that I think I could -tell them a thing or two.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look here, John,” the prize-fighter said, “I -don’t like these things, but I should not mind it -for once for a lark. So if you go, here’s one with -you. What do you say, William, will you take us?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>“I don’t know when there will be one,” William -Holl said, evasively, glancing at A 56.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You need not mind me, William Holl,” the -policeman said; “we’ve no instructions about -you yet. When we have, be as cunning as you -like, we shall soon find out all about your goings -on; but if you will take my advice, you will drop -it. James has put it very straight and right, and -I drink his health, and it would be better for -some of you if you had a little of his sense. You -will find yourself in the wrong box one of these -days.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>William Holl only shook his head, and then -rose, saying it was past nine and it was time to -be off. So his wife put her bonnet on, and all -took their leave, including Mr. Barton, who had, -as was his wont, spoken very little, but who had -listened attentively, especially when James was -speaking, as if desirous of judging as far as possible -of the lad’s character.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII.<br /> <span class='large'>THWARTED PLANS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Frank Maynard had by no means forgotten -what his friend Prescott had said to him upon the -subject of Alice Heathcote. He had thought it -over constantly and with increasing annoyance, -Frank could have been easily led<a id='t264'></a> to do almost -anything, but he was one of the worst men in the -world to drive, and this he considered to be an -attempt to force him into a marriage for which he -had not the least desire. He was the more annoyed -because he was really very fond of Alice in a -cousinly sort of way, and he felt that he could -never again be upon the same pleasant footing -with her as before. Had he believed for an instant -that Alice regarded him in any other light than -that in which he thought of her, he might have -acted differently: but Frank had not the least -personal vanity, and it never entered his mind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>that Alice ever thought of him except as a sort -of brother. Altogether it was very unpleasant, -and he consequently stayed several days away -from Lowndes Square, instead of paying his -almost daily visit. At last he felt that it would -seem strange if he did not go, and so started with -an uncomfortable feeling, and a dogged resolution -that if he had the least opportunity he would -enlighten his uncle as to what his own views upon -the subject were; knowing Captain Bradshaw’s -peppery disposition, however, he had no doubt -that he would be exceedingly irritated at finding -his wishes thwarted in a matter so very near -his heart. On arriving at Lowndes Square he -found his uncle alone in the drawing-room. It -was a large room, with folding-doors. These -on ordinary occasions stood open, but in cold -weather were kept closed, as Captain Bradshaw -said the large room made him cold. Alice, -on her part, liked the arrangement, as the -back drawing-room made a sort of snuggery, -where she could work or paint undisturbed by -visitors. In the front room Frank found his -uncle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, Frank, I thought you were lost. Where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>have you been all this time? It is nearly a week -since you were here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank said, rather confusedly, that he had been -a good deal engaged.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nonsense, engaged! You may be out -of an evening, but you could surely manage -to run down some time in the day to see -us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank knew that this was one of Captain -Bradshaw’s weak points; that he liked attention, -and could bear anything better than being -neglected; so he said that he was sorry he had -let so many days pass without calling, but would -come oftener in future.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is right, Frank,” Captain Bradshaw -said, mollified. “You know we don’t see many -visitors here, and you brighten us up. It is not -for myself, but for Alice’s sake, that I like you to -come down often. You ought to be more attentive -there.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank thought that this was a good opportunity -to express his opinion upon that point, and -he said, rather coldly;—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I really do not see, uncle, why I should be -specially attentive to Alice. I do not think it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>likely that she interests herself in the slightest -degree as to my comings and goings.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now Captain Bradshaw was just as anxious to -have a talk with Frank upon this subject, as -Frank was himself. For years this marriage -between his nephew and niece had been his pet -project. He had so thoroughly settled it in his -own mind, that he believed they were equally -agreed, and that although no actual love-making -might have taken place, it was a sort of tacit -engagement. He had often during Frank’s absence -joked Alice about him, and the girl’s rising -colour and evasive answers more than ever confirmed -him in his opinion. Since Frank’s return, -however, things had not gone quite as he had -anticipated. It was not that he doubted in the -least that all was right, for he was a good deal -accustomed to have his own way, and had beside -an old-fashioned idea that in these matters young -people should do as their elders recommend. -Still Frank was not so attentive as he ought to -have been under the circumstances, and it was -Captain Bradshaw’s opinion that now his nephew -had had his fling, the sooner he settled down and -married Alice Heathcote the better. He had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>therefore quite made up his mind to intimate his -wishes to him upon the first opportunity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hardly know what you mean, Frank. If I -were a young man in your place, I should think -that it would be only right and proper, under the -circumstances, that she should take a good deal -of interest in what I did.