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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77483-0.txt b/77483-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ff5d25 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1868 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77483 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + + + +[Illustration: WAITING FOR FATHER.] + + + + _Nelly's Dark Days._ + + + + _BY THE AUTHOR OF_ + + _"JESSICA'S FIRST PRAYER," "LITTLE MEG'S CHILDREN,"_ + _"ALONE IN LONDON," &c._ + + [_Hesba Stretton_] + + + + [Illustration] + + + _One hundred and fifth thousand._ + + + + _GLASGOW:_ + _SCOTTISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE._ + + _LONDON: HOULSTON & SONS;_ + _AND NATIONAL TEMPERANCE LEAGUE._ + + _EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO._ + + _1891._ + + + + CONTENTS. + + ———— + + + CHAPTER I. + + A STREET CORNER + + CHAPTER II. + + LOCKED OUT + + CHAPTER III. + + MORNING FEARS + + CHAPTER IV. + + ONLY A DOLL + + CHAPTER V. + + VIOLETS + + CHAPTER VI. + + THE PRICE OF A DRAM + + CHAPTER VII. + + HALF MEASURES + + CHAPTER VIII. + + A SORROWFUL FACT + + CHAPTER IX. + + FOUND DROWNED + + CHAPTER X. + + DEEPER STILL + + CHAPTER XI. + + THE ONLY REFUGE + + CHAPTER XII. + + TRUE TO A PROMISE + + CHAPTER XIII. + + DEAD AND ALIVE AGAIN + + + [Illustration] + + + + [Illustration] + + NELLY'S DARK DAYS. + + ———————— + +CHAPTER I. + +A STREET CORNER. + +IT was nearly twelve o'clock at night on the first Sunday of the New +Year. The churches and chapels had all been closed for some hours; +and none of the better class of shops had been opened during the day. +Business had been set on one side, even by those workmen and labourers +who lived from hand to mouth, and scarcely knew beforehand where the +day's meals were to come from. There had been, as usual, a prevailing +feeling that the day was not a day for work or traffic of any kind; +and what had been done had been, more or less, away from the public +scrutiny. But though midnight was close at hand, the streets in the +lower parts of Liverpool were neither quiet nor dark. Up higher, +farther away from the long line of docks and the troubled stream of +the mighty river, there was silence in the deserted streets where the +wealthier classes had their comfortable homes; but where the poor +dwelt, and wherever there was a corner of a street which afforded a +good situation for traffic, or wherever it was supposed there was an +"immense drinking neighbourhood capable of improvement," * there stood +a gin-palace still open, with its bright gas-lights sparkling down each +dark row of dingy houses with a show of cheery welcome not easy to +resist. + + * "Capital Spirit Vaults to Let, in an Immense Drinking Neighbourhood, +capable of great improvement by an industrious man and his wife." +(_Newspaper Advt._) + +At one spot where four roads met, each corner house was thus +brilliantly lit up; and the doors, which swung to and fro readily and +noiselessly, were constantly moving, and giving a passing glimpse, but +no more, of what was going on within. The streets were so light here +that a pin lying on the flagged pavement was plainly seen. So were the +rags of a child who stood in the full glare of the most popular of the +gin-palaces, leaning against a lamp-post, with her face turned towards +the often-opening door. It was a small, meagre face, yet pretty, with +a mingled and wistful expression of anxiety and happiness. The anxiety +was visible whenever the door stood ajar; when it was closed, the +happiness came uppermost. The secret of her brief, new-born happiness +was very simple, but very deep to the child. She clasped tenderly, but +carefully, in her thin bare arms a gaily dressed doll, whose finery +contrasted strongly with her own rags. When the door remained closed +for a few minutes, she passed the time in timid, half-fearful caresses +of her shining doll; as soon as it opened she peered, with heedful and +searching eyes, to the farthest corner of the interior. + +"Nelly!" said a clear, shrill voice, which startled the child from an +anxious gaze. "You here at this time! How's poor mother to-night?" + +"Very bad," said the child sadly. + +"And father's in there, I reckon?" + +"Yes," said Nelly, "and oh! I want him to come home so, because mother +says she'd go to sleep maybe if father was home." + +The girl who had spoken to her—a bright, brisk-looking girl—pushed open +the door a little way, and glancing in turned back with a decisive +shake of her head. + +"No use, Nelly," she said; "he won't come as long as he can stay. Well, +I'll nurse you a bit to keep you warm; it's very bitter to-night. I +don't much wonder at father drinking to-night, I don't." + +All day long the wind had been blowing keenly from the north-east, +bringing a fine, piercing sleet with it, and at nightfall the bitter +cold had increased. The girl sat down on a door-step, and drew the +shivering child into her lap, covering her as well as she could with +her own scanty clothing. + +"Father didn't use to get drunk once, did he, Bessie?" asked the child, +plaintively. + +"Oh dear, no!" answered Bessie, in a cheery voice. + +"Tell me all about that time," said Nelly, nestling closer to Bessie. + +It was an old story, often told, but neither the girl nor the child +ever grew weary of it. + +"It's ever so many years ago, before you was born," said Bessie; "and +he lived in a beautiful house, with a parlour in front, and a kitchen +behind, and two rooms upstairs, all full of beautiful furniture. +Everybody that I knew called him Mister Rodney then; but I was nothing +but a poor ragged little girl, raggeder than you, Nelly, selling +matches in the streets. And this was how I come to know him. I was +hanging about the basket-women, down by the stages, running errands for +'em, and one day, almost as cold as this, my foot slipped, and down I +fell into the water. Oh! It was so cold; and I seemed to be sinking +down, down, down." + +"And father jumped in after you and fetched you out," interrupted +Nelly, eagerly. + +"Ay! He did, though he knew nothing of me, and I was nothing to him, +only a little, dirty match-girl. And then he carried me all the way to +his own house in his arms." + +"He never, never carried me in his arms," cried the child, "they aren't +strong enough now." + +"No; but he was as strong as strong then," continued Bessie, "and he +clipped me so fast I wasn't a bit afraid. That's how I'm never afraid +of him now, Nelly. He's a good man, and kind, and clever, when he's +himself; and I love him, and you love him; don't we?" + +"Yes," said Nelly, drawing a long breath, "mother says she's going to +heaven soon, where the other children are, and there 'll be nobody left +but me to take care of father. I don't much mind, though I'd rather go +with mother. Will he go on getting drunk always and always?" + +"If he could only see the gentleman I saw!" exclaimed Bessie. "It's six +years ago, and I was a big, grown girl, ready to push in anywhere, and +I see a lot of boys and girls crowding into a great hall, and I pushed +in with them, nobody stopping me. And then they sang a lot of songs, +oh! beautiful songs, and some gentlemen spoke to 'em about drink, and +how they'd grow up good, decent men and women if they'd keep from it. +And I was one of the very last to come away, the place was so nice, and +a gentleman come up to me, and he said,— + +"'My girl, what is your name?' + +"And I said, 'Bessie Dingle, sir.' + +"And he said, 'Can you read?' + +"And I said, 'No, sir.' + +"And he said, 'That's a pity. Do you ever drink what will make you +drunk?' + +"And I was ashamed to say yes, so I answered him nothing. + +"And he said, looking me full in the face with eyes as kind as kind +could be, 'I wish you'd promise me never to taste it till you see me +again.' + +"And I said, 'Yes, I will promise, sir.'" + +"And when did you see him again?" asked Nelly. + +"Never!" she answered. "He wrote down on a bit of paper where he lived, +and said any of the p'leece would show me where it was; and that very +night I fell sick with fever and they took me to the workhouse, and the +slip of paper got lost. Anyhow, I never could find it or the place, and +I've never seen him again. He's sure to think I broke my promise, and +did not care for him; he's almost sure to think that, but I never did." + +She raised her head and looked down the long street, where the gloom +seemed to press darkly against the glare of the gas-lights; it was +very cheerless beyond the light, and the girl's face grew darker for a +minute or two. + +"It's no wonder they drink as long as the place is open," she said; +"I'd like to be inside there, where it's light and warm. I wonder why +the shops are all shut, and those places open. That gentleman, he said +to me,— + +"'My girl, you've got sharp eyes of your own; you just look round and +see what makes the most mischief among the people about you, and tell +me when I see you again.' + +"I know what I'd say if he stood here this minute." + +"Did you ever tell father about him?" asked Nelly. + +"Scores and scores of times," she answered, emphatically; "and +sometimes he cries and wishes he knew him, and could make him a promise +like me; and sometimes he curses and calls me an idiot. If he could +only see him, Nelly!" + +They sat silent for a minute or two, Bessie nursing the child as +tenderly as she nursed her doll. At last, the girl touched the doll +with the tip of her finger, and said cheerfully,— + +"Why, wherever did you get this grand plaything from?" + +"It's a lady doll, and it's my very own," answered Nelly, opening her +rags to display it fully; "there was a Christmas-tree at our school, +and this was the very best thing there, and teacher gave it me because +she said I was the best child. Isn't it a beauty, Bessie?" + +"It's wonderful!" said Bessie, in a voice of admiration. + +"I take such care of it," continued Nelly, eagerly, "only I'm afraid of +nursing it when there are children about, for fear they should snatch +it from me, you know." + +As the child spoke, the clocks in the town struck twelve, and a trail +of lingerers crept reluctantly out of each brilliant gin-palace. Bessie +kept Nelly back from springing forward to meet her father, and then +seeing him take his way homewards, she followed at a little distance, +clasping the child's hand warmly in her own. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER II. + +LOCKED OUT. + +THE figure which staggered on before them had once been that of a tall, +well-built man, strong and upright, with a firm tread and a steady +hand. Bessie had known him in his better days; but such as he was +now—feeble and bent, with reddened eyes and shaking hands—Nelly had +never known him otherwise. Rodney loved Nelly with all that was left +to him of a heart. It was perhaps the last link which bound him in +nature to God and his fellow-men. She was his latest-born, and the only +child remaining to him; and though he had lost the sense of all other +affections, this one still glimmered and lived within him. Such as he +was now, he was sure of her love for him, for she could not compare +him with any better self in happier times. The state to which he had +reduced himself was the only one she knew; and the drunkard felt that +there was no reproach mingled with the little child's kisses upon his +parched lips. + +Rodney floundered on through the narrow streets leading homewards, +unconscious that he was followed by the silent and noiseless girls, +whose ill-shod feet made no sound upon the slushy pavement. His +progress was slow and uncertain; but at length he turned down a short +passage, and paused, with labouring breath, at the foot of a flight +of stone steps leading to the upper flat of the building in which he +lived. It was to see him safe up this perilous staircase that Bessie +had come so far out of her own way. A false step here, or a giddy +lurch, might be death to him. They ventured nearer to him between the +dark and narrow walls as he climbed up before them; and as soon as he +reached the landing, upon which several doors opened, their hearts +were at rest, now all danger was over. He groped his way on from door +to door until he gained his own, and then with an unexpected quickness +and steadiness of hand he lifted the latch and passed in, slamming the +door behind him, and turning the key noisily in the lock. Nelly sprang +forward with a sudden cry. + +"Oh! Bessie," she cried, wringing her small hands in distress, +"whatever are I to do? When father's like that, I durstn't let him see +me nor hear me, for mother says maybe he'd kill me. And mother durstn't +stir to open the door or he'd nearly kill her. And it's so cold out +here, and all the neighbours gone to bed, and it 'ud kill me to stay +out of doors all night, wouldn't it, Bessie? Whatever are I to do?" + +It was too dark for Bessie to see the terror upon the child's wan face, +but she could hear it in her voice, and she could feel the little +creature trembling and shivering beside her. + +"Never mind," she said, soothingly, "I'm not afraid of him. He's a kind +man, and he'll open the door for me, I know; or else you shall come +home with me, Nelly, and I'll carry you all the way. Hegh! Mr. Rodney, +sir, please to open the door again." + +She knocked sharply and decisively at the door, and called out in a +shrill voice, which made itself heard through all the din he was making +inside. He was silent for a moment, listening, and Bessie went on in +the same clear tones,— + +"You've locked Nelly out, Mr. Rodney, as has been waiting and watching +ever so long for you; and it's bitter cold to-night, and she's tired to +death. Please unfasten the door and I'll bring her in." + +There was no sound for a minute or so except the hollow and suppressed +cough of the mother, who was struggling to hush the noise she made, +lest it should arouse the drunken fury of her husband. Then Rodney +shouted with an oath that he would not open the door again that night +for any one. + +"It's me, father!" sobbed the child. "Little Nelly, and its snowing out +here. You didn't use to be so bad to me. Please to let me in." + +She was beating now with both hands at the door, and crying aloud with +cold and terror, while her mother's low cough sounded faintly within; +but she dare not rise from her bed and open the door for her little +girl. + +"It'll teach you to come waiting and watching for me," cried Rodney, +savagely; "get off from there, and be quiet, or I'll break every bone +in your body. Now, I've said it!" + +Nelly's hands dropped down, and she crouched upon the door-sill in +silent agony; but Bessie knocked again bravely. + +"Never you mind, Mrs. Rodney," she said, "I'll take Nelly home with me, +and carry her every inch of the road. And, Mr. Rodney, sir, you'll be +as sorry as sorry can be as soon as you come to yourself. Good-night, +now; and don't you fret. Nelly's here, up in my arms, safe and sound; +and I'll take care of her." + +Bessie had lifted the child into her arms, but still lingered in the +hope that the door would open. But it did not; and turning away with +a sorrowful and heavy heart, and with Nelly sobbing herself to sleep +on her bosom, she made her way toilsomely along, under her burden, and +through the thickening snow, to her own poor lodging. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MORNING FEARS. + +WHEN Rodney awoke in the morning, he had a vague remembrance of the +night before, which made him raise his aching head, and look with a +sharp prick of anxiety to see if his little child was in bed beside her +mother. His wife, who had been lying awake all night, had now fallen +into a profound slumber, and her hollow face, with the skin drawn +tightly across it, and with a hectic flush upon her cheeks, was turned +towards him; but Nelly was not there. What was it he had done the night +before? In his dull and clouded mind there was a dawning recollection +of having heard little hands beat against the door, and a piteous voice +call to him to open it. It was quite impossible that the child could be +concealed in the room, for it was very bare of furniture, and there was +no corner in its narrow space where she could hide. + +Through the broken panes of the uncurtained window he could see the +snow lying thickly upon the roofs; and he was himself benumbed by the +biting breath of the frost, which found its way, in rime and fog, +through the crazy casement. Could it by any possibility have happened +that he had driven out his little daughter, Nelly, who did not shrink +from kissing and fondling him yet, drunkard as he was, into the deadly +cold of such a winter's night? He crept quietly across the room, and +unlocked the door, letting in a keener draft of the bitter wind as he +opened it. + +His wife moved restlessly in her sleep, and began to cough a little. +He drew the door behind him, and stood looking down over the railings +which protected the gallery upon which the houses opened, into the +street below. The snow that had fallen during the darkness was already +trodden and sullied by many footsteps; but wherever the northern wind +had blown, it had drifted it into every cranny and crevice, in pure +white streaks. A few boys were snow-balling one another along the +street; but all the house doors, which usually stood open, were closed, +and the neighbours were keeping within. If any of them had been open, +he could have asked carelessly if they knew where his Nelly could be; +but he did not like to knock formally at any one of them. In which of +the houses at hand could he inquire for her, without exposing himself +to the anger and contempt of the inhabitants? + +He could not make up his mind to inquire anywhere. He was afraid of +almost any answer he could get. More than once he had beaten his little +girl; but they had made it up again, he and Nelly, with many tears and +kisses, and he knew she had borne no malice in her heart against him. +But he had never driven her out of her home before—a little creature, +not eight years old, in the wild, wintry night; at midnight too, +when every other shelter would be closed. Where could she be at this +moment? What if she had been frozen to death in some corner, where she +had tried to shield herself from the snow-storm? He wandered along +the street, casting fearful glances down each flight of cellar-steps, +where a child might creep for refuge, until he reached the wider +thoroughfares, and the numerous gin-palaces in them. + +But just now Rodney's heart was too full of his missing child to feel +the temptation strongly. He fumbled mechanically in his pockets for +any odd pence that might be there; but he was thinking too much of +Nelly to have more than a faint, instinctive desire for the stimulus. +He was cold, miserable, and downcast; but he had not as yet sunk so +low that anything except the assurance that his little daughter was +alive and well, could revive him. With bowed head he went on in a blind +search for her, along the snowy streets, looking under archways, and +up covered passages, wherever she might have found a shelter for the +little face and form, which were dearer than all the world to him, +cruel as he had been to them. + +He turned home again at length, worn out and despondent, wishing +himself dead and forgotten by all those whom he had made miserable, and +more than half tempted to make an end of it altogether in the great, +strong river, whose tide would sweep him out to sea. Swept away from +the face of the earth—that would be the best thing for them and for +him! If he only had courage to do it; but his courage was all gone, +had oozed away from him, and left him only the husk of a man, fearful +of his own shadow, except when he was drunk. He scarcely knew whether +he trembled from cold or dread as he loitered homewards; and he could +hardly climb the worn steps which he must ascend to reach his house, +for the throbbing of his heart and the tremor in his limbs. He was +afraid of facing his dying wife, and telling her that he could not find +their last little child, the only one that she would have had to leave +behind her. + +But as he came within sight of the door, he saw that it stood open an +inch or two, and his eye caught the gleam of a handful of fire kindled +in the grate. Before his hand could touch it, the door was quickly but +quietly opened, and Nelly herself stood within, her hand raised to warn +him not to make any noise. + +"Hush!" she whispered. "Mother's asleep still, and you're yourself +again. Bessie said you'd be yourself again, and I needn't be afraid. +Come in and let me warm you, daddy." + +She drew him gently to the broken chair on the hearth, and began to +rub his numbed fingers between her own little hands; while Rodney sunk +helplessly into the seat, and leaned his head upon her small shoulder. + +"Never mind, father," said Nelly, "you didn't mean to do it. Bessie +says you'd never have done it of your own self. It's only the drink +that does it; and I wasn't hurt, daddy; not hurt a bit. Bessie carried +me all the way to her home, like you carried her once, she says. Did +you ever carry Bessie, when you were a strong man, in your own arms, a +long, long way?" + +"Ay! I did," said Rodney, with a heavy sigh, "and now I can scarcely +lift you upon my knee. Do you love poor, old father, Nelly?" + +[Illustration: SHE DREW HIM GENTLY TO THE BROKEN CHAIR.] + +"To be sure I do," said the child, earnestly, "why, when mother's dead, +there 'll be nobody left but me to take care of you, you know. You +mustn't ever turn me out of doors then, or you might hurt yourself, and +there 'd be nobody to see when you're drunk." + +"I'll never get drunk again," cried Rodney, "and I'll never be cruel to +you again, Nelly. Give me a kiss, and let it be a bargain." + +Nelly covered his fevered face with kisses, in all a child's +hopefulness and gladness; and told her mother the good news the moment +she awoke. But neither the wife, nor Rodney himself, dared to believe +he would have strength to keep the promise he had made. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +ONLY A DOLL. + +AS the night drew on, and the time at which he was accustomed to seek +the excitement of the spirit-vaults or beer-shops, a sore conflict +began within Rodney's soul. With the darkness came a cold, thick fog +from the river, which penetrated into the ill-built houses, and wrapped +freezingly about their poorly-clad inmates. What few pence he had saved +from the scanty wages of the previous week, he had spent earlier in the +day in buying a little food for Nelly, and some medicine to lull his +wife's racking cough. There was no light in his house, and the fire +was sparingly fed with tiny lumps of coal or cinder, which gave little +warmth, and no brightness to his hearth. The sick woman had stayed in +bed all day, and had only strength enough to speak to him from time +to time; while Nelly, who was also suffering from cold, and hunger +but half-satisfied, grew dull as the darkness deepened, and rocked +her doll silently to and fro, as she sat on the floor in front of the +fire, where the gleams of red light from the embers fell upon her. Not +far away was the brilliant gin-palace, where the light fell in rainbow +colours on the glittering prisms of the gas pendants, to which his dim +and drunken eyes were so often lifted in stupid admiration. + +A chilly depression hung about Rodney, which by and by gave place to +an intense, unutterable craving for the excitement of drink, which +fastened upon him, and which he felt no power to shake off. As time +dreary minutes dragged by, he pictured to himself the warmth and +comfort that were within a stone's-throw of him. But there was no money +now in his pocket, and nothing that was worth pawning in the house. He +almost repented of having spent the poor sum that had been his in food +and medicine; for Nelly was still hungry, and her mother's cough had +not ceased. That cough irritated him almost to frenzy; and he felt that +he should die, perish that night of cold and misery, if he could not +buy one dram to warm and comfort him. + +He peered anxiously around, in the gloom, upon the few beggarly +possessions remaining to him, and groaned aloud as he confessed to +himself that they were worthless. His wandering glance fell upon Nelly, +curled up sleepily on the hearth, with her doll lying on her arm. That +looked gay and attractive in the red light, its blue dress and scarlet +sash showing up brightly against Nelly's dingy rags. + +Rodney's conscience smote him for a moment as he thought that the toy, +fresh and unsoiled still, might fetch enough, if sold, to satisfy his +more immediate craving this evening—but the idea once in his mind, he +could not banish it. To-morrow he would work, and earn money enough to +buy Nelly another quite as good as this one. If he had not spent his +money for her and her mother, he would not now be driven to taking her +plaything from her; and it was only a toy, nothing necessary to her, as +it was necessary to get warmth, and what was more to him than food. She +would not be any colder or hungrier without her doll; and she would not +mind it much, as it was for him. He did not mean to take it from her +against her will; but she would give it up, he knew. Leaning forward, +he laid his shaking hand upon her cheek. + +"Nelly," he said, in his kindest tones, "Nelly, you've got a pretty +plaything there." + +"Oh, yes!" she answered, opening her eyes wide, and hugging the doll +closer to her. "But it isn't a plaything, father. It's a lady that has +come to live with me." + +"A lady, is it?" said Rodney, laughing. "Why, it's a queer place for a +lady to live in. Would you mind lending her to me for a little while, +Nelly?" + +"What for?" asked Nelly, her eyes growing large with terror, and her +hands fastening more closely around her treasure. + +"No harm," he answered softly, "no harm at all, my little woman. I only +want to show it to a friend of mine that's got a little girl like you +that's fond of dolls. I'll bring it back very soon, all right." + +"Oh! I cannot let her go!" cried Nelly, bursting into tears, and +creeping away from him towards the bed where her mother lay. + +"John," murmured the mother, in feeble and tremulous tones, "let the +child keep her doll. It's the only comfort she's got." + +Rodney sat still for another half-hour, the numbness and depression +gaining upon him every minute. Nelly had sought refuge by her mother's +side, and the dreary room was awfully silent. At last, he could endure +it no longer; and with a hard resolution in his heart, he stirred the +fire till a flickering light played about the bare walls, and then he +strode across to the bedside. + +"Look here, Nelly," he said, in a harsh voice, "I promised that friend +of mine to show his little girl your doll; so you'd better give it up +quietly, or I must take it off you. What are you afraid of? I'm not +going to do you any harm, but have the doll I must. I'll bring it back +again with me, if you'll only lend it me without, any more words." + +"Nelly," said the mother, tenderly, "you must let him take it, my +darling." + +Nelly sat up in bed, rocking herself to and fro in a passion of grief +and dread. Yet her father had promised to bring it back, and she had +still some childish faith in him. The doll lay upon the ragged pillow, +but she could not muster courage enough to give it herself into her +father's hands, and with a bitter sob she pushed it, towards her mother. + +"You give it him," she said. + +For a minute or two, Rodney's wife looked up steadily into his face, +for some sign of relenting, but though his eyes fell, and his head +sank, he still held out his hand for the toy, which she gave to him, +murmuring, "God have mercy upon you!" + +For a second Rodney stood irresolute, but the flickering flame died +out, and darkness hid him from his wife and Nelly. Without speaking +again, he groped his way to the door and passed out into the street. + +[Illustration: THE PAWNBROKER AND THE DOLL.] + +It proved a very paltry, insufficient satisfaction after all. The toy, +handsome as it seemed to him, did not sell for as much as he expected +at the pawn-shop, where they refused altogether to take it in pledge. +He could only drink enough to stupify him for a little while, but not +sufficient to give him the savage courage to go back and meet Nelly +without her doll. What he had taken only served to quicken the stings +of his conscience, which made it a difficult thing to return home at +all. + +The night was even keener than the last when Nelly watched for him at +the door of the gin-palace, yet he dare not go back till she was fast +asleep, and in the morning he could readily pacify her by promising +to buy another doll. He hung about the entrances of the spirit-vaults +with a listless hope that some liberal comrade might offer him a glass; +and as long as there was any chance of it, he loitered in the streets. +But they were closed at last, the brilliant lights extinguished, and +the shutters put up; and Rodney was forced to return home tenfold more +miserable than when he left it. + +His hope that Nelly would be asleep was ill-founded. He could not see +her; but the instant his foot struck against the door-sill, he heard +her eager voice calling to him to bring the doll back to her. His own +voice, when he answered her, was broken by a whimper, and a sob which +he could not control,— + +"Father couldn't bring it home," he answered; "my friend's little girl +wouldn't part with it to-night. But it will come home to-morrow, Nelly." + +"Oh! I know it never will," wailed the child. "I shall never see my +lady any more; never any more. They've stolen her off me; and I shall +never, never have her again." + +He could hear her sobbing far into the night; and after she had cried +herself to sleep, her breath came in long and troubled sighs. He +cursed himself bitterly, vowing a hundred times that Nelly should have +a doll again to-morrow. But when the day came, the daily temptation +came with it; and though he found work, and borrowed a shilling from a +fellow-workman, the money went where his money had gone for many a past +month and year. + +For some days his child was dull and quiet—bearing malice, Rodney +called it, when she gave no response to his fits of fondness. But +neither she nor his wife spoke to him of the lost plaything, and before +long, it had passed away altogether from his weakened memory. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +VIOLETS. + +ALL the neighbours said it was a mystery how the Rodneys lived for the +next three months, for Rodney was away for days together, only coming +home now and then during his sober intervals; but it was no mystery at +all. The wondrous kindness which the poor show to the poor was at work +for them. Mrs. Rodney needed little food, and Nelly was always welcome +to share the stinted meals in any house near at hand. Every day at +dusk Bessie came in, and if she had been lucky in selling her flowers +or fruit in the streets, she did not fail to bring some small, cheap +dainty with her to tempt the sick woman's appetite. So the depth of the +winter passed by; and the spring drew near, with its Easter week of +holiday and gladness. + +It was the day before Good Friday, when Rodney was returning, with +lagging steps and a heavy heart, to his wretched home, after an absence +of several days. Every nerve in his body was jarring, and every limb +ached. He could scarcely climb the narrow and steep staircase; and +when he reached his door, he was obliged to lean against it, breathing +hardly after the exertion. It seemed very silent within, awfully still +and silent. He listened for Nelly's chatter, or her mother's cough, +which had sounded incessantly in his ears before he had left home; +but there was no breath or whisper to be heard. Yet the door yielded +readily to his touch, and with faint and weary feet he crossed the +threshold, to find the room empty. + +It was his first impression that it was empty; but when he looked round +again with his dim, red eyes, whose sight was failing, they fell upon +one awful occupant of the desolate room. Even that one he could not +discern all at once, not till he had crossed the floor and laid his +hand upon the strange object resting upon the old bed—the poor, rough +shell of a coffin which the parish had provided for his wife's burial. +She was not in it yet, but lay beyond it, in its shadow; her white, +fixed face, very hollow and rigid, at rest upon the pillow, and her +wasted hands crossed upon her breast. The neighbours had furnished +their best to dress her for the grave, and a white cap covered her gray +hair; while between her hands, on the heart that would beat no more, +Bessie had laid a bunch of fresh spring violets. + +Rodney sank down on his knees, with his arms stretched over the coffin +towards his dead wife. Some of the deep, hard lines had vanished from +her face, and an expression of rest and peace had settled upon it, +which made her look more like the girl he had loved and married twenty +years ago. How happy they had been then! And how truly he had loved +her! If any man had told him to what a wretched end he would bring her, +he would have asked indignantly, "Am I a dog, that I should do this +thing?" + +The memory of their first years together swept over him like a flood: +their pleasant home, of which she had been so proud; their first-born +child, and their plans and schemes for his future; the respect in which +he had been held by all who knew him; and he had thrown them all away +to indulge a shameful sin! And now she was dead; and even if he had the +power to break through the hateful chain which fettered him body and +soul, he could never make amends to her. He had killed her as surely, +but more slowly and cruelly, than if he had stained his hands with her +blood. God, if not man, would charge him with her murder. + +The twilight came on as he knelt there, and for a few minutes the +white features looked whiter and more ghastly before the darkness hid +them from him. Then the night fell. It seemed more terrible than ever +now—this stillness in the room which was not empty. His mind wandered +in bewilderment; he could not fix his thoughts upon one subject for a +minute together, not even on his wife, who was lying dead within reach +of his hand. His head ached, and his brain was clouded. One dram would +set him right again, and give him the courage to seek his neighbours, +and inquire after Nelly; but he dared not meet them as he was. He +could not bear to meet their accusing eyes, and listen to their rough +reproaches, and hear how his wife had died in want, and neglect, and +desertion. He must get something to drink, or he should go mad. + +There was nothing in the room of any value—he knew that; yet there +was one thing might give him the means of gratifying his quenchless +drouth. He knew a man, serving at the counter of one of the nearest +spirit-vaults, who had a love for flowers; and there was the bunch of +sweet violets withering in the dead hands of his wife. For a minute +or two the miserable drunkard's brain grew steady and clear, and he +shuddered at the thought of thus robbing the dead; but the better +moments passed quickly away. The scent of the flowers brought back to +his troubled memory the lanes and hedgerows where he had rambled with +her, under the showery and sunny skies of April, to gather violets—so +long ago that surely it must have been in some other and happier life, +and he must have been another and far better man. How happy the days +had been! No poverty then; no aching limbs and wandering thoughts. He +had believed in God, and loved his fellow-men. Now there was not a cur +in the streets that was not a happier and nobler creature than himself. + +Still, underneath the surface of these thoughts, his purpose +strengthened steadily to exchange the fresh, sweet flowers for one +draught of the poison which was destroying him—he knew it—body and +soul. But the darkness had grown so dense that he could not, with all +the straining of his be-dimmed eyes, trace the white outline of the +dead face and hands; and his skin crept at the thought of touching, +with his hot hand, the deathly chill of the corpse. The flowers were +there; but how was he to snatch them away from the frigid grasp which +held them without feeling her fingers touch his? But the pangs of his +thirst gathered force from minute to minute, until overpowered by them, +he stretched out his feverish and trembling hands across the coffin in +the darkness, and laid them upon the dead hands of his wife. + +The cold struck through him with an icy chill that he would never +forget, but he would not now fail in his purpose. He loosed the violets +from her fingers, and rushed away from the place, not daring to pause +for an instant till he had reached the gin-palace where he could sell +them. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE PRICE OF A DRAM. + +RODNEY had not left the house many minutes when Bessie Dingle entered +it, shading with her hand a candle which she had borrowed from a +neighbour. She stepped softly across the room, and looked down with +tearful eyes upon her friend's corpse. The hands had been disturbed, +and the flowers were gone. Bessie started back for an instant with +terror, but guessing instinctively what had happened, and whither the +miserable man had gone, without hesitation she drew her shawl over her +head, and ran down the street in the direction he had taken. + +She had to peep into three or four gin-palaces before she found him, +lolling against the counter, and slowly draining the last few drops of +the dram he had bought. There were not many customers yet in the place, +for it was still early in the night; and the man behind the counter +was fastening into his button-hole the bunch of violets, with their +delicate white blossoms, and the broad green leaf behind them. Bessie +did not pause in her hurried steps, and she threw herself half across +the counter, speaking in clear and eager tones. + +"You don't know where those vi'lets come from," she cried; "he's taken +'em out of the hands of his poor dead wife, where I put 'em only this +afternoon, because she loved 'em so, and I thought they'd be buried +with her. I think she knows what he's done, I do. Her face is gone +sadder—ever so—since I saw it this afternoon; for he's stolen the posy +from her, I tell you, and she lying dead!" + +Bessie's voice faltered with her eagerness and grief; and the people +present gathered about her and Rodney, listening with curious and awed +faces; while the purchaser of the flowers laid them down quickly upon +the counter. + +"Dead!" he exclaimed. "Come straight from a dead woman to me!" + +"Ay!" said Bessie. "Straight! And she loving him so to the very last, +and telling me when she could hardly speak, 'Take care of him, take +care of him!' And he goes and robs her of the only thing I could give +her. That's what you make of a man," she continued, more and more +eagerly; "you give him drink till there isn't a brute beast as bad; and +he was a kind man to begin with, I can tell you." + +"It's his own fault, my girl," said the man, in a pacifying tone; "he +comes here of his own accord. We don't force him to come." + +"But you do all you can to 'tice him in," answered Bessie; "if it +wasn't standing here so handy, and bright, and pleasant, he wouldn't +come in. There's something wrong somewhere, or Mr. Rodney 'ud never be +like that, or do such a thing as that, I know. Look at him! And when +I was a little girl, he jumped into the river after me, and saved my +life." + +She pointed towards him as he was trying to slink away through the ring +that encircled them, bowing his head with a terrified and hang-dog +look. The little crowd was beginning to sneer and hiss at him, but +Bessie drew his hand through her own strong, young arm, and faced them +with flashing eyes and a glance of indignation, before which they were +silent. + +"You're just as bad, every one of you," she cried; "you take the bread +out of your children's mouths, and that's as bad as stealin' vi'lets +from your poor, dead wife. It doesn't do her any real harm, but you +starve and pinch, and cheat little children, and it harms them ev'ry +day they live. None of you have any call to throw stones at him." + +She thrust her way through them, and was leading Rodney to the door, +when the man behind the counter called to her to take away the flowers. + +"Do you think I'd take 'em from such a place as this?" she asked, more +vehemently than before. "Could I go and put 'em back into her poor, +dead hands, after he'd bought a glass o' gin with 'em? No, no; keep +'em, and carry 'em home with you, and tell everybody you see what your +customers will do for drink. I'd sooner cut my fingers off than touch +them again." + +The courage her agitation had given her was well-nigh spent now, and +she was glad to get Rodney out of the place. She trembled almost as +much as he did, and the tears rained down her face. She did not try +to speak to him until Rodney began to talk to her in a whimpering and +querulous voice. + +"Hush!" she said. "Hush! Don't go to say you couldn't help it, and she +loving you so to the very last minute of her life. 'If he'd only pray +to God to help him!' she said. And then, just before she was going +away, she said, 'Bessie, you take care of him and Nelly.' And I'm going +to do it, Mr. Rodney. You saved me once, and I'm going to try to save +you now, if God 'll only help me. It shan't be for want of praying to +Him, I promise you. Oh! If you'd only give it up now at once before you +get worse and worse." + +[Illustration: BESSIE TAKES RODNEY FROM THE GIN-PALACE.] + +"I can't be any worse," moaned the drunkard. + +"Not much, may be," said Bessie, frankly; "you went and stole Nelly's +doll for drink, and now you've stole the vi'lets. But you might be +dead, and that's worse. And every day you're only getting nearer it, +and if you go on drinking, you're sure to die pretty soon. Perhaps, if +you go on as you are, you'll be dead in a very little while." + +"I wish I was dead," he groaned. + +"Why!" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of astonishment. "And then you could +never undo the harm you've done to poor little Nelly, that you love so, +I know, spite of all. If you'd only think of Nelly, and think of God—I +don't know much about God, you used to know more than me; but I've a +feeling as if He really does care for us all, every one of us, and you, +when you're drunk even. If you'd only think of Him and little Nelly, +you wouldn't get drunk again, I'm sure." + +"I never will again, Bessie; I never will again," he repeated +fervently. And he continued saying it over and over again, till they +reached the gallery at the top of the staircase. + +Bessie drew him aside as he was about to turn into his own room. + +"No," she said, "you couldn't bear to stay in there alone all night; it +'ud be too much for you. Mrs. Simpson, as is taking care of Nelly 'll +let you sit up by her fire; and I'll go and stay in your house. I'm not +afeard at all. She loved us all so—you, and Nelly, and me. We're going +to bury her in the morning, and I'd like to sit up with her the last +night of all." + +Before long Rodney was seated by his neighbour's fire, in a silent and +very sorrowful mood, with Nelly leaning against him, her arm round his +neck, and her cheek pressed against his. He was quite sober now; and +his spirit was filled with bitter grief, and a sense of intolerable +degradation. He loathed and abhorred himself, cursed his own sin, and +the greed of the people who lived upon it. If the owners of these +places of temptation—members of Christian churches, some of them—could +hear the deep, unutterable curses breathed against them, their souls +would be ready to die within them for their own sin, and the terrible +shame of it. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HALF MEASURES. + +AS soon as Mrs. Rodney was buried, Bessie entered upon her charge of +Rodney and Nelly. She was little more than a child herself in years, +but her life in the streets had given her a keen, shrewd knowledge +of human nature. She set about at once to make Rodney's home more +attractive than it had been during his wife's illness. And every +evening, as soon as her own necessary livelihood was earned, she +hastened to spend all the time she could with him and Nelly. She could +sing and talk well; and Rodney, whose good resolutions were deeper than +usual, was often induced to stay at home, or pay only a brief visit to +some public-house, for the sake of society, accompanied by both Bessie +and Nelly, who waited for him outside the door, now and then sending in +a message, till he was ashamed of keeping them longer. + +There was a little change for the better. Nelly's rags were covered by +a gay pink cotton frock, trimmed with a number of small flounces, which +Bessie picked up cheap at a clothes-shop, and which she washed until +the colour was faded. Rodney often promised to buy his little daughter +the other clothes she so greatly needed; but work was slack, very slack +for unsteady hands like him; and he could earn but little, more than +half of which still went for drink. But he had no violent outbreak, and +often when he was tempted to greater excesses, there rose before his +mind the image of his dead wife, with the violets in her folded hands. +This memory, with Bessie's influence and Nelly's love, had a salutary +effect upon him in part; and in his heart, he had determined to be +altogether a changed and reformed man some day. + +By degrees Rodney recovered confidence in himself and his own power +of moderation. Three months had passed since his wife's death, and he +had never been so drunk as to be incapable. Bessie, with the sanguine +delight of a girl, believed in his reformation, and rejoiced in it +openly; while Nelly praised and fondled him every day. The slavery of +the habit seemed over; he was master of it, or at least he was no more +than a hired servant, who could cast off the yoke at any moment, and be +altogether free. He drank still, drank deeply; but he could come out +of the gin-palace with money in his pocket; a feat impossible a few +months ago. The abject drunkards, who could not tear themselves away +from the neighbourhood of the spirit-vaults, became objects of contempt +and disgust to him. He was pursuing the rational and manly course of +breaking off the habit by slow but sure degrees. + +Yet there was not after all much to be proud of. The poor place at home +was still bare and comfortless, in spite of Bessie's efforts; Nelly was +pining for better food, and he himself was shabby and out-at-elbow. +No person passing him in the street would have distinguished him from +the drunken objects he despised. He was feeble and tremulous still; +his eyes were red and dim, and his head was hot. The only point gained +was that the vice, which still had possession of him, held him with a +somewhat slighter grasp. + +But when the next autumn came, and heavy fogs from the river filled the +town, Bessie caught cold after cold till her spirits failed her, and +she could do little more than call in at Rodney's house upon her way +home to her lodgings, where she longed to lie down to rest. There was +nobody to wile away the listless time at home, and if he stayed longer +than usual at the beer-shop or gin-palace, there was no one waiting for +him outside, for he took care to lock Nelly up safely before he left +her. By little and little the old slavery established itself again in +all its tyranny. He had built his house upon the sand, and the storm +came and beat upon it, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof. + +Night after night Rodney came home late, raving more furiously than +ever, while Nelly crouched in the darkest corner of the little room +in an agony of terror, not daring to stir lest she should draw his +attention to her. Sometimes, as she grew better, Bessie would make +her way through the chilly evenings to the house to exert her old +influence, but she found that it was all gone before this new outbreak. +Once he struck her brutally, and thrust her out into the rain, bidding +her begone, and come back no more; but the faithful girl would not +forsake him and little Nelly. She was hoping against hope. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A SORROWFUL FACT. + +IT was not long before the time came when Rodney was never really +sober. When he could not stagger along the narrow streets to the +spirit-vaults, he sent Nelly, as scores and hundreds of little children +are sent in our Christian country; and he drank himself dead drunk in +the room where his wife had died. At last there was neither shame, nor +sorrow, nor a consciousness of sin in his soul; only the one absorbing, +insatiable craving for drink. A seven-fold possession had taken fast +hold of him, and Bessie lost all hope. + +It was quite dark one evening, and Rodney was lying prostrate, unable +to stir, upon the low bed, with a bottle near him which he had lately +drained, but without power to fumble with his nerveless fingers for any +more pence which might possibly remain in his possession. His eyes were +open, and in a state of drunken lethargy he was watching Nelly going +softly to and fro about the room, casting terrified glances at him from +time to time. He saw her bent almost double under the weight of the +old iron-kettle, which she was lifting with both her little arms on to +the fire; and lying there, powerless and speechless, he saw the thin, +ragged frock, with its torn and faded flounces, catch the flame between +the bars, and kindle rapidly into a blazing light about her. + +An extreme agony came upon him. With all the might of his will, he +struggled to raise himself up to save her; but he could not move. He +had no more power over his own limbs than the mother's corpse would +have had, if it had been lying there. For a moment, his little girl +stretched out her arms to him with a scream for help; and then she +sprang past him to the door, and he heard the street ring and echo with +her cries, and the shrieks of frightened women and children. But still +he could not stir. He lay there like a log, while great drops of terror +and anguish gathered on his face. + +How long it was he did not know—it might have been years of +torment—before the door was flung open, and a woman's face looked in +upon him, white and haggard with fear. + +"She's burned to death!" she cried, "and you'll have to answer for it. +I'm not sorry; I'm glad. She'll be better off now; and I hope they 'll +hang you for it. You'll have to answer for the child's death." + +She drew the door to again sharply, and left him in his miserable and +helpless loneliness. Nelly was dead then; burned to death through his +sin! The intolerable agony of his spirit gave him a little strength, +and he crawled upon his hands and knees to the door, and succeeded in +opening it. Down in the street below the people were talking of it, the +women calling to one another to tell the horrible news; he could hear +many of the words they said, with his name sometimes, and sometimes +Nelly's. Dead! Was it possible that his little Nelly could be dead? Why +did they not bring her home? But then a great shuddering of horror fell +upon him. He could not bear to see her again, his dead child; burned to +death with him lying by, too drunk to save her. + +By and by his limbs gathered more power, and with pain and toil he +raised himself to his feet. The tumult in the streets was subsiding, +and the people were retiring to their houses. Some of them, who lived +on the same flat, kicked at his door with loud and angry curses; but he +had locked it as soon as his fingers could turn the key, and he kept +a silence like the grave. All was quiet after a while, and the clocks +of the town struck eleven. If he could only steal away now, there +would be no one to stop him and ask him what he was about to do, or +whither he was going. The streets were almost deserted, except about +the gin-palaces. He cursed them bitterly as he went by. There was now +only one purpose, one idea in his tormented brain: if his miserable +feet would but carry him to the river, all should soon be ended for +him. Nothing in the world to come could be worse than the hell of his +own sin. The only plea Bessie herself could urge—that he should live to +make amends to Nelly—had no longer an existence. + +It was slow and weary work, creeping, creeping down to the river side. +He saw it long before he reached it, with the lights glimmering across +it from the opposite shore. He was obliged to lean often against the +walls and the lamp-posts to gain breath and power to take a few more +footsteps towards his grave. He was drunk no longer. His mind was +terribly clear. He knew distinctly what had happened, and what was +about to happen to him if his strength would only take him down to the +edge of yonder black water. His conscience raised no voice against his +purpose. There was a certain feeling, almost of satisfaction, that in a +little while the tide would be carrying him out to sea. + +He had almost gained a spot where a single effort would plunge him +into the cooling waters; there were but few persons about, and they +at some distance away, far enough not to hear the splash as he fell +into the basin, when his unsteady foot caught upon the curb-stone, and +he fell forward, dashing his head violently upon the pavement. Before +many minutes had passed, a policeman was conveying him in a cab to the +infirmary; and he was laid, unconscious and delirious, upon a bed in +one of the wards there. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +FOUND DROWNED. + +THREE days after Rodney's disappearance, Bessie was sitting at an +apple-stall in her old place by the landing-stages, when the news ran +along the line of basket-women that the body of a drowned man had just +been brought ashore at one of the wharves near at hand. Bessie's heart +sank within her. There had been no tidings of Rodney since the evening +she had first missed him, though she had sought everywhere for him; and +she recollected too well the threat he had often made of putting an end +to his life. She felt sick and giddy at the mere thought of recognizing +him in this drowned man, yet she left her basket and stall in charge +of a neighbour, and ran in search of the crowd which would be sure to +gather about the ghastly object. + +Bessie pushed through the circle of bystanders, and looked down on the +dripping form lying upon the stones. The face was livid and disfigured, +and the scanty hair was smooth and dark; yet it was like him, so like +him that Bessie fell upon her knees beside him, sobbing passionately. + +"Oh! I know him!" she cried. "He saved me from being drowned once, and +now he's gone and drowned himself. Oh! I wish he could be brought to +life again! Is he quite dead? Are you sure he's quite dead?" + +"He's been in the water two or three days," said one of the lookers-on, +speaking to another who stood near. + +"Oh! Then, it must be him!" sobbed Bessie. "It must be him. It's three +days since little Nelly set herself on fire while he was drunk; and he +went and drowned himself. He used to say he'd do it, and I hindered +him. Why wasn't I there to hinder him again?" + +"Are you his daughter?" asked a policeman. + +"No, I was nothing to him," answered Bessie, "only he saved me from +being drowned when I was a little girl. He ought never to have come to +this; he oughtn't. He was a good man, and as kind as kind could be when +he was himself. Oh! Why wasn't I here, Mr. Rodney, when you came to +drown yourself?" + +"Do you know where his family lives?" asked the policeman again. + +"He hasn't got any family now," said Bessie, with fresh tears; "his +wife died at Easter, and little Nelly is dying in the hospital. They +say they think she'll die to-day, but I'm to go again this evening. +He's got nobody but a mother down in the country thirty miles away; and +as soon as I can walk it, I was going to tell her about Nelly; and now +there 'll be this to tell her as well. And he was such a good man once." + +"You must tell me where you live," said the policeman; "we shall want +you on the inquest, you know." + +"Oh, yes," she answered, "but I haven't got any more to tell. Only I +was very fond of him and Nelly, I was." + +She rose from her knees and wiped her eyes, watching them earnestly as +they carried the corpse into a small public-house near at hand, where +it was not unwelcome, as it brought custom to the bar. The next morning +she gave her evidence at the inquest, and the corpse was buried as that +of John Rodney. Bessie gave up the key of the house, which she had kept +in her possession; and the few poor articles of furniture in it were +sold by the landlord to pay the rent that was due to him. + + +In the meantime, and for several weeks after, Rodney lay on the verge +of death, crazy and delirious with brain-fever. His wretched life hung +upon a thread, and only the marvellous skill and patience of those +about him could have saved it. Nothing was known of him, and when the +delirium was over, his mind and memory were at first too weak for him +to give any account of himself. + +As recollection returned and conscience awoke, he kept silence, +brooding over the terrible history of the past. There were time and +opportunity now, during the long hours, day and night, while he lay +enfeebled, but sober, calling up one by one all the memories of his sad +life. He knew that he should be compelled to live now, and compelled +to enter upon the desolate future, with its sore burden of remorse and +shame. He vowed to himself that if ever he went out into the streets +again, where temptations beset him on every hand, nothing should induce +him to fall again into sin. + +When the time came for him to leave, he was asked where his home was, +and what he intended to do. Rodney's white and sunken face flushed a +little as he answered, "I've no home now," he said. "I had one once as +good as a man could wish for. I earned good wages, and I'd a dear wife +and little children to meet me when I came in from my day's work. But +I threw it all away for drink. All my children are dead—the last that +died was little Nelly. And my poor wife is dead, thank God! I've nobody +in the world belonging to me, save my old mother, and I've broken her +heart. I think I'll go home to her; I know she'll take me in." + +With half-a-crown to pay his fare down to his mother's house in the +country, Rodney left the infirmary, and found himself once more in the +familiar streets, with their common, everyday sounds and sights, and +their gin-palaces thrusting themselves upon his notice at every other +minute of his progress through them. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER X. + +DEEPER STILL. + +WITH bowed head and despair tugging at his heart, Rodney passed through +the noise and business of the streets. He was bent upon seeing over +again the poor place where his wife had died and Nelly been killed. It +was the middle of the morning as he approached it, and as he shrank +from being the object of notice to his former neighbours, he slunk down +the side-alleys and passages, which brought him almost opposite the +building where his home had been. Again he climbed the worn steps and +gave a low knock at his own door, which was quickly answered by a voice +calling, "Come in." + +Yes, his home was gone, quite gone. Here was another family on the same +road to ruin as himself, dwelling within the old walls. Upon the hearth +was a woman sitting on a low stool and nursing a wailing baby, with a +bottle in reach of her hand, while the scent of gin, which made every +nerve in him creep and tingle, filled the place. + +She looked up with blood-shot eyes: and asked him what his business +might be. + +"I'd a friend who lived here once," he said, leaning against the +door-post, for he felt faint and giddy, "John Rodney by name. I suppose +he's gone?" + +"Oh! He's dead," answered the woman, "drowned himself: and a good thing +too. Everybody was glad to hear the news. His little girl set herself +afire, and him lying there, the brute, too drunk to stir; couldn't lift +hand or foot to help her. Mrs. Simpson, as lived next door, said how +she see him crawl away after, down them steps and up the street, and +three days after his body was found in the river." + +"What did you say about the little girl?" he asked, sick at heart. + +"Why! She set herself afire at this very grate, and him lying as it +might be there, and she ran out, all in a flame, down them steps, and +was burned to death. Bless you! I'd lots of folks to see the place, +specially ladies; but they're forgetting it now. I couldn't bear it +at first myself, but I bore up. This 'll help you bear up against +anything." + +She laid her hand on the bottle, smiling drearily, and Rodney shivered +and shuddered throughout all his frame. He knew well what it would do +for him: what a warmth, what a genial glow would run through all his +veins, till some, at least, of this deadly sickness of heart would pass +away. In the hospital he had had wine given to him at stated intervals, +and his burden had always seemed lighter after he drank it. Here, +within the narrow compass of these bare walls was the scene of his most +terrible remembrance; but here also the temptation beset him with awful +and renewed strength. He gazed with greedy eyes at the bottle in the +woman's hand. + +[Illustration: THE VISIT TO THE OLD HOME.] + +"It's all gone," she said, "or I'd have given you a drop." + +Rodney turned away without a word, his brain on fire with the old +hellish craving for drink. Some words were running through his mind +with monotonous repetition,— + + "Cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame." + +Half-way down the narrow street lay a man in the gutter, the butt for +any passer-by to kick at. The children had strewn ashes upon his head +and face, from the dust-heaps which lay before each door, without +disturbing the profound slumber of the drunkard. Rodney stood still and +gazed at him, with a mingled feeling of wonder and envy to think of +what, deep draughts he must have taken, and what utter forgetfulness +had come over him. At length, he passed onwards to the more public +thoroughfares. There was the old frequented gin-palace, with its easily +swinging doors, and its attractive appliances to help the temptation to +conquer him. He could resist no longer; and he did not turn away from +the counter till the whole of the money, given to him to carry him to +his mother's home, was gone. + +It was some hours before Rodney came to himself; being hastened to it +by a shove from the foot of the proprietor, who had allowed him to lie +asleep in a corner of the place during the slack hours of the daytime. +It was time for him now to make room for others who had money to spend. +He gathered himself up and stood on his feet, looking drearily into the +man's face. + +"Where am I to go to?" he asked. "I've spent my last penny with you. +I haven't got a hole to put my head in, nor a farthing in my pocket. +Where am I to go to?" + +"Where you were last night," said the man angrily. + +"I came out of the infirmary this morning," he answered, in a +bewildered tone; "where am I to go to to-night?" + +"To the workhouse then," said the man; "only out of this anyhow." + +He opened the door, and pushed him out. + +Rodney tottered to a doorway, and sat down, gazing at the stream of +people constantly passing by, with a rigid and stony face of despair. +It was still twilight, and a crimson flush was tinging the sky +westward, while a fresh invigorating breeze played about his burning +forehead. + +"Oh God! Oh God!" he cried within himself. "I meant to have kept that +vow. Where can I hide myself from these places that entrap me? Would to +God they'd take me into some madhouse, and put a strait-waistcoat on +me! I am mad, or the devil is in me. If I could but crawl to some place +where they'd lock me up and keep me from it, if I died for thirst! Oh! +If there were only such a place for a madman like me!" + +But there was no place for him, even to shelter him for the night. He +was homeless, without a penny or a friend in the great and busy town. +Or rather, there was one refuge for him—the workhouse. The thought of +going there came dimly to him at first; but by and by he began to see +that it was not merely the only place for him, but it was a place where +he could not be assailed by the sight and smell of the poison which +took away his senses. As long as he could keep to the resolution of +remaining within its walls, he would be preserved from the temptation +of the numberless gin-palaces which met him at every turn. It might be +that after a time, the spell would be broken; the devil's witchcraft +which had cost him so much. + +It was a painful pilgrimage, with his heavy feet and despairing spirit, +to make his way to the workhouse. He could only be admitted to the +casual ward for the night; but the next morning he entered, as an +inmate, this last and only refuge. + +"God help me," he said to himself, "God help me to keep inside these +walls. I daren't trust myself in the streets. If there's any chance for +me, it's here." + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE ONLY REFUGE. + +FOR a season Rodney's mind was clouded and bewildered. It is probable +that if he had been in ordinary health and strength, he could not have +held to his resolution to keep within the walls, which were his only +defence from overpowering temptation. But though his craving often +amounted to intense agony, the weakness which was the result of his +long and dangerous illness made him incapable of much exertion, and +the little labour he was put to completely exhausted his powers. Day +after day passed by, the hours dragging along heavily. In the midst of +the miserable poor who peopled the place, he lived alone, in a kind of +dreary lethargy of body and soul, which rendered him almost unconscious +of what was going on around him. + +Gradually, however, the cloud which drunkenness had brought across his +mind melted away, and his thoughts and memories grew clear. All his +past life lay behind him, mapped out plainly and distinctly; his early +manhood, his strength of muscle and nerve, his marriage, his children, +and last of all his little Nelly,—all sacrificed, all destroyed, all +lost, by his fatal obedience to the sin which had possessed him. It +had come to this, that he who should have been a happy and useful +man, respected and beloved, was a pauper, eating the begrudged bread +of a workhouse table. He had been acting out the story told centuries +ago by the Lord of truth and wisdom. He had left the Father's house +and wandered into a far country, where a sore famine had arisen; and +behold! he was eating the husks which the swine did eat, and no man +gave unto him. That was his condition. + +It was a long time before Rodney went any farther than that. +Broken-hearted and cast down in spirit, he thought he must resign +himself to abide in his miserable condition. An importunate remorse +was gnawing in his conscience, and he said to himself, it was only +just that he should be left without hope, and without God, in a world +where he had brought all his misery upon himself. At this time, little +Nelly was always in his thoughts, the puny, pale little child, puny +and pale through his vice, hungry often, crying often, seldom merry +and light-hearted as other children are, yet always patient and fond +of him, always ready to be glad if he only smiled upon her. Oh! What a +wretch he had been! + +How often, too—his memory was vivid in recalling it—how often, when he +had received any money, had he resolved to hasten home with it that +Nelly's wants might be supplied, and those accursed gin-palaces had +been strewn so thickly in his path that when he had reached home, it +had been penniless, but raging mad with drink, striking the quiet, +patient little creature if she only came in his way! + +But one morning, so early that it was still an hour or two before +the paupers left their pauper beds, a whisper seemed to come to his +troubled conscience, partly, as it were, in a dream, which said to his +awakening ears,— + + "I will arise, and go to my Father." + +He repeated the words over and over again. Had that poor prodigal son, +living amongst swine, and eating of their husks, still a right to call +any good and great being his Father? Still, it was he who had said it, +without hesitation, as it seemed, in saying the word, Father: Christ, +the Son of God, who knew all things, and could make no mistake, was He +who had told the story. The miserable prodigal, who had spent every +penny in riotous living, just as he had done, when he came to himself, +had said, "I will arise, and go to my Father." Was it possible he could +do the same? + +Day after day Rodney pondered this question over in his heart. Long ago +he had known that Jesus Christ had come to seek and to save those who +were lost; and now, if he would only suffer himself to be found by Him, +if he would only receive Christ and His love, He would give, even to +him, the power to become one of the sons of God. Oh! If Christ would +but find him! down there in his deep degradation and despair! Had He +never known a drunkard like him! If He had not when He was a man on +earth, He knew them now, by hundreds and thousands, in the streets of +Christian cities; His pure eyes beheld them in all their vileness, in +their desecrated homes, and in the gin-palaces thickly studding the +streets. + +The day dawn that was breaking upon his soul grew stronger and +stronger, until the shadows fled away. There was neither drink nor the +temptation to drink to make it dim, or to quench it. He could think +now. He could repent, pray, and believe. Reason and faith could work +within him, and there was no subtle foe to steal away his senses. The +hour came at last, when from his inmost soul, drunkard though he had +been, though his wife and little Nelly had perished through his sin, he +could look up to God, and cry, "Father!" + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +TRUE TO A PROMISE. + +IT was not many days after this that Rodney came to the conclusion that +he ought not to stay any longer within the sheltering walls of the +workhouse, to be a burden upon the poor-rates. He was strong enough now +to earn his own living, though he could never regain the vigour he had +thrown away. Weakness of body, and a sorrowful spirit within him, must +be his portion in this life, though his sin was forgiven, and his heart +could call God his Father. He knew also that outside the gates, within +sight of them, a vehement temptation would assail him. Even there, +within the refuge, if the thought of drink came across him, he could +only find help against it in earnest prayer. Would the demon take him +captive again if he ventured out to confront the peril? + +With a trembling heart, and in an agony of prayer, Rodney left his +shelter and found himself once more free and unrestrained in the +streets. He was compelled to pass the places of his temptation, not +once or twice only, but scores of times, with the fumes of the liquors +poisoning the atmosphere about them. He could not help but breathe it, +could not choose but see the gaudy and bright interiors, as his feet +carried him from one fierce assault to another. Sometimes he felt as if +he should be lost if he did not flee back to the shelter he had left, +and end his days there shamefully. But he continued his course down to +the docks, where he hoped he might happen on work to supply his wants +for that day and night, for if he failed, he must return to the casual +ward for a lodging. + +He had earned a few pence, and was about to seek lodgings for the +night, when he saw a number of decent working-men crowding into a +schoolroom, which was well lit up. He stopped one of them to ask what +was going on inside. + +"It's a lecture," he answered, "on temperance, by Mr. Radford. He's +always plenty to say, and says it out like a man. Come in, and hear +him." + +"Ay, I'll come in," said Rodney eagerly, forgetting both his hunger and +fatigue. + +The lecture had just begun, and the speaker, whose face was earnest and +hearty, and who had a pleasant voice, had gained the fixed attention of +his hearers. + +"I'll tell you what a promise once did," he said, towards the close of +his lecture: "We had a meeting of our Band of Hope some years ago, and +I saw amongst the children a rough, barefoot little girl staring about +her with large, eager eyes, as if she could not make out what we were +about. I asked her her name, and told her to come to my house; and I +wrote down my address for her. But I said to her, 'Will you promise me +not to taste anything that will make you drunk till you see me again?' +And she promised me." + +"That's Bessie Dingle!" cried Rodney, half aloud. + +And the lecturer paused for an instant, looking down kindly but gravely +upon his listeners. + +"I expected her to come to me within a day or two, and I should have +persuaded her to join our Band of Hope; but she never came. Nearly +six years were gone, and one day last autumn, when I was on the +landing-stage, I heard some one cry out, 'That's him again!' And a girl +of seventeen or so, a bright, busy girl, came rushing towards me from +an apple-stall. + +"'I've kept my promise, sir!' she cried. 