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What do you mean, uncle, by ‘under the circumstances?’” -Frank asked, shortly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mean, Frank? Damme, I mean, of course, -in the relation in which you stand to each -other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am your nephew, uncle Harry, and Alice is -your niece; but I imagine that the relationship -between us is something very slight.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Pooh! nonsense, man!” Captain Bradshaw -said, irritably; “you know what I mean; but I -will put it plainly for you, if you like. I think it -natural that Alice should feel some interest in -your goings-on, considering that you are some -day going to be man and wife.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Man and wife, uncle? What are you -thinking about? Alice and I have about as -much idea of marrying each other as we have -of flying.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>“Damme, sir!” Captain Bradshaw commenced, -fiercely; “but no, I will not get angry;” -and then he continued, in a tone of concentrated -rage, which showed far more than any gesticulation -could have done, how angry he was: “Do -you mean to tell me, seriously, Frank Maynard, -that you do not intend to marry your cousin, -Alice Heathcote?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Most distinctly and clearly, uncle, I do not. -I like Alice exceedingly. I love her almost as a -sister. She is a dear, good girl; but I have not, -and never had, the slightest intention of marrying -her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw sat down. He could not -trust himself to speak for some time; he knew -how passionate he was, and that he should be -sure to say something which he would afterwards -wish unsaid. At last, after a great struggle with -himself, he said, quietly;—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear Frank, you have upset me sadly. I -always thought it was an understood thing between -you, and I had set my mind on it. For -years I have planned and hoped for this. What -objection can you have? It would make me very -happy. You are like a son to me, Alice like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>a daughter; why can you not come together?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear uncle,” Frank said, “there is hardly -anything that I would not do to give you pleasure, -but I can hardly change my present feeling -for Alice into the love I should give to a wife. I -am sorry, very sorry, that you are disappointed, -but I never dreamed of such a thing. If you had -spoken about it some years sooner, I might -have got to look upon it in that way. But it is -too late now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But I always thought you did understand, -Frank. I have watched you both closely, and I -thought you loved Alice, and I was quite sure -Alice——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw did not finish his sentence, -for the folding doors opened suddenly, and Alice -Heathcote herself stood among them. Had not -the light of the winter afternoon faded out,—the -room being only lit by the deep red glow of the -fire,—they would have seen that her face was very -pale, and that her cheeks were still wet with tears. -However, she gave them little time to notice -this, for she moved hastily forward, and stood -between them with her back to the fire, so that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>her face was in deep shadow. Then she said, -trying to speak in a playful tone, but in a voice -which shook and wavered a little as she began;—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear uncle, if you gentlemen want to talk -secrets you should not choose a room with folding -doors, through which every word can be heard. -Not that I am sorry I heard what you said, in -the first place, because I have a right to have a -voice in a matter in which I am so much interested; -and in the second, because I am able to -come in and join my voice to Frank’s in asking -you to let us each go our own way. You see, -uncle, we make very good cousins, but we have -no inclination to exchange that relationship for a -nearer one. Let us have our own way, uncle: -you cannot make two people love each other who -have no natural inclination that way, and we -could not love you better if we were married -than we do separately.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw was silent for a moment in -astonishment, and then broke out;—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Damme, Alice, if I understand you at all. I -always thought——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Alice stepped forward, and laid her hands upon -his shoulder, and murmured very low, so that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>only he could hear her, “Hush, uncle, for pity’s -sake!” and then, more loudly, “you see, uncle, -unfortunately, we have been playing at cross-purposes; -Frank and I have been caring for each -other in a brotherly and sisterly sort of way, and -you, wanting it to be something else, have all -along misinterpreted what you saw. Now, be a -dear, kind uncle, as you always are, and let us -have our own way.