'I've never took a drop to +make me drunk. I said I never would till I see you again.' + +"The girl had been faithful to her promise. Yes, in her place, and +according to her strength, she had kept her promise, as God keeps His." + +Rodney scarcely heard the end of the lecture, so full was his mind of +Bessie, whom he had scarcely thought of, but who was the only friend he +had left in Liverpool. He could not go away without making some inquiry +after her; and when the audience was dispersing, he made his way up to +the lecturer's desk:— + +"Sir," he said, "that girl was Bessie Dingle. Could you tell me where I +could find her this very night?" + +"She left Liverpool last autumn," he answered; "she is gone to live in +the country with an old woman of the name of Rodney." + +"Why! That must be my mother!" exclaimed Rodney, involuntarily. + +"Who are you?" inquired Mr. Radford. + +"My name's John Rodney," he answered; "Bessie knows all about me. Oh, +sir! I was a dreadful drunkard; and one night I saw my little girl—she +was the last of them, and my poor wife was dead as well, thank God!—and +the child set herself on fire, and me lying by so drunk I could not +move; I could not stir a limb no more than if I'd been dead. Oh God! Oh +God! It was a horrible thing." + +Rodney grasped the desk with both hands to keep himself from falling, +and neither he nor the stranger could speak again for some moments. + +"I understood you were drowned," said Mr. Radford at length; "Bessie +believes so; she told me all about it." + +"No," murmured Rodney, "I went off with the intention of putting an end +to myself; but I slipped on the pavement, and they carried me to the +infirmary. I was there a long time, and then I went home, and other +folks had taken to my house, and I'd no place to sit down in, and the +liquor-vaults were the only place open to such as me, and I went in and +got dead drunk again." + +"Again!" repeated Mr. Radford. + +"Ay, again," he said, with a deep groan; "but it was the last time. I +pray God it may be the last time. Then I knew there was no hope for me +as long as I could see or smell drink, and I went into the workhouse to +be out of the way partly, and partly because I'd no other place to go +to. I only came out this morning." + +"And where are you going to now?" asked his new friend. + +"Anywhere," he answered; "but I'm afraid of going where they 'll be +drinking. There seems to be drink everywhere. You don't know what it is +down in the low parts of the town, sir." + +"Yes, I do," said Mr. Radford; "but I'll speak to a friend of mine +here, who will take you to his place for to-night. He was one of the +first to join us here, and he was as great a slave to drink as you ever +were before." + +"Sir," said Rodney, earnestly, "I believe God has forgiven me, and I +believe He will help me. He has helped me this day, or I should never +have been here. If you will let me join myself to you, with a promise, +I'll try to keep it as Bessie kept hers, God helping me." + +"I believe from my heart it would be of great use to you," answered Mr. +Radford, after a moment's thought. "Mark! I do not say it will save +you, but it will help you. You can give it as a reason for not drinking +to your old comrades; but the chief thing will be that it will bring +you into acquaintance with new comrades of your own way of thinking, +who will not tempt you to drink. Remember, too, if you should break it, +that's no reason why you should not promise again; yes, and again and +again, if you fall again and again. Most of us promise God very often +to give up our favourite sin, and when we forget our promise, He does +not forbid us to renew it." + +With trembling fingers, and with deep, unspoken prayer in his heart, +Rodney signed his name to a form by which he pledged himself to abstain +from all intoxicating drinks; and then Mr. Radford committed him to the +care of his friend, who was to take him home for the night. + +"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Mr. Radford. + +"I'll make my way down to my mother's," he answered. "I shall be safer +out of the town, though I ought to be ashamed to go to her in these +rags. But it's no more than I deserve, and she'll be overjoyed to see +me." + +"Go down by train," said Mr. Radford. "I will lend you the fare, and +you can repay me when you are in work again. They all think you are +dead down there." + +"Yes," he answered, smiling sadly, "my mother will say, 'This my son +was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'" + +With these words he went his way; and after a night's rest, more +refreshing than any he had had for years, he started by the earliest +train down into the country. + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +DEAD AND ALIVE AGAIN. + +IT was spring-time again—twelve months since his wife had died. The +hedgerows were sweet with primroses and violets, whose fresh fragrance +was full of sorrowful memories to Rodney. The years, which had changed +him so much, had hardly touched the face of the country. Every step of +the road was familiar and dear to him. Here were the nut-bushes, where +he and his brothers had come nutting in the autumn, when he was a boy; +they were fringed and tasselled with yellow catkins now. On the other +side of the hedge lay the corn-fields, where they had all gone gleaning +together in the harvest, as happy a time as any in the whole year. + +Yonder was the bank where the violets grew thickest, and where he had +been used to seek the first-scented blossom for Ellen, before they were +married. The wooden bridge over the shallow brook, whose water rippled +round pebbles as bright as gems, where he had paddled barefoot when he +was young—barefoot like little Nelly, only it had been sport to him; +the willow-trees dipping down into the stream; the cottage-roofs; but +above all, the thatched roof of his own cottage home; all seemed to +him like another world, compared with the noisy, bustling, tempting +streets of Liverpool, where, in those parts to which he had sunk, there +were none but sordid sights and sounds of misery. Oh! If Nelly had only +lived a young life like his own! + +He reached the garden-gate, and leaned against it, looking down the +long, straight, narrow walk which led to the door. It stood open, and +the sun was shining brightly into the house, lighting up for him the +old, polished oak dresser, with the shelves above it, well filled with +plates and dishes. A lavender and rosemary bush grew close up to the +door-sill, and the bees were humming busily about them. He could hear +also the murmur of voices; the prattle of a child's voice talking gaily +within, out of his sight. + +Once he saw Bessie cross the kitchen to the little pantry, but she +did not glance his way, through the open door. And he still lingered +outside, scarcely knowing how he should make himself known to his +mother, who believed he was dead. + +She came to the door at last—a neat old woman, with a snow-white frill +round her face, looking out through her horn spectacles upon her sunny +garden; and Rodney, leaning over the gate, stretched out his hands +towards her, unable to speak a word, except the low, murmured cry, +"Mother! Mother!" which reached her ears, though they had grown dull of +hearing years ago. + +For a minute or two old Mrs. Rodney stood still, gazing intently at the +motionless figure leaning over her wicket, and then, almost in a voice +of terror, she called out loudly, "Bessie." And in an instant Bessie +was at her side, in the doorway, with her quick, sharp eyes fastened +upon him. + +"Bessie!" cried Rodney, in a louder voice than before, "I was not +drowned, as you thought I was. I've been almost dead in the infirmary, +but didn't die. I've come home now, a changed man, if you and mother +will take me in." + +Would they take him in? They could hardly hasten to the wicket fast +enough, the old woman with her short, unsteady steps, hanging on +to Bessie's arm to prevent her from being the first to welcome her +son. She threw her arms round his neck, and pressed many motherly +kisses upon his haggard face, crying, "My boy! My boy!" While Bessie +clasped his hand in both her own, fondling and kissing it as if it was +impossible to express her great and unexpected gladness. It seemed to +Rodney as if they were making too much of him, and forgiving him too +freely. They ought at least to hang back a little from such a sinner as +he. + +[Illustration: THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.] + +"Mother," he said sadly, "you know all about my poor little Nelly." + +"Yes, yes, my son," she answered, "I know it all; but now you've come +home safe and sound, after we thought you were dead, we cannot remember +all that. Nelly forgot it long ago." + +"Ah!" cried Rodney, with a heavy sigh. + +"Nelly's happier than ever she was in her life," said Bessie, "and +she'll be happier than all now. It was a good change for her to be took +away from those dirty streets, where everybody about her was getting +drunk. She was never so well off as now." + +"I know it," answered Rodney. + +"And though the pain was very bad," continued Bessie, soothingly, +"she's forgotten it all by now. She's never in any pain, and she's +singing as happy as an angel all day long. I wouldn't fret about that +if I was you. We've forgot it; and now you're come home again, though I +was sure and positive you were drowned. I said so before the coroner; +and Mr. Rodney, please, I followed you to the grave." + +Bessie burst into an hysterical fit of laughter and sobbing, which she +could hardly conquer, and she ran back along the garden-path, leaving +Rodney and his mother to follow more slowly. His mother was hanging +fondly on his arm; and before he entered the cottage, he paused and +lifted his old hat from his head. + +"Please God," he said, earnestly, "I'll be a different man to what I've +ever been; and may He at last bring me to where my poor wife and little +Nelly are gone!" + +"Father!" cried a sweet, childish voice inside the cottage, a voice +he had never thought to hear again in this world. "Where is father, +Bessie?" + +How he crossed the threshold, and passed into sight of his child, he +could never tell. But there was Nelly before his very eyes, her wan, +small face unchanged, save for a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks, +and a happy light in her eyes. She was lying on a little couch beneath +the lattice-window, with a doll beside her, and a cup of violets on the +window-sill; peaceful and happy, with a childish patience and sweetness +in her face. Her arms were stretched out to him, and her features began +to quiver with eagerness as he stood awe-stricken and motionless. + +Bessie drew him to her side, and he fell down on his knees with his +gray head upon the pillow, while she laid her arm about his neck. +He had no voice to tell them what he had thought during these last +terrible months, and with what a shock of rapture it came over him to +find that his little Nelly was still living. + +"Come," said Bessie, in a tone of comforting, "don't take on so, +please, Mr. Rodney. We never thought as Nelly would pull through at +all; and she's not in any pain; are you, darling?" + +"No," answered Nelly, pressing her arm closer about him; "are you come +home to stay, daddy?" + +Still Rodney could not speak, for his throat seemed dried up and +choked. The child's voice grew plaintive and wistful. + +"Oh! Father," she said, "you're not going to get drunk any more, and +make Granny, and Bessie, and me all poor and miserable again? You've +come back to be good, aren't you, father?" + +"God help me!" sobbed Rodney. + +"We're all so happy now," continued Nelly pleadingly; "Bessie goes out +to work, and Granny and me are alone all day, and at nights we sing, +and I'm learning to read, and so is Bessie. And if you'll only be good, +it'll be nicer than ever. You didn't mean to hurt me, I know; never, +did you?" + +He could not lift up his head yet, or answer her in any way, except by +his reiterated cry, "God help me!" + +"See, I've got a doll again," said Nelly in a gayer tone, to cheer him; +"it's all my own, and it keeps me company all day and night too. The +doctor says I shall never walk and run about like other children, but I +don't mind that. I don't mind anything, now you're come home, if you'll +only be good, and never get drunk, and make us all poor and ragged +again. I shouldn't like to see poor Granny like mother was. You'll +never do that, will you, father?" + +"Hush, Nelly!" said Bessie, as she saw Rodney shaking with his sobs. +"Hush! Father's come home to work, and get money for you; and we shall +all be happier than ever now. If God wasn't going to help him to be +good, now he's trying himself, He'd have let him be drowned in the +river, and not brought him back here to be a plague to us. There, Mr. +Rodney, please get up, and sit down on this chair beside of little +Nelly." + +Rodney did as she told him, and sat still for a time, holding Nelly's +small hand tightly in his own. Bessie bustled about getting dinner +ready, for it was nearly mid-day, and in their simple country fashion +they took their meals early, and lived in the day-light, from sunrise +till not long after sunset. His mother was sitting opposite to him in +her old three-cornered chair, from time to time wiping the glasses of +her horn spectacles, while her white head trembled a little. He could +scarcely believe that it was not all a dream. + +In the long, sunny afternoon, with the bees humming at the door, and +the scent of lavender and rosemary wafted in upon every breath of the +fresh spring air, Rodney told them all that had happened to him, and +the great change that had passed over him in the workhouse, and his +interview with Mr. Radford the evening before. Then Bessie related to +him the history of their lives. + +"Mr. Rodney," she said, "when little Nelly came flying down them steps +all in a flame, I met her just at the bottom, and I'd a big cloak on as +was lent me by a woman I was friends with, and I wrapped it all round +her, and quenched the fire. + +"Then a woman as was in the crowd shouted, 'Take her to the Children's +Hospital. They 'll do well by her, if she isn't dead.' + +"And I cried out, 'Oh! She is dead!' + +"And then me and some other women carried her to the hospital, and at +first they said she was dead, and then they said she'd be sure to die. +So I had to leave her there, and I came back to tell you, and you was +gone, and Mrs. Simpson she said she'd seen you go creeping off in the +dark, and it 'ud be a good riddance if you never came back. And it was +three days after they found somebody in the river, and I was certain it +was you, and I followed you to the churchyard, me and nobody else at +all. And then I went to the hospital, and they said there was a little +sparkle of hope, but if Nelly lived, she'd never be good for anything. + +"And I said, 'Never you mind. You make her live, and I'll take care of +her after.' + +"And then I came down here, walked every foot of the way, and told Mrs. +Rodney, and she said,— + +"'Bessie, as soon as that dear child is well enough, her and you shall +have a home with me.' + +"So as soon as Nelly could come, we moved down to this place; and it's +been like heaven to us—hasn't it, Nelly?" + +"Yes," answered the child with a quiet smile. + +"But now you're come home as well," continued Bessie, blithely, "it'll +be better than ever. It was bad to think of you being drowned, and +never been the good man you ought to have been. I'm glad you've seen +Mr. Radford; and glad you've made him a promise like me. And oh! I'm +so glad you're going to be good and kind again at last. I always knew +you'd be that, if it hadn't been for drink." + +Long after the others had gone to bed, and were sleeping soundly and +peacefully under the thatched roof, Rodney sat up by the cottage +fire, brooding over his past life and that which lay before him, with +many earnest prayers for light, and strength, and help. One thing was +certain: whatever other people might do who had never fallen captives +to drunkenness, he must never touch the accursed thing again. + +He trembled to think of the snares that would be laid to entrap, and +with what wary and watchful steps he must tread among them. He could +not walk down the village street, or greet any of his former friends, +who had believed him dead, without being invited, urged, and tempted to +drink. He could not seek work where he should meet with fellow-workmen +who would not mock at the pledge he had taken. He could not even sit +among some religious people who would not despise him somewhat for his +weakness. Whatever he did, where-ever he went, in town or country, he +would be forced into contact with drinking customs, which would assail +him from without; while within there would ever be a treacherous foe +ready to betray him. No other sin met with so constant a temptation. + +Yet, on the other hand, here was his little child restored to him from +the dead; here his mother, so long broken-spirited for him, and with so +few days left which he could make happy; and here was Bessie, constant +and faithful, true to the promises she made, his helper and example. +Could he plunge them again into the depths from which God had delivered +them? Rodney opened his mother's old Bible, with the large print which +his own dim eyes needed now, and turning over page after page he found +at last the promise he was searching for, and set an indelible mark +against it to look at in after-years: + + "My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in +weakness." + + +[Illustration] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77483 *** diff --git a/77483-h/77483-h.htm b/77483-h/77483-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c7efe3 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/77483-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2203 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + Nelly's Dark Days, by Hesba Stretton │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 555px; + } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 90%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77483 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>WAITING FOR FATHER.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1><em> Nelly's Dark Days.</em></h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<em>BY THE AUTHOR OF</em><br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +<em>"JESSICA'S FIRST PRAYER," "LITTLE MEG'S CHILDREN,"</em><br> +<em>"ALONE IN LONDON," &c.</em><br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +[<em>Hesba Stretton</em>]<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +<em>One hundred and fifth thousand.</em><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<em>GLASGOW:</em><br> +<em>SCOTTISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE.</em><br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +<em>LONDON: HOULSTON & SONS;</em><br> +<em>AND NATIONAL TEMPERANCE LEAGUE.</em><br> +<br> +<em>EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO.</em><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<em>1891.</em><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +<br> +————<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A STREET CORNER<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +LOCKED OUT<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +MORNING FEARS<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +ONLY A DOLL<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +VIOLETS<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE PRICE OF A DRAM<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +HALF MEASURES<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A SORROWFUL FACT<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +FOUND DROWNED<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +DEEPER STILL<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE ONLY REFUGE<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +TRUE TO A PROMISE<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<a href="#Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +DEAD AND ALIVE AGAIN<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005"></figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>NELLY'S DARK DAYS.</b><br> +<br> +————————<br> +</p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A STREET CORNER.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was nearly twelve o'clock at night on the first Sunday of the New +Year. The churches and chapels had all been closed for some hours; +and none of the better class of shops had been opened during the day. +Business had been set on one side, even by those workmen and labourers +who lived from hand to mouth, and scarcely knew beforehand where the +day's meals were to come from. There had been, as usual, a prevailing +feeling that the day was not a day for work or traffic of any kind; +and what had been done had been, more or less, away from the public +scrutiny. But though midnight was close at hand, the streets in the +lower parts of Liverpool were neither quiet nor dark. Up higher, +farther away from the long line of docks and the troubled stream of +the mighty river, there was silence in the deserted streets where the +wealthier classes had their comfortable homes; but where the poor +dwelt, and wherever there was a corner of a street which afforded a +good situation for traffic, or wherever it was supposed there was an +"immense drinking neighbourhood capable of improvement," * there stood +a gin-palace still open, with its bright gas-lights sparkling down each +dark row of dingy houses with a show of cheery welcome not easy to +resist.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br>* "Capital Spirit Vaults to Let, in an Immense Drinking Neighbourhood, +capable of great improvement by an industrious man and his wife." +(<em>Newspaper Advt.</em>)<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>At one spot where four roads met, each corner house was thus +brilliantly lit up; and the doors, which swung to and fro readily and +noiselessly, were constantly moving, and giving a passing glimpse, but +no more, of what was going on within. The streets were so light here +that a pin lying on the flagged pavement was plainly seen. So were the +rags of a child who stood in the full glare of the most popular of the +gin-palaces, leaning against a lamp-post, with her face turned towards +the often-opening door. It was a small, meagre face, yet pretty, with +a mingled and wistful expression of anxiety and happiness. The anxiety +was visible whenever the door stood ajar; when it was closed, the +happiness came uppermost. The secret of her brief, new-born happiness +was very simple, but very deep to the child. She clasped tenderly, but +carefully, in her thin bare arms a gaily dressed doll, whose finery +contrasted strongly with her own rags. When the door remained closed +for a few minutes, she passed the time in timid, half-fearful caresses +of her shining doll; as soon as it opened she peered, with heedful and +searching eyes, to the farthest corner of the interior.</p> + +<p>"Nelly!" said a clear, shrill voice, which startled the child from an +anxious gaze. "You here at this time! How's poor mother to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Very bad," said the child sadly.