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Just so, uncle,” Frank put in; “you see it -has all been a mistake, and I am very glad that -Alice has overheard us, because she has been able -to assure you that she agrees with me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw was silent for a moment, -and then said softly to Alice as he kissed her -cheek;—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a darling, Alice; as for you, sir,” -he said, turning fiercely upon Frank, “my -opinion of you, sir, is, that you are a young fool. -Yes, sir, damme, a thorough young fool,” and -with this explosion of wrath, Captain Bradshaw -strode out of the room, slamming the door -behind him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank gave a long whistle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my word, Alice, this is too bad; Uncle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>Harry is turning a complete tyrant in his old -age. The idea of getting into a passion because -you and I, who have known each other for the -last ten years, are not going to fall in love with -each other all at once to please him. It is too -absurd, upon my word.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very absurd, Frank,” Alice said, quietly; -“and now I think you had better go, and I will -go down and pacify uncle.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank took up his hat, but paused as he went -towards the door, and said,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hope I did not say anything rude about -you, Alice? You know how much I like you -as a sister; but I was obliged to protest against -his making us man and wife, when I know that -neither of us had such an idea in our heads. -You are not vexed, Alice?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not vexed at all, Frank,” she said, quietly; -“now, please go.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frank went downstairs, and out into the -chilly evening air, with a strong feeling of discontent -at things in general. The whole thing -was, he assured himself, too ridiculous; still, -somehow or other, he did not feel as pleased as he -had expected now that the affair was settled. By -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>the time he reached the Temple, however, he -had recovered his usual good temper; and going -straight up into Prescott’s room, he sat down -and gave his friend an exact account of what -had passed. Prescott listened with great attention. -When Frank came to the part where Alice -appeared upon the scene, Prescott almost held -his breath to catch every word, and murmured -to himself,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dear Alice; dear, brave girl.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Frank had done, he said,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, Prescott, just give me your opinion of -it all; it is too bad, is it not?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you want my honest opinion, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course I do, Prescott.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well, Frank; then I will give it you. I -agree entirely with your uncle. You are a fool, -and a thorough fool.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It would have been a very dangerous proceeding -for anyone else than Prescott to have -expressed this opinion of Frank to his face. -As it was, Frank looked for a moment as if -inclined to be exceedingly angry, but glancing -at Prescott’s thoughtful face as he looked into -the fire, his brow cleared again, and he said,—</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>“At any rate, old man, I was a fool to ask -your opinion, for I might have known beforehand -what it would be. You had as good as -said you were in the plot with uncle, and advised -me to marry Alice, so you are put out by -finding that you are ridiculously mistaken. I -can only say, that as you would have doubtless -acted so much more wisely in the matter than -I have done, I wish you had been in my place.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wish to heaven that I had been, Frank,” -Prescott said, with an earnest sadness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my word, I wish you had, Prescott, -for I do believe that you love Alice; although -why, if you do, you should have been urging -me on to marry her, is more than I can make -out.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wished you to marry her, Frank, because, -above all things, 1 should want to see her -happy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then why in the name of fortune don’t you -marry her, and make her happy yourself, Prescott?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Because she would not let me, Frank.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Pooh, nonsense, Prescott! we know very well -that she does not care for me, thank goodness; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>and, therefore, it is all the more likely that she -may for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prescott did not care to pursue the subject -farther, for he did not wish his friend to see that -he felt any serious interest in the matter.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Frank Maynard had left the house in -Lowndes Square, Alice Heathcote did not for -some time carry out the intention she had expressed -of going downstairs to pacify her uncle. -As she sat in her low easy-chair before the fire, -not leaning back, but with her figure bowed, her -hands listlessly clasping each other, and a look -of weary hopelessness upon her face, she needed -comfort too much to be able to dispense it. -Alice had suffered a severe shock; one of those -shocks which cast a shade over the whole life. -The pain of a rejection—or, perhaps, more properly -speaking, the duration of that pain—is in -almost exact proportion to the amount of hope -which was previously entertained. Instances are -not wanting, indeed, where a perfectly hopeless -attachment has embittered a whole existence; -but those who so suffered must have been endowed -either with a peculiarly sensitive organisation, -or an ill-regulated mind.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>It is the same thing in all relations of life. If -a man hopes to attain a large fortune by the -death of a relation, or by a fortunate speculation, -or successful invention, he will form plans for -the future, and build greatly upon his expectations. -It will be a great shock, then, when he -finds that the money is left to another, or the -speculation or invention turns out a failure; -but it will not rankle in his mind, will not -permanently affect his whole career in life as -it would do had a banker, with whom he had -placed a similar sum of money, failed. It needs -certainty, or that strong belief which is the same -as certainty, to make the loss of a fortune, or the -failure of a love-dream, cast a permanent blight -over a life. Had Alice Heathcote doubted -Frank’s feelings for her, she might still have -loved him truly, she might have dreamed happy -dreams, and built fairy castles of love and happiness. -But she never would have quite given way -to her love; she would have known that her -dreams were but visions which might never come -true, and that her castles were but baseless -fabrics after all. Had she then found out that -Frank did not love her, she would have felt it as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>a very great pain; she would have mourned over -her vanished dreams, and her ruined castles, -but the wound, deep as it might have been, -would have healed over in time, and left but a -slight scar. But she had believed, believed -surely, that her love was returned, and so had -given her whole heart, and nursed her love until -it had become a part of her very being. Many -things had assisted to cause this delusion. For -so many years, almost ever since she could -remember, she had looked up to him as her -protector and adviser. He had always seemed -fond of her, and, having no sister of his own, -had petted and made very much of her; -and Frank had a warm kindly way about -his manner and talk which might very well -deceive a young girl into the belief that his -affection was love. While he was abroad, too, -he had written so often and so affectionately, that, -judging his feelings by her own, she had believed -that he loved her. But most of all she had -been deceived by her uncle’s manner and talk. -The little hints and innuendos he frequently -threw out, the way in which he had seemed to -consider that it was a settled thing, had impressed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>her with the idea that Frank had spoken -to him upon the subject before he left England, -and was only waiting until his return to ask her -formally. And so she had given her whole heart, -trustingly and confidingly, and it was now a -terrible shock to find that she had been mistaken -after all. She could not blame him; she knew -now that her eyes were opened, that he had -never spoken or looked as a cousin, thrown with -her as he had been, might not have done. -Nor could she blame herself; for she felt that it -would, under the circumstances, have been next -to impossible for her not to have misinterpreted -him. She could only lament her mistake, and -feel with grief and bitterness, that her bright -hopes and dreams had all faded away, that her -castles which had seemed so solid had fallen, -and that there was nothing to take their place; -that dreaming and hoping were over for -her, and the light of her life gone out for -ever. So she sat there, and looked with a -dull pain into the fire; the slight fingers twined -in and out round each other, the lips, folded -together to keep in the cry of grief she could -hardly repress, yet quivering restlessly, while -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>from time to time great tears rolled down from -the long lashes. For a long while she sat thus; -sometimes quite quiet, at others swaying herself -backwards and forwards. At last, when the -clock upon the mantel struck six, she roused -herself with a weary sigh that was almost a wail, -passed her hands slowly across her forehead and -back over the hair by her temples, and then, -dropping them listlessly by her side, passed out -and up to her own room. She did not come -downstairs until the dinner was announced; but -when she did there were few signs upon her -face of the hard struggle she had gone through. -Captain Bradshaw, on the other hand, had by -no means recovered the equability of his temper. -He was throughout dinner in a state of explosion. -He swore at the footman in an unusual -way, and sent fiery messages to the cook, until -she was, as she expressed it, so flustered she -did not know what she was doing. Even the -footman, accustomed as he was to his master’s -outbreaks, felt aggrieved.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is just the very image of an Indian tiger, -cook. I have been with him a good many years -now, but I never did know him so awful cantankerous -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>as he is to-day. He ain’t a bad -master, the Captain, noways, but flesh and -blood can’t put up with him; not white flesh -and blood, black might; I shall tell him in -the morning he must provide himself elsewhere.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why didn’t you tell him now?” the cook -asked sarcastically. “I would, right off.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t think you would now, cook; I -wouldn’t, no, not if he were to swear ten times -wuss at me. He’s a regular old tiger, when his -temper’s up, he is; and if any one were to say -anything to him it would be a dreadful business; -pretty nigh as much as one’s life were worth, I -should say. Lor’ bless you, he would think -nothing of taking up a poker or a candlestick, or -a soup tureen, or anything which happened to -come handy to him at the time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And what does Miss Alice say to it all, -James?