</p> + +<p>"And father's in there, I reckon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Nelly, "and oh! I want him to come home so, because mother +says she'd go to sleep maybe if father was home."</p> + +<p>The girl who had spoken to her—a bright, brisk-looking girl—pushed open +the door a little way, and glancing in turned back with a decisive +shake of her head.</p> + +<p>"No use, Nelly," she said; "he won't come as long as he can stay. Well, +I'll nurse you a bit to keep you warm; it's very bitter to-night. I +don't much wonder at father drinking to-night, I don't."</p> + +<p>All day long the wind had been blowing keenly from the north-east, +bringing a fine, piercing sleet with it, and at nightfall the bitter +cold had increased. The girl sat down on a door-step, and drew the +shivering child into her lap, covering her as well as she could with +her own scanty clothing.</p> + +<p>"Father didn't use to get drunk once, did he, Bessie?" asked the child, +plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no!" answered Bessie, in a cheery voice.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about that time," said Nelly, nestling closer to Bessie.</p> + +<p>It was an old story, often told, but neither the girl nor the child +ever grew weary of it.</p> + +<p>"It's ever so many years ago, before you was born," said Bessie; "and +he lived in a beautiful house, with a parlour in front, and a kitchen +behind, and two rooms upstairs, all full of beautiful furniture. +Everybody that I knew called him Mister Rodney then; but I was nothing +but a poor ragged little girl, raggeder than you, Nelly, selling +matches in the streets. And this was how I come to know him. I was +hanging about the basket-women, down by the stages, running errands for +'em, and one day, almost as cold as this, my foot slipped, and down I +fell into the water. Oh! It was so cold; and I seemed to be sinking +down, down, down."</p> + +<p>"And father jumped in after you and fetched you out," interrupted +Nelly, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Ay! He did, though he knew nothing of me, and I was nothing to him, +only a little, dirty match-girl. And then he carried me all the way to +his own house in his arms."</p> + +<p>"He never, never carried me in his arms," cried the child, "they aren't +strong enough now."</p> + +<p>"No; but he was as strong as strong then," continued Bessie, "and he +clipped me so fast I wasn't a bit afraid. That's how I'm never afraid +of him now, Nelly. He's a good man, and kind, and clever, when he's +himself; and I love him, and you love him; don't we?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Nelly, drawing a long breath, "mother says she's going to +heaven soon, where the other children are, and there 'll be nobody left +but me to take care of father. I don't much mind, though I'd rather go +with mother. Will he go on getting drunk always and always?"</p> + +<p>"If he could only see the gentleman I saw!" exclaimed Bessie. "It's six +years ago, and I was a big, grown girl, ready to push in anywhere, and +I see a lot of boys and girls crowding into a great hall, and I pushed +in with them, nobody stopping me. And then they sang a lot of songs, +oh! beautiful songs, and some gentlemen spoke to 'em about drink, and +how they'd grow up good, decent men and women if they'd keep from it. +And I was one of the very last to come away, the place was so nice, and +a gentleman come up to me, and he said,—</p> + +<p>"'My girl, what is your name?'</p> + +<p>"And I said, 'Bessie Dingle, sir.'</p> + +<p>"And he said, 'Can you read?'</p> + +<p>"And I said, 'No, sir.'</p> + +<p>"And he said, 'That's a pity. Do you ever drink what will make you +drunk?'</p> + +<p>"And I was ashamed to say yes, so I answered him nothing.</p> + +<p>"And he said, looking me full in the face with eyes as kind as kind +could be, 'I wish you'd promise me never to taste it till you see me +again.'</p> + +<p>"And I said, 'Yes, I will promise, sir.'"</p> + +<p>"And when did you see him again?" asked Nelly.</p> + +<p>"Never!" she answered. "He wrote down on a bit of paper where he lived, +and said any of the p'leece would show me where it was; and that very +night I fell sick with fever and they took me to the workhouse, and the +slip of paper got lost. Anyhow, I never could find it or the place, and +I've never seen him again. He's sure to think I broke my promise, and +did not care for him; he's almost sure to think that, but I never did."</p> + +<p>She raised her head and looked down the long street, where the gloom +seemed to press darkly against the glare of the gas-lights; it was +very cheerless beyond the light, and the girl's face grew darker for a +minute or two.</p> + +<p>"It's no wonder they drink as long as the place is open," she said; +"I'd like to be inside there, where it's light and warm. I wonder why +the shops are all shut, and those places open. That gentleman, he said +to me,—</p> + +<p>"'My girl, you've got sharp eyes of your own; you just look round and +see what makes the most mischief among the people about you, and tell +me when I see you again.'</p> + +<p>"I know what I'd say if he stood here this minute."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever tell father about him?" asked Nelly.</p> + +<p>"Scores and scores of times," she answered, emphatically; "and +sometimes he cries and wishes he knew him, and could make him a promise +like me; and sometimes he curses and calls me an idiot. If he could +only see him, Nelly!"</p> + +<p>They sat silent for a minute or two, Bessie nursing the child as +tenderly as she nursed her doll. At last, the girl touched the doll +with the tip of her finger, and said cheerfully,—</p> + +<p>"Why, wherever did you get this grand plaything from?"</p> + +<p>"It's a lady doll, and it's my very own," answered Nelly, opening her +rags to display it fully; "there was a Christmas-tree at our school, +and this was the very best thing there, and teacher gave it me because +she said I was the best child. Isn't it a beauty, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful!" said Bessie, in a voice of admiration.</p> + +<p>"I take such care of it," continued Nelly, eagerly, "only I'm afraid of +nursing it when there are children about, for fear they should snatch +it from me, you know."</p> + +<p>As the child spoke, the clocks in the town struck twelve, and a trail +of lingerers crept reluctantly out of each brilliant gin-palace. Bessie +kept Nelly back from springing forward to meet her father, and then +seeing him take his way homewards, she followed at a little distance, +clasping the child's hand warmly in her own.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LOCKED OUT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE figure which staggered on before them had once been that of a tall, +well-built man, strong and upright, with a firm tread and a steady +hand. Bessie had known him in his better days; but such as he was +now—feeble and bent, with reddened eyes and shaking hands—Nelly had +never known him otherwise. Rodney loved Nelly with all that was left +to him of a heart. It was perhaps the last link which bound him in +nature to God and his fellow-men. She was his latest-born, and the only +child remaining to him; and though he had lost the sense of all other +affections, this one still glimmered and lived within him. Such as he +was now, he was sure of her love for him, for she could not compare +him with any better self in happier times. The state to which he had +reduced himself was the only one she knew; and the drunkard felt that +there was no reproach mingled with the little child's kisses upon his +parched lips.</p> + +<p>Rodney floundered on through the narrow streets leading homewards, +unconscious that he was followed by the silent and noiseless girls, +whose ill-shod feet made no sound upon the slushy pavement. His +progress was slow and uncertain; but at length he turned down a short +passage, and paused, with labouring breath, at the foot of a flight +of stone steps leading to the upper flat of the building in which he +lived. It was to see him safe up this perilous staircase that Bessie +had come so far out of her own way. A false step here, or a giddy +lurch, might be death to him. They ventured nearer to him between the +dark and narrow walls as he climbed up before them; and as soon as he +reached the landing, upon which several doors opened, their hearts +were at rest, now all danger was over. He groped his way on from door +to door until he gained his own, and then with an unexpected quickness +and steadiness of hand he lifted the latch and passed in, slamming the +door behind him, and turning the key noisily in the lock. Nelly sprang +forward with a sudden cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Bessie," she cried, wringing her small hands in distress, +"whatever are I to do? When father's like that, I durstn't let him see +me nor hear me, for mother says maybe he'd kill me. And mother durstn't +stir to open the door or he'd nearly kill her. And it's so cold out +here, and all the neighbours gone to bed, and it 'ud kill me to stay +out of doors all night, wouldn't it, Bessie? Whatever are I to do?"</p> + +<p>It was too dark for Bessie to see the terror upon the child's wan face, +but she could hear it in her voice, and she could feel the little +creature trembling and shivering beside her.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," she said, soothingly, "I'm not afraid of him. He's a kind +man, and he'll open the door for me, I know; or else you shall come +home with me, Nelly, and I'll carry you all the way. Hegh! Mr. Rodney, +sir, please to open the door again."</p> + +<p>She knocked sharply and decisively at the door, and called out in a +shrill voice, which made itself heard through all the din he was making +inside. He was silent for a moment, listening, and Bessie went on in +the same clear tones,—</p> + +<p>"You've locked Nelly out, Mr. Rodney, as has been waiting and watching +ever so long for you; and it's bitter cold to-night, and she's tired to +death. Please unfasten the door and I'll bring her in."</p> + +<p>There was no sound for a minute or so except the hollow and suppressed +cough of the mother, who was struggling to hush the noise she made, +lest it should arouse the drunken fury of her husband. Then Rodney +shouted with an oath that he would not open the door again that night +for any one.</p> + +<p>"It's me, father!" sobbed the child. "Little Nelly, and its snowing out +here. You didn't use to be so bad to me. Please to let me in."</p> + +<p>She was beating now with both hands at the door, and crying aloud with +cold and terror, while her mother's low cough sounded faintly within; +but she dare not rise from her bed and open the door for her little +girl.</p> + +<p>"It'll teach you to come waiting and watching for me," cried Rodney, +savagely; "get off from there, and be quiet, or I'll break every bone +in your body. Now, I've said it!"</p> + +<p>Nelly's hands dropped down, and she crouched upon the door-sill in +silent agony; but Bessie knocked again bravely.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, Mrs. Rodney," she said, "I'll take Nelly home with me, +and carry her every inch of the road. And, Mr. Rodney, sir, you'll be +as sorry as sorry can be as soon as you come to yourself. Good-night, +now; and don't you fret. Nelly's here, up in my arms, safe and sound; +and I'll take care of her."</p> + +<p>Bessie had lifted the child into her arms, but still lingered in the +hope that the door would open. But it did not; and turning away with +a sorrowful and heavy heart, and with Nelly sobbing herself to sleep +on her bosom, she made her way toilsomely along, under her burden, and +through the thickening snow, to her own poor lodging.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MORNING FEARS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WHEN Rodney awoke in the morning, he had a vague remembrance of the +night before, which made him raise his aching head, and look with a +sharp prick of anxiety to see if his little child was in bed beside her +mother. His wife, who had been lying awake all night, had now fallen +into a profound slumber, and her hollow face, with the skin drawn +tightly across it, and with a hectic flush upon her cheeks, was turned +towards him; but Nelly was not there. What was it he had done the night +before? In his dull and clouded mind there was a dawning recollection +of having heard little hands beat against the door, and a piteous voice +call to him to open it. It was quite impossible that the child could be +concealed in the room, for it was very bare of furniture, and there was +no corner in its narrow space where she could hide.</p> + +<p>Through the broken panes of the uncurtained window he could see the +snow lying thickly upon the roofs; and he was himself benumbed by the +biting breath of the frost, which found its way, in rime and fog, +through the crazy casement. Could it by any possibility have happened +that he had driven out his little daughter, Nelly, who did not shrink +from kissing and fondling him yet, drunkard as he was, into the deadly +cold of such a winter's night? He crept quietly across the room, and +unlocked the door, letting in a keener draft of the bitter wind as he +opened it.</p> + +<p>His wife moved restlessly in her sleep, and began to cough a little. +He drew the door behind him, and stood looking down over the railings +which protected the gallery upon which the houses opened, into the +street below. The snow that had fallen during the darkness was already +trodden and sullied by many footsteps; but wherever the northern wind +had blown, it had drifted it into every cranny and crevice, in pure +white streaks. A few boys were snow-balling one another along the +street; but all the house doors, which usually stood open, were closed, +and the neighbours were keeping within. If any of them had been open, +he could have asked carelessly if they knew where his Nelly could be; +but he did not like to knock formally at any one of them. In which of +the houses at hand could he inquire for her, without exposing himself +to the anger and contempt of the inhabitants?</p> + +<p>He could not make up his mind to inquire anywhere. He was afraid of +almost any answer he could get. More than once he had beaten his little +girl; but they had made it up again, he and Nelly, with many tears and +kisses, and he knew she had borne no malice in her heart against him. +But he had never driven her out of her home before—a little creature, +not eight years old, in the wild, wintry night; at midnight too, +when every other shelter would be closed. Where could she be at this +moment? What if she had been frozen to death in some corner, where she +had tried to shield herself from the snow-storm? He wandered along +the street, casting fearful glances down each flight of cellar-steps, +where a child might creep for refuge, until he reached the wider +thoroughfares, and the numerous gin-palaces in them.</p> + +<p>But just now Rodney's heart was too full of his missing child to feel +the temptation strongly. He fumbled mechanically in his pockets for +any odd pence that might be there; but he was thinking too much of +Nelly to have more than a faint, instinctive desire for the stimulus. +He was cold, miserable, and downcast; but he had not as yet sunk so +low that anything except the assurance that his little daughter was +alive and well, could revive him. With bowed head he went on in a blind +search for her, along the snowy streets, looking under archways, and +up covered passages, wherever she might have found a shelter for the +little face and form, which were dearer than all the world to him, +cruel as he had been to them.</p> + +<p>He turned home again at length, worn out and despondent, wishing +himself dead and forgotten by all those whom he had made miserable, and +more than half tempted to make an end of it altogether in the great, +strong river, whose tide would sweep him out to sea. Swept away from +the face of the earth—that would be the best thing for them and for +him! If he only had courage to do it; but his courage was all gone, +had oozed away from him, and left him only the husk of a man, fearful +of his own shadow, except when he was drunk. He scarcely knew whether +he trembled from cold or dread as he loitered homewards; and he could +hardly climb the worn steps which he must ascend to reach his house, +for the throbbing of his heart and the tremor in his limbs. He was +afraid of facing his dying wife, and telling her that he could not find +their last little child, the only one that she would have had to leave +behind her.</p> + +<p>But as he came within sight of the door, he saw that it stood open an +inch or two, and his eye caught the gleam of a handful of fire kindled +in the grate. Before his hand could touch it, the door was quickly but +quietly opened, and Nelly herself stood within, her hand raised to warn +him not to make any noise.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she whispered. "Mother's asleep still, and you're yourself +again. Bessie said you'd be yourself again, and I needn't be afraid. +Come in and let me warm you, daddy."</p> + +<p>She drew him gently to the broken chair on the hearth, and began to +rub his numbed fingers between her own little hands; while Rodney sunk +helplessly into the seat, and leaned his head upon her small shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, father," said Nelly, "you didn't mean to do it. Bessie +says you'd never have done it of your own self. It's only the drink +that does it; and I wasn't hurt, daddy; not hurt a bit. Bessie carried +me all the way to her home, like you carried her once, she says. Did +you ever carry Bessie, when you were a strong man, in your own arms, a +long, long way?"</p> + +<p>"Ay! I did," said Rodney, with a heavy sigh, "and now I can scarcely +lift you upon my knee. Do you love poor, old father, Nelly?"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image008" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image008.jpg" alt="image008"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>SHE DREW HIM GENTLY TO THE BROKEN CHAIR.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"To be sure I do," said the child, earnestly, "why, when mother's dead, +there 'll be nobody left but me to take care of you, you know. You +mustn't ever turn me out of doors then, or you might hurt yourself, and +there 'd be nobody to see when you're drunk."</p> + +<p>"I'll never get drunk again," cried Rodney, "and I'll never be cruel to +you again, Nelly. Give me a kiss, and let it be a bargain."</p> + +<p>Nelly covered his fevered face with kisses, in all a child's +hopefulness and gladness; and told her mother the good news the moment +she awoke. But neither the wife, nor Rodney himself, dared to believe +he would have strength to keep the promise he had made.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image009" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image009.jpg" alt="image009"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>ONLY A DOLL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AS the night drew on, and the time at which he was accustomed to seek +the excitement of the spirit-vaults or beer-shops, a sore conflict +began within Rodney's soul. With the darkness came a cold, thick fog +from the river, which penetrated into the ill-built houses, and wrapped +freezingly about their poorly-clad inmates. What few pence he had saved +from the scanty wages of the previous week, he had spent earlier in the +day in buying a little food for Nelly, and some medicine to lull his +wife's racking cough. There was no light in his house, and the fire +was sparingly fed with tiny lumps of coal or cinder, which gave little +warmth, and no brightness to his hearth. The sick woman had stayed in +bed all day, and had only strength enough to speak to him from time +to time; while Nelly, who was also suffering from cold, and hunger +but half-satisfied, grew dull as the darkness deepened, and rocked +her doll silently to and fro, as she sat on the floor in front of the +fire, where the gleams of red light from the embers fell upon her. Not +far away was the brilliant gin-palace, where the light fell in rainbow +colours on the glittering prisms of the gas pendants, to which his dim +and drunken eyes were so often lifted in stupid admiration.</p> + +<p>A chilly depression hung about Rodney, which by and by gave place to +an intense, unutterable craving for the excitement of drink, which +fastened upon him, and which he felt no power to shake off. As time +dreary minutes dragged by, he pictured to himself the warmth and +comfort that were within a stone's-throw of him. But there was no money +now in his pocket, and nothing that was worth pawning in the house. He +almost repented of having spent the poor sum that had been his in food +and medicine; for Nelly was still hungry, and her mother's cough had +not ceased. That cough irritated him almost to frenzy; and he felt that +he should die, perish that night of cold and misery, if he could not +buy one dram to warm and comfort him.</p> + +<p>He peered anxiously around, in the gloom, upon the few beggarly +possessions remaining to him, and groaned aloud as he confessed to +himself that they were worthless. His wandering glance fell upon Nelly, +curled up sleepily on the hearth, with her doll lying on her arm. That +looked gay and attractive in the red light, its blue dress and scarlet +sash showing up brightly against Nelly's dingy rags.</p> + +<p>Rodney's conscience smote him for a moment as he thought that the toy, +fresh and unsoiled still, might fetch enough, if sold, to satisfy his +more immediate craving this evening—but the idea once in his mind, he +could not banish it. To-morrow he would work, and earn money enough to +buy Nelly another quite as good as this one. If he had not spent his +money for her and her mother, he would not now be driven to taking her +plaything from her; and it was only a toy, nothing necessary to her, as +it was necessary to get warmth, and what was more to him than food. She +would not be any colder or hungrier without her doll; and she would not +mind it much, as it was for him. He did not mean to take it from her +against her will; but she would give it up, he knew. Leaning forward, +he laid his shaking hand upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Nelly," he said, in his kindest tones, "Nelly, you've got a pretty +plaything there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" she answered, opening her eyes wide, and hugging the doll +closer to her. "But it isn't a plaything, father. It's a lady that has +come to live with me."</p> + +<p>"A lady, is it?" said Rodney, laughing. "Why, it's a queer place for a +lady to live in. Would you mind lending her to me for a little while, +Nelly?"</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Nelly, her eyes growing large with terror, and her +hands fastening more closely around her treasure.</p> + +<p>"No harm," he answered softly, "no harm at all, my little woman. I only +want to show it to a friend of mine that's got a little girl like you +that's fond of dolls. I'll bring it back very soon, all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I cannot let her go!" cried Nelly, bursting into tears, and +creeping away from him towards the bed where her mother lay.</p> + +<p>"John," murmured the mother, in feeble and tremulous tones, "let the +child keep her doll. It's the only comfort she's got."</p> + +<p>Rodney sat still for another half-hour, the numbness and depression +gaining upon him every minute. Nelly had sought refuge by her mother's +side, and the dreary room was awfully silent. At last, he could endure +it no longer; and with a hard resolution in his heart, he stirred the +fire till a flickering light played about the bare walls, and then he +strode across to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Nelly," he said, in a harsh voice, "I promised that friend +of mine to show his little girl your doll; so you'd better give it up +quietly, or I must take it off you. What are you afraid of? I'm not +going to do you any harm, but have the doll I must. I'll bring it back +again with me, if you'll only lend it me without, any more words."