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She is a right down good one, she is,” the -footman said, admiringly; “she does all she can, -but to-day he’s too fierce even for her. She -ain’t looking quite herself neither. She did try -once or twice to smooth him down a bit, but, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>bless you, when he’s in such a tantrum as he is -to-day, nothing short of a strait-waistcoat and a -cold bath would smooth him down.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>While this conversation was passing below, -Alice Heathcote was having by no means a -pleasant time of it upstairs. Captain Bradshaw -had taken his usual place by the fire, with -his port wine upon a small table beside him, -while Alice sat down opposite, with a piece of -fancy work in her hands as an excuse for idleness. -For a little time after the servant had left -the room, there was silence, and then Captain -Bradshaw, after drinking off a glass of wine, and -pouring himself out another, said, with great -deliberation,—</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And now, Alice, I shall be glad if you will -give me an explanation of all this; for, damme, -if I can make head or tail of it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear uncle,” Alice said, cheerfully, “I -don’t know that there is anything to explain. -You see, Frank and I do not want to marry each -other, and although I believe that parents and -guardians have a right to put a veto upon marriages -of which they do not approve, I confess -that I do not think their power extends to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>point of compelling two strongly objecting parties -to marry each other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw rubbed his forehead with -his handkerchief, and then performed the same -operation with great violence all over his head, -brushing up his short grey hair into a state of -the wildest and most aggressive looking confusion. -It was not that he was actually hot, but it was -a trick he had acquired in India, and was a -certain sign, with him, of great irritation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But I always looked upon it as a settled -thing, Alice; I have set my mind upon it for -years, and I always felt sure that you were fond -of him. I don’t know what to make of it; but if -you do care for him, Alice, by Gad, he shall -marry you, or, at any rate, he shall be made most -thoroughly to understand that not one penny of -my money shall he ever have if he does not.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank you very much, uncle,” Alice said, -smiling quietly; “but you see I should not particularly -care about being married to a man who -only took me as an incumbrance with my money -and yours.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, Alice,” her uncle said impatiently, “I -do not understand why you took his part to-day, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>and so rendered all I said of no avail. I was -sure you cared for him. You never attempted to -deny it when I spoke to you upon the subject, -and now you upset all the force of my arguments, -and confirm that young jackanapes in his refusal -to listen to my wishes, by saying that you are -mutually indifferent to each other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear uncle,” Alice said, very gravely, -“the whole of the unfortunate position has been -brought about by your deceiving yourself in the -first place; and in the second, by the very unfair -and unjustifiable way in which you have deceived -me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my word, Alice,” Captain Bradshaw -said, astonished at this sudden attack upon himself, -and replacing untasted upon the table the -wine he was in the act of raising to his lips, “I -do not understand what you mean.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is what I mean, uncle. You all along -thought and hoped that Frank and I would some -day take a fancy to each other. About that I have -no reason to complain, nor that you deceived -yourself into believing that things were turning -out as you wished. What you were wrong in, -my dear uncle, was, to have spoken to me as you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>did about Frank. What could I think? I could -not suppose it possible that you were doing so -merely upon the strength of your hopes upon -the subject. I naturally concluded that you -were in his confidence, that you had talked the -matter over before he left England, and that -although he or you might have thought it wrong -to ask me to enter upon an engagement at the -age of eighteen, and just as he was leaving -England for two or three years, still that he perfectly -intended to propose for me upon his -return. What else could I think, uncle?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Bradshaw was silent. He felt that he -had been wrong, and that without sufficient -cause he had led his niece to believe that -Frank loved her, and had thus greatly endangered -the happiness of his favourite. Once -feeling himself to be wrong, no one could be -more ready to admit it than Captain Bradshaw.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my word, Alice,” he said, earnestly, -“I never looked upon it in that light. I see -that what you say is true, and that I have -behaved like an old fool, as I am, in the matter. -But even now it may not be too late—even now -I may be able to persuade Frank——”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>“My dear uncle, you forget that I could not -accept him under such conditions, and beside that, -few men are less likely to be persuaded or forced -in a matter of this sort than Frank is. It would -be folly upon my part to pretend that I do not -like him very much. I always believed that he -cared for me; and I daresay, had he been very -attentive when he returned, and made pretty -speeches, and behaved well, I should not have, -thrown any serious obstacle in the way of the -fulfilment of your pet project. As it is, I find -now that I have been mistaken all along as to -the whole affair, and all I have to do is, to make -myself as comfortable as possible under the -circumstances.