</p> + +<p>"Nelly," said the mother, tenderly, "you must let him take it, my +darling."</p> + +<p>Nelly sat up in bed, rocking herself to and fro in a passion of grief +and dread. Yet her father had promised to bring it back, and she had +still some childish faith in him. The doll lay upon the ragged pillow, +but she could not muster courage enough to give it herself into her +father's hands, and with a bitter sob she pushed it, towards her mother.</p> + +<p>"You give it him," she said.</p> + +<p>For a minute or two, Rodney's wife looked up steadily into his face, +for some sign of relenting, but though his eyes fell, and his head +sank, he still held out his hand for the toy, which she gave to him, +murmuring, "God have mercy upon you!"</p> + +<p>For a second Rodney stood irresolute, but the flickering flame died +out, and darkness hid him from his wife and Nelly. Without speaking +again, he groped his way to the door and passed out into the street.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image010" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image010.jpg" alt="image010"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>THE PAWNBROKER AND THE DOLL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It proved a very paltry, insufficient satisfaction after all. The toy, +handsome as it seemed to him, did not sell for as much as he expected +at the pawn-shop, where they refused altogether to take it in pledge. +He could only drink enough to stupify him for a little while, but not +sufficient to give him the savage courage to go back and meet Nelly +without her doll. What he had taken only served to quicken the stings +of his conscience, which made it a difficult thing to return home at +all.</p> + +<p>The night was even keener than the last when Nelly watched for him at +the door of the gin-palace, yet he dare not go back till she was fast +asleep, and in the morning he could readily pacify her by promising +to buy another doll. He hung about the entrances of the spirit-vaults +with a listless hope that some liberal comrade might offer him a glass; +and as long as there was any chance of it, he loitered in the streets. +But they were closed at last, the brilliant lights extinguished, and +the shutters put up; and Rodney was forced to return home tenfold more +miserable than when he left it.</p> + +<p>His hope that Nelly would be asleep was ill-founded. He could not see +her; but the instant his foot struck against the door-sill, he heard +her eager voice calling to him to bring the doll back to her. His own +voice, when he answered her, was broken by a whimper, and a sob which +he could not control,—</p> + +<p>"Father couldn't bring it home," he answered; "my friend's little girl +wouldn't part with it to-night. But it will come home to-morrow, Nelly."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I know it never will," wailed the child. "I shall never see my +lady any more; never any more. They've stolen her off me; and I shall +never, never have her again."</p> + +<p>He could hear her sobbing far into the night; and after she had cried +herself to sleep, her breath came in long and troubled sighs. He +cursed himself bitterly, vowing a hundred times that Nelly should have +a doll again to-morrow. But when the day came, the daily temptation +came with it; and though he found work, and borrowed a shilling from a +fellow-workman, the money went where his money had gone for many a past +month and year.</p> + +<p>For some days his child was dull and quiet—bearing malice, Rodney +called it, when she gave no response to his fits of fondness. But +neither she nor his wife spoke to him of the lost plaything, and before +long, it had passed away altogether from his weakened memory.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>VIOLETS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ALL the neighbours said it was a mystery how the Rodneys lived for the +next three months, for Rodney was away for days together, only coming +home now and then during his sober intervals; but it was no mystery at +all. The wondrous kindness which the poor show to the poor was at work +for them. Mrs. Rodney needed little food, and Nelly was always welcome +to share the stinted meals in any house near at hand. Every day at +dusk Bessie came in, and if she had been lucky in selling her flowers +or fruit in the streets, she did not fail to bring some small, cheap +dainty with her to tempt the sick woman's appetite. So the depth of the +winter passed by; and the spring drew near, with its Easter week of +holiday and gladness.</p> + +<p>It was the day before Good Friday, when Rodney was returning, with +lagging steps and a heavy heart, to his wretched home, after an absence +of several days. Every nerve in his body was jarring, and every limb +ached. He could scarcely climb the narrow and steep staircase; and +when he reached his door, he was obliged to lean against it, breathing +hardly after the exertion. It seemed very silent within, awfully still +and silent. He listened for Nelly's chatter, or her mother's cough, +which had sounded incessantly in his ears before he had left home; +but there was no breath or whisper to be heard. Yet the door yielded +readily to his touch, and with faint and weary feet he crossed the +threshold, to find the room empty.</p> + +<p>It was his first impression that it was empty; but when he looked round +again with his dim, red eyes, whose sight was failing, they fell upon +one awful occupant of the desolate room. Even that one he could not +discern all at once, not till he had crossed the floor and laid his +hand upon the strange object resting upon the old bed—the poor, rough +shell of a coffin which the parish had provided for his wife's burial. +She was not in it yet, but lay beyond it, in its shadow; her white, +fixed face, very hollow and rigid, at rest upon the pillow, and her +wasted hands crossed upon her breast. The neighbours had furnished +their best to dress her for the grave, and a white cap covered her gray +hair; while between her hands, on the heart that would beat no more, +Bessie had laid a bunch of fresh spring violets.</p> + +<p>Rodney sank down on his knees, with his arms stretched over the coffin +towards his dead wife. Some of the deep, hard lines had vanished from +her face, and an expression of rest and peace had settled upon it, +which made her look more like the girl he had loved and married twenty +years ago. How happy they had been then! And how truly he had loved +her! If any man had told him to what a wretched end he would bring her, +he would have asked indignantly, "Am I a dog, that I should do this +thing?"</p> + +<p>The memory of their first years together swept over him like a flood: +their pleasant home, of which she had been so proud; their first-born +child, and their plans and schemes for his future; the respect in which +he had been held by all who knew him; and he had thrown them all away +to indulge a shameful sin! And now she was dead; and even if he had the +power to break through the hateful chain which fettered him body and +soul, he could never make amends to her. He had killed her as surely, +but more slowly and cruelly, than if he had stained his hands with her +blood. God, if not man, would charge him with her murder.</p> + +<p>The twilight came on as he knelt there, and for a few minutes the +white features looked whiter and more ghastly before the darkness hid +them from him. Then the night fell. It seemed more terrible than ever +now—this stillness in the room which was not empty. His mind wandered +in bewilderment; he could not fix his thoughts upon one subject for a +minute together, not even on his wife, who was lying dead within reach +of his hand. His head ached, and his brain was clouded. One dram would +set him right again, and give him the courage to seek his neighbours, +and inquire after Nelly; but he dared not meet them as he was. He +could not bear to meet their accusing eyes, and listen to their rough +reproaches, and hear how his wife had died in want, and neglect, and +desertion. He must get something to drink, or he should go mad.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the room of any value—he knew that; yet there +was one thing might give him the means of gratifying his quenchless +drouth. He knew a man, serving at the counter of one of the nearest +spirit-vaults, who had a love for flowers; and there was the bunch of +sweet violets withering in the dead hands of his wife. For a minute +or two the miserable drunkard's brain grew steady and clear, and he +shuddered at the thought of thus robbing the dead; but the better +moments passed quickly away. The scent of the flowers brought back to +his troubled memory the lanes and hedgerows where he had rambled with +her, under the showery and sunny skies of April, to gather violets—so +long ago that surely it must have been in some other and happier life, +and he must have been another and far better man. How happy the days +had been! No poverty then; no aching limbs and wandering thoughts. He +had believed in God, and loved his fellow-men. Now there was not a cur +in the streets that was not a happier and nobler creature than himself.</p> + +<p>Still, underneath the surface of these thoughts, his purpose +strengthened steadily to exchange the fresh, sweet flowers for one +draught of the poison which was destroying him—he knew it—body and +soul. But the darkness had grown so dense that he could not, with all +the straining of his be-dimmed eyes, trace the white outline of the +dead face and hands; and his skin crept at the thought of touching, +with his hot hand, the deathly chill of the corpse. The flowers were +there; but how was he to snatch them away from the frigid grasp which +held them without feeling her fingers touch his? But the pangs of his +thirst gathered force from minute to minute, until overpowered by them, +he stretched out his feverish and trembling hands across the coffin in +the darkness, and laid them upon the dead hands of his wife.</p> + +<p>The cold struck through him with an icy chill that he would never +forget, but he would not now fail in his purpose. He loosed the violets +from her fingers, and rushed away from the place, not daring to pause +for an instant till he had reached the gin-palace where he could sell +them.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image011" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image011.jpg" alt="image011"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE PRICE OF A DRAM.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>RODNEY had not left the house many minutes when Bessie Dingle entered +it, shading with her hand a candle which she had borrowed from a +neighbour. She stepped softly across the room, and looked down with +tearful eyes upon her friend's corpse. The hands had been disturbed, +and the flowers were gone. Bessie started back for an instant with +terror, but guessing instinctively what had happened, and whither the +miserable man had gone, without hesitation she drew her shawl over her +head, and ran down the street in the direction he had taken.</p> + +<p>She had to peep into three or four gin-palaces before she found him, +lolling against the counter, and slowly draining the last few drops of +the dram he had bought. There were not many customers yet in the place, +for it was still early in the night; and the man behind the counter +was fastening into his button-hole the bunch of violets, with their +delicate white blossoms, and the broad green leaf behind them. Bessie +did not pause in her hurried steps, and she threw herself half across +the counter, speaking in clear and eager tones.</p> + +<p>"You don't know where those vi'lets come from," she cried; "he's taken +'em out of the hands of his poor dead wife, where I put 'em only this +afternoon, because she loved 'em so, and I thought they'd be buried +with her. I think she knows what he's done, I do. Her face is gone +sadder—ever so—since I saw it this afternoon; for he's stolen the posy +from her, I tell you, and she lying dead!"</p> + +<p>Bessie's voice faltered with her eagerness and grief; and the people +present gathered about her and Rodney, listening with curious and awed +faces; while the purchaser of the flowers laid them down quickly upon +the counter.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" he exclaimed. "Come straight from a dead woman to me!"</p> + +<p>"Ay!" said Bessie. "Straight! And she loving him so to the very last, +and telling me when she could hardly speak, 'Take care of him, take +care of him!' And he goes and robs her of the only thing I could give +her. That's what you make of a man," she continued, more and more +eagerly; "you give him drink till there isn't a brute beast as bad; and +he was a kind man to begin with, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"It's his own fault, my girl," said the man, in a pacifying tone; "he +comes here of his own accord. We don't force him to come."</p> + +<p>"But you do all you can to 'tice him in," answered Bessie; "if it +wasn't standing here so handy, and bright, and pleasant, he wouldn't +come in. There's something wrong somewhere, or Mr. Rodney 'ud never be +like that, or do such a thing as that, I know. Look at him! And when +I was a little girl, he jumped into the river after me, and saved my +life."</p> + +<p>She pointed towards him as he was trying to slink away through the ring +that encircled them, bowing his head with a terrified and hang-dog +look. The little crowd was beginning to sneer and hiss at him, but +Bessie drew his hand through her own strong, young arm, and faced them +with flashing eyes and a glance of indignation, before which they were +silent.</p> + +<p>"You're just as bad, every one of you," she cried; "you take the bread +out of your children's mouths, and that's as bad as stealin' vi'lets +from your poor, dead wife. It doesn't do her any real harm, but you +starve and pinch, and cheat little children, and it harms them ev'ry +day they live. None of you have any call to throw stones at him."</p> + +<p>She thrust her way through them, and was leading Rodney to the door, +when the man behind the counter called to her to take away the flowers.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'd take 'em from such a place as this?" she asked, more +vehemently than before. "Could I go and put 'em back into her poor, +dead hands, after he'd bought a glass o' gin with 'em? No, no; keep +'em, and carry 'em home with you, and tell everybody you see what your +customers will do for drink. I'd sooner cut my fingers off than touch +them again."</p> + +<p>The courage her agitation had given her was well-nigh spent now, and +she was glad to get Rodney out of the place. She trembled almost as +much as he did, and the tears rained down her face. She did not try +to speak to him until Rodney began to talk to her in a whimpering and +querulous voice.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said. "Hush! Don't go to say you couldn't help it, and she +loving you so to the very last minute of her life. 'If he'd only pray +to God to help him!' she said. And then, just before she was going +away, she said, 'Bessie, you take care of him and Nelly.' And I'm going +to do it, Mr. Rodney. You saved me once, and I'm going to try to save +you now, if God 'll only help me. It shan't be for want of praying to +Him, I promise you. Oh! If you'd only give it up now at once before you +get worse and worse."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image012" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image012.jpg" alt="image012"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>BESSIE TAKES RODNEY FROM THE GIN-PALACE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I can't be any worse," moaned the drunkard.</p> + +<p>"Not much, may be," said Bessie, frankly; "you went and stole Nelly's +doll for drink, and now you've stole the vi'lets. But you might be +dead, and that's worse. And every day you're only getting nearer it, +and if you go on drinking, you're sure to die pretty soon. Perhaps, if +you go on as you are, you'll be dead in a very little while."</p> + +<p>"I wish I was dead," he groaned.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of astonishment. "And then you could +never undo the harm you've done to poor little Nelly, that you love so, +I know, spite of all. If you'd only think of Nelly, and think of God—I +don't know much about God, you used to know more than me; but I've a +feeling as if He really does care for us all, every one of us, and you, +when you're drunk even. If you'd only think of Him and little Nelly, +you wouldn't get drunk again, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"I never will again, Bessie; I never will again," he repeated +fervently. And he continued saying it over and over again, till they +reached the gallery at the top of the staircase.</p> + +<p>Bessie drew him aside as he was about to turn into his own room.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "you couldn't bear to stay in there alone all night; it +'ud be too much for you. Mrs. Simpson, as is taking care of Nelly 'll +let you sit up by her fire; and I'll go and stay in your house. I'm not +afeard at all. She loved us all so—you, and Nelly, and me. We're going +to bury her in the morning, and I'd like to sit up with her the last +night of all."</p> + +<p>Before long Rodney was seated by his neighbour's fire, in a silent and +very sorrowful mood, with Nelly leaning against him, her arm round his +neck, and her cheek pressed against his. He was quite sober now; and +his spirit was filled with bitter grief, and a sense of intolerable +degradation. He loathed and abhorred himself, cursed his own sin, and +the greed of the people who lived upon it. If the owners of these +places of temptation—members of Christian churches, some of them—could +hear the deep, unutterable curses breathed against them, their souls +would be ready to die within them for their own sin, and the terrible +shame of it.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>HALF MEASURES.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AS soon as Mrs. Rodney was buried, Bessie entered upon her charge of +Rodney and Nelly. She was little more than a child herself in years, +but her life in the streets had given her a keen, shrewd knowledge +of human nature. She set about at once to make Rodney's home more +attractive than it had been during his wife's illness. And every +evening, as soon as her own necessary livelihood was earned, she +hastened to spend all the time she could with him and Nelly. She could +sing and talk well; and Rodney, whose good resolutions were deeper than +usual, was often induced to stay at home, or pay only a brief visit to +some public-house, for the sake of society, accompanied by both Bessie +and Nelly, who waited for him outside the door, now and then sending in +a message, till he was ashamed of keeping them longer.</p> + +<p>There was a little change for the better. Nelly's rags were covered by +a gay pink cotton frock, trimmed with a number of small flounces, which +Bessie picked up cheap at a clothes-shop, and which she washed until +the colour was faded. Rodney often promised to buy his little daughter +the other clothes she so greatly needed; but work was slack, very slack +for unsteady hands like him; and he could earn but little, more than +half of which still went for drink. But he had no violent outbreak, and +often when he was tempted to greater excesses, there rose before his +mind the image of his dead wife, with the violets in her folded hands. +This memory, with Bessie's influence and Nelly's love, had a salutary +effect upon him in part; and in his heart, he had determined to be +altogether a changed and reformed man some day.</p> + +<p>By degrees Rodney recovered confidence in himself and his own power +of moderation. Three months had passed since his wife's death, and he +had never been so drunk as to be incapable. Bessie, with the sanguine +delight of a girl, believed in his reformation, and rejoiced in it +openly; while Nelly praised and fondled him every day. The slavery of +the habit seemed over; he was master of it, or at least he was no more +than a hired servant, who could cast off the yoke at any moment, and be +altogether free. He drank still, drank deeply; but he could come out +of the gin-palace with money in his pocket; a feat impossible a few +months ago. The abject drunkards, who could not tear themselves away +from the neighbourhood of the spirit-vaults, became objects of contempt +and disgust to him. He was pursuing the rational and manly course of +breaking off the habit by slow but sure degrees.</p> + +<p>Yet there was not after all much to be proud of. The poor place at home +was still bare and comfortless, in spite of Bessie's efforts; Nelly was +pining for better food, and he himself was shabby and out-at-elbow. +No person passing him in the street would have distinguished him from +the drunken objects he despised. He was feeble and tremulous still; +his eyes were red and dim, and his head was hot. The only point gained +was that the vice, which still had possession of him, held him with a +somewhat slighter grasp.</p> + +<p>But when the next autumn came, and heavy fogs from the river filled the +town, Bessie caught cold after cold till her spirits failed her, and +she could do little more than call in at Rodney's house upon her way +home to her lodgings, where she longed to lie down to rest. There was +nobody to wile away the listless time at home, and if he stayed longer +than usual at the beer-shop or gin-palace, there was no one waiting for +him outside, for he took care to lock Nelly up safely before he left +her. By little and little the old slavery established itself again in +all its tyranny. He had built his house upon the sand, and the storm +came and beat upon it, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof.</p> + +<p>Night after night Rodney came home late, raving more furiously than +ever, while Nelly crouched in the darkest corner of the little room +in an agony of terror, not daring to stir lest she should draw his +attention to her. Sometimes, as she grew better, Bessie would make +her way through the chilly evenings to the house to exert her old +influence, but she found that it was all gone before this new outbreak. +Once he struck her brutally, and thrust her out into the rain, bidding +her begone, and come back no more; but the faithful girl would not +forsake him and little Nelly. She was hoping against hope.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image013" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image013.jpg" alt="image013"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A SORROWFUL FACT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was not long before the time came when Rodney was never really +sober. When he could not stagger along the narrow streets to the +spirit-vaults, he sent Nelly, as scores and hundreds of little children +are sent in our Christian country; and he drank himself dead drunk in +the room where his wife had died. At last there was neither shame, nor +sorrow, nor a consciousness of sin in his soul; only the one absorbing, +insatiable craving for drink. A seven-fold possession had taken fast +hold of him, and Bessie lost all hope.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark one evening, and Rodney was lying prostrate, unable +to stir, upon the low bed, with a bottle near him which he had lately +drained, but without power to fumble with his nerveless fingers for any +more pence which might possibly remain in his possession. His eyes were +open, and in a state of drunken lethargy he was watching Nelly going +softly to and fro about the room, casting terrified glances at him from +time to time. He saw her bent almost double under the weight of the +old iron-kettle, which she was lifting with both her little arms on to +the fire; and lying there, powerless and speechless, he saw the thin, +ragged frock, with its torn and faded flounces, catch the flame between +the bars, and kindle rapidly into a blazing light about her.</p> + +<p>An extreme agony came upon him. With all the might of his will, he +struggled to raise himself up to save her; but he could not move. He +had no more power over his own limbs than the mother's corpse would +have had, if it had been lying there. For a moment, his little girl +stretched out her arms to him with a scream for help; and then she +sprang past him to the door, and he heard the street ring and echo with +her cries, and the shrieks of frightened women and children. But still +he could not stir. He lay there like a log, while great drops of terror +and anguish gathered on his face.</p> + +<p>How long it was he did not know—it might have been years of +torment—before the door was flung open, and a woman's face looked in +upon him, white and haggard with fear.</p> + +<p>"She's burned to death!" she cried, "and you'll have to answer for it. +I'm not sorry; I'm glad. She'll be better off now; and I hope they 'll +hang you for it. You'll have to answer for the child's death."</p> + +<p>She drew the door to again sharply, and left him in his miserable and +helpless loneliness. Nelly was dead then; burned to death through his +sin! The intolerable agony of his spirit gave him a little strength, +and he crawled upon his hands and knees to the door, and succeeded in +opening it. Down in the street below the people were talking of it, the +women calling to one another to tell the horrible news; he could hear +many of the words they said, with his name sometimes, and sometimes +Nelly's. Dead! Was it possible that his little Nelly could be dead? Why +did they not bring her home? But then a great shuddering of horror fell +upon him. He could not bear to see her again, his dead child; burned to +death with him lying by, too drunk to save her.</p> + +<p>By and by his limbs gathered more power, and with pain and toil he +raised himself to his feet. The tumult in the streets was subsiding, +and the people were retiring to their houses. Some of them, who lived +on the same flat, kicked at his door with loud and angry curses; but he +had locked it as soon as his fingers could turn the key, and he kept +a silence like the grave. All was quiet after a while, and the clocks +of the town struck eleven. If he could only steal away now, there +would be no one to stop him and ask him what he was about to do, or +whither he was going. The streets were almost deserted, except about +the gin-palaces. He cursed them bitterly as he went by. There was now +only one purpose, one idea in his tormented brain: if his miserable +feet would but carry him to the river, all should soon be ended for +him. Nothing in the world to come could be worse than the hell of his +own sin. The only plea Bessie herself could urge—that he should live to +make amends to Nelly—had no longer an existence.</p> + +<p>It was slow and weary work, creeping, creeping down to the river side. +He saw it long before he reached it, with the lights glimmering across +it from the opposite shore. He was obliged to lean often against the +walls and the lamp-posts to gain breath and power to take a few more +footsteps towards his grave. He was drunk no longer. His mind was +terribly clear. He knew distinctly what had happened, and what was +about to happen to him if his strength would only take him down to the +edge of yonder black water. His conscience raised no voice against his +purpose. There was a certain feeling, almost of satisfaction, that in a +little while the tide would be carrying him out to sea.</p> + +<p>He had almost gained a spot where a single effort would plunge him +into the cooling waters; there were but few persons about, and they +at some distance away, far enough not to hear the splash as he fell +into the basin, when his unsteady foot caught upon the curb-stone, and +he fell forward, dashing his head violently upon the pavement. Before +many minutes had passed, a policeman was conveying him in a cab to the +infirmary; and he was laid, unconscious and delirious, upon a bed in +one of the wards there.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image014" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image014.jpg" alt="image014"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>FOUND DROWNED.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THREE days after Rodney's disappearance, Bessie was sitting at an +apple-stall in her old place by the landing-stages, when the news ran +along the line of basket-women that the body of a drowned man had just +been brought ashore at one of the wharves near at hand. Bessie's heart +sank within her. There had been no tidings of Rodney since the evening +she had first missed him, though she had sought everywhere for him; and +she recollected too well the threat he had often made of putting an end +to his life. She felt sick and giddy at the mere thought of recognizing +him in this drowned man, yet she left her basket and stall in charge +of a neighbour, and ran in search of the crowd which would be sure to +gather about the ghastly object.</p> + +<p>Bessie pushed through the circle of bystanders, and looked down on the +dripping form lying upon the stones. The face was livid and disfigured, +and the scanty hair was smooth and dark; yet it was like him, so like +him that Bessie fell upon her knees beside him, sobbing passionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I know him!" she cried. "He saved me from being drowned once, and +now he's gone and drowned himself. Oh! I wish he could be brought to +life again! Is he quite dead? Are you sure he's quite dead?"</p> + +<p>"He's been in the water two or three days," said one of the lookers-on, +speaking to another who stood near.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Then, it must be him!" sobbed Bessie. "It must be him. It's three +days since little Nelly set herself on fire while he was drunk; and he +went and drowned himself. He used to say he'd do it, and I hindered +him. Why wasn't I there to hinder him again?"</p> + +<p>"Are you his daughter?" asked a policeman.</p> + +<p>"No, I was nothing to him," answered Bessie, "only he saved me from +being drowned when I was a little girl. He ought never to have come to +this; he oughtn't. He was a good man, and as kind as kind could be when +he was himself. Oh! Why wasn't I here, Mr. Rodney, when you came to +drown yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where his family lives?" asked the policeman again.</p> + +<p>"He hasn't got any family now," said Bessie, with fresh tears; "his +wife died at Easter, and little Nelly is dying in the hospital. They +say they think she'll die to-day, but I'm to go again this evening. +He's got nobody but a mother down in the country thirty miles away; and +as soon as I can walk it, I was going to tell her about Nelly; and now +there 'll be this to tell her as well. And he was such a good man once."</p> + +<p>"You must tell me where you live," said the policeman; "we shall want +you on the inquest, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she answered, "but I haven't got any more to tell. Only I +was very fond of him and Nelly, I was."</p> + +<p>She rose from her knees and wiped her eyes, watching them earnestly as +they carried the corpse into a small public-house near at hand, where +it was not unwelcome, as it brought custom to the bar. The next morning +she gave her evidence at the inquest, and the corpse was buried as that +of John Rodney. Bessie gave up the key of the house, which she had kept +in her possession; and the few poor articles of furniture in it were +sold by the landlord to pay the rent that was due to him.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>In the meantime, and for several weeks after, Rodney lay on the verge +of death, crazy and delirious with brain-fever. His wretched life hung +upon a thread, and only the marvellous skill and patience of those +about him could have saved it. Nothing was known of him, and when the +delirium was over, his mind and memory were at first too weak for him +to give any account of himself.</p> + +<p>As recollection returned and conscience awoke, he kept silence, +brooding over the terrible history of the past. There were time and +opportunity now, during the long hours, day and night, while he lay +enfeebled, but sober, calling up one by one all the memories of his sad +life. He knew that he should be compelled to live now, and compelled +to enter upon the desolate future, with its sore burden of remorse and +shame. He vowed to himself that if ever he went out into the streets +again, where temptations beset him on every hand, nothing should induce +him to fall again into sin.</p> + +<p>When the time came for him to leave, he was asked where his home was, +and what he intended to do. Rodney's white and sunken face flushed a +little as he answered, "I've no home now," he said. "I had one once as +good as a man could wish for. I earned good wages, and I'd a dear wife +and little children to meet me when I came in from my day's work. But +I threw it all away for drink. All my children are dead—the last that +died was little Nelly. And my poor wife is dead, thank God! I've nobody +in the world belonging to me, save my old mother, and I've broken her +heart. I think I'll go home to her; I know she'll take me in."</p> + +<p>With half-a-crown to pay his fare down to his mother's house in the +country, Rodney left the infirmary, and found himself once more in the +familiar streets, with their common, everyday sounds and sights, and +their gin-palaces thrusting themselves upon his notice at every other +minute of his progress through them.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image015" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image015.jpg" alt="image015"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>DEEPER STILL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WITH bowed head and despair tugging at his heart, Rodney passed through +the noise and business of the streets. He was bent upon seeing over +again the poor place where his wife had died and Nelly been killed. It +was the middle of the morning as he approached it, and as he shrank +from being the object of notice to his former neighbours, he slunk down +the side-alleys and passages, which brought him almost opposite the +building where his home had been. Again he climbed the worn steps and +gave a low knock at his own door, which was quickly answered by a voice +calling, "Come in."</p> + +<p>Yes, his home was gone, quite gone. Here was another family on the same +road to ruin as himself, dwelling within the old walls. Upon the hearth +was a woman sitting on a low stool and nursing a wailing baby, with a +bottle in reach of her hand, while the scent of gin, which made every +nerve in him creep and tingle, filled the place.</p> + +<p>She looked up with blood-shot eyes: and asked him what his business +might be.</p> + +<p>"I'd a friend who lived here once," he said, leaning against the +door-post, for he felt faint and giddy, "John Rodney by name. I suppose +he's gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! He's dead," answered the woman, "drowned himself: and a good thing +too. Everybody was glad to hear the news. His little girl set herself +afire, and him lying there, the brute, too drunk to stir; couldn't lift +hand or foot to help her. Mrs. Simpson, as lived next door, said how +she see him crawl away after, down them steps and up the street, and +three days after his body was found in the river."</p> + +<p>"What did you say about the little girl?" he asked, sick at heart.</p> + +<p>"Why! She set herself afire at this very grate, and him lying as it +might be there, and she ran out, all in a flame, down them steps, and +was burned to death. Bless you! I'd lots of folks to see the place, +specially ladies; but they're forgetting it now. I couldn't bear it +at first myself, but I bore up. This 'll help you bear up against +anything."</p> + +<p>She laid her hand on the bottle, smiling drearily, and Rodney shivered +and shuddered throughout all his frame. He knew well what it would do +for him: what a warmth, what a genial glow would run through all his +veins, till some, at least, of this deadly sickness of heart would pass +away. In the hospital he had had wine given to him at stated intervals, +and his burden had always seemed lighter after he drank it. Here, +within the narrow compass of these bare walls was the scene of his most +terrible remembrance; but here also the temptation beset him with awful +and renewed strength. He gazed with greedy eyes at the bottle in the +woman's hand.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image016" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image016.jpg" alt="image016"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>THE VISIT TO THE OLD HOME.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"It's all gone," she said, "or I'd have given you a drop."</p> + +<p>Rodney turned away without a word, his brain on fire with the old +hellish craving for drink. Some words were running through his mind +with monotonous repetition,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Half-way down the narrow street lay a man in the gutter, the butt for +any passer-by to kick at. The children had strewn ashes upon his head +and face, from the dust-heaps which lay before each door, without +disturbing the profound slumber of the drunkard. Rodney stood still and +gazed at him, with a mingled feeling of wonder and envy to think of +what, deep draughts he must have taken, and what utter forgetfulness +had come over him. At length, he passed onwards to the more public +thoroughfares. There was the old frequented gin-palace, with its easily +swinging doors, and its attractive appliances to help the temptation to +conquer him. He could resist no longer; and he did not turn away from +the counter till the whole of the money, given to him to carry him to +his mother's home, was gone.</p> + +<p>It was some hours before Rodney came to himself; being hastened to it +by a shove from the foot of the proprietor, who had allowed him to lie +asleep in a corner of the place during the slack hours of the daytime. +It was time for him now to make room for others who had money to spend. +He gathered himself up and stood on his feet, looking drearily into the +man's face.</p> + +<p>"Where am I to go to?" he asked. "I've spent my last penny with you. +I haven't got a hole to put my head in, nor a farthing in my pocket. +Where am I to go to?"</p> + +<p>"Where you were last night," said the man angrily.</p> + +<p>"I came out of the infirmary this morning," he answered, in a +bewildered tone; "where am I to go to to-night?"</p> + +<p>"To the workhouse then," said the man; "only out of this anyhow."</p> + +<p>He opened the door, and pushed him out.</p> + +<p>Rodney tottered to a doorway, and sat down, gazing at the stream of +people constantly passing by, with a rigid and stony face of despair. +It was still twilight, and a crimson flush was tinging the sky +westward, while a fresh invigorating breeze played about his burning +forehead.</p> + +<p>"Oh God! Oh God!" he cried within himself. "I meant to have kept that +vow. Where can I hide myself from these places that entrap me? Would to +God they'd take me into some madhouse, and put a strait-waistcoat on +me! I am mad, or the devil is in me. If I could but crawl to some place +where they'd lock me up and keep me from it, if I died for thirst! Oh! +If there were only such a place for a madman like me!"</p> + +<p>But there was no place for him, even to shelter him for the night. He +was homeless, without a penny or a friend in the great and busy town. +Or rather, there was one refuge for him—the workhouse. The thought of +going there came dimly to him at first; but by and by he began to see +that it was not merely the only place for him, but it was a place where +he could not be assailed by the sight and smell of the poison which +took away his senses. As long as he could keep to the resolution of +remaining within its walls, he would be preserved from the temptation +of the numberless gin-palaces which met him at every turn. It might be +that after a time, the spell would be broken; the devil's witchcraft +which had cost him so much.</p> + +<p>It was a painful pilgrimage, with his heavy feet and despairing spirit, +to make his way to the workhouse. He could only be admitted to the +casual ward for the night; but the next morning he entered, as an +inmate, this last and only refuge.</p> + +<p>"God help me," he said to himself, "God help me to keep inside these +walls. I daren't trust myself in the streets. If there's any chance for +me, it's here."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image017" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image017.jpg" alt="image017"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE ONLY REFUGE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR a season Rodney's mind was clouded and bewildered. It is probable +that if he had been in ordinary health and strength, he could not have +held to his resolution to keep within the walls, which were his only +defence from overpowering temptation. But though his craving often +amounted to intense agony, the weakness which was the result of his +long and dangerous illness made him incapable of much exertion, and +the little labour he was put to completely exhausted his powers. Day +after day passed by, the hours dragging along heavily. In the midst of +the miserable poor who peopled the place, he lived alone, in a kind of +dreary lethargy of body and soul, which rendered him almost unconscious +of what was going on around him.</p> + +<p>Gradually, however, the cloud which drunkenness had brought across his +mind melted away, and his thoughts and memories grew clear. All his +past life lay behind him, mapped out plainly and distinctly; his early +manhood, his strength of muscle and nerve, his marriage, his children, +and last of all his little Nelly,—all sacrificed, all destroyed, all +lost, by his fatal obedience to the sin which had possessed him. It +had come to this, that he who should have been a happy and useful +man, respected and beloved, was a pauper, eating the begrudged bread +of a workhouse table. He had been acting out the story told centuries +ago by the Lord of truth and wisdom. He had left the Father's house +and wandered into a far country, where a sore famine had arisen; and +behold! he was eating the husks which the swine did eat, and no man +gave unto him. That was his condition.</p> + +<p>It was a long time before Rodney went any farther than that. +Broken-hearted and cast down in spirit, he thought he must resign +himself to abide in his miserable condition. An importunate remorse +was gnawing in his conscience, and he said to himself, it was only +just that he should be left without hope, and without God, in a world +where he had brought all his misery upon himself. At this time, little +Nelly was always in his thoughts, the puny, pale little child, puny +and pale through his vice, hungry often, crying often, seldom merry +and light-hearted as other children are, yet always patient and fond +of him, always ready to be glad if he only smiled upon her. Oh! What a +wretch he had been!</p> + +<p>How often, too—his memory was vivid in recalling it—how often, when he +had received any money, had he resolved to hasten home with it that +Nelly's wants might be supplied, and those accursed gin-palaces had +been strewn so thickly in his path that when he had reached home, it +had been penniless, but raging mad with drink, striking the quiet, +patient little creature if she only came in his way!</p> + +<p>But one morning, so early that it was still an hour or two before +the paupers left their pauper beds, a whisper seemed to come to his +troubled conscience, partly, as it were, in a dream, which said to his +awakening ears,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I will arise, and go to my Father."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>He repeated the words over and over again. Had that poor prodigal son, +living amongst swine, and eating of their husks, still a right to call +any good and great being his Father? Still, it was he who had said it, +without hesitation, as it seemed, in saying the word, Father: Christ, +the Son of God, who knew all things, and could make no mistake, was He +who had told the story. The miserable prodigal, who had spent every +penny in riotous living, just as he had done, when he came to himself, +had said, "I will arise, and go to my Father." Was it possible he could +do the same?</p> + +<p>Day after day Rodney pondered this question over in his heart. Long ago +he had known that Jesus Christ had come to seek and to save those who +were lost; and now, if he would only suffer himself to be found by Him, +if he would only receive Christ and His love, He would give, even to +him, the power to become one of the sons of God. Oh! If Christ would +but find him! down there in his deep degradation and despair! Had He +never known a drunkard like him! If He had not when He was a man on +earth, He knew them now, by hundreds and thousands, in the streets of +Christian cities; His pure eyes beheld them in all their vileness, in +their desecrated homes, and in the gin-palaces thickly studding the +streets.</p> + +<p>The day dawn that was breaking upon his soul grew stronger and +stronger, until the shadows fled away. There was neither drink nor the +temptation to drink to make it dim, or to quench it. He could think +now. He could repent, pray, and believe. Reason and faith could work +within him, and there was no subtle foe to steal away his senses. The +hour came at last, when from his inmost soul, drunkard though he had +been, though his wife and little Nelly had perished through his sin, he +could look up to God, and cry, "Father!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>TRUE TO A PROMISE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was not many days after this that Rodney came to the conclusion that +he ought not to stay any longer within the sheltering walls of the +workhouse, to be a burden upon the poor-rates. He was strong enough now +to earn his own living, though he could never regain the vigour he had +thrown away. Weakness of body, and a sorrowful spirit within him, must +be his portion in this life, though his sin was forgiven, and his heart +could call God his Father. He knew also that outside the gates, within +sight of them, a vehement temptation would assail him. Even there, +within the refuge, if the thought of drink came across him, he could +only find help against it in earnest prayer. Would the demon take him +captive again if he ventured out to confront the peril?</p> + +<p>With a trembling heart, and in an agony of prayer, Rodney left his +shelter and found himself once more free and unrestrained in the +streets. He was compelled to pass the places of his temptation, not +once or twice only, but scores of times, with the fumes of the liquors +poisoning the atmosphere about them. He could not help but breathe it, +could not choose but see the gaudy and bright interiors, as his feet +carried him from one fierce assault to another. Sometimes he felt as if +he should be lost if he did not flee back to the shelter he had left, +and end his days there shamefully. But he continued his course down to +the docks, where he hoped he might happen on work to supply his wants +for that day and night, for if he failed, he must return to the casual +ward for a lodging.</p> + +<p>He had earned a few pence, and was about to seek lodgings for the +night, when he saw a number of decent working-men crowding into a +schoolroom, which was well lit up. He stopped one of them to ask what +was going on inside.</p> + +<p>"It's a lecture," he answered, "on temperance, by Mr. Radford. He's +always plenty to say, and says it out like a man. Come in, and hear +him."</p> + +<p>"Ay, I'll come in," said Rodney eagerly, forgetting both his hunger and +fatigue.</p> + +<p>The lecture had just begun, and the speaker, whose face was earnest and +hearty, and who had a pleasant voice, had gained the fixed attention of +his hearers.