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am afraid that I have done a great deal of -harm,” the old man said, sadly, “and I can only -say that I did not do it wilfully, for I certainly -deceived myself as much as I did you; but that -is a very poor consolation to me when I reflect -that my thoughtless folly has made you miserable.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not miserable, uncle,” Alice said, speaking -as cheerfully as she could, though she had very -hard work to prevent herself from breaking down -and going off in a fit of crying. “Not quite so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>bad as that. It has been a little shock for me, -but I shall soon get over that. But, please, do -not speak about it any more. At any rate, -Frank is not to blame in the matter. You -could not renew it with him without letting out -that we have both been deceiving ourselves about -it; and it would, of course, be very painful for -me to know that he even guessed that it was so.” -So saying, Alice went across and kissed her -uncle. “That is settled, then?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ay, ay, Alice. I do not see that I can say no -to you. I have made so much mischief that the -least I can do is to let you have your own way -now. As for Frank, I repeat what I told him -to-day—that he is a thorough fool not to have -fallen in love with the dearest and best girl in -the world.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Alice was satisfied, for she had gained more -than she had anticipated, knowing well how -obstinate her uncle was when he had once set -his mind upon anything. Indeed, it was only the -thought, that the pain he knew Alice must be -feeling was caused by his own error, which made -Captain Bradshaw, as a sort of reparation, give -up his long-cherished plans and hopes.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>And so, as far as taking active measures were -concerned, the matter dropped; but not from the -thoughts of either. Captain Bradshaw could not -forgive Frank all at once, for having thwarted his -plans, and made Alice unhappy; nor could he -forgive himself for the share he had taken in the -affair. For although Alice tried hard to seem -cheerful when with her uncle,—though she talked -more, and smiled more frequently than had been -her wont,—she could not deceive him, now that -he was really watching her. Her voice was not -always steady and under her command; she -spoke in a forced way, very unlike her former -merry talk; and above all, the smile never went -farther than her lips—never lit up the rest of -her face. Over that a cloud had fallen. It was -difficult to say what the change was, but it was -as if the light had suddenly gone out. Her -uncle tried to be very kind to her, but at this -time he did not make matters easy for her. -The very tone of kindness and commiseration in -which he spoke to her was in itself a trial; while -with every one else he was so terribly bad tempered -that he made the lives of all around him -a burden to them.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>Frank called a few days afterwards, and Captain -Bradshaw hardly spoke to him; but Frank had -made up his mind that his uncle must be allowed -time to work off his disappointment, and appeared -to take no notice of this, but chatted with Alice -as usual.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These first visits of Frank’s were a great trial -to Alice, but she had at least the satisfaction of -knowing that he did not even guess what the -state of her heart was, and was therefore able to -get on with him better than she had expected to -have done. At first, too, Frank made his calls -as short as possible, for with his uncle in a state -of extreme irritation, they were by no means -pleasant visits. After a fortnight or so Captain -Bradshaw began to calm down, and things -gradually resumed their old footing, except that -Alice still looked pale and wan, and her voice -was no longer to be heard singing snatches of old -ballads as she moved about the house. But -of this Frank knew nothing, and put down her -altered looks partly to the annoyances he conceived -that she had to bear from his uncle’s temper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was after one of these visits he said to -Prescott,—</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>“I think, Prescott, it would be a great thing if -I were to go away for a little while. I have been -thinking on my way back, that if I were to write -to Teddy Drake, and offer to pay him a visit, it -would be very good fun, and would give my uncle -time to get into a better temper. As long as I -am in town I must call regularly, and that keeps -the sore open; whereas, if I go away only for a -fortnight it will calm him down a little. I shall -be very glad to see Teddy, too, for I have not -seen him since I came back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I think it is a very good plan, Frank. Do -you know his address?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, yes. Teddy and I exchange letters once -a year or so. I will write at once, Prescott. I -shall be very glad to get away for awhile, for I -am heartily sick of this London life.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>END OF VOL. I.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Changed ‘easily lead’ to ‘easily led’ on p. <a href='#t264'>264</a>. - - </li> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors. - - </li> - <li>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of All But Lost Vol 1 of 3, by G. A. 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