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what a promise once did," he said, towards the close of +his lecture: "We had a meeting of our Band of Hope some years ago, and +I saw amongst the children a rough, barefoot little girl staring about +her with large, eager eyes, as if she could not make out what we were +about. I asked her her name, and told her to come to my house; and I +wrote down my address for her. But I said to her, 'Will you promise me +not to taste anything that will make you drunk till you see me again?' +And she promised me."</p> + +<p>"That's Bessie Dingle!" cried Rodney, half aloud.</p> + +<p>And the lecturer paused for an instant, looking down kindly but gravely +upon his listeners.</p> + +<p>"I expected her to come to me within a day or two, and I should have +persuaded her to join our Band of Hope; but she never came. Nearly +six years were gone, and one day last autumn, when I was on the +landing-stage, I heard some one cry out, 'That's him again!' And a girl +of seventeen or so, a bright, busy girl, came rushing towards me from +an apple-stall.</p> + +<p>"'I've kept my promise, sir!' she cried. 'I've never took a drop to +make me drunk. I said I never would till I see you again.'</p> + +<p>"The girl had been faithful to her promise. Yes, in her place, and +according to her strength, she had kept her promise, as God keeps His."</p> + +<p>Rodney scarcely heard the end of the lecture, so full was his mind of +Bessie, whom he had scarcely thought of, but who was the only friend he +had left in Liverpool. He could not go away without making some inquiry +after her; and when the audience was dispersing, he made his way up to +the lecturer's desk:—</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said, "that girl was Bessie Dingle. Could you tell me where I +could find her this very night?"</p> + +<p>"She left Liverpool last autumn," he answered; "she is gone to live in +the country with an old woman of the name of Rodney."</p> + +<p>"Why! That must be my mother!" exclaimed Rodney, involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" inquired Mr. Radford.</p> + +<p>"My name's John Rodney," he answered; "Bessie knows all about me. Oh, +sir! I was a dreadful drunkard; and one night I saw my little girl—she +was the last of them, and my poor wife was dead as well, thank God!—and +the child set herself on fire, and me lying by so drunk I could not +move; I could not stir a limb no more than if I'd been dead. Oh God! Oh +God! It was a horrible thing."</p> + +<p>Rodney grasped the desk with both hands to keep himself from falling, +and neither he nor the stranger could speak again for some moments.</p> + +<p>"I understood you were drowned," said Mr. Radford at length; "Bessie +believes so; she told me all about it."</p> + +<p>"No," murmured Rodney, "I went off with the intention of putting an end +to myself; but I slipped on the pavement, and they carried me to the +infirmary. I was there a long time, and then I went home, and other +folks had taken to my house, and I'd no place to sit down in, and the +liquor-vaults were the only place open to such as me, and I went in and +got dead drunk again."</p> + +<p>"Again!" repeated Mr. Radford.</p> + +<p>"Ay, again," he said, with a deep groan; "but it was the last time. I +pray God it may be the last time. Then I knew there was no hope for me +as long as I could see or smell drink, and I went into the workhouse to +be out of the way partly, and partly because I'd no other place to go +to. I only came out this morning."</p> + +<p>"And where are you going to now?" asked his new friend.</p> + +<p>"Anywhere," he answered; "but I'm afraid of going where they 'll be +drinking. There seems to be drink everywhere. You don't know what it is +down in the low parts of the town, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Mr. Radford; "but I'll speak to a friend of mine +here, who will take you to his place for to-night. He was one of the +first to join us here, and he was as great a slave to drink as you ever +were before."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Rodney, earnestly, "I believe God has forgiven me, and I +believe He will help me. He has helped me this day, or I should never +have been here. If you will let me join myself to you, with a promise, +I'll try to keep it as Bessie kept hers, God helping me."</p> + +<p>"I believe from my heart it would be of great use to you," answered Mr. +Radford, after a moment's thought. "Mark! I do not say it will save +you, but it will help you. You can give it as a reason for not drinking +to your old comrades; but the chief thing will be that it will bring +you into acquaintance with new comrades of your own way of thinking, +who will not tempt you to drink. Remember, too, if you should break it, +that's no reason why you should not promise again; yes, and again and +again, if you fall again and again. Most of us promise God very often +to give up our favourite sin, and when we forget our promise, He does +not forbid us to renew it."</p> + +<p>With trembling fingers, and with deep, unspoken prayer in his heart, +Rodney signed his name to a form by which he pledged himself to abstain +from all intoxicating drinks; and then Mr. Radford committed him to the +care of his friend, who was to take him home for the night.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Mr. Radford.</p> + +<p>"I'll make my way down to my mother's," he answered. "I shall be safer +out of the town, though I ought to be ashamed to go to her in these +rags. But it's no more than I deserve, and she'll be overjoyed to see +me."</p> + +<p>"Go down by train," said Mr. Radford. "I will lend you the fare, and +you can repay me when you are in work again. They all think you are +dead down there."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, smiling sadly, "my mother will say, 'This my son +was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'"</p> + +<p>With these words he went his way; and after a night's rest, more +refreshing than any he had had for years, he started by the earliest +train down into the country.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image018" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image018.jpg" alt="image018"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>DEAD AND ALIVE AGAIN.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was spring-time again—twelve months since his wife had died. The +hedgerows were sweet with primroses and violets, whose fresh fragrance +was full of sorrowful memories to Rodney. The years, which had changed +him so much, had hardly touched the face of the country. Every step of +the road was familiar and dear to him. Here were the nut-bushes, where +he and his brothers had come nutting in the autumn, when he was a boy; +they were fringed and tasselled with yellow catkins now. On the other +side of the hedge lay the corn-fields, where they had all gone gleaning +together in the harvest, as happy a time as any in the whole year.</p> + +<p>Yonder was the bank where the violets grew thickest, and where he had +been used to seek the first-scented blossom for Ellen, before they were +married. The wooden bridge over the shallow brook, whose water rippled +round pebbles as bright as gems, where he had paddled barefoot when he +was young—barefoot like little Nelly, only it had been sport to him; +the willow-trees dipping down into the stream; the cottage-roofs; but +above all, the thatched roof of his own cottage home; all seemed to +him like another world, compared with the noisy, bustling, tempting +streets of Liverpool, where, in those parts to which he had sunk, there +were none but sordid sights and sounds of misery. Oh! If Nelly had only +lived a young life like his own!</p> + +<p>He reached the garden-gate, and leaned against it, looking down the +long, straight, narrow walk which led to the door. It stood open, and +the sun was shining brightly into the house, lighting up for him the +old, polished oak dresser, with the shelves above it, well filled with +plates and dishes. A lavender and rosemary bush grew close up to the +door-sill, and the bees were humming busily about them. He could hear +also the murmur of voices; the prattle of a child's voice talking gaily +within, out of his sight.</p> + +<p>Once he saw Bessie cross the kitchen to the little pantry, but she +did not glance his way, through the open door. And he still lingered +outside, scarcely knowing how he should make himself known to his +mother, who believed he was dead.</p> + +<p>She came to the door at last—a neat old woman, with a snow-white frill +round her face, looking out through her horn spectacles upon her sunny +garden; and Rodney, leaning over the gate, stretched out his hands +towards her, unable to speak a word, except the low, murmured cry, +"Mother! Mother!" which reached her ears, though they had grown dull of +hearing years ago.</p> + +<p>For a minute or two old Mrs. Rodney stood still, gazing intently at the +motionless figure leaning over her wicket, and then, almost in a voice +of terror, she called out loudly, "Bessie." And in an instant Bessie +was at her side, in the doorway, with her quick, sharp eyes fastened +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Bessie!" cried Rodney, in a louder voice than before, "I was not +drowned, as you thought I was. I've been almost dead in the infirmary, +but didn't die. I've come home now, a changed man, if you and mother +will take me in."</p> + +<p>Would they take him in? They could hardly hasten to the wicket fast +enough, the old woman with her short, unsteady steps, hanging on +to Bessie's arm to prevent her from being the first to welcome her +son. She threw her arms round his neck, and pressed many motherly +kisses upon his haggard face, crying, "My boy! My boy!" While Bessie +clasped his hand in both her own, fondling and kissing it as if it was +impossible to express her great and unexpected gladness. It seemed to +Rodney as if they were making too much of him, and forgiving him too +freely. They ought at least to hang back a little from such a sinner as +he.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image019" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image019.jpg" alt="image019"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Mother," he said sadly, "you know all about my poor little Nelly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my son," she answered, "I know it all; but now you've come +home safe and sound, after we thought you were dead, we cannot remember +all that. Nelly forgot it long ago."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Rodney, with a heavy sigh.</p> + +<p>"Nelly's happier than ever she was in her life," said Bessie, "and +she'll be happier than all now. It was a good change for her to be took +away from those dirty streets, where everybody about her was getting +drunk. She was never so well off as now."</p> + +<p>"I know it," answered Rodney.</p> + +<p>"And though the pain was very bad," continued Bessie, soothingly, +"she's forgotten it all by now. She's never in any pain, and she's +singing as happy as an angel all day long. I wouldn't fret about that +if I was you. We've forgot it; and now you're come home again, though I +was sure and positive you were drowned. I said so before the coroner; +and Mr. Rodney, please, I followed you to the grave."</p> + +<p>Bessie burst into an hysterical fit of laughter and sobbing, which she +could hardly conquer, and she ran back along the garden-path, leaving +Rodney and his mother to follow more slowly. His mother was hanging +fondly on his arm; and before he entered the cottage, he paused and +lifted his old hat from his head.</p> + +<p>"Please God," he said, earnestly, "I'll be a different man to what I've +ever been; and may He at last bring me to where my poor wife and little +Nelly are gone!"</p> + +<p>"Father!" cried a sweet, childish voice inside the cottage, a voice +he had never thought to hear again in this world. "Where is father, +Bessie?"</p> + +<p>How he crossed the threshold, and passed into sight of his child, he +could never tell. But there was Nelly before his very eyes, her wan, +small face unchanged, save for a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks, +and a happy light in her eyes. She was lying on a little couch beneath +the lattice-window, with a doll beside her, and a cup of violets on the +window-sill; peaceful and happy, with a childish patience and sweetness +in her face. Her arms were stretched out to him, and her features began +to quiver with eagerness as he stood awe-stricken and motionless.</p> + +<p>Bessie drew him to her side, and he fell down on his knees with his +gray head upon the pillow, while she laid her arm about his neck. +He had no voice to tell them what he had thought during these last +terrible months, and with what a shock of rapture it came over him to +find that his little Nelly was still living.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Bessie, in a tone of comforting, "don't take on so, +please, Mr. Rodney. We never thought as Nelly would pull through at +all; and she's not in any pain; are you, darling?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Nelly, pressing her arm closer about him; "are you come +home to stay, daddy?"</p> + +<p>Still Rodney could not speak, for his throat seemed dried up and +choked. The child's voice grew plaintive and wistful.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Father," she said, "you're not going to get drunk any more, and +make Granny, and Bessie, and me all poor and miserable again? You've +come back to be good, aren't you, father?"</p> + +<p>"God help me!" sobbed Rodney.</p> + +<p>"We're all so happy now," continued Nelly pleadingly; "Bessie goes out +to work, and Granny and me are alone all day, and at nights we sing, +and I'm learning to read, and so is Bessie. And if you'll only be good, +it'll be nicer than ever. You didn't mean to hurt me, I know; never, +did you?"</p> + +<p>He could not lift up his head yet, or answer her in any way, except by +his reiterated cry, "God help me!"</p> + +<p>"See, I've got a doll again," said Nelly in a gayer tone, to cheer him; +"it's all my own, and it keeps me company all day and night too. The +doctor says I shall never walk and run about like other children, but I +don't mind that. I don't mind anything, now you're come home, if you'll +only be good, and never get drunk, and make us all poor and ragged +again. I shouldn't like to see poor Granny like mother was. You'll +never do that, will you, father?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Nelly!" said Bessie, as she saw Rodney shaking with his sobs. +"Hush! Father's come home to work, and get money for you; and we shall +all be happier than ever now. If God wasn't going to help him to be +good, now he's trying himself, He'd have let him be drowned in the +river, and not brought him back here to be a plague to us. There, Mr. +Rodney, please get up, and sit down on this chair beside of little +Nelly."</p> + +<p>Rodney did as she told him, and sat still for a time, holding Nelly's +small hand tightly in his own. Bessie bustled about getting dinner +ready, for it was nearly mid-day, and in their simple country fashion +they took their meals early, and lived in the day-light, from sunrise +till not long after sunset. His mother was sitting opposite to him in +her old three-cornered chair, from time to time wiping the glasses of +her horn spectacles, while her white head trembled a little. He could +scarcely believe that it was not all a dream.</p> + +<p>In the long, sunny afternoon, with the bees humming at the door, and +the scent of lavender and rosemary wafted in upon every breath of the +fresh spring air, Rodney told them all that had happened to him, and +the great change that had passed over him in the workhouse, and his +interview with Mr. Radford the evening before. Then Bessie related to +him the history of their lives.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rodney," she said, "when little Nelly came flying down them steps +all in a flame, I met her just at the bottom, and I'd a big cloak on as +was lent me by a woman I was friends with, and I wrapped it all round +her, and quenched the fire.</p> + +<p>"Then a woman as was in the crowd shouted, 'Take her to the Children's +Hospital. They 'll do well by her, if she isn't dead.'</p> + +<p>"And I cried out, 'Oh! She is dead!'</p> + +<p>"And then me and some other women carried her to the hospital, and at +first they said she was dead, and then they said she'd be sure to die. +So I had to leave her there, and I came back to tell you, and you was +gone, and Mrs. Simpson she said she'd seen you go creeping off in the +dark, and it 'ud be a good riddance if you never came back. And it was +three days after they found somebody in the river, and I was certain it +was you, and I followed you to the churchyard, me and nobody else at +all. And then I went to the hospital, and they said there was a little +sparkle of hope, but if Nelly lived, she'd never be good for anything.</p> + +<p>"And I said, 'Never you mind. You make her live, and I'll take care of +her after.'</p> + +<p>"And then I came down here, walked every foot of the way, and told Mrs. +Rodney, and she said,—</p> + +<p>"'Bessie, as soon as that dear child is well enough, her and you shall +have a home with me.'</p> + +<p>"So as soon as Nelly could come, we moved down to this place; and it's +been like heaven to us—hasn't it, Nelly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the child with a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"But now you're come home as well," continued Bessie, blithely, "it'll +be better than ever. It was bad to think of you being drowned, and +never been the good man you ought to have been. I'm glad you've seen +Mr. Radford; and glad you've made him a promise like me. And oh! I'm +so glad you're going to be good and kind again at last. I always knew +you'd be that, if it hadn't been for drink."</p> + +<p>Long after the others had gone to bed, and were sleeping soundly and +peacefully under the thatched roof, Rodney sat up by the cottage +fire, brooding over his past life and that which lay before him, with +many earnest prayers for light, and strength, and help. One thing was +certain: whatever other people might do who had never fallen captives +to drunkenness, he must never touch the accursed thing again.</p> + +<p>He trembled to think of the snares that would be laid to entrap, and +with what wary and watchful steps he must tread among them. He could +not walk down the village street, or greet any of his former friends, +who had believed him dead, without being invited, urged, and tempted to +drink. He could not seek work where he should meet with fellow-workmen +who would not mock at the pledge he had taken. He could not even sit +among some religious people who would not despise him somewhat for his +weakness. Whatever he did, where-ever he went, in town or country, he +would be forced into contact with drinking customs, which would assail +him from without; while within there would ever be a treacherous foe +ready to betray him. No other sin met with so constant a temptation.</p> + +<p>Yet, on the other hand, here was his little child restored to him from +the dead; here his mother, so long broken-spirited for him, and with so +few days left which he could make happy; and here was Bessie, constant +and faithful, true to the promises she made, his helper and example. +Could he plunge them again into the depths from which God had delivered +them? Rodney opened his mother's old Bible, with the large print which +his own dim eyes needed now, and turning over page after page he found +at last the promise he was searching for, and set an indelible mark +against it to look at in after-years:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in +weakness."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image020" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image020.jpg" alt="image020"></figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77483 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77483-h/images/image001.jpg b/77483-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d52405d --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image002.jpg b/77483-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3e1823 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image003.jpg b/77483-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c47783 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image004.jpg b/77483-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8a0635 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image005.jpg b/77483-h/images/image005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..10ae492 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image005.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image006.jpg b/77483-h/images/image006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..162a811 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image006.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image007.jpg b/77483-h/images/image007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b53d628 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image007.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image008.jpg b/77483-h/images/image008.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eafc927 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image008.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image009.jpg b/77483-h/images/image009.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..30ea8f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image009.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image010.jpg b/77483-h/images/image010.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ec3358 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image010.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image011.jpg b/77483-h/images/image011.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c358cbc --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image011.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image012.jpg b/77483-h/images/image012.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..063e909 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image012.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image013.jpg b/77483-h/images/image013.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb7ff76 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image013.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image014.jpg b/77483-h/images/image014.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd05637 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image014.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image015.jpg b/77483-h/images/image015.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f969b2b --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image015.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image016.jpg b/77483-h/images/image016.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2602e37 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image016.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image017.jpg b/77483-h/images/image017.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c058180 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image017.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image018.jpg b/77483-h/images/image018.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ceaabc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image018.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image019.jpg b/77483-h/images/image019.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94954cf --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image019.jpg diff --git a/77483-h/images/image020.jpg b/77483-h/images/image020.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8e23b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/77483-h/images/image020.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f22b5d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77483 